Mike Ferguson's permutation poem makes a whole lot of sense. It is also a reminder of the influence of Brion Gysin, who set the template for permutation poems back in the 1960s. Brion Gysin Let the Mice In includes texts by Gysin, William S. Burroughs, and Ian Sommerville. It is an expensive collector's item these days. The German publisher Moloko Plus has offered to bring out a facsimile edition for interested readers at an affordable price. … [Read more...]
Courage
Click each image to enlarge. "Corragio" -- My old friend said. / And then he put / the gun to his head. / That's what it took / to blunt the pain / with a hunk of lead. / It's no walk in the park. / The night is cold, / and my friend is dead. … [Read more...]
Two Ways of Looking at a Poem
No shore receives them. / All the portents dog their ride. / Their bodies sink in rough seas. We surf on a gentle tide. / The shore awaits us. / No portents dog our ride. … [Read more...]
Weinstein’s Rehab Reading
"Harvey Weinstein entered New York State Supreme Court yesterday clutching a copy of A Talent for Trouble. Was Weinstein looking for someone to teach him about being a mensch?" -- Leon Freilich He walked to the courthouse with a copy of "A Talent for Trouble," the 1997 biography of "Ben-Hur" film director William Wyler, according to CNN. -- AM NY (July 10, 2018) My own thought: What did Willy do to deserve this? … [Read more...]
NNOI Festival = 90% Water
Living organisms are gathering near the old water mill in Groswaltersdorf, 70 kilometers north of Berlin. NNOI Festival 2018 July 12 -- Crossposted at IT: International Times, The Newspaper of Resistance. … [Read more...]
‘… I floated by Daylight Donuts …’
Driving down 68 today the old van rose up a / few feet and flew into a windless corridor / and only then did I realize it had something / to do with you. / It was similar to driving down the road / but the fact that the tires were not touching the / ground sort of got my attention. / I floated by Daylight Donuts / and Supersaver. / I soundlessly whooshed by / ABC Locksmiths and Wendy's ... Click to enlarge for reading. And click again. … [Read more...]
Delicate Ghosts
Almost 70 years ago in Prospect Park where the future waited like a whim my childhood slipped through. You held me with my arms around your neck. The carousel goes round with our delicate ghosts like shadows on a scrim. The terrible wind that carries us off has not blown them away. I smell the popcorn. I hear the barrel organ. --JH … [Read more...]
Your Obituary Is Waiting
(for Philip Larkin) My ego prefers an obit published by the NY Times. But anywhere else will do, even etched into a headstone that nobody reads in a cemetery where nobody ever goes. I don't know why I care, but I do. I don't know why anyone should care, but it’s the custom to. —JH … [Read more...]
Celebrating Carl Weissner, Buk, and Burroughs
They say Berlin is the place to be. Since I can't be there myself, here's the next best thing . . . This is the Maher-Mähler film about Carl that will be screened as part of the celebration: Always These Nightmares! Toward the end of his life Carl was a writer on a rampage. He wrote three books — one in English, Death in Paris, which he described as “Doomsday Lit,” and two in German, Manhattan Muffdiver and Die Abenteuer von Trashman, whose biting satirical humor he called “vulgo-cynicism.” All three … [Read more...]
When Language Is Incorrect
Mokusatsu Asked what he’d do first if called upon to rule a nation Confucius replied, “I’d correct language. If language isn’t correct Then what is said is not what’s meant And what ought to be done remains undone. Morals and art deteriorate And justice goes astray – And if justice should disappear Then people will stand about in helpless confusion. So there must be no arbitrariness in what’s said. It matters above everything.” Asked to surrender in World War II The Japanese used the word ‘mokusatsu’ In their response to an … [Read more...]
The Nature of the Beast
Furthermore . . . “As Matisse noted, black is a colour too & in certain hands the superior one.” -- Gerard Bellaart … [Read more...]
Speaking of Hans Magnus Enzenberger . . .
His poem "last will and testament" begins: "get your flag out of my face, it tickles!" Jerome Rothenberg's appealing translation from the German continues: and get that tinny wreath off my chest, it's rattling too much; toss it over with the statues on the garbage heap, and give the ribbon to some biddies to doll themselves up with. The poem goes on in that fed-up vein for another 15 lines and ends like this: as for the resurrection of the flesh however and life everlasting i will, if it's all the same to you, take care of that … [Read more...]
‘Majestically lonely and white . . .’
Now that you've had a look at the moody green splendor of the moors near Manchester, England, take a look at the brilliant skyscape near Bordeaux, France (courtesy of our staff), and a favorite poem of theirs. 'A History of Clouds' Hans Magnus Enzensberger Appearing as they do, overnight, or out of the blue, they can hardly be considered as being born. Passing away imperceptibly they have no notion of dying. And anyway, nobody can match their transience. Majestically lonely and white they rise against a silky blue or … [Read more...]
From the Pond Across the Street
We would travel light years to find alien beings inhabiting fabulous worlds. -- Malcolm Mc Neill Some things just won't stay down. 'The permutations are infinite: Whatever it is, the joke is on us.' … [Read more...]
The Moody Splendor of Manchester
I was corresponding by email recently with Jay Jeff Jones, an American expat playwright, journalist, and poet, who is working on a new edition of Jeff Nuttall's Bomb Culture, a long-out-of-print classic about the British counterculture of the 1960s. Jones, who has lived in Manchester, England, for many decades, wrote that he was "in fine fettle ... good weather ... long walks over the moors on most days." I replied, "Walking on the moors? So 19th century. I didn't know they still exist." By coincidence, I had begun reading Virginia Woolf's … [Read more...]
The Sorrows
War is always a poison to the soul, even the most just wars. No more important victory was ever achieved than World War II, but America was poisoned, perhaps fatally, by the aftermath of its own success, because we never faced what war really is. It’s very difficult. There are no words for it. -- William Osborne … [Read more...]
Streaming What We Breathe
Quantum Words for Bill Osborne Stealthy quantum words phantoms of expectation and suicides of time riddle us with springs and traps. Self-delusion streaming what we breathe we who breathe in silence holding worlds together & apart like ancient beacons bearing witness in halos of fading light. -- JH … [Read more...]