Monthly Archives: January 2006
It’s available.
Thanks to John Powers, we have an anthology! A hard copy representation of gotpoetry.com for your purchase and perusal.
http://johnpowers.livejournal.com/113968.html?style=mine#cutid1
SPEAK tonight
At the usual place…Alternatives Gallery, 5 So Main Street, Uxbridge MA.
7:30 – 9:30.
TONIGHT’S THEME: Possession. I will not be reading the dreadful poem on that theme I posted earlier, so it’s safe to come down.
see ya there.
not bad, not bad…
let the punishment fit the crime, eh?
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/01/23/AR2006012301967.html
a dose of my own medicine
My father always called it dingo logic:
a ragged insistence on looking
for holes in the fence.
(As far as I know, he was never in Australia. He watched
a lot of nature shows; maybe that’s where it came from.)
I thought of it last night watching her:
redwrapped hips, blacklight lips
that made me shine when I moved toward them.
I moved toward them as often as I could knowing
I was getting nowhere, but I kept looking, and yipping,
because it’s what my dad taught me to do.
Afterward I sat up late, a tad drunk,
reading Maxim.
When it comes to love and conquest,
that magazine shelves doubt, scorns failure. Every woman
is available, it says, every woman waits for you
to fill that startling vacuum that opens when a man
is not in her life. All you have to do
is smile correctly and be sure of your cock,
and the fence will fall.
With my head full of that type of forced charm,
I have run the length of that fence for years at a time.
My dad, my books, my TV shows tell me
there’s a hole somewhere. I salivate
on cue, pretend to instincts I keep reading about,
tell myself I’m a lone wolf when I’m really a yellow stray
looking for a dry bone. If this is dingo logic,
I do not understand how the dingos have survived.
Publishing Opportunity
Hey, NYC:
My friend Skip (drgeorge) is having a book published by Heron Clan Press, and just got this in the mail.
Pass it on, repost at will. Let’s get some folks in print.
The Heron Clan III anthology will be almost ALL NYC poets, so if you have nominees, have them send 15=20 pages of poetry to:
Doug Stuber
4404 Cedar Pass
Chapel Hill NC 27514
919.271.0727
dougstuber@aol.com
it’s snowing
i have nowhere to go, just a bunch of phone calls to make, work on the next column and maybe get some cleaning done.
oh, and make this humble request:
if any of my hot rockstar poet friends on here can either help me score a few college gigs or give me some idea about how to go about soliciting them, i’d be much obliged. you can respond backchannel if the circumstances demand that such esoteric knowledge be only shared in private.
regards, the latest full time poet (code word for unemployed)
Feeling dictatorial
I’m too tired to write a poem…
But you aren’t. Write a poem using one or more of the following word pairs:
dingo logic
blacklight lips
magazine shelves
startling vacuum
forced charm
No fair splitting them up. Gotta use the pair as is, in that order.
Put ’em in your own LJ and let me know if you aren’t on my friends’ list.
AAAAAAAAAArgh
I am listening (in a moment, I’m going to change it) to a show about how Native American spirituality can save the planet.
Without going into a lot of my conflicted logic as to why I hate programs like this, may i just say that once — just once — i would like someone to put together a soundtrack for one of these shows THAT DOES NOT FEATURE THE PLAINS FLUTE PLAYED IN A DEEPLY REVERENT MANNER WITH A TOUCH OF REVERB.
I play the Plains flute, I love playing the Plains flute, but I don’t wanna hear it every time someone gets on the horn and says “All my relations…”
Shit dudes…let us hear some Rez hiphop — Robbie B, whynot? — or some John Trudell. How about Joanie Shenandoah? Robbie Robertson, even? I’d even go for some Buffy St. Marie once in a while.
I hate this whole “there is a spiritual connection to the Earth that only these simple natives can teach us” thing. Not because the philosophies and cosmology are invalid — far from it — I just feel like it’s another co-optation at heart; I feel like it gives people an excuse to forget that indigenous knowledge the world over, from the Celts to the !Kung to Hawaii to the Hmong to the outback, has told the same story.
You don’t have to go exotic to find wisdom. Go ask your own ancestors to save you. It’s not rocket science, and you’re no closer to a solution just because you smudged the hybrid SUV before driving to the sweat lodge.
And God, you guys, learn to play the harmonica. You can hang a dreamcatcher off of it if you must.
disposable poem: LJ phone home
Sister Wendy, the venerable bucktoothed nun who was PBS’ poster child for art appreciation a few years ago (this is totally affectionate, by the way — I enjoyed that series), used to speak of a concept she called “newspaper art” — work that was possibly good, even significantly meritorious, but because of its specific topical nature had no shelf life beyond the immediate moment. You know, like most slam poetry.
Didn’t mean she didn’t like it or think it was not worth doing; just that it was work of the moment and no more.
This is a newspaper poem — with the exception of the whole “possibly good” thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey,
are there any left-handed
dead people on my friends’ list?
I have a question about barley
only you can answer.
If anyone out there
knows of an equivalent
for honey in making
Javanese sauce, let me know.
Regrets? I’ve had a few.
Here are five of them, I tag
anyone regretful to tell me their own.
I’ll wait.
And does anybody know
the names and faces of all the guys
who were in the band The Crank Case Children?
I know I was one of them, but the rest…
O, you who are without names,
there are reasons I can’t sleep
and you know the reasons as well as I do.
Is this why you never respond?
Eh, pressing the flesh
is overrated anyway;
any one of you who might touch me
could be anyone else.
I made this entry public
so you can try to prove me wrong
in your comments. I’ll wait.
I’ll be waiting. I’ll be right here.
final post of the night…
For you real, hardcore, diehard policy wonks out there…
This is a link from my favorite online political site, Cryptome (http://www.cryptome.org). Cryptome is a site that provides access to public but little seen documents regarding privacy issues, the War on Terra, and other fun stuff. They also have a running calendar and names list of all the military dead in Iraq and Afghanistan, lots of photos of the war and press and family photos of the deceased…aerial photos of various key facilities and things, just to show how easy it is to find this stuff…you get the picture.
Anyway…here are the COMPLETE plans for the protection of American infrastructure. Good to have, eh?
KEXP
makes me SO happy…
Their punk show, “Sonic Reducer,” is one of the highlights of my week if I’m home.
They just played 7 Year Bitch followed by Black Flag’s “TV Party.”
I now wish to hear “Blank Generation.” Or, some old 7 Seconds.
two thoughts on an afternoon of poetry
1. Every time I see Regie Gibson, I swear he’s BETTER than he was the last time I saw him.
2. Tom Daley is pretty fucking good himself.
Bonus thought:
Ryk McIntyre won the slam, and did it beautifully. Let’s hear it for a no-Ramen holiday!
OH, OH, OH!!!! Plus, looking for thoughts
Why does this make me so down deep, soul enrichingly happy????
http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/americas/01/20/morales.temple.ap/index.html
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey, looking for advice.
As i’ve mentioned, I’m resuming the Zero Point Zero column on gotpoetry.com.
I plan to change the format a bit from the old freeform days. I plan to use each column to dissect the process of writing a poem — looking at considerations of voice vs. craft, how things work, standard poetic devices, and the like — at least, that’s the basic plan; i’m sure I’ll go farther afield.
I want to use a recent poem as my jumping off point for the first column. Any thoughts as to which one you might like to see ripped apart?
I am serious — would love your input.
EDIT: I’m definitely thinking “Sneakers on a Wire” for the first one, then “Nuggets.” After that, I’ll probably dig into old stuff. Thanks.
for mplsfish: why i don’t publish much
Here’s the thing: I have a longstanding stubborn resistance to publishing.
Reasons:
1. I figure the effort involved in submission doesn’t always equal the reward.
2. I publish my own chapbooks, sell them at gigs. In the spirit of punk/DIY, a large part of me likes it that way. I like the control, the direct contact, the idea that it’s my hands (and the hands of my far more capable publisher, thisrabbit ) that are on the work that people get from me.
3. Money doesn’t motivate me that much.
4. Regarding #3: Good thing, I’m a poet.
5. I don’t feel like I need the validation of publication to make me feel good about my work.
6. I post most of my work here, and on the gotpoetry.com forums. I bet more people have seen my work here there than would have if I’d reserved it for publication. Poets want to be read. I’m no exception: I just suspect this gets my work more efficiently to an audience that appreciates it.
7. Regarding copyright: I don’t really care all that much about it. I figure, someone steals one of my poems (and stealing seems so silly a word for it to me), karma’s a bitch. Anyway, I can always write another one.
8. Regarding #7: My own cynical opinion is that most of the people who get freaked about people stealing their poems are the ones whose poems are least likely to be stolen.
9. If someone’s gonna steal something, copyright ain’t gonna stop them.
10. I do publish on occasion, mostly in e-zines (The Furnace Review and The November Third Club being recent examples) whose sensibility interests me. I have some work in anthologies out there, and I’m interested in putting my old columns from gotpoetry.com into a coherent manuscript for submission.
All that said, I am starting to work my way into a state of mind for more submissions to hardcopy journals, for one reason and one reason only: I am preparing a manuscript of poems for publication, I am not sure I want to self publish it based on sheer size, and regrettably, publishers generally want to see publication credits before they’ll consider a manuscript. I consider this a form of selling out — for me. But we all do it at some point.
*Please everyone: don’t think of this as a condemnation of publication in general; it’s just a reflection of one ex-punk’s insane control freak mentality. I read journals, cheer on my friends and pray for them to get what they want. It’s just never been for me.
Hey, you asked…
