Category Archives: uncategorized
Bouquet (for Stefan)
Here you go:
BOUQUET
1.
The brain
knows many things.
Some of them you know,
some you do not.
2.
If the brain
was a flower,
you would be
its scent.
3.
Perhaps
the brain is a
flower, starving
for light, lunging out
through the eyes
for sustenance.
4.
If you plucked
your brain out
and held it to the light,
would you have a mind?
5.
The mind lives
in the brain and
hides in its petals.
The mind is the dark
among the riots of color.
6.
You sleep
and the brain corrals
the mind. They talk all night,
pretending they are
you. In the morning
you are nearly mad
from the echoes of their
conversation.
7.
Put your hands
around your mind
and know it’s not
part of the scheme
that you should understand
everything: there are things
shoring up the partners
that would terrify you
if you knew them.
8.
The brain blooms
long after you close your eyes.
The mind rises from its nooks and folds
to escape, moving past you,
playing in the meadows.
9.
The mind drifts back
in the hot late afternoon. Your head grows heavy
with pollen. You open your mouth
and bees fly in
to take their fill while the mind
avoids being stung
by the danger in the commerce.
10.
When you sleep
the mind and brain bear ideas.
You pretend they are your own fruit.
The brain laughs at you. The mind
strokes you softly, saying,
“There, there…”
11.
You are the scent.
Something plucks your brain
and you die slowly. Maybe
another brain and another mind
recall you for a while, but
you’ll certainly fade.
12.
Anything
fed long enough
on vision, scent, touch,
sound, taste will double back
on its own surety. The brain
makes you sleepy. The mind
makes you frightened. You
make yourself believe
there are reasons for everything.
13.
A night blooming flower
holds its beauty
until first light, collapsing
at the first touch of your hand,
staining your memory
with a scent you never can
describe.
brief check in
— I leave for a couple of days in DC tomorrow — back Friday
— I’m writing a lot, but have decided to not post stuff here for a bit — just shaking up my process.
— Getting excited and ready for the tour!
— Also: I’ll be in Toronto (tentatively) for a few days in mid April for a job, so I might check out the scene a bit.
Minor and mundane — I hate posts like this — but some folks wanted to know if I was OK. I am.
Thank you
to everyone who’s supported Gotpoetry Live over the past year.
We had a great evening last night for the first anniversary — Ducky gave a great feature to a packed house and the open mike had lots of diverse and interesting voices.
Again, thank to everyone.
Gotpoetry
Tonight, at Reflections Cafe, 8 Governor Street, Providence, we’re having the first anniversary of our Gotpoetry Live reading.
Our feature will be reading regular Ducky, in a nod to the folks who’ve grown up with the reading in the last year.
I’m looking forward to this, and I think you should be too. Come out and celebrate the little reading that could — and did.
Who knows — I might even read a new poem.
one day short of two weeks (kicking)
no song is fast enough. no opinion makes sense. no patience, no censor, no holding. no moment of calm in stomach full, tongue wet, heart even, slow chest rising and sinking.
no time for people beyond the necessary few who stay because they stay. no time to spend love except close by.
no peaceful drift to long sleep at regular hours. no way to disguise the footsteps in the kitchen late at night in search of whatever isn’t visible in the bedroom.
no way to disguise the end of things.
no imagining a gouging job, a telekinetic girlfriend, a Harlem Passion, a tall figure leaning back onto a lowrider.
no desire to abide when time is the only, the all there is. no starting, finishing without need of future.
no. no. no. no.
literary career advice
keep an eye open.
keep both.
let a thing catch one.
see it.
view a thing properly.
view a thing improperly.
do either and follow one with the other.
lean back from a thing once seen.
see it again another way.
find a word that describes a thing.
find two words.
find more than a few more words for describing a thing.
describe a thing.
describe it another way.
describe it as if a thing were another thing.
explain a thing.
get that wrong.
explain it again.
explain a thing again.
see a different thing.
see a first thing in a different thing.
listen to what things you said about a thing.
say those things again.
shift a word to make a music of what you said.
make up new words to make a music for a thing.
make an old word sing a thing anew.
sing old songs to a new thing.
sing for sake of singing.
sing for anything.
see a thing and think it is your own.
write a thing and see it is a different thing.
write about a thing that will not ever be your thing.
write about the same thing.
write about the same thing.
write about the same thing.
fall asleep with your head resting on that same thing.
wake up.
rub your eyes.
see everything that looks the same as the other thing.
see nothing that looks like another thing.
assemble your words into things.
print your things on pieces of paper.
give them names.
sign them.
iTunes before sleep
Some of my oddity should be revealed here…
in order on shuffle:
It’s My Job — Jimmy Buffett
Gouge Away — Pixies
Fall Like Rain — Eric Clapton
Across 110th Street — Bobby Womack
By Myself — Tony Bennett
Immigrant Song — Led Zeppelin
Bathwater — No Doubt
Lean Back — Terror Squad f. Fat Joe
Grey Ghost — Mike Doughty
Wish You Well — Bernard Fanning
Boys Don’t Cry — The Cure
If I Was Your Girlfriend — Prince
I think I’m going to be inspired to a poem by those titles — I won’t end up putting them word for word in a poem, but I’ll use them as associative jumping off points for a piece I’ll post in a day or so.
Billie just came on singing “Lady Sings The Blues.” A good time to close my eyes, I think.
D’alzon Reading tonight Cancelled
For obvious reasons…So dkeali_i and I will not be featuring there. Reschedule in the works.
all my poems deal in dichotomy. i qualify and sort. i break down and dissect.
if there were a chance to create from wholeness, i would hope to have taken it by now.
that’s not entirely true — there are some poems that seem to have a unified vision, some clarity of purpose. but for the most part i deal in the spaces between the stitches holding our wounds together.
just like me. you are what you write. and i am the piecemeal man.
Happy Pi Day, everyone!
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070312/ap_on_fe_st/the_church_of_pi
Two things to remember:
— no looking at the sun
— stay away from the power tools
Dark Matter 