poems

27 December 2014

BA detail

Tio Mario to the footballers on TV: Vamos, querido.
You translating into my ear: Go, darling.

#53: Await

Notice what's innocent: capacity for surprise.

Love came for ferdinand, unknowingly viewing miranda.

Honey shards, whittled by some sea, came for annabel lee.

Lyn: "as for we who love to be astonished"

delight abounds. either we gather its surround

or it lifts off, self-distributes silently.

"Are you sleeping?"cue 'choice Heart of Hearts,'

a strawberry's voltage, simmering on through.

You could say to me I have been waiting for this day

through all sunlight's previous days

and have me believe—without turning away—

that lovely I am your person. Though surely not.

21 December 2014

#52: night tillage

Mark how
at this stage of bad behavior
there's an accidental lightness

that stretches
its paws before guilt or vandal
shrugging coyly

a happy actor of known roles
on vague bright stages
bound by, sworn to no

in its dragon forms
mark how day yields
laying wide open

a mouth or road
a tipped vase or field
edged with wildflowers

—sweet and minor
and giving nothing away
calling to bees

14 December 2014

Sometimes a person doesn’t want to seek the dignity of an always already violated body and wants to cast hers off, either for nothingness, or in trade for some other, better model.

-Lauren Berlant in The Female Complaint

I am not interested in narrative, or truth, or truth to power, on a certain level; I am fascinated by affect, by positioning, and by intimacy, as I know you are. What happens when I stand close to you? What’s your body going to do? What’s my body going to do? On myriad levels, we are both going to fail, fail, fail each other and ourselves. The simplicity of the language is never to suggest truth, but to make transparent the failure. The linguistic failures are dis- appointing and excoriating, as you say, and the images don’t exactly recoup or repair—they are a form of recess, which is its own kind of movement, including both the break from and passage back to the unbearable.

-Claudia Rankine

cf. http://bombmagazine.org/article/10096/claudia-rankine

psa reminder if niedecker can write small poems i can learn to

08 December 2014

#51: sustenance ii.

how long can you sustain a panic?—
a really high-riding panic?——
how long have you in the past? or:
has it ever been "this bad"?

this time it's a livestream
police line ahead at 6th, blocking freeway
chopper feed shows hella cops at exit as at least 1k pol move in the streets

and my love contacts me
text: they shut down downtown berkeley BART because of the protests so im walking to the north berkeley station

i feel like i did yesterday and all last week

5 more cop cars headed for university exit of 880

a hummed split nerve

stream passing university southbound on MLK

or spilt vein (spilt blood briefly creamed)

text: there are helicopters and a plane

police: stay back from barricade
protestors: i cant breathe

text: i should be fine / im at the station
text: the train comes in eight minutes

(
o sustain me
bringing milk
the photos of teargassed faces dripping milk verge on obscene
or are they obscene?
their context is repulsive
that whole slab of 580 is
)

text: im in san francisco

#50: sustenance [EXPAND]

'it is time for you to shed a fear'

does this sustain you, does this sustain me, do you sustain me, do i sustain you, do you sustain this, do i sustain this?

(what is this what are you what am i? obviously)

07 December 2014


Berkeley is getting fucked right now

stop crying

so would you rather I stop looking

Matisse, the Open Window, 1918

those instances where you look at a painting and can hear it?

#49: my hotel room in paris

augusto giacometti
is the king of mysterious
bruises
less valid perhaps
than a blood queen
from a neighboring
country
come to let

grave
parts changing colors
a drafty room in orange

you're not home:
berkeley and oakland
get ugly on camera
and loud
cop has tear gas student
has sandbag      you don't
'have what it
takes'
to process so
back to work
puzzle over what's
violet on your
thigh       wonder how
it got there

05 December 2014

#48: postscript

i guess so
at no point
did i think
we weren't already
at some summa

i was not
happy   i was
excited          a latecomer
to girlhood    twirl


"the unicorn is
in captivity and
no longer dead"

#47: recuperative

if you could be specific
in your support
that would be great

sometimes i hit a stride
& fully bodied
it's too much—too good

i might reach out in such an instance,
weirdly high
typically cocky

i thought i was helping
but you recoil
so i fuck off

i'm always cold
especially in the mornings
you tease this quirk

with a loving what's your problem
hate me                    don't you

bare trees show
nests but no birds

humans have            the other problem

#46: vision

breath dictates / shape does

it looks like people around here learn to smoke without using their hands
the harming cold / clench pull in grit push out

i have you at my feet

you are comfortable here

tongue all tip

30 November 2014

ode


i know
i self sabotage
with bashfulness
don't get what i want
am bitter

ode


duty free scotch
flights to paris
trains to berlin
bus back down to tübingen

29 November 2014

#45: hm


don't feel dead, undead, or angry.
create things to look forward to.
manufacture a present.
perk up.
do the thing.
do the other thing.
forget last time.
(bist aus den schwarzen Wäldern, wie BB.
wie süß.)
gift=torture?
face all portraits the other direction
or honor them and look away.
honor: a political choice.
an exigency.
hm but don't you not need this.
hm
let you figure that out
i can wait
shed at alarming rates
in the shower
across the floor
fling strands
summer will return me to normal
might
confess a little worry
no. unwilling to reconsider how you look.
'p. intensity.' consigned.
don't i not need that
made you look

28 November 2014

#44


the sweetest, sweetest, sweetest, sweetest
black-lash-ringed green eyes w/ gold centers
flick of cheekbone
flare of jaw
set into a marble neck
fitted by broad spiky shoulders
center hull of which dips & rises
its skinned pulse
ok descend him leave nothing out
you get yr angelic glow from hating the sun
your bright arms surrender
slender squarely-overlong fingers
& barely-delineated palms
stomach's sleek powdery sheen
back's pale taut hide
muscle holding tough legs
veins roping hard knees
deep-arched overlong feet
(a natural unnoticed spare allover taper)

#43: *Roethke (Meditation at Oyster River)

I.

It's good from up here

"put me down"

& from down here

The self persists like a dying star*

"okay"

II.

suspense:
doorframe
did acquiesce

dream/gash lived out

chair presiding
a frame narrowing its eyes
basement closet

III.

looking away while you poured
freed me

unfortunately the whole thing made me very happy
I was poised to take the lead

#42: post Roethke ('Her Longing')

Before this longing,
I lived serene as a fish

a scored
cold mirror
burnished blemishes

phoenix
sure of my body
...rising out of itself

a brushed-out
unrippled echo
chains
heavenly jangling

beyond & beneath
site
a canny knack
for likenesses

I dive to where the mirror longs
relaxed in its stretch
a preparation
pose
flexed scales

the ready return
the flaxen chain
a similar body

#41: post Frank ('Retrieved,' p9)

Suppose that grey tree, so nude
and desperate,
                         began to waltz
slowly in time to something we
are deaf to in the thickening snow.

Would that mean a web of steel
dipped in molten
                           alabaster
whipped into articulation
worked a slow bolero?
                                    Whether
each flake switched directions
mid-air or breathed
long layers of
                       creamy frosting
over cars and trees
sweetening the street
making Forest Ave
                               more like a postcard

27 November 2014

James 31-55
Frank 26-66

Bill rang Annie's doorbell in a tux; her dad answered.
He closed the door on him and shouting could be heard.
Annie is first-generation Korean American.
Bill is first-generation Chinese American.
Annie did not attend Prom 2007.
She now lives with a white man in Oakland.

26 November 2014

How? Why?

How?* How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How? How?
Why?** Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

*can I fix this?
**is it like this?

25 November 2014

#40: sabor

the only mouth tastes like alcohol
cigarette
coffee
mouthwash
cigar
chapstick
mate

mario asks she drinks mate?
si
las cosas hacer por amor
turning back to the game

#39: Notice

(wears a new ring)

aug 9-nov 24 2014 nothing happens


the eyes bulge pinch and are sore to close

a blue light beams false energy

not actually 'all eyes on [us]'

convulse another week cramped/gut-scoured

        for someone
                               who won't come

'teach us not to care'

booked flights         urgent but waiting gray out

mowers bleat past lawns bleeding into each other

verdure vomit on wet sidewalk

the throat     unobserved     splinters through laughter

is that ring new

the lid leaks seawater      a lash or two detaches

*

young racehorse heart attacks fumbles and gives

i bought the horse to run him not parade him

men =/= horses      all racehorses are young

death codes break down       as in finished

third in a turf race and broke down after crossing the line

          race facilitates behaviors


the finger assumes full length         its silver ring

minor goldplated fixture         shapes its base

23 November 2014

Recipe website:
"I like sunchokes
purple potatoes carrots & parsnips"

#38: Party

1800 silver (salt, lime)
Bill's sangria (red wine, gingerale, pear, apple, orange, vodka)
brut rosé
other (white) sangria
"A___ seriously how many people in this house have you—"
bass & dancing

*

recuperation

(beats mayo for egg salad)
'Was I talking you into a threesome last night?'
'I thought you said you didn't remember anything.'

20 November 2014

#37: MI/CA

I need to work. I need to make some progress. My hands are cold. Snow on the ground outside. Wind coursing through fossilizing trees. My fingernails and teeth feel unclean. I ought to bathe. How to synthesize, not just splice. Stoplight vandal back home: NO KOOKS.
Since a kook will snake you.

Sunny & snowing
I'm not in mode or the mood
I thought I was late because I'm usually exactly
24 but this turn went full lunar
28

either there are no kooks in Ann Arbor
or everyone's one (either novice
or gone long without a drop)
milk marbles coffee surface to an agate's flat topography

to bleed out as the moon wanes to invisibility
is a cosmosynchronous consolation

there may be lake-specific local-v.-kook culture
but there's no surf
childhood fed gold nasturtium to iguanas
they produce an oil like the watercress
less than a block off / bluffs drop by cut stairs / to the beach

new snow crunches like waterline sand
I could never really stay up
discouraged as a child
rode goofy

maybe you can't lose your local status
consider Bolinas, where you are honorary
that day trip revealed full blown
its smoky, slow-cooked club
should you visit SD your accent would not blend in
but they bought it in Bolinas
everybody's high there
my third eye is open

18 November 2014

#36: Suryaprabha (however sun goddesses are found on every continent

Worship's first general adoration
and crystals of acknowledgement
yes but/because I have you all the time
but then you went away for a while

        many minor shining streaks
        either weather or the products
        of the treatment of the windows
        morning moves eggbright to nightbruise
        sun tunes in and out
        amidst this neomorphic setting
        worship's projected to gain ground

I lived in constant levels of sun
Warmthwise days poured nights
tarmac and sand having absorbed heat
stasis the case
we are all there
in the sun all the time

might be addling

summer built reeking beach fires
Christmas partied outdoors around pits
nobody healthy was looking for relief
the devout sought even stronger incarnations
Palm Springs is of course cheapest in August
110 in the shade / preseason slips dryly
through soft hallways onto patios
proudly browning
most mouths holding ice
bright heat encourages human surrender
bodies end up on their backs

15 November 2014

I was telling her I want cashmere and silk for Christmas and then I heard myself. And diamonds, I added, and fire.

#35: 'In Shadow' riff

Out in the late amber...
confused among chrysanthemums

Are you providing speech or happily striking dumb?
Or are you dumb, according the gloom
beneath a low stone bridge every courtesy,
tonight's silence. Or do you
prompt the moves of your friend,
her dancing instep, like you're waving a sign.

14 November 2014

Deer Widows

While the hunters are away, the wives will play.

13 November 2014

#34: Contexts for Fashion

I use my hair and I use my body and I hate and hide each "at will." There is no real pattern but there are minor graphs you could trace. Like walking to work when I worked on Shattuck Avenue. Or what I wear to attend certain seminars. Or to go out with friends. Sometimes it's an aggressive display (if I am at a bar on a weekend for example) and other times it's basic self-protection or denial (denying people me, i.e. on those corners especially by the BART station or in a class where I want to be able to make comments as if I were without or beyond sex and gender i.e. as if I were in my primary aspect intelligent, not female). I never learned how to assert myself as a thinking subject without compromising (concealing) my hair or my body. Far be it from me to drive anybody to distraction. Even though I am not your problem and you are your problem. You could cite a number of assailants— male who involved me in an entanglement before, during, and afterward complimented then accused me of seduction by means of my hair and by means of my body. Co-culpae, both me though neither actually me. This happens to lesser degrees often enough. But I am not here to list grievances. I am here to go into detail about why I like to hide my hair and body, and how I can only sometimes feel strong enough to bare or highlight either physical manifestation. Sexual power is no good when you realize nobody is listening to you speak (frequent glances to the mouth). Wrap everything up and speak slowly and in a lower voice than feels natural and you may find, as I find, (more) people listening (better). It is maybe a different strophe of seduction but at least it is closer to being disembodied. Isn't that what being male is: not constantly obsessing about your body? Or not being saturated in images etc that clearly demonstrate an obsession with your body at only the level of its appearance? I do not pretend to speak wisely about these problems on any scale larger than myself.
So, I hide my hair when I want you to look at my face and hear my voice and I hide my body more often than not because I have been conditioned to hate it and to hate the reactions it has gotten in the past that I fear it will get in the present and future (aside from the constant barrage it gets from me). Self-removal via clothes-fashioned shapelessness. It's not as bad as it used to be for me because I stopped caring as much some time a few years ago. Could probably map it to the frequency and tone of my sexual encounters (how I was gathering power and shedding terror [the terror of ignorance]). Rankine in Citizen: "Move on. Let it go. Come on." Surprisingly for many numbness is a viable choice. Even with headphones in it was hard to be numb to what I got on Shattuck at the mouth of the train station across from where I worked. It helped but not much when I wore my giant long coat. Of course I walked fast. I received many compliments of the "Did you steal that from a black girl" type. Walking into the lobby of my hotel I may have made guests uneasy with my face. I wore my hair up tightly every day and made my boyfriend meet me there to walk me home after 11:30. It feels idiotic transcribing such normal activity but at the time I was very indignant that I felt obliged to ask for a side-along semblance of male protection.
 I suppose on another side of this there is when I go out with friends and do certain things to with for my hair to achieve full effects. There, my physical part is mine and I am enabling its 'power.' (Power via sexuality is only one type and this form still depends on the receptivity of men. I want more control than this...) Usually it is to get attention that is then roundly rejected. The exercise of rejecting is pleasurable and honestly few things feel as triumphant. With one girlfriend or a few or especially alone it's nice to know that the better you look the higher the stakes and the better-looking the passes and the better the rejections feel to dole out. You better look good if you're going out alone, but wear your big coat. Hiding is about safety so what I must be implying is it's not simple nor are you ever likely to feel safe.
Caveat: I can choose not to care one day or many days in a row but in so doing I also (always already) have signed on for that certain numbness or resignation to what is encoded and insidious in everywhere I participate in making. So I may choose "not to care"— you could probably map it against my cycle with some accuracy. Inevitably blood dolls me up. At the same time, that shedding deactivates my sensor against any blows I may receive on behalf of my hair or body, whether averred positive or negative (though that's not a real split because unwarranted blows are violent. I said blows.). The thing is who gets to decide what violence is and how it's administered and how does the intensity change depending on its site on what gradient. I will say about the period I am terrifying and cannot imagine being assaulted in those days directly preceding bleeding. I cannot remember any incidents. If there were (on Shattuck for instance) I probably talked back and pulled grotesque faces and flicked my middle finger, and no real harm done there. For that matter I am also (in non-harassment contexts) more likely to meet and hold eyes and to challenge bad logic and to demolish what I consider pathetic. That attitude is less likely to get assaulted and presumably is illustrated in my gait and gaze. Would that I were always premenstrual, I would never under other circumstances say.

12 November 2014

#33: Imaginary conversation with my mother and then with Y

Brick in a carpet pattern
//
Emitting high-frequency ultrasonic 'pleasure' calls, like a rat
//
An evil taste this is mine      right now
Orlando going "Ecstasy... ecstasy!"

Did they have a goal for the boat?
Just launched it,
full of treasure,
into the deep. Off goes
the memory of his honor...

I liked a long skirt my last year in Berkeley
for almost vanishing
if you had to hurry you just hiked it up

In pop songs women and men
call each other baby.
On streets by strangers
and among accomplices
it is easily deployed

I know you and want you to hurt me in certain contexts
vs.
I don't know you and fear you may imagine hurting me

#32: Apt 309 / Oct 13-May 14

Remember when there was a person you kept coming home to?

We cohabited for less than a year
     I won a lottery and parted from you
algae blooms coat the lake each summer
     [Marvin Gaye voice] You were happier for me
     than I was for myself

It's hard to be brave
     & hard to sit still
I either have to change or leave
you say Health is always
     an act of the mind
& went on completing your duties
as you will until your death

I sometimes get this urge to go and be poor in New York
     I reread Just Kids and type out relevant sections to send you
our asceticism was a combo of laziness & the lease being so short
& not having a car & not caring about having eg a bedframe
a dining table or more than 2 chairs

in our rare fits of hosting people were charmed to sit on the floor

to be fair I bitched a lot about the bedframe
to which you said Go buy one
in my head when I'm in New York you're not necessarily there

11 November 2014

#31: I-80


Girl in class yesterday: I mean the subway systems of various cities have become icons in ways similar to for example the Brooklyn Bridge. Like people put the image of the subway lines onto tote bags. Just like people put the bridge onto tote bags. Is this bridge as big a deal for people who don't live in New York, or why are there so many poems about it?

No, it's not that big a deal e.g. in California we have the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay Bridge, recently reconstructed, its lesser half still stretching a quarter of the way out across the water (demolition article: "material beneath the bay floor may remain"). Especially at night its rimy corpse rises out of the water running alongside its victor.

In New York in September I was exiting the subway and surfacing in hard sideways rain to a sparse clot of bodies in the way of my view of this diptych-arched span. But it was really coming down, and I tried to get a few shots but knew weather was entering my camera, which is expensive and the only one I have. And by the time I looked up, my sister was more than a block off, rolling her eyes.






The San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge(s), 2013

#30: You may come to me now

I don't want to be closed.
Don't let me be closed.
May I be open.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm
            mi gata
A man, not you, reciting:
I bow to these things.
This is my force of argument,
heart thudding along.

The ankles throb,
the wrist throbs.
Caffeine fucks the cycle up.
Here's to a reunion
at the broad base of Coit Tower.

08 November 2014

#29:

If neither ridicule nor torture
ok
unlike dynamic pleasure
its flatter duration enriches
to hear Amtrak call from Ann Arbor
same bell whistle system as in Del Mar
Solana Beach and Berkeley

#28: Breakfast

Something removed / something remaining
Veins on an inner forearm

Thank you for saying that
You didn't have to say that

I'd like a sugar allergy

if no estuary
then no salt line

ceramic bowl / chipped
white with blue rim / blue marginalia

Visitors sleep on the couches
outside the door

creep past at 3
to refill a water glass

I dance, sing, and do not act
veined / Sweet Queen

#27: Bluets voice exercise

M failed to fuck me and left me in front of a church.
T also failed and put me on a bus.
W practically failed and returned to the United Kingdom.
G failed because I bloodily squirmed away
while he packed for Santa Barbara.

M stopped speaking to me in English after that service.
T alleged closed-circuit after, but kept texting.
This is an aggression.
Calls after 2am when I am in New York
are aggressions. It's not in the cards that you can 'ask questions later.'

W in the morning thought I stole his wallet
and found it and was in a hurry to leave.
I think he realized my roommate
would have been better luck.

What was in that for you, "T." You barely came.
G is now married to a sister of a friend in San Diego.
I regret M and hope he is rotting in Miami
(did I really want to fuck you because of the cigar?).

In that room hung a sketch done by his sister
of a female torso, horizontal, cropped
at the neck and knees.
It had erect nipples, sharp ribs, and was fully shaved.
The lines were purple and blue,

a bruised graph.
He can and will hurt you, some friend or other said.
At least T and G had no art
and at least I half-failed under/on W in my own room.

#26: Holiday

Reach full impasse with the self and wait for death.
Hit the limit of an exertion and cruise there.
[What led to distrust
of the physically manifest?] The tree rises
from the stage, totters; someone plugs it in.
A children's choir sings "Ah" in two well-behaved lines.
[...]
I can relax and pick my brother up from ballet.
I imagine he feels like a fraud
in his low jumps, but he lifts more steadily.
I'm on the warm side
of a window. Do you need in?
He reeks, cloth shoes in his larger hand.
This weekend will gel his hair and line his eyes.

04 November 2014

#25: Beyond pleasure

     Should I be reading Freud?
Turned on by mythology
& turned off by misogyny
so no, not for pleasure
but sure, for intrigue
I want to look in the face like a woman
be slender as a man
destroy any style's sex (wear hair up)
& be buffeted by new winds in my new town
I want to ruin with gazing
variously gendered. Mostly men. I'm up on that scale
& scabrous and resentful thereof
do you think I'm pretty / fuck you
F might say I am overdesirous
& enraged

     What is meant by reverie?
We are opposites you say
you hate weed and you love to dance
you have the qualities of a life-affirming person

     How real is our togetherness?
F claims 'the energy... of those instincts
which have to do with all that may be comprised under the word 'love''
is the libido; certainly but let's
not forget to make a case for comely inertia

     Delusion of solidity?
Thickly running
reading an online article which is divided into
Importance, [F's] defensiveness, & fruitfulness
repetition compulsion admittedly makes no sense to me
may or must be I have not been sufficiently traumatized

     What will America be like?
Can it ever satisfactorily nourish its oppressed
I am supposed to feel this bad for not voting today
I'm not registered in this state & can't imagine
ever being educated enough to care correctly
who's running
I pray in Hilary's direction

28 October 2014

#24: Joe's Jacket

Often a star / was waiting for you to notice it
—Rilke

'You stroke / my hand with your thumb & / I black out'
A bat gets into the house, shrieks

'Hello mi tiger cat lemon bar
paloma sin patas. I don't know why
I feel the need to be mean to you
now that we live together'

I feel lonely with you & awful w/o you:
the mirror is a wall or hole

I miss you when you're in front of me
doing other things
when I hide in retaliation you do not
come looking

you press your closed fingers
to my chest & paw & purr into
the hole of my ear when you see I need these

(...req. "just as it is and just what happens" kind of close)

#23: Comparative Lit

I didn't expect to miss the languages
began cheating by taking interest
in Swedish grammar & in Italian

triggered by that an insight
via Neruda's explico algunas cosas
long-term pleasures,

long-term pains back at the fore
& a German friend read ausgesetzt
auf den Bergen des Herzens at a party

I slept through rain
a naked angel lies on my Rilke cover
his brow's down & a bolt of cloth leaks
from his groin, fern green
& printed with darker swirls

I'm out of practice
& want to get back on the boat
& push off & live somewhere else

26 October 2014

#22: Not sure

     Does taste make any sense?
Oatmeal stout, chocolate coffee

     (What's love)'s relationship to possession?
Parallel or like a helix
hideous
God ought to intervene
but that's the greatest owner

     To shame?
Inverse. Cleaner and clearer
than repulsion, since that can swing.

     It's discerned, but is it a shift?
Yes you slumped under an archway
bound to disastrous unfeeling

     Would there be a trigger warning?
Those come strictly retroactive

     Is it my choice?
Nudity is
touching
is your choice

     Is it always too late?
Power is usually vulnerable




24 October 2014

#21: Sibyl

     Can I call you today?
Somehow worse than in person
you call when
we're both in bad places
sick in bed or other verge
I only pick up if I need it
we beg of each other for an hour & disconnect
man in my front room doesn't understand
we talked about you, she says hi
we're code

     Are you free in about 10 minutes?
It's late where I am
skittish
brisk
I might not be able to stop talking if you let me start

     Are you liking it?
Of course there is always pleasure
in oneself & in new places though
the thirst is a shame

     Are people nice?


     Do people party?
If you can call it that. They don't
commit the way we took
our part of Oakland
fuchsia liqueur & soda
Nat Sherman
both pulled slowly from above
in a wired room like a cage
lording over     preened

23 October 2014

#20: F153 & 154

     Take where? take how? take why?
Can one fully possess?
Not unless you make you an animal

     Who am I to make fun of them?
Guard up     bit down     blister
rough eye    sunk lip      hunkered
tease til exempt

     Which of us can deny the other?
I don't no no not like get this question away from me
Glad you're alone anyway

     Do I die completely?
On the other side of the wall a boy reads
large parts of a legal text
v.a.v. 'Yerma' aloud & watch me
fall asleep (not translating tragedy)

     What does it mean to possess?
Come & he'll show you

21 October 2014

#19: more from 'Language'

     How / Motherfucker can I sing a sad song / When I remember Zion?
Jack gets it right it won't do to be pitiful
gardens of one of those LA yoga cults
then a sprouted almond green juice
& catching miles of gentle break

     How can I / sing my Lord's song in a strange land?
Taking video of the last sunset
coral blaze bleeding out green ocean
sky bruising eastern half of Encinitas
transparent moon dismal til midnight
I'll miss you when I'm gone

     "Where are you going, pretty maid?"
Marine Street Beach best known for womping
I go to watch w/ agua de jamaica
ranking bodysurfers after school
I (really) wasn't pretty or a maid

     Or was it once a mountain?
The sand of the beach at the foot of the reserve
was. Bluff & cliff erode & deposit
& shelves form & slide out
I took confession here & stayed clammed up

     Was it true?
I don't understand the question
I was pretty young but I meant it
I mean you sent me music

#18: questions from 'Language' (J.S.)

     What is final?
Oblivion? Because interminable?
or needs final mean terminable
like 'I don't think about it anymore'
like you waited for me to get on the bus
& watched me go
& at the next function we were civil

     What's your house?
Sun and Jupiter in Lion (proud & uncompromising).
Moon in Fish (reactive & weepy). Rising Goat (ambition).
Mars & Venus in Virgin (odi/amo, utter care).
Nothing came in Twins (they're
sinister for that, illegible, arcane)

     Do you love me?
I often have strong feelings
like a tuning fork or spooked animal
shuddering out of its skin around a wood
that's Moon in Fish for you

     Do the flowers change as I touch your skin?
Of course not, but you were talking the whole time
& I was getting what I was after
& mesmerized

     Where is the poet?
Fled from SF to middle America
one after the other incommunicado

#17: 6th 'Ultimate Bungalow' (of which there are 6), 2307 Piedmont

     Is it over quickly?
Oh, so, so, so quickly.
That's de rerum natura. Claro. Iced tea
dripping on a pink patio, Hockney blue
ocean in the rearview, aridity,
sickness of 'memory/desire'

     What are your assumptions?
M never let me buy my own food
we never went to the movies
never defined any terms
did assert a lust when chance acquainted

     Not this, what then?
I wasn't expecting anything
M burst a valve offstage
I waited in a dark wood-paneled room
M either vomiting or preparing to strike
our heads hit the floor semi-erotically

     Which kinds of knowledge are coterminous?
K thought M had unwieldy physical presence
M thought K would be easy
K thought M preferred silence or foreign language
M thought if not K then N or S or D
K saw a secret diary of M when he was on the roof smoking
revealed how ruined he was last summer
that he had been reading L'étranger & Vallejo

     If not now, when?
That was one argument against resistance
I thought I liked it
The other was maliced tenderness
manifest in 'I got drunk because
I was nervous to see you, comere'

fragment

That time your dad screamed from the front room
TIMMY THE KID PITCHED A NO-HITTER!
we were downstairs fucking around
your brother launched into chanting

#16: 'And when our throat gets dry / ... / If you're a viper.'

4 questions from The Day of the Locust

     [Those men were complete strangers] Know what I mean?
I liked strangers when I was younger
they hardly use anything against you
i.e. ignorance in your favor
i.e. 'nothing to lose'
& such learning curve to ascend

     Who you laughing at?
M for his faith in his macho
myself for the misunderstanding of that come-on
In DotL as elsewhere dancing preludes sex

     But perhaps you would prefer a liqeuer, M—?
Honestly it was noble work trying to make W jealous
he was ignoble it was a public service
to unhand & disarm him
ergo enter M caveat being his misogyny
matched W's
mortal error
'original coil'

     [He must have been crazy.] What kind of fun is that?
M believed he deserved the attention
for being handsome
he got drunk it was revolting (gin)
why he left Miami for California was unclear
maybe excommunication
or some slicker coil

they don't teach consent in schools
did you rly think it was gonna happen with that terrible painting gazing down at me

#15: "The boys in Havana love Tony's wife..."

Four questions from The Day of the Locust & one from Frank O'Hara

     How much is it?
$3 at a cafe or free with rent
if it is fresh coffee, looseleaf tea, or breakfast
of toast or yogurt
$30 for an evening with Faye Greener

     Why don't you go home?
Because I believe I can do good work here
not yet maybe only partially so far
stalling or stalled? maybe
don't want to talk about it
anyway I'm tense look
how the veins shimmer

     Won't you have some coffee?
I got you to stay that time for tea
you were too drunk to stand
I should have fed you bread
or let you sleep on the couch
instead of keeping you awake
& sending you back across town
that might have brought things
to an earlier head
that mightn't have been as good

     I seem to be defying fate, or am I avoiding it?
Avoiding it definitely
Hollywood in the 1930s
'Paris in the time of the arcades'
Berkeley in my nascent postadolescence
@ the very early start of a sharp notion of myself
paying $7 for a beet & ginger juice

     Why go on the turf?
Fuck, maybe she'd like it.
It is very important to feel like wresting power
by dominating male desire, to finger
(still partial) measures of control—
to have you and you and him by the throats
& decide to let you live. Since mercy kills.

#14: Earlier

This morning I am small & not scary
at all

Yesterday I felt scary these often
dovetail

We toured the Folger in DC in March
our tour

of Library of Congress got snowed out
bummer

I lost an earring back in the National
Gallery

coat check. My computer died & I lost
the photos

from that trip and all previous.
This

tied anchor to the summer, which was rough
enough

with separation, a cross-country move,
an aunt

stonily urging marriage at the half
at the La Jolla Symphony

14 October 2014

#13: My Dante

Rain is a good analogy because of its liminal visibility. It is difficult to isolate visually and it can render its surround less clear. The way to check rain density is not to look into the sky which is blank but down at the surface of a puddle or pond and mark characteristics or tendencies from there.
I sit for an hour in a hip-opener, like a frog. This can be good for your back as it is a release, that is if your front is strong enough. I want to say happily, 'mine is!' and vaunt across that dancehall. The rain continues and takes the leaves out from the trees and pastes the street with them. There are always modifications to poses so do not be deterred. It is not a competition. Observe climate and occupy the dancehall. Turn back into a woman. This ought to have you feeling good.

12 October 2014

#12: preference

being held by the throat
being held down
holding down
taking direction
orchestration
last night at a bar
with friends debating
biting

11 October 2014

#11: California Bay Laurel

("Ask variously and often: Can you blame them?")

Mount Tamalpais 'is the result of uplift,
buckling, and folding of the NA plate.'
It's mostly serpentine which goes in
for jewelry as 'false jade.'
I climb Mt Tam with some people I like
but do not know well. A naturalist shows us
how to memorize every next 50 feet
and walk with lifted eyes.
He wears a chestnut braid and Giants cap.
The surrounding redwoods stand dark and cool
from fog seeped-in and hung like moss.
Lunch is whole fruit in an ocean-facing valley.
California laurels spread by rooting in other things
and spice the paths and also go by
pepperwood, spicebush,
cinnamon bush, peppernut tree,
headache tree, mountain laurel,
Balm of Heaven. It smells like camphor,
it's basically myrtle. It hosts the pathogen that kills oaks.

#10: Grizzly Peak

with Mt Diablo in the distance:
the last time we think a grizzly killed a man

was 1865 in Strawberry Canyon.
This was also the last reported sighting.
AKA 'silvertips.'

The biggest bear found in California was killed in Valley Center also in the 1860s.
Last summer we drove out to tour a public lavender farm,
got lost, argued, found the fields, were made serene.

'Grizzly' because the golden and grey tips of its hairs.
Golden poppy, golden bears. Tan splashing children.
Skin cancer, breast implants, exploitation of migrant work.

Students jump Strawberry Creek's narrow parts to get to class.
It rarely rains so the creek rarely swells.

#9: Headline

WILD CARD: Oakland Actively Goes
Out Of Its Way To Break Your Heart

On the train back in from SF
you speed beneath the bay

emerging after 3.6 miles
at just sunrise the cars burn

pear yellow dust light
commuters read and sleep

folded legs in uniform
most get off at 12th Street

you tunnel through part of
the Pacific Coast Range

the light sifting in settles
in your small ear and curls of hair

04 October 2014

Capricorn Rising

With this Ascendant, you come across as serious, cold, disciplined, patient, focused, thoughtful, ambitious, indomitable, cautious, lucid, persistent, provident, steady, introverted, stern, wilful, hard-working, responsible, persevering, honest, realistic, loyal, reserved, resolute, moralistic, quiet, rigorous, attached and reliable. But you may also be curt, withdrawn, calculating, petty, cruel, unpleasant, ruthless, selfish, dull, rigid, slow or sceptical.

27 September 2014

#8: Work Ethic, B & Y, with a first line from Glück

Far be it from him to force his despair
on another person, which would be called
showing the hand, or alternately, folding—
yet relief I glean from folding I apply
onto his up-coiled person. I'm so sure
it would help to move him along the way
it did me. Nerve sets him going;
he accomplishes that state of dark-green agitation;
it's not fiction that one then needs recuperate.
God was generous with him. Why was he
generous? & not to press, but what figures
has he made of his good fortune?
He feels they're all failed efforts
and rejects claims he's been given some gift.
He lives where trees don't change,
barely drip with rain. Elsewhere my mentor
claims he can't help looking things in their faces.
You revealed I am frontal, he says,
That was hitherto one of my weak points.

#7: Status Report

Maybe I'll do my art today instead of anything else.
In a public space L says If you lament
good for you if you're lamenting.
Privately she says go on ahead, they'll catch up.

25 September 2014

#6: A Une Passante

I will be over here
loudly eating grapes.
"I am to wait, I do not doubt
I am to meet you again;"
I scramble three eggs
and have forgotten you are not
here to help me eat.
"I am to see to it
I do not lose you."
Ma petit cherie,
what's really at stake here?
Autumn is the blight
that yellows blotches
of the parking-lot oaks.
Turn on the exhaust,
slip in pepper and onion,
oregano, salt, splash scalding oil
onto my hands which look to be
aging faster than the rest
of an otherwise taut, nourished self.
Their veins protrude like a man's.
"[In] the uncertainty after all
that we may be deluded,"
I imagine returning
to curl beneath your nonjudgmental gaze.

22 September 2014

#5: Hell's First Circle

"Without hope we live in longing"

I am with hope and yet live in longing.
What does that make me. Foolish,
disrespectful of time—worse

than neutral (though are we not all
worse than that), like we've come here
expecting to be disappointed...

"It was a dangerous gesture
to make. It is redeemed
by his genius." The head of the flower

turning toward its source.
There you vaunt
on a hill in the distance,

bathed in bright petals.
Hideous crushed pearl.
The nerve of your person—we were
as so often at one another—

#4: Sexting

"Ultimately selfish.
It's always about you going down on me."
won't get sick of that.
in the dreams you fall in step left—
my left-hand man.
with the proper self-health you can carry
a beloved around in your
porcelain heart
without damaging either party—
it approaches a blissful
tuned-out ambling—
I wake up as happy as I fell asleep.

14 September 2014

#3: 287 (after ED)

Clear honey bloomed—
eddied below—
a boiling water pond
and separated a little—
this sweetened it—

It stayed burning!
The desk's contents went on—
then thought to melt obedient
as though that could appease—

To lift to drink spreads it—
this molten granule cloud—
froth coats the inner jar—
it's thicker—you descend—

The final slugs will taste like rot—
roiling sounds subside—
honey hadn't fully unfurled
so proudly before—its tide—

#2: 611 (after ED)

I think she means
it's always noon
somewhere—some peopled
place or not—

even without mark
like sun or angled
shadow—to direct it—
noon persists

whereon one could sit
with notes, or music,
or unaccompanied—
a sum of silence—

whole night may be
before one—such
or such quota—noon plays
at less than half its energy—

09 September 2014

#1

Wake to King of Pain. This morning thoughts are vague and clerical.
Need a piece of wood under the bed. Ought to register for a key.
I read about NYFW and feel fulfilled as an art critic in bloom, seeing structures'
virtues and issues, stretching my tastes, identifying models.
Things seem different this season; better. Less sensible per house.
It is fine to appreciate the expensive risks of others
so long as you are developing your keenness throughout.
That's a good rule, I will use it. Trying
not to shoot off rounds this morning at the walls
i.e. "back to my fury and love's nursing wound"


06 September 2014

#26: EST

None of my loves is awake yet.
Saturday on the roof: delicious switching
from side of the body to side, where the sun lasts.

We show up for work. The wind beats us.
My loves is in the San Francisco bay.

None of the roofers is smoking,
which makes it easy
and the thunder barrels through

my love amble through dreams
positing and proving daytime

None of my team can imagine.
"I am separate and special."

04 September 2014

ann arbor starts

there's so much tree outside my window it sounds like it's raining because the leaves are rubbing against each other.

23 August 2014

#25: Grammar of Ornament

Proposition 3
As Architecture, so all works of the Decorative Arts, should possess fitness, proportion, harmony, the result of all which is repose.

This is you with your big face like landscape
and this is me

meeting you:
maybe what I'd formerly thought

was good was not so good;
rereading it. I can't stay here

seated beside myself with two ached backs
nor can drink the second coffee

yet these twin problems need attending.
I face them

before going to bed.
I face you all fondly.

The cat at the open door
sees fresh prey every evening.

She is so admirable.
It is a gift not to have to prove one's worth.

22 August 2014

#24: WWBD

Bob would just write and see what happens.
I don't have that initiative.
I would like to write a poem as perfect as Cocaine by John Weiners
which Yaul memorized for recitation for a class
I keep a copy taped to my desk
He manages to use those words you think are off limits
like love, heart, pure, fire, despair, rose, paradise, Hell, God, desire, dreams, longing-
words I am embarrassed to use or not good enough to
I have to assemble and ship two packages to the Bay Area
I have to get boxes and pack them with books and clothes
what else
I am a complainer
Bob would start by describing a word, concept, or natural thing
The view from her window however is just white adobe
The sounds of hired lawn mowers, the dog licking his chops on the floor.
Today she woke early to drive her brother to high school
and stopped after to pick up lattes
the drive crested La Jolla Shores coming down from Torrey Pines
State Reserve and over the bridge that spans the lagoon and the ocean
Usually there is one egret presiding but fog this morning obscured her
She let him pick the music
She leaves California for three years in the Midwest next week
She misses her boyfriend from whom this move separates her
Reading Barthes standardizes their plight but fails to painkill
He sends her sweet messages and they depress her
This move is professionally and financially intelligent
She will forge a network and produce her greatest work to date


16 August 2014

#23: Ribs

I have definitely been writing love poems
but am not worried about it
I'll retreat back into music
and wonder at its production
—stripped of verbiage—
clotted, ribbed, in a corset
returning to the same place for the same bite
of some meal

this generation isn't convinced
that audiences really wept
for Elvis

12 August 2014

#22: Sleeping

you know they love you if they take your picture while you're sleeping.
i take pictures because i feel like i understand things that way
if i feel i understand you even while you're sleeping i must really feel it
so i may love you
maybe it's any picture where they're not looking
maybe it's any picture
i can be very suspicious like love is

08 August 2014

#21: Dream Theory

I dreamt a person critiqued my work. It was not a new poem
but he hadn't seen it yet. In front of a class of three he made basic remarks
before privately mentioning cuts made into the paper:
"there's space for a friend here."

He meant himself. An unsurprising reveal, but kind. But
outside there was a blinding silver ocean and hordes of swimmers.
I was so distracted. Off to the side, I reevaluated the relationship,
kept watching the beach-goers.

It was a sexualized dream because he stood behind me
and we leaned over, touching. I eventually
recognized his spirit and that was that.
I attached him to a person in my waking life.

07 August 2014

#20: 50 Poses

I don't know that I'll ever be
able to take full advantage


05 August 2014

#19: After Seeing A Summer Movie

I buy and give
freely. In fact
it is my art.

I am surprised
by love and
the power it has

to turn out music
or upend
each other's expectations

you have to understand
I'm still happy
I have a plan

03 August 2014

#17: Humid

It's not too soon to plan for the end
of the landscape of Buenos Aires
which you will be leaving for dead

I chose to take advantage
of rain's silences
to focus on how owls fought

and reconciled throughout
the summer, a few drams
in a row, which were damp

from the heat in the air.
Ultimately night
had been weeping all the time

and was ready for me
to relinquish
your side and return

to a wide stance alone
a horned owl in a palm tree
balancing while I prepare to move




02 August 2014

#18: Dew Point, Recoleta

I care too!
I like my experiments, but I want the viewers to know
I think about it too, and can even be moved.
E.g. here's an acute feeling—the acutest—
one wants to paint it—
I came too. During a lightning storm.
The windows were open and there was no
question about it, it was pouring.
We were inside
like now, on this fresh continent in August.
I don't know how I'd describe us to you
except as sensual and psychic,
and engaged, focused, considering our weather.
We made muscular streaks on mirrored doors
and fell asleep watching and listening to neon rain.

01 August 2014

#16: Fri Aug 1

Fri Aug 1: I receive a gift
shipped in brown paper
the shape of a book
that reveals to be a book
different from what I expected:
a book of patterns
like everything
the sun chimes its billows
and dents in the patio
pets watch the ripples
as the book keeps getting better
because it was a gift
because of who gave it
and how it buoys the rest of the month

31 July 2014

#15: The Lost Nudes

Who knows, in the end, at the water,
if it is your life keeping you hostage and how much
or the lives of others and how much between you all.
What you might not pay
to learn what fraction. Would that
not be the key? Or a key.
Or, righter than 'keeping you hostage,'
'getting in your way?' Interruptions
on a horizon you were built to build.

How spectacular a man looks
exiting a shower
before either of you has said so.
Of course it's okay.
You accomplish your disposals.
Before you, the tide falls back:
drenched vibration.

How much of the cordage is yours
and how much has reached you
after extended travel inside others.
Rope in the shape of a door.
Shrouds supporting the mast.

26 July 2014

de Keats

I will call the world a School instituted for the purpose of teaching little children to read—I will call the human heart the horn Book used in that School—and I will call the Child able to readthe Soul made from that schooland its hornbook. Do you not see how necessary a World of Pains and troubles is to school an Intelligence and make it a soul? A Place where the heart must feel and suffer in a thousand diverse ways!

16 June 2014

#13: Sepulveda

"The lyrics are mostly recitation of Los Angeles-area street names"
('Pico & Sepulveda')

Alive to change

#14: Generate Content

I woke up poorly after going to sleep irritably. Coffee and the paper were waiting for me in the kitchen, but I took them to my bedroom and scanned and drank there, still feeling bad. My body hurt - first couple levels' hurt, e.g. down to the mantle, the muscles and skin and nerves botched and knotted - but most mornings fail to disturb the core (obviously - it's the core). Rising to stretch only triggers the grit of teeth and tensing of neck. The neck is an extensive complement tightly interlaced. There are a few things that need to be done outside of the house today but I do not want to leave the house and have decided it is because I should not be outside of the house. Listen to oneself as people say. My body feels bad and does not want to leave the house - brain buzzes its natural daily vibrations - for what then can I need to stay at home? It may be to write something down, the me offers, and there's your reason. Here I sit. I sit here. Looking up rock layers to provide visual context. Not remembering what's in the earth? A new ocean, tripled, under 'news' section of the search.

I am waiting for the essay(s) on the understanding and teaching of poetry. I should just write a few.* The articles and books on the program are interesting insofar as I am a reader of fiction and generally a member of a workshop; but where are the poet-teachers? Nothing in MFA vs NYC nor any of its offshoots or predecessors DFW included can use poetry's examples. Perhaps this is a very good sign of its continued slipperiness - to make Keats proud - and to suggest by omission that to read write and teach poetry-making is still a one-off enterprise, stubbornly case-by-case. Or just that there is no way to make sense of the minuscule market, readership, publication numbers/reach of poets. Is it that fiction does 'do something' or that prosists have not yet proferred their work's own inability to 'make [some]thing happen,' and that poetry laid itself out as part of its act (a responsibility or instinct that does not reside in fiction)? Or have I not yet located the writer, essay, or article that provides fiction's out. Or is it obvious? Is it that fiction is fictive and poetry is in-between? Is there an analogy with the visual arts - representationality? Representableness.
Then HOW DO YOU TEACH IT? The firm (not necessarily firmly, but firm as in a good hard teacher (teacher: listener responder and suggestion-maker) Established Poet sits at head of table as sounding board - as tennis half-court practice wall, as Buddha, sending everything flying back? The difficulties and prevalence of 'the workshop model' make it hard to separate from a more general (does this exist?) theory of teaching creative writing - or of teaching craft. Can it be done, and what is teaching the craft of fiction, and what is teaching the craft of poetry? Do these differ, and how? I can't imagine it after a series of 'forms' lectures and a (nowadays risky/expensive) get-out-of-'normal'-speech-free card. But then I have never taken a creative prose workshop. The standard seems (in poetry workshops) to be: Bring in your poems, and I will see what you have already done and/or tried to do in them, and your peers will evaluate on the same shaky ground, and you will observe their poems and offer perspectives, and next week will be the same. Varying levels of restraints are imposed (Cecil: "write a ghazal"; Geoffrey: "write two poems of equal length using language from a literary text, splice, and combine"; Lyn: "write ten 'table' poems"; Bob: "bring in a poem"). (How is a prose workshop any different?)
Presumably I will have more to say on this come December, after a semester with Lorna Goodison, in a workshop of five poets total (six including Goodison). I can speak to my personal preferences of teaching tones and styles - which again means who I felt and could consciously perceive made me better - to do a more comprehensive analysis classwide of what percentage of students seemed to fall through the cracks throughout the semester, or (whether this is possible) to determine the overall improvement in student writing. Cecil seemed best at saving all our souls. Geoffrey's individual tiny attentions in office hour muscled my technique. Lyn was my favorite alone-time poet to scan for help. Bob rounded out a class regardless of student distractibility and levitated truth-gems for those paying attention to snatch and bind to themselves - making poetry life and life poetry perhaps more actively and consciously than anyone else at Berkeley (i.e. for being so well-read, critically/philosophically, it was his living that looked and felt like his poetry most congruously). What was for me most stimulating and galvanizing about my poetry professors was their being live examples. That was also why I attended as many visiting-poet events as I could - to watch them, alive and existing and moving around as themselves, to make myself an ever-expanding network of live writing workers in my consciousness. It's useful to keep such a network to increase pressures (working regularly, submitting and revising meaningfully, etc) but also to keep heartened in what is not a mass-media enterprise (and what media have evaded that? Classical & jazz music? Certain visual arts? One can perhaps argue that great fiction is incapable of being mass-produced, but that "good fiction" is - look to publishers - but does poetry have such an analogue?) Maybe the question (large and not for this essay) is: are we coterie? To what extent and with what perks and repercussions? How much ought one to care (about those pros/cons)? 


09 June 2014

#12: Working back in: direct,

simple, brief, vigorous, and lucid.
*Garcia Lorca, "Your Childhood in Menton" (Poet in New York)
'Prefer the Saxon word to the Romance.'

START:

Your waist of restless sand*
is in the dark, decided like cuts of shadow.
At the side of the ocean, for instance,
black salt fizzing and spumed. You go in
and had been away and get beat down.
Healthily gold, you are an example.
Return to a healing plant by your bed and
pink salt for family cooking.

But I can't get there to "blue horse of my insanity,"
which is ridiculous.
He seems into horses, dogs, and plazas. I almost spelled that
'horces,' which would be nice.

"Spuma" went from "foam" to "sparkling" from Latin to Italian. (sea-->wine)

*

"The eyes are suspended
on stalks with heavy crystals
on one end, acting like
a gyroscope
to orient the eyes skyward.
They look upward
to navigate
from roots
in mangrove swamps
to the open lagoon
and back, watching for
the mangrove canopy, where
they feed-"
Wikipedia

I too employ my nerve net.


Spring

Spume
on the green surface

and a load of minerals
ebbing patterns

*

Last night the long dream
got caught between panels
of boardwalk flooring
This morning
sent shimmers of dry heat
from the other coast

*

You prefer anything I perform here
to what had been going on
before

*

Undetected
making lines into strangers
set well in yellow
floodlights

*

'there are bodies
that shouldn't
repeat themselves in the dawn'
- cf. "I'm a Greedy Man,"
James Brown.

08 April 2014

#11: Del Mar Country Club

He wanted swans for the pond and proposed it to the owner, and he loved it so they bought these really expensive swans and the coyotes got them. And your father was so devastated. How could he have known? But he said he should have known.

05 April 2014

#10: Notes (to add to)

(Balling and unfurling into/out of a fist)
Can you imagine the heart of a snake or an iguana - ? - just, small?
"Lust overrides disgust at all times, until it doesn't" (Anne Tardos).
the gold hair working down the back
/
it's hot. he uses his hands (for his work, paring lemon).

#9: Cloister

I mean I followed all the rules but it didn't come out realistic.
"South Netherlandish," as a student says.
I am not a student anyway (I am between institutions
which feels like avoiding the term unemployed
hence volunteering interstice and delaying choosing).

I bite myself, not futile, the way addition is not math.
As I drew it, I believed I would not be able to tell after
I'd depicted a napkin; revisiting it is almost obvious
and clear from four soft straight lines. The other objects
are easy: iced tea glass, furniture, body from an angle.

I mean by "full" creating states with no reserve.
I started a month ago: "And if the beloved's heartbeat is irregularly
quick, what liability benefits are you eligible for?
Nicole can catch
on to the joke of my jewelry,
that is the dragonfly stud, we are more and better
than ironic when we get going -
"I don't care if I ever come back." So it's twilight
of your assumptions about the free spirit
I do not have"

A modicum of salt ripples the table,
visible to the hand every afternoon.
Wool warp with wool, silk, silver, and gilt wefts,
gift of Mr. Rockefeller to the museum, hangs.



01 April 2014

#8: Recipe Website

Not a single post in March:
I got rejected from four schools, into two, and waitlisted by one.
Haven't really been trying since.
Checked out Muse & Drudge on a whim.
Threw dust at a window (submitted).
Bought a macaroon and saved it for eight hours in wax paper.
Made tea three times in one day.
Tried at-home yoga.
Got blasted by a thunderstorm.
Had an earhole nearly close due to bad jewelry.
Have more than half a pint of liquid egg whites in the fridge that I won't / don't know how to put to use,
except by recreating the partial failure that was Nicole's Jack Roses after dinner last weekend.
The eyes close so happily.
I had a line--fuck-- what want what everyone would want or
(Ella - Just A-Sittin and A-Rockin)
Can you substitute real egg whites for liquid to make macaroons with?
I looked up ten recipes for macaroons.
I can content myself—and that's not the worst part, but it's getting there.
With nothing formal, taking no class the suddenly
wanting to eat macaroons until my carotid bursts.
My friend locks himself in the bathroom and thinks about his paper.
I don't know where within ten minutes' walking I'd buy shredded coconut so this was a waste of time anyways."In a very large skillet, heat half the oil til shimmering."
I'm done with the digestible self-eating.
Would recreate the drinks soon but doubtful I'll get my friend to join me.
What bears repeating? "You're going to need a failing"
I get it now, he was rehearsing his professor or one of his professor's friends.
"Serve right away with lemon wedges and additional cheese." This recipe website sure
knows how to take the sumptuousness out of instructions.
"In a processor, pulse the tomatoes, almonds, and garlic." "Sprinkle until the sauce
clings."


09 February 2014

#7: The Damp

Matt for my birthday got me this big beautiful thing of Jack Daniel's
Maintenance in the lobby cleaned a red chandelier by standing on a ladder

Guests checked out of the hotel in the morning
Guests checked into the hotel in the afternoon

Clients were misinformed about routing
Clients were made to pay all charges for their stays (room, tax, and incidentals)

A famous dancer staying on a top-floor suite ordered breakfast Thursday
He soaks in the bathtub in one of three top-floor suites

Matt for his birthday met me in the Castro for dancing
We leaned over bars for well tequila and booths for song requests

Rain came to stay and stayed and fell on hotels
Patrons of the hotel put their hoods up against the rain

"Drought-rattled California welcomes weekend storm"

05 February 2014

#6: Conceptual Desk/Bookshelf Poem

Lana Turner^, Nietzsche, DYLAN THOMAS, Cole Swensen/David St. John*, Paul Hoover*, Don Marquis, HEJINIAN, O'BRIEN, juliana spahr, Niedecker, RILKE, NIETZSCHE, Ovid,
Ashbery, Ashbery, Barthes, Barthes, BENJAMIN, Crane, C.S. GISCOMBE, Goethe, Hammarskjold, HASS, HASS, Henry James, Komunyakaa, Komunyakaa, FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA, Farid Matuk, McCarthy, Ernst Meister, Mixed Blood^, Mullen, Niedecker, Notley, O'BRIEN, O'BRIEN, Palmer, Poetry 1962^, Poetry 2013^, Rilke, RILKE, Mood*/RILKE, Don Miguel Ruiz, SPICER, Swensen, Szybist, Woolf, Zukofsky, Zukofsky,
Tolle, LERNER, ASHBERY


^ magazines
* editors

#5: Nonpoem

Discretion today may be the better part of valor
along with listening to music from other cultures
along with going there's no otherness, ideally
finding a second bout of caffeine stressful to the body
but going on ahead, since work is a long many hours
receiving information about a package's receipt and a
forthcoming paper (asking for edits), having bad
sex dreams (Rosemary's Baby bad), and abuse dreams
that take place in dog parks, having dropped off
obsessing about the potential for failures in my preferred
field (the field of acceptance being dry and narrow)
a new crack in an old device's screen saying hi
as messages light it up ("thank you for the gift,"
"can I send you the draft")
and I imagine the sheer effort of applying
makeup or to schools and having already done
the latter ignore the former, even though it's preferred
and I've been told to have a face on at work
was going to assign myself ten love poems yesterday
after reading a few hard ones from dead writers
and I tried starting one "I have given myself
this assignment" but that was as far as it went
instead of commiserating solo discretion today
will sub for valor