Friday, July 21, 2017

Personal Poem (for Chris Sharp)

Personal Poem (for Chris Sharp)

Since you simply forgot to "get in touch" as you said you were going to do, which I will try not to take personally, though it's impossible, I mean not to mind meaning that little, that you would simply forget, when I want, of course, from my own small island of ego, to mean a lot, but will still try to see objectively, as in- everyone has their own life to live, their own bed to make, I instead, on this one very rare night of being sans familia, and being not of the spirit to go out into the city, which I should do, since I can't ever, am instead reading the book I was going to give you tonight as a gift, a book a picked up, like magic, from a book sale in Westport CT last week, because I knew, or at least thought I knew, I would see you this week, and it seemed so perfect, "After Nature" by Sebald, put out in conjunction with the New Museum in 2003, with illustrations by Maurizio Cattelan, Werner Herzog, August Strindberg and dozens of others you would probably recognize but I don't, and was excited to give it to you, though if I had I wouldn't have read it, as I am doing now, having just finished the first of 3 long poems in it, a dizzyingly great one about Matthias Grunewald, and so at least for that reason am glad you forgot, but for all that greatness impressed upon me, would have rather have given the book to you, as it was meant for you, and physical gestures mean more, ultimately, than the mere metaphysical, as seeing a painting in person is better than the in reproduction, ditto music or anything else in this godforsaken digital age. 

There's this thing Sebald does so well, perhaps better than anybody, a kind of lyrical limning of connections flowing so subtly as to seem dreamlike that makes me dream up a new form, which is, indeed, something akin to dreaming, the way dreaming can dispense with narrative structure inside of narrative structure, forever, and it seems to me a poem could be written that way, After Nature, and so I will, in the presence of your absence.  

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

sutra 1 revised

The life of a breath

The subtle air flows
out of your lungs
and then back in
back and forth
in an equilibrium
echoing birth and death
In the small moment
before taking a breath in
there is a flash of joy, a relief
Breathing in you are born again
the world is made new and then
steadily ascends to its climax
Breathing in is like you wake up again
In the suspended moment
before breathing out there is
an equal and opposite joy of relief
Breathing out the world is released
let go of, there is a little sleep,
a small o, death in miniature,
a rest stop.

Friday, June 16, 2017

tonight's song

Tonight's Tribs Song Solo, transcribed...

Jack and Jill went up the hill 
to fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
and Jill came tumbling after

Jill said Jack be more careful
You coulda broke my neck like that
Jack said I'm sorry sis,
but I was falling fast

and the hill was long 
and the song was wrong
and I got bruises on my scars
and bugs crawling in my ears
and exlamation points all over my fears
and i got little rocks in my eyes
and I got octopi swimming in my big tears
and I got little people in little houses
with little doggies in little dog houses
dying in their make-believe wars

And I got 
I got you 
yes i do

And I got my walking shoes
dippity dippity dippity dang do

I got blood in my veins
I got marrow in my bones
i got a flotilla of 
rolling motor homes 
I got a fiddle full of 
flighty hormones

i got water by the boatload
I got docs by the bay
I got billion dollar bashes
every other damn day

I've got bluecollar salesmen 
breathing down my neck
I've got bottles of tequila
waiting up on deck

i've got a million questions
burning in my maw
I've gotten a million answers
but every one is flawed

I've got one thing more
one thing less
one thing gone
one thing best

I've got something else
Until something else comes along

I've got this here song
and this ear to take it all in

i've got this mouth to sing along
to the music of the spheres

The music
of the spheres 
is here
in your 1-4-5
circular pattern, my dear

i've got a spray-paint spirit-spout
That on the hour sprays verses
on the sides of hearses

What else?

I'm out

lessons for dummies

the mind is like the wind

Will you let your error-filled limited-perception wind-like mind lead you -all seeing you, core of consciousness you-or will you =oversoul you- lead your mind, your mighty but limited unit of perception?

You are in everything, the trees, the rivers, even the rocks. And everything is in turn in you. The atoms you breath are the atoms I breath, we share blood, we share air. 

How cool is that? How cool is the air?

But your particular perception, as highly valuable as it is, is still limited. So learn the dance learn to bring your limited perception to the universe and not be limited by your perception of the universe. That's too clever to follow.

Just listen.

I'm absconding. With

The Tennis Oaf

Today on the court I went from oaf

to acrobat in one set. One hour.

How? I put all of my breath into it.

I put everything I had into every shot.

I was trying to balance everything with nothing.

It means everything as it is happening

and nothing when its over

Those lines either

bear repeating

Or saying never

Love Love




The Tennis Court Oaf

Today on the court he went from clumsy gat
to cross-court acrobat in one quick set

How? He put all of his breath into it
He put everything he had into every shot

He was trying to balance everything with nothing

It means everything as it is happening
and nothing when its over

Those lines either
bear repeating often

or saying never

Love Love



Hi Miss Chance

Hi Miss Chance

Is there still a chance to come in and teach the kids the dance of the minds of trance?