Clouds of America, it's time
to dissipate, to allow for gold.
Though blackbirds compliment
the grey with their tiny wingspan
and the wobbly green also.
Beauty adorns the corner
a backdrop to its honesty.
A voice accompanies a player piano
making blackletter easy on the eyes.
I understand every day isn't clear
or necessarily clean, but I envision
it a catastrophe to not be so.
Having known about this as an impending project, I'm very excited to see it closer to realization. Peter Gizzi's Periplum and Other Poems, forthcoming from Salt Publishing, collects his first book, Periplum, as well as his chapbooks Hours of the Book, Music for Films, and some uncollected pieces that appeared in early issues of Oblek. This is a very important publication, as it brings together the early work of one of our premier lyricists, editors and thinkers.
In two hours, I'll be leaving work to meet Stephanie and Del and then drive to Santa Cruz. Kasey has invited us, as well as Patrick Durgin and LRSN, to speak to his summer term course on poetry about being "poets." I can imagine myself giving sad advice such as "brush up on your math skills." or "if you don't have a sugar mommy/daddy, I'd suggest you find one." or "ever consider being a plumber?" or "there's always law school." or "being a barista isn't that bad." Then I'll proclaim that "it isn't 'BAD' to write love poems...see, I do it...I'm the 'Romantic Poet for the Modern World'...excuse me while I weep." I guess I'm just really excited to go back to Santa Cruz and see how THE REGENTS have slashed and burned the redwood forest that was so shady and cool during my stay at SC as well as entering a building I never entered while there, Social Sciences 1.
Bon Voyage!
Catfu's series of lunch poems, I thought I'd try my hand:
Here goes
really very little
between Maui
and Maine
and now
I'd prefer staying home
where I can watch
the gerbera daisy
forget to grow
and attach bodies
to the voices
of a young mother
and child next door.
Whose wailing
and affirmation
have out-noised me.
Everything dainty
as a thumbtack
or sweet-smelling
and girlish.
What foggy ghost
parade marched by
this morning
as I lay in bed
waiting for inspiration
same as every other.
Peter Gizzi & Beverly Dahlen
Thursday September 30
a talk by Peter Gizzi on Jack Spicer
@ the Poetry Center, 3:30 pm, free
and, Peter Gizzi & Beverly Dahlen reading
@ the Unitarian Center, 7:30 pm, $5 donation
1187 Franklin (& Geary)
You should try especially hard to make Peter's talk on Spicer. As I understand it, he is going to talk about Spicer's poetry in relation to California Junk/Funk Art, with a focus on the films of Bruce Conner. There really is no one (excepting perhaps our own Kevin Killian) who can talk about Jack Spicer the way Peter can.
I'm sitting at my mom's computer, looking out over Puget Sound at the Easternmost point on Orcas Island. I actually miss being up here on Lummi Island, just off of Bellingham, Washington. But it has been overcast since Brighton and I arrived. He and I flew up from Oakland, so I could drop him off to hang with his grandparents for nearly a month. I return home tomorrow eve. I'm hoping to catch a nice king salmon to bring home and bbq. We didn't have any luck yesterday but Brighton did get to reel in a dogfish (a 3" shark) and 6 rock cod, one of which, he ate for dinner last night while the rest of us had steak. He's a pescal vegetarian, tho he's now really into turkey and hot dogs. Oh to be 5.
Tonight, a big family gathering with all my aunts and uncles (mom's side) who'll all ask me, I'm sure, "so, now what do you really do? Because poetry isn't a real job, right?..." Basically, I'll be judged. But then I'll insert some strategically placed "big words" into mundane comments on the state of things and they'll look at me as if I'm from another planet. I live in the Bay Area, so, I guess, I am.
I'll be back in Oakland and in action on Monday. "Peathe Out, Napoleon."
