"The right of freedom of speech consists in speaking the truth."
28.9.10
I ran into a young lady last month...at the Saturday Morning Farmer's Market...and we got to talking about Ecoasis which is a visionary plan to change some old cruddy lots around here into community gardens, etc. I think it is truly exciting to be living in such a time and such a place that invites people to exchange ideas, good food and according to an email I just received...good words. Open Mic night is projected for first Fridays and this is truly needed in the poetic environs of Bisbee, Arizona.
27.9.10
So Far So Good
To erase it all up and memorize
the gaps run through it as mis-spellings
truly rain. Body up and pretend
to know what it is you are doing
again, wash it up and thread
it with one eye closed as they used
to do this in borrowed tenses.
That was silence for it is
not remembered as much until
the last licked thread lingers
a great long time in the wrong mouth,
the bitten cheeks and punctual
lips pursed to help fingers
to sequel the camel,
balance the angels,
squish out the remaining air,
the gaps, the light in the gaps.
The light is in the gaps now,
tire dish now, surer than that
tire dish now, please be speaking
on between sundowns. On after the overs
and he is gone now, those are his now.
This isn't ours or us anymore.
Some sentences tear apart
and tear apart the aperture
where the light works, the hole surrenders.
To erase it all up and memorize
the gaps run through it as mis-spellings
truly rain. Body up and pretend
to know what it is you are doing
again, wash it up and thread
it with one eye closed as they used
to do this in borrowed tenses.
That was silence for it is
not remembered as much until
the last licked thread lingers
a great long time in the wrong mouth,
the bitten cheeks and punctual
lips pursed to help fingers
to sequel the camel,
balance the angels,
squish out the remaining air,
the gaps, the light in the gaps.
The light is in the gaps now,
tire dish now, surer than that
tire dish now, please be speaking
on between sundowns. On after the overs
and he is gone now, those are his now.
This isn't ours or us anymore.
Some sentences tear apart
and tear apart the aperture
where the light works, the hole surrenders.
Anselm Berrigan interlocutes an eloquent statement to an offscreen partner regarding his own particular refusenik status pertaining perhaps to poetry or perhaps to angelism scornforkery. Hard to tell but all the same, it's worth a read and holds the reader save for a bit of clumsy shirk-quirkspew in the middle. Perhaps he is not the most boring poet alive afterall.
http://peacockonlinereview.com/poems/july10/anselm_berrigan.pdf
http://peacockonlinereview.com/poems/july10/anselm_berrigan.pdf
22.9.10
Haris Homestead, 09/10
We know exactly where the grapes
these figs start and stop
where they fell and by which
hand they are brought to tent
and table, I wish for a longer
but less a vist than a lifestyle,
on the two banks of the ocean,
the water spelling and spreading
me, my eyes, cutting
all this property we've acquired
all of this in half, even
the memory of which closet
I locked last
is parceled out like summer
melon, the fog is sure
rolling in, peeling up
the summer layers, the weddings
scalping the low low waves
of the Mediterranean Sea
as boys are prepared for school,
each new book is a promise
and each girls' first smile
but there's no one to stop this
moving on that we're doing,
no tree to grab onto
as we flash by and away
years at a time.
We know exactly where the grapes
these figs start and stop
where they fell and by which
hand they are brought to tent
and table, I wish for a longer
but less a vist than a lifestyle,
on the two banks of the ocean,
the water spelling and spreading
me, my eyes, cutting
all this property we've acquired
all of this in half, even
the memory of which closet
I locked last
is parceled out like summer
melon, the fog is sure
rolling in, peeling up
the summer layers, the weddings
scalping the low low waves
of the Mediterranean Sea
as boys are prepared for school,
each new book is a promise
and each girls' first smile
but there's no one to stop this
moving on that we're doing,
no tree to grab onto
as we flash by and away
years at a time.
1.9.10
29.8.10
28.8.10
In The Mines Of Mexico They Weep
Now there shall be a man cohered out of tumult and chaos . . . . the elder encourages the younger and shows him how . . . they two shall launch off fearlessly together till the new world fits an orbit for itself and looks unabashed on the lesser orbits of the stars and sweeps through the ceaseless rings and shall never be quiet again. - Walt Whitman, in the preface to Leaves of Grass.
In a twilight pilgrimmage
via these frost cracked streets
close to the Campbell shaft
full of our fathers breath and breathing,
we unfold our own cloth on the Fourth of July,
one crease at a time on the crags
near the ballpark in Warren, down from
the Loma Linda and the old mine-boss housing.
Flashlights dangle from the hands
of children. The night catches us deeply
unaware, but they don't think like that,
they are that,
think more about the starting time,
and the firemen on top of the dumps
who signal the end by waving lanterns,
how they crave that sort of thing
up there on those mountains of slag
thinking, as ours do, of the breath
of canaries and candles deep in those old holes.
A persistent and unheard whimper
fills space on this weary-
happy picnic in July or maybe
it only fills the weariness with something else.
I clasp a child tight in my arms,
a finger closes the tender wound,
hush hush, our waiting begins, we settle down.
Our Fourth of July is in sweet tortuous ruins
thrown in a trash bin of appetites lost.
We've run from one excitement to another
Now there shall be a man cohered out of tumult and chaos . . . . the elder encourages the younger and shows him how . . . they two shall launch off fearlessly together till the new world fits an orbit for itself and looks unabashed on the lesser orbits of the stars and sweeps through the ceaseless rings and shall never be quiet again. - Walt Whitman, in the preface to Leaves of Grass.
In a twilight pilgrimmage
via these frost cracked streets
close to the Campbell shaft
full of our fathers breath and breathing,
we unfold our own cloth on the Fourth of July,
one crease at a time on the crags
near the ballpark in Warren, down from
the Loma Linda and the old mine-boss housing.
Flashlights dangle from the hands
of children. The night catches us deeply
unaware, but they don't think like that,
they are that,
think more about the starting time,
and the firemen on top of the dumps
who signal the end by waving lanterns,
how they crave that sort of thing
up there on those mountains of slag
thinking, as ours do, of the breath
of canaries and candles deep in those old holes.
A persistent and unheard whimper
fills space on this weary-
happy picnic in July or maybe
it only fills the weariness with something else.
I clasp a child tight in my arms,
a finger closes the tender wound,
hush hush, our waiting begins, we settle down.
Our Fourth of July is in sweet tortuous ruins
thrown in a trash bin of appetites lost.
We've run from one excitement to another
races, parades, contests, reunions
thankful for a gentle sun, there was no burning
and there will be few scars if any.
The miles between this and that
contract like stars in heaven where
light reaches us much too late
and we as well, get there accordingly.
This is the anniversary of all
that's happened here
for each body on this ragged old quilt,
each poor soul and dumbstruck
face tipped up toward the sky.
The silence between one person and the next
is only the truth where commentary has failed.
I look around me one last time
before the sun takes all the light away -
count the faces I own, erase what's left,
a small town thing to do on an occasion like this.
The darkness is complete and the fireworks begin.
My daughter tells me, during one of the beautiful
interims which goes like this:
thankful for a gentle sun, there was no burning
and there will be few scars if any.
The miles between this and that
contract like stars in heaven where
light reaches us much too late
and we as well, get there accordingly.
This is the anniversary of all
that's happened here
for each body on this ragged old quilt,
each poor soul and dumbstruck
face tipped up toward the sky.
The silence between one person and the next
is only the truth where commentary has failed.
I look around me one last time
before the sun takes all the light away -
count the faces I own, erase what's left,
a small town thing to do on an occasion like this.
The darkness is complete and the fireworks begin.
My daughter tells me, during one of the beautiful
interims which goes like this:
ooh, aah, wonderful! then another interim and another,
one day the sun will die
as copper sulphur spark comets flower dark,
my father scatters in the sky,
my father scatters in the sky,
Oh! Mufasa, talk to me!
First draft sometime 03/06 however the sketch for this poem much earlier...probably in the mid 90's.
25.8.10
Bisbee Blues Fest, September 25, 2010
Artist Videos here:
https://thebisbeebluesfestival.com/artist-videos/
Artist Videos here:
https://thebisbeebluesfestival.com/artist-videos/
19.8.10
Border Patrol Suicides Skyrocket
"It's unclear exactly why the men ended their lives. Few of them left notes. And the Border Patrol seems somewhat at odds with itself over the issue. The agency declined to provide details of the suicides and would only confirm the number of deaths since 2008. But the AP uncovered the names, locations and dates of the suicides by reviewing public records, including those obtained from medical examiners through the Freedom of Information Act, and speaking with people close to the Border Patrol."
Read between the lines wudja? I guarantee you, none of them were poets.
Alfombra Roja
-an explanation of the Cuban Necktie and the Disneyland Similacra of the Underworld of the Sicarios.
"Julio Scherer García, doyen of independent journalism in Mexico, recently published an illuminating book: La reina del Pacífico. For months, Scherer visited Sandra Ávila Beltrán in the penitentiary where she has been held since September 28, 2007. Presented to the media as if she were the “Queen of the South” from Arturo Pérez Reverte’s novel, Ávila has all the necessary traits to captivate the public imagination. She is a beautiful, strong, defiant woman, imprisoned by a weak head of state who broke his bones falling off a bicycle (a kindergartner’s accident), and who is further diminished by the suits he wears (on him they all look extra-large). The Queen was irresistible prey for a president with small feet. Displaying her to the public is part of a larger propaganda strategy that has done nothing to diminish the brutal impact of the drug trade."
"According to what she tells Scherer, Ávila’s involvement in crime has been less direct and in a certain way more alarming than what her jailers suggest. At 44, she has never known a life outside the drug trade. She talks about the industry the way Sofia Coppola might talk about film. She had open lines of communication to all the noteworthy capos, was kidnapped by a delinquent boyfriend, has been married to two narcos (one a corrupt police commander), underwent the kidnapping of her adolescent son, has watched people die at her feet, and has had at her disposal all the parties, all the jewels, all the cars, all the mansions (each occupied only for a couple of weeks)—every excess purchasable for cash. Although she studied journalism for a semester at the Universidad Autónoma de Guadalajara, she was not familiar with Julio Scherer, the country’s best-known journalist. For forty-four years she lived in a world apart, like the inmates of Biosphere 2.
-an explanation of the Cuban Necktie and the Disneyland Similacra of the Underworld of the Sicarios.
"Julio Scherer García, doyen of independent journalism in Mexico, recently published an illuminating book: La reina del Pacífico. For months, Scherer visited Sandra Ávila Beltrán in the penitentiary where she has been held since September 28, 2007. Presented to the media as if she were the “Queen of the South” from Arturo Pérez Reverte’s novel, Ávila has all the necessary traits to captivate the public imagination. She is a beautiful, strong, defiant woman, imprisoned by a weak head of state who broke his bones falling off a bicycle (a kindergartner’s accident), and who is further diminished by the suits he wears (on him they all look extra-large). The Queen was irresistible prey for a president with small feet. Displaying her to the public is part of a larger propaganda strategy that has done nothing to diminish the brutal impact of the drug trade."
"According to what she tells Scherer, Ávila’s involvement in crime has been less direct and in a certain way more alarming than what her jailers suggest. At 44, she has never known a life outside the drug trade. She talks about the industry the way Sofia Coppola might talk about film. She had open lines of communication to all the noteworthy capos, was kidnapped by a delinquent boyfriend, has been married to two narcos (one a corrupt police commander), underwent the kidnapping of her adolescent son, has watched people die at her feet, and has had at her disposal all the parties, all the jewels, all the cars, all the mansions (each occupied only for a couple of weeks)—every excess purchasable for cash. Although she studied journalism for a semester at the Universidad Autónoma de Guadalajara, she was not familiar with Julio Scherer, the country’s best-known journalist. For forty-four years she lived in a world apart, like the inmates of Biosphere 2.
The landscape has been transformed by the investment of dirty money. Any Mexican city features plenty of locations to film the death of a capo or a police commander. There, the ideal restaurant: a plastic and neon château where waitresses in miniskirts serve brontosaurus ribs, next to a Mercedes-Benz dealership and a hotel that looks like a mosque with Plexiglas cupolas. Places like Torreón or Mérida, which until recently had reputations as calm cities (because it was assumed that the narcos who built their homes there didn’t use them for “work”) have now also become the settings for executions.
In the new environment of fear, 10,000 companies offer security services, and close to 3,000 people have had a chip the size of a grain of rice implanted under their skin so that they can be easily located in the event of kidnapping. "
18.8.10
17.8.10
John Latta contemplates the Mentor/Manatee existence
http://isola-di-rifiuti.blogspot.com/2010/08/roberto-bolano-william-faulkner.html
Two Latta Paintings of Words with fine last lines and appropriateness. Poems that teach the poem about itself and what could be better than that!
http://isola-di-rifiuti.blogspot.com/2010/08/roberto-bolano-william-faulkner.html
Two Latta Paintings of Words with fine last lines and appropriateness. Poems that teach the poem about itself and what could be better than that!
Not my gospell Squall, my
Arch and holler, my sacerdotal
Imperium, my squawk, my Gun. -John Latta from Cold and Arch in Typo Mag #3
16.8.10
Sign of the Times
"Mobbing" is the term that has been coined for an increasingly common phenomenon in primarily Western employment environments that leads to divorce, unemployment and it has been documented in at least one study that 12% of all suicides experienced a 'mobbing' event shortly before they took their own life.
http://chronicle.com/article/What-Killed-Kevin-Morrissey-/123902/?sid=at&utm_source=at&utm_medium=en
Suicide at prestigious Virginia Quarterly Review stirs concern over workplace bullying:
Family members and people close to the review say Mr. Morrissey, the review's managing editor, had been complaining to the university about workplace bullying by his boss, Ted Genoways. But, they contend, the institution did virtually nothing to help. "Kevin had been to the university as recently as the Monday before the Friday he died," says a person who worked for the review. "The university had tools to step in and mediate, and they didn't." Some close to the situation say that in the days before the death, they even warned the university that Mr. Morrissey, who suffered from serious depression, might commit suicide."
"They say Mr. Genoways, in turn, began cutting Mr. Morrissey out of key decisions and distancing himself from the office, refusing to answer staff members' e-mail messages, shirking many of his day-to-day duties, and dumping most of the work on his small staff. "The whole staff felt Ted took all the credit and did none of the work," said the person who worked for the review, adding that Mr. Genoways spent most of his time at VQR "scrambling to be a star." Mr. Genoways has been away from the office on a Guggenheim fellowship in recent months, but he still has been responsible for making sure the journal's issues are finished on time."
"Mobbing" is the term that has been coined for an increasingly common phenomenon in primarily Western employment environments that leads to divorce, unemployment and it has been documented in at least one study that 12% of all suicides experienced a 'mobbing' event shortly before they took their own life.
http://chronicle.com/article/What-Killed-Kevin-Morrissey-/123902/?sid=at&utm_source=at&utm_medium=en
Suicide at prestigious Virginia Quarterly Review stirs concern over workplace bullying:
Family members and people close to the review say Mr. Morrissey, the review's managing editor, had been complaining to the university about workplace bullying by his boss, Ted Genoways. But, they contend, the institution did virtually nothing to help. "Kevin had been to the university as recently as the Monday before the Friday he died," says a person who worked for the review. "The university had tools to step in and mediate, and they didn't." Some close to the situation say that in the days before the death, they even warned the university that Mr. Morrissey, who suffered from serious depression, might commit suicide."
"They say Mr. Genoways, in turn, began cutting Mr. Morrissey out of key decisions and distancing himself from the office, refusing to answer staff members' e-mail messages, shirking many of his day-to-day duties, and dumping most of the work on his small staff. "The whole staff felt Ted took all the credit and did none of the work," said the person who worked for the review, adding that Mr. Genoways spent most of his time at VQR "scrambling to be a star." Mr. Genoways has been away from the office on a Guggenheim fellowship in recent months, but he still has been responsible for making sure the journal's issues are finished on time."
12.8.10
Ah Ramadan Kareem and it is
Evidence Reveals Direct Israeli Involvement
in the 2005 "Valentine's Day Assassination" of Rafik Hariri
in Beirut Lebanon. Simultaneously, other evidence was provided that demonstrates the way Hezbollah managed to capture at least 9 IDF commandoes several years prior in the village of Anjar which in turn demonstrates the advanced technology available that has enabled the world's most beloved resistance army to beat not one superpower but two and not once but thrice.
Footage intercepted by Hezbollah directly from Israeli sources embedded in the IDF and shows Israel directly monitoring the route upon which Hariri was to take when his safety warning system (the most high tech in the world and obtained from Israel to boot) was jammed. The evidence has been surpressed by Hezbollah due to the fact that it would weaken their security and the security of Lebaon if Israel knew their capabilities to intercept this data. Now, because the UN tribunal which was stacked in order to blame Hezbollah has begun, Hezbollah had no choice. It will however generate even more support now at this midnight hour for the legitimacy and rights not only of Hezbollah to retain their weapons for deterrence but to eventually transmute those into weapons and philosophy shared by the mostly Shi'i Lebanese Army.
Jews the biggest victims of the hate crime known as Zionism
Two million plus hits and counting ....gee....as many hits as Silliman has received in a lifetime
"Multiple Subjectivities" versus the exploitation of women's clothing, the role of the Hollywood script in abducting and unveiling not only Arab/Oriental women but women in general. A very interesting point is made about the script of the inferiority of various cultural dress codes from the inferiority of the Victorian era and it's collision with the scantily clad sub Saharan/North African female versus the inverse relationship now in which American scantily clad women are considered not only superior but exceptionally so when compared to their poor muslim sisters.
Evidence Reveals Direct Israeli Involvement
in the 2005 "Valentine's Day Assassination" of Rafik Hariri
in Beirut Lebanon. Simultaneously, other evidence was provided that demonstrates the way Hezbollah managed to capture at least 9 IDF commandoes several years prior in the village of Anjar which in turn demonstrates the advanced technology available that has enabled the world's most beloved resistance army to beat not one superpower but two and not once but thrice.
Footage intercepted by Hezbollah directly from Israeli sources embedded in the IDF and shows Israel directly monitoring the route upon which Hariri was to take when his safety warning system (the most high tech in the world and obtained from Israel to boot) was jammed. The evidence has been surpressed by Hezbollah due to the fact that it would weaken their security and the security of Lebaon if Israel knew their capabilities to intercept this data. Now, because the UN tribunal which was stacked in order to blame Hezbollah has begun, Hezbollah had no choice. It will however generate even more support now at this midnight hour for the legitimacy and rights not only of Hezbollah to retain their weapons for deterrence but to eventually transmute those into weapons and philosophy shared by the mostly Shi'i Lebanese Army.
Jews the biggest victims of the hate crime known as Zionism
Two million plus hits and counting ....gee....as many hits as Silliman has received in a lifetime
"Multiple Subjectivities" versus the exploitation of women's clothing, the role of the Hollywood script in abducting and unveiling not only Arab/Oriental women but women in general. A very interesting point is made about the script of the inferiority of various cultural dress codes from the inferiority of the Victorian era and it's collision with the scantily clad sub Saharan/North African female versus the inverse relationship now in which American scantily clad women are considered not only superior but exceptionally so when compared to their poor muslim sisters.
40,000 rockets and counting
Finally. Israel formally implicated in the Valentine's Day assassination of ex Prime Minister of Lebanon. About time I say, about time. The crater was so obviously caused by an aerial bombing and a person would have to be blind to have missed that. Or on the Israeli payroll. And apparently about a 100 people were on that payroll, many of them high ranking officials in the security apparatus in Lebanon, the army as well as employees in the telecommunications industry.http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_id=1&categ_id=2&article_id=118133#axzz0wMoUghsV
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the US Senate Committee on Foreign Relations discusses the unbelievable (and apparently unpronouncable for the chairman who is a bit tongue tied) increase in strength and importance of Hezbollah in the region and the world (as a proxy of Iran of course, yadayada). The guy is hopelessly biased towards Israel and against the Lebanese people who it is well known by now, support not only the resistance but the actual and legitimate political party that represents a variety of sects not solely the Shia muslims of Lebanon.
http://foreign.senate.gov/hearings/hearing/?id=de51c6a4-5056-a032-52bc-dcf1f13de7ae
"Unless Hezbollah is defeated completely, in detail", well yes Doctor Norton. And it can't be defeated. Game over. And you are most welcome at bayt Sweid in Haris any time you care to stop in for a cup of tea. My pleasure.
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