Friday, April 30, 2004
Amidst our arms as quiet you shall be
Barriers of green against our forward motion impair our speech with calm.
There are barriers of green between us, quiet and simple forms in one dimension.
The day the barriers of green went up we watched them and grew smaller
in comparison to the way they rose, penetrating the skyline.
Among the shadows beneath barriers of green a small bird with a blue crest
makes a display of anxiety due to its displacement.
The shadows are angles beneath barriers of green and they are cool, there is
a slight breeze and an implicit whisper in the halcyon days of our youth.
The sea becomes pond-like against barriers of green like an orphic mirror fogged
up with warm breath from the face of someone passing through.
I wonder, do I love anybody’s barriers of green more than these I have to love
for now while there are other and greater barriers between the sea
and giant mirrors in the dust.
When time arrives I can fell these barriers of green they will fall gently into the sea
or into the desert depending upon the wind.
But we observed these objects going up these barriers of green going up during
the winter solstice while the blue-crested bird laid her eggs beneath.
Awakened by a feeling on a finger of sand barriers of green boxed us in to our
uncomfortable affair, uncomfortable only in the getting away, so to wake
without barriers in the unruffled pause behind a storm of certainty.
To find a site of comfort, the past in the barriers of green in the past and only
a future to collage from pieces of the present.
Something that seemed at first inert is now in motion outside barriers of green
whose green is the green of eyes and not the green of random chance.
What is in motion is the possibility or potential that far outweighs barriers of
green that would keep us empurpled in shadow and on either side.
Potential achieved but for a difficult task that is arriving at a moment barriers
of green could not grow around so to prevent the calm desired.
A calm in which amidst our arms we rest quietly in brooding winter stations
barriers of green could not enclose.
In winter and kept warm in entanglement, a possibility arises that we advance
upon leaving barriers of green.
Monday, April 26, 2004
First, allow me to say just how genuinely great Dana Ward is. Dana exists completely outside (with the exception of visits to his friends in NYC, Boston, and his new friends in the Bay Area) a poetry scene. Cincinnati is a veritable void, according to Dana, for poetry. Yet, there he is, publishing Magazine Cypress, Chapbooks (mine included) and writing poetry so lush and vibrant it screams far beyond his hushed voice. Dana is a New Brutalist in the most core ways (that is, according to my rubric). Dana is the most excited and exciting guest we've had in a long while. So, Dana Ward, I salute you my new friend.
Dana, Stephanie and I rolled to the reading in a convertible beetle with the top down and the Beach Boys blaring! It must've been well over 80 degrees yesterday. With a box full of books, magazines, chapbooks, and fresh from a brand new mobile press, Sea.Lamb.Press, Dana's Standards. Rodney Koe[r]neke arrived like an italian runway model just having finished a shoot; his high-collared shirt half-open and shades gleaming in the sun and during the short break, he lit a cigar. Taylor Brady in a ringer T-shirt and faux-slacks. Tanya Brolaski easily the most stylish person on the planet, featuring amber aviators that polished the tip of her western-chic ensemb. Dan Fisher also sporting black aviators and a slick western-chic ensemb. Cynthia Sailers with gorgeous long hair and in all black, ever the chanteuse. Trevor Calvert (late, having walked from JapanTown) in a black tuxedo-shirt and jeans. Del Ray Cross in a fabulous pieced-together airplane t-shirt. Sean Finney simply showing the world his man-pelt between the flaps of his patterned button-up. There were more but I will stop here.
I will say Stephanie's and Dana's readings were astonishingly good. Someone else can vouch for my own. What followed the reading shall not be repeated. I will say only this: It was pure Dionysian joy.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Friday, April 16, 2004
After looking through the results (and finding so many great looking Danish Poets) to Jordan's question, What do Danish Poet's look like? I have come to the conclusion that we (american bloggers) must engage in a group correspondence with the Danish poets. Might we find our northern European counterparts?
Me (tho I'm not sure if this is a man but the hair is right)
These are just knee jerk responses to these people's photos.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
"The heroine is introduced/ to shame me with / her impeccible pedigree."
-- Julie Kalendek fromMake in Our Fortunes
Thursday, April 8, 2004
He hasn't lost his sense of humor though. The hospital was Kaiser Permanente "French Campus" and we discovered that the "French" part of the name is after Napoleon Bone-apart! Ha ha. Get it.
Someone told him to "Break a leg" at the Continuous Peasant show tonight. He took it literally.
GIVE CHRIS YOUR LOVE, YOUR KIND VOICES, AND YOUR COMPANY. IT'LL HELP HIM HEAL QUICKER.