Poem: So blue against the dream

by Jack Brummet, Poetry Editor

Auto-poem created by the "Language Is Virus Poetry Generator":



1
Strangely poisonous before the light
You excrete huge signs before the dreamscape
Word! The pleasure has vanished
All murky beneath the towers
I pull transparent sensations before the fire
Be luminous. The sin felt good
Sinful and glowing about the towers
I breed transparent tomb stones beyond the towers
Beware! The Knight gets weird
wary wanting
crossing the frontier
a backward glance
With what memories
such a man
make his way
when the world was new

2
So blue against the dream
So big beneath the air

3
Evil and dry against the flock
You summon musty feet behind the water
Can you dig it? The evil was hard
Dark and wanting near the spirits
I see dank witches before the air
Yo! The vision has vanished
So blue against the dream
I find luminous teeth above the spirits
Heavy! The Queen has fled
translucent grieving
trying to recall
an old passport
On what journey
the other
miss his chance
in a different light

4
Quite scary on the mist
I squeeze evil wraiths within the trees
Can you dig it? The day will come
Totally huge below the virgin
We examine florescent flames beyond the spirits
Word! The Knave will come again
So big beneath the air
You meet rabid meaning beneath the sea
Ahhh! The life is done
luminous grieving
walking out of the world
a trace of sadness
With what regrets
my father
chase his dream
trying to remember

5
Sinister and grotesque under the land
We condemn florescent fears above the mud
Take cover! The vision has vanished
All quiet under the earth
You battle wanting flames beside the fire
Zounds! The fun is good
I am peaceful against the tomb
We stretch yellow eruptions under the rain
I reach! The day will vanish
wavering fighting back
crossing the frontier
nothing to lose
In whose heart
my likeness
seek shelter
in a different light

6
All heavy behind the fog
You conjure bright women under the gods
Awake! The feeling has vanished
So murky on the vapors
We taste misty feet before the sky
Repent! The Knight is good
Evil and yellow under the slime
We eat florescent snakes near the slime
Way cool! The fun will vanish
opaque curious
turning away
an unreliable map
From which dreams
the sailor
seek shelter
not knowing why

7
All mammoth beside the light
We confound dream-like faces below the fire
Alass! The bastard will go
We are dry under the mud
We summon quaking sensations in the shadows
We Reach! The Queen is vanishing
Sinful and violet against the flock
You swallow electric rats behind the towers
Whoa! The evil gets weird
unafraid hesitant
at a crossroads
something missing
In whose arms
the sailor
chase his dream
before help could come
         ---o0o---

Christopher Smart's "Jubilate Agno," Fragment A

Christopher Smart's "Jubilate Agno," Fragment A


Kit Smart's Jubilate Agno is one of my very favorite poems of all time.  He wrote it in an insane asylum.  A "Commission of Lunacy" was taken out against Christopher Smart, and he was admitted in St. Luke's Hospital on May 6, 1757 as a "Curable Patient" by his wife Anna's stepfather John Newbery.  There is evidence that an incident took place in St. James’s Park in which he "routed all the company" (Jubilate Agno B89), an incident which may have caused his lockup. 

During this time, Christopher was left alone, except for his cat Jeoffry and the occasional visitor. With nothing to do, he devoted himself to God and to writing this fantastic poem. He was released from the asylum on January 30, 1763, but his poem was not to be published until 1939.

I saw an amazing group reading of the poem in NYC in the 1980's, with readings by select famous poets.

For the next few days, we will publish the entire poem--Fragments A, B1, B2, B3, B4, C, and D.  - Jack Brummet, Poetry Editor

Rejoice in God, O ye Tongues; give the glory to the Lord, and the Lamb.

Nations, and languages, and every Creature, in which is the breath of Life.

Let man and beast appear before him, and magnify his name together.

Let Noah and his company approach the throne of Grace, and do homage to the Ark of their Salvation.

Let Abraham present a Ram, and worship the God of his Redemption.

Let Isaac, the Bridegroom, kneel with his Camels, and bless the hope of his pilgrimage.

Let Jacob, and his speckled Drove adore the good Shepherd of Israel.

Let Esau offer a scape Goat for his seed, and rejoice in the blessing of God his father.

Let Nimrod, the mighty hunter, bind a Leopard to the altar, and consecrate his spear to the Lord.

Let Ishmael dedicate a Tyger, and give praise for the liberty, in which the Lord has let him at large.

Let Balaam appear with an Ass, and bless the Lord his people and his creatures for a reward eternal.

Let Anah, the son of Zibion, lead a Mule to the temple, and bless God, who amerces the consolation of the creature for the service of Man.

Let Daniel come forth with a Lion, and praise God with all his might through faith in Christ Jesus.

Let Naphthali with an Hind give glory in the goodly words of Thanksgiving.

Let Aaron, the high priest, sanctify a Bull, and let him go free to the Lord and Giver of Life.

Let the Levites of the Lord take the Beavers of the brook alive into the Ark of the Testimony.

Let Eleazar with the Ermine serve the Lord decently and in purity.

Let Ithamar minister with a Chamois, and bless the name of Him, which cloatheth the naked.

Let Gershom with an Pygarg Hart bless the name of Him, who feedeth the hungry.

Let Merari praise the wisdom and power of God with the Coney, who scoopeth the rock, and archeth in the sand.

Let Kohath serve with the Sable, and bless God in the ornaments of the Temple.

Let Jehoida bless God with an Hare, whose mazes are determined for the health of the body and to parry the adversary.

Let Ahitub humble himself with an Ape before Almighty God, who is the maker of variety and pleasantry.

Let Abiathar with a Fox praise the name of the Lord, who ballances craft against strength and skill against number.

Let Moses, the Man of God, bless with a Lizard, in the sweet majesty of good-nature, and the magnanimity of meekness.

Let Joshua praise God with an Unicorn -- the swiftness of the Lord, and the strength of the Lord, and the spear of the Lord mighty in battle.

Let Caleb with an Ounce praise the Lord of the Land of beauty and rejoice in the blessing of his good Report.

Let Othniel praise God with the Rhinoceros, who put on his armour for the reward of beauty in the Lord.

Let Tola bless with the Toad, which is the good creature of God, tho' his virtue is in the secret, and his mention is not made.

Let Barak praise with the Pard -- and great is the might of the faithful and great is the Lord in the nail of Jael and in the sword of the Son of Abinoam.

Let Gideon bless with the Panther -- the Word of the Lord is invincible by him that lappeth from the brook.

Let Jotham praise with the Urchin, who took up his parable and provided himself for the adversary to kick against the pricks.

Let Boaz, the Builder of Judah, bless with the Rat, which dwelleth in hardship and peril, that they may look to themselves and keep their houses in order.

Let Obed-Edom with a Dormouse praise the Name of the Lord God his Guest for increase of his store and for peace.

Let Abishai bless with the Hyaena -- the terror of the Lord, and the fierceness, of his wrath against the foes of the King and of Israel.

Let Ethan praise with the Flea, his coat of mail, his piercer, and his vigour, which wisdom and providence have contrived to attract observation and to escape it.

Let Heman bless with the Spider, his warp and his woof, his subtlety and industry, which are good.

Let Chalcol praise with the Beetle, whose life is precious in the sight of God, tho his appearance is against him.

Let Darda with a Leech bless the Name of the Physician of body and soul.

Let Mahol praise the Maker of Earth and Sea with the Otter, whom God has given to dive and to burrow for his preservation.

Let David bless with the Bear -- The beginning of victory to the Lord -- to the Lord the perfection of excellence -- Hallelujah from the heart of God, and from the hand of the artist inimitable, and from the echo of the heavenly harp in sweetness magnifical and mighty.

Let Solomon praise with the Ant, and give the glory to the Fountain of all Wisdom.

Let Romamti-ezer bless with the Ferret -- The Lord is a rewarder of them, that diligently seek him.

Let Samuel, the Minister from a child, without ceasing praise with the Porcupine, which is the creature of defence and stands upon his arms continually.

Let Nathan with the Badger bless God for his retired fame, and privacy inaccessible to slander.

Let Joseph, who from the abundance of his blessing may spare to him, that lacketh, praise with the Crocodile, which is pleasant and pure, when he is interpreted, tho' his look is of terror and offence.

Let Esdras bless Christ Jesus with the Rose and his people, which is a nation of living sweetness.

Let Mephibosheth with the Cricket praise the God of chearfulness, hospitality, and gratitude.

Let Shallum with the Frog bless God for the meadows of Canaan, the fleece, the milk and the honey.

Let Hilkiah praise with the Weasel, which sneaks for his prey in craft, and dwelleth at ambush.

Let Job bless with the Worm -- the life of the Lord is in Humiliation, the Spirit also and the truth.

Let Elihu bless with the Tortoise, which is food for praise and thanksgiving.

Let Hezekiah praise with the Dromedary -- the zeal for the glory of God is excellence, and to bear his burden is grace.

Let Zadoc worship with the Mole -- before honour is humility, and he that looketh low shall learn.

Let Gad with the Adder bless in the simplicity of the preacher and the wisdom of the creature.

Let Tobias bless Charity with his Dog, who is faithful, vigilant, and a friend in poverty.

Let Anna bless God with the Cat, who is worthy to be presented before the throne of grace, when he has trampled upon the idol in his prank.

Let Benaiah praise with the Asp -- to conquer malice is nobler, than to slay the lion.

Let Barzillai bless with the Snail -- a friend in need is as the balm of Gilead, or as the slime to the wounded bark.

Let Joab with the Horse worship the Lord God of Hosts.

Let Shemaiah bless God with the Caterpiller -- the minister of vengeance is the harbinger of mercy.

Let Ahimelech with the Locust bless God from the tyranny of numbers.

Let Cornelius with the Swine bless God, which purifyeth all things for the poor.

Let Araunah bless with the Squirrel, which is a gift of homage from the poor man to the wealthy and increaseth good will.

Let Bakbakkar bless with the Salamander, which feedeth upon ashes as bread, and whose joy is at the mouth of the furnace.

Let Jabez bless with Tarantula, who maketh his bed in the moss, which he feedeth, that the pilgrim may take heed to his way.

Let Jakim with the Satyr bless God in the dance. --

Let Iddo praise the Lord with the Moth -- the writings of man perish as the garment, but the Book of God endureth for ever.

Let Nebuchadnezzar bless with the Grashopper -- the pomp and vanities of the world are as the herb of the field, but the glory of the Lord increaseth for ever.

Let Naboth bless with the Canker-worm -- envy is cruel and killeth and preyeth upon that which God has given to aspire and bear fruit.

Let Lud bless with the Elk, the strenuous asserter of his liberty, and the maintainer of his ground.

Let Obadiah with the Palmer-worm bless God for the remnant that is left.

Let Agur bless with the Cockatrice -- The consolation of the world is deceitful, and temporal honour the crown of him that creepeth.

Let Ithiel bless with the Baboon, whose motions are regular in the wilderness, and who defendeth himself with a staff against the assailant.

Let Ucal bless with the Cameleon, which feedeth on the Flowers and washeth himself in the dew.

Let Lemuel bless with the Wolf, which is a dog without a master, but the Lord hears his cries and feeds him in the desert.

Let Hananiah bless with the Civet, which is pure from benevolence.

Let Azarias bless with the Reindeer, who runneth upon the waters, and wadeth thro the land in snow.

Let Mishael bless with the Stoat -- the praise of the Lord gives propriety to all things.

Let Savaran bless with the Elephant, who gave his life for his country that he might put on immortality.

Let Nehemiah, the imitator of God, bless with the Monkey, who is work'd down from Man.

Let Manasses bless with the Wild-Ass -- liberty begetteth insolence, but necessity is the mother of prayer.

Let Jebus bless with the Camelopard, which is good to carry and to parry and to kneel.

Let Huz bless with the Polypus -- lively subtlety is acceptable to the Lord.

Let Buz bless with the Jackall -- but the Lord is the Lion's provider.

Let Meshullam bless with the Dragon, who maketh his den in desolation and rejoiceth amongst the ruins.

Let Enoch bless with the Rackoon, who walked with God as by the instinct.

Let Hashbadana bless with the Catamountain, who stood by the Pulpit of God against the dissensions of the Heathen.

Let Ebed-Melech bless with the Mantiger, the blood of the Lord is sufficient to do away the offence of Cain, and reinstate the creature which is amerced.

Let A Little Child with a Serpent bless Him, who ordaineth strength in babes to the confusion of the Adversary.

Let Huldah bless with the Silkworm -- the ornaments of the Proud are from the bowells of their Betters.

Let Susanna bless with the Butterfly -- beauty hath wings, but chastity is the Cherub.

Let Sampson bless with the Bee, to whom the Lord hath given strength to annoy the assailant and wisdom to his strength.

Let Amasiah bless with the Chaffer -- the top of the tree is for the brow of the champion, who has given the glory to God.

Let Hashum bless with the Fly, whose health is the honey of the air, but he feeds upon the thing strangled, and perisheth.

Let Malchiah bless with the Gnat -- it is good for man and beast to mend their pace.

Let Pedaiah bless with the Humble-Bee, who loves himself in solitude and makes his honey alone.

Let Maaseiah bless with the Drone, who with the appearance of a Bee is neither a soldier nor an artist, neither a swordsman nor smith.

Let Urijah bless with the Scorpion, which is a scourge against the murmurers -- the Lord keep it from our coasts.

Let Anaiah bless with the Dragon-fly, who sails over the pond by the wood-side and feedeth on the cressies.

Let Zorobabel bless with the Wasp, who is the Lord's architect, and buildeth his edifice in armour.

Let Jehu bless with the Hornet, who is the soldier of the Lord to extirpate abomination and to prepare the way of peace.

Let Mattithiah bless with the Bat, who inhabiteth the desolations of pride and flieth amongst the tombs.

Let Elias which is the innocency of the Lord rejoice with the Dove.

Let Asaph rejoice with the Nightingale -- The musician of the Lord! and the watchman of the Lord!

Let Shema rejoice with the Glowworm, who is the lamp of the traveller and mead of the musician.

Let Jeduthun rejoice with the Woodlark, who is sweet and various.

Let Chenaniah rejoice with Chloris, in the vivacity of his powers and the beauty of his person.

Let Gideoni rejoice with the Goldfinch, who is shrill and loud, and full withal.

Let Giddalti rejoice with the Mocking-bird, who takes off the notes of the Aviary and reserves his own.

Let Jogli rejoice with the Linnet, who is distinct and of mild delight.

Let Benjamin bless and rejoice with the Redbird, who is soft and soothing.

Let Dan rejoice with the Blackbird, who praises God with all his heart, and biddeth to be of good cheer.

---o0o---

Poem: The Curtain

By Jack Brummet

1
There are pockets of sanity
Still scattered among us,

And light years between those
Shining Seas of Tranquility.

2
The task we face each day
Is keeping the tiller

Aimed away from
The Sea of Madness.

3
The silver rain

Is drawn like a curtain

Between us

And God.

---o0o---

A Broken Bone: a Donald Rumsfeld poem created from an interview with Bob Woodward

By Jack Brummet, Poetry Editor

A Broken Bone [1]
By Donald Rumsfeld


[1] I created this  poem from an interview between Rummy and Bob Woodward on July, 2006.

Click on Rummy and President Ford to enlarge

If you don't set it,
Everything grows around the break
And you end up with that abnormality.

I used the phrase it's like teaching
A youngster how to ride a bicycle.
You run behind them with your hand in the seat.

At some point you've got to take some fingers off,
And then you've got to let go,
And they might fall.

You help pick them up and put them back on it.
But if you don't take your hand off,
You end up with a 40-year-old who can't ride a bike.

---o0o--

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Poem: James Dickeys' "The Heaven of Animals"

The Heaven of Animals
By James L. Dickey

Here they are. The soft eyes open.

If they have lived in a wood

It is a wood.

If they have lived on plains

It is grass rolling

Under their feet forever.

 

Having no souls, they have come,

Anyway, beyond their knowing.

Their instincts wholly bloom

And they rise.

The soft eyes open.

 

To match them, the landscape flowers,

Outdoing, desperately

Outdoing what is required:

The richest wood,

The deepest field.

 

For some of these,

It could not be the place

It is, without blood.

These hunt, as they have done,

But with claws and teeth grown perfect,

 

More deadly than they can believe.

They stalk more silently,

And crouch on the limbs of trees,

And their descent

Upon the bright backs of their prey

 

May take years

In a sovereign floating of joy.

And those that are hunted

Know this as their life,

Their reward: to walk

 

Under such trees in full knowledge

Of what is in glory above them,

And to feel no fear,

But acceptance, compliance.

Fulfilling themselves without pain

 

At the cycle’s center,

They tremble, they walk

Under the tree,

They fall, they are torn,

They rise, they walk again.

 

James Dickey, “The Heaven of Animals” from The Whole Motion: Collected Poems 1945-1992. Copyright © 1992 by James Dickey.

---o0o---

A favorite poem: James Wright's "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota"

"Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota"
By James Wright

Listen to the recording on Poets.org.

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year's horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
---o0o---

Poem: Instructions to the sperm and egg

Poem: Instructions to the sperm and egg

After the merge
But before exiting the host

Buff up
Because on the surface

They eat
The wounded.

---o0o---

Poetry Reading in Iraklion, Crete

This is kind of interesting, but possibly to only me. I wrote this when I was in Greece fifteen months ago and it was buried in the drafts folder on my blog. So, a year and change later, here it is...

Jack in Crete. July, 2008.

We stumbled into a Greek poetry bookstore today. We chatted with the owner, and I picked out a handful of books (being constitutionally unable to walk out of a bookstore empty-handed) I was surprised to see translated into English. Nikos Migiakis is the world-wise,and amiable proproietor of the Poetry Bookstore in Heraklion, on the island of Crete. We warmed up to each other and started asking questions back and forth. Keelin and I asked him where we would find some of those incredible honey doughtnuts/frittters we had on our last visit here. Guess what? They are just as illusory as the formerly ubiquitous barelled restsina, which he also confessed was now very hard to find. In fact on this trip to Greece, I never saw Retsina dispensed from a wooden barrel. Every single restaurant and bar served it in the bottle.


We kept chatting, and I would point to a book and we would both make these unlikely name drops of people we mutually loved. The owner looked up some of my poetry on the internet and then hauled out a big jug of home-made wine. He wanted to talk poetry. After a glass of wine, he rolled a cigarette and handed me two books of translations of Kazanstakis and Odysseus Elytis. He wanted me to read two long poems in English. He had never heard the poems in English. We both had a great time hearing them. The Elytis was a shorter poem, and later Del told me he thought it was a great poem. It is a very good one, I decided later when I read it. I couldn't tell while I was reading it in the bookstore, alond. Tourists stumbled in to buy the guidebooks he sold to fund his poetry enterprise.


Next, I read the long Sequel to the Odyssey. By now, we'd had two or three glasses of that fruity but crackling crisp home-made Cretan wine. People were smoking cigarettes. The owner, paused every few minutes to roll another.


Here we were, in the middle of the day, laughing in the store, drinking wine, and whenever a tourist came in to buy a book, he was glad to see them, but he didn't really want to get overly involved with their purchase of a Greek history book or a Lonely Planet guide. But alas, friendos, you don't think he makes a living selling Greek versions of Leonard Cohen or Garcia Lorca, do you? No. Thank God, he is across the street from the magnificent Heraklion Museum, and he has art books, tour books, books on Greece in general, in racks out front of his store. But none of those books seemed to enter the inner sanctum. . .the poetry bookstore proper.


Nikos had an amazing selection of Greek translations of modern poets...He also had me make a list of ten more people he should have. Of course, his mainstay was Greek poets in Greek, with a huge section of translations into Greek. His selections of the classics, and the beat and beat descendants was good, except he did not have Phillip Whalen, or Gregory Corso. Ginsberg, Kerouac, Leonard Cohen, Ferlinghetti, even Denise Levertov and Charles Bukowski and Bob Dylan were represented. I urged him to find John Berryman, Emily Dickinson, James Wright, William Carlos Williams, Frank O'Hara, Sylvia Plath, Wallace Stevens, Dylan Thomas,
William Wordsworth--most of them he knew, but was often unable to secure them in translation into Greek.



I was limbered up by now, and although I hadn't read the Sequel for twenty-five years, I was totally swept up in the fantastic moment. . .me in this temple of down home culture, barely able to read the Greek letters this time around, and now jumping on the reading. Reading cold can so often be extremely harrowing. But in this reading, somehow I was filled with the spirit of Greece, and I channeled Kaz' and I felt Odysseus running through every single line. I kept almost stumbling, but the poem was so perfect for this wonderful moment, that I somehow pulled it off. What a great, random find and event. I have now had my first European poetry reading, and made a friend in the poetry world of Greece.

[1] Hi! This is a satellite data-cluster that is tangentially related to the subject in the article, but interesting on its own.

The homonym for Cretan is, unfortunately, cretin--which describes a person with severely stunted physical and mental growth , but, like such words as spastic, idiot, and lunatic, also is a word of less enlightened times (and believe me, I often have a hard time thinking of us as enlightened in the least). buse. Cretin became a medical term in the 18th century, from an Alpine French dialect prevalent in a region where persons with such a condition were especially common (see below); it saw wide medical use in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and then spread more widely in popular English as a markedly derogatory term for a person who behaves stupidly. Because of its pejorative connotations in popular speech, health-care workers have mostly abandoned cretin.

Cretinism is a condition of due to untreated congenital deficiency of thyroid hormones (hypothyroidism) or from prolonged nutritional deficiency of iodine.
---o0o---

The Day Lady Died by Frank O'Hara

Frank O'Hara is one of my favorite American poets, not only did he pioneer a loose, but wisely and charmingly idiomatic verse form, but he also happened to be a curator of the Museum of Modern Art, probably my favorite museum in the United States. And Billie Holiday is by far and away my favorite jazz singer of all time, even 'though I usually tend to think of jazz vocals in the same category as rock instrumentals. . .

The Day Lady Died
by Frank O'Hara

It is 12:20 in New York a Friday
three days after Bastille day, yes
it is 1959 and I go get a shoeshine
because I will get off the 4:19 in Easthampton
at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner
and I don't know the people who will feed me

I walk up the muggy street beginning to sun
and have a hamburger and a malted and buy
an ugly NEW WORLD WRITING to see what the poets
in Ghana are doing these days
in Ghana are doing these days I go on to the bank
and Miss Stillwagon (first name Linda I once heard)
doesn't even look up my balance for once in her life
and in the GOLDEN GRIFFIN I get a little Verlaine
for Patsy with drawings by Bonnard although I do
think of Hesiod, trans. Richmond Lattimore or
Brendan Behan's new play or Le Balcon or Les Nègres
of Genet, but I don't, I stick with Verlaine
after practically going to sleep with quandariness

and for Mike I just stroll into the PARK LANE
Liquor Store and ask for a bottle of Strega and
then I go back where I came from to 6th Avenue
and the tobacconist in the Ziegfeld Theatre and
casually ask for a carton of Gauloises and a carton
of Picayunes, and a NEW YORK POST with her face on it





and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of
leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT
while she whispered a song along the keyboard
to Mal Waldron and everyone and I stopped breathing
---o0o---

Poem: The Jitters

The Jitters

1
We almost always feel less
Safe than we actually are.

And not feeling safe uses
Vast swaths of bandwidth

With its high noise to signal ratio,
Leaving nothing redemptive

In the wake of paralysis
By the jitters.

2
It comes like a hit and run driver
Shooting through the crosswalk

As you stop
To tie your shoe--

Luck and circumstance
Conspire to save you.

3
Every throbbing second you spend here,
You engage in a game of dodge ball,

And bob and weave through a multitude
Of objective hazards, walls, and shoals

Over which you have no control―
And only a fraction of which you ever see.

4
If we knew of every near-miss,
It would be tough to keep shuffling on,

And somehow, we learn just enough
To mostly keep us on our toes.
---o0o---

Video and poem: Kill my landlord --> Eddie Murphy reads his character Tyrone Green's prison poem Images

You may or not remember this just bent enough for me Eddie Murphy sketch from SNL --it's hard to believe he was on the show for--what?--five years. I did get to see Eddie Murphy on the show in Studio 8H at a rehearsal Saturday afternoon (I had connections...thank you Cheryl [1]).

Images

by Tyrone Greene

Dark and lonely on the summer night.
Kill my landlord, kill my landlord.
Watchdog barking - Do he bite?
Kill my landlord, kill my landlord.
Slip in his window,
Break his neck!
Then his house
I start to wreck!
Got no reason --
What the heck!
Kill my landlord, kill my landlord.
C-I-L-L ...
My land - lord ...
Def!




[1] Our friend Cheryl Hardwick was the music director of the shows for many years, and played piano in the band. She and Pinky were the catalyst for meeting all sorts of interesting people witnessing a lot of crazy events and situations in the late 70s/esarly 80s. I was introduced to her by her partner, Pinky Rawsthorne, a co-worker of mine, and one of the funniest, and wisest persons I ever met in my life. We met or hung out at various times with all sorts of people in celeb and semi-celeb world: Larraine Newman, Garrett Morris, Gilda Radner, Bill Murray, Bob Cranshaw--the legendary jazzman (who we met a few times at her apartment, but the first time was when he was playing with Woody Shaw at a club in the East Village --but it was close to Broadway...I can't remember if the E. Village technically ends at 3rd or 4th or Broadway?); Lorna Luft; Maria Manville; Howard Shore; and Belushi and Ackroyd (I met Belushi once in the lobby of 30 Rock, when Cheryl came down to let me in...when he walked away, he stiff-armed a bunch of excited-looking kids who wanted to say hi. He looked wrecked--either recovering from a long, brutal night or working on the next one. Within a year or year and a half, he died in Hollywood); sometime not long after that, Cheryl took me downtown (we both lived on the Upper West Side) to the Blues Brothers Bar, a private dive owned/run by Belushi and Ackroyd. That was pretty interesting, mostly for the insane levels of Bolivian Marching Powder that were being consumed at any given moment. She played at a poetry reading Keelin, Nick,. Kevin, Pegeen, and I had in a theatre in Chelsea She brought some upwardly mobile dapper New Yorker poet (but I forget who!), and also got Gerald Stern to attend (he was just getting really hot). At a party at her place, for the publication of Gerald Stern's book The Red Coal, I got to meet Isaac Bashevis Singer (who had recently won the Nobel Prize for Literature, and a passel of NY literary celebs). It was pretty crazy stuff for a cracker kid from a farm town...
---o0o---

Dylan Thomas's Late Poem "Prologue"

This is one of my favorite poems. Dylan Thomas wrote the Prologue with an elaborate rhyme scheme that no really picked up on--to his great disappointment. The hundred line poem rhymes the first and last lines, the second with the next to last line, all the way up to the very middle of the poem--bridging the stanzas--where there is a couplet (Sheep white hollow farms/To Wales in my arms). You fade into his rhyme scheme in the middle, where, for about 12 lines or so, the rhymes chime. . .and then it fades back away, back to where line 2 rhymes with line 99, etc.

Rhyme scheme notwithstanding, it is a gorgeous, dense and lyrical poem, with an amazingly propulsive rhythm. The poem is very much in the spirit of his great late poems like Fern Hill, In Country Sleep, etc.

Prologue

This day winding down now
At God speeded summer's end
In the torrent salmon sun,
In my seashaken house
On a breakneck of rocks
Tangled with chirrup and fruit,
Froth, flute, fin, and quill
At a wood's dancing hoof,
By scummed, starfish sands
With their fishwife cross
Gulls, pipers, cockles, and snails,
Out there, crow black, men
Tackled with clouds, who kneel
To the sunset nets,
Geese nearly in heaven, boys
Stabbing, and herons, and shells
That speak seven seas,
Eternal waters away
From the cities of nine
Days' night whose towers will catch
In the religious wind
Like stalks of tall, dry straw,
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my swan, splay sounds),
Out of these seathumbed leaves
That will fly and fall
Like leaves of trees and as soon
Crumble and undie
Into the dogdayed night.
Seaward the salmon, sucked sun slips,
And the dumb swans drub blue
My dabbed bay's dusk, as I hack
This rumpus of shapes
For you to know
How I, a spining man,
Glory also this star, bird
Roared, sea born, man torn, blood blest.
Hark: I trumpet the place,
From fish to jumping hill! Look:
I build my bellowing ark
To the best of my love
As the flood begins,
Out of the fountainhead
Of fear, rage read, manalive,
Molten and mountainous to stream
Over the wound asleep
Sheep white hollow farms


To Wales in my arms.
Hoo, there, in castle keep,
You king singsong owls, who moonbeam
The flickering runs and dive
The dingle furred deer dead!
Huloo, on plumbed bryns,
O my ruffled ring dove
in the hooting, nearly dark
With Welsh and reverent rook,
Coo rooning the woods' praise,
who moons her blue notes from her nest
Down to the curlew herd!
Ho, hullaballoing clan
Agape, with woe
In your beaks, on the gabbing capes!
Heigh, on horseback hill, jack
Whisking hare! who
Hears, there, this fox light, my flood ship's
Clangour as I hew and smite
(A clash of anvils for my
Hubbub and fiddle, this tune
On a toungued puffball)
But animals thick as theives
On God's rough tumbling grounds
(Hail to His beasthood!).
Beasts who sleep good and thin,
Hist, in hogback woods! The haystacked
Hollow farms in a throng
Of waters cluck and cling,
And barnroofs cockcrow war!
O kingdom of neighbors finned
Felled and quilled, flash to my patch
Work ark and the moonshine
Drinking Noah of the bay,
With pelt, and scale, and fleece:
Only the drowned deep bells
Of sheep and churches noise
Poor peace as the sun sets
And dark shoals every holy field.
We will ride out alone then,
Under the stars of Wales,
Cry, multitudes of arks! Across
The water lidded lands,
Manned with their loves they'll move
Like wooden islands, hill to hill.
Hulloo, my prowed dove with a flute!
Ahoy, old, sea-legged fox,
Tom tit and Dai mouse!
My ark sings in the sun
At God speeded summer's end
And the flood flowers now.

-- Dylan Thomas
---o0o---

Poem: The Mission

The fire from up above
Shines down upon us
And everyone standing

In the light has a mission
To carry
Their brothers and sisters

It's up to us
To administer
The benevolent will of heaven

The light shines
Without prejudice
Upon everything on earth

On the evil and the good
We're all just customers
Of the sun

With a mission
To leave a little good
In our wake
---o0o---

Poem: Autopsy of the 43rd Presidency

click to enlarge


Weak character coupled
With an honored place,
Half-baked knowledge
With big plans,
And limited reason
With heavy responsibility
Will not escape disaster.
---o0o---

Poem: The Peacekeeper

1
The hawk on a high wall
is hardened in his wickedness

2
A roiling thunderstorm clears the air
Like Wyatt Earp's peacekeeper

3
You can overcome a bad beginning
But a good end lasts forever
---o0o---

Poem: Birdwatching

An owl sits in the plum tree
And she doesn't know
I'm glad she's here.

This is as good as it gets
And it gets this good
Every day.
---o0o---

Poem: Surviving

Your salvation lies
In remaining unblinded

To the treachery

Massing around you:

The enemy without,

Calculating your fall

And the traitor within,
Beating in your chest.

---o0o---

Sheer profundity from the poet E.A. Housman

This snippet is from a longer poem by the Victorian poet A.E. Housman, written in the 1890's. I've noticed this poem quoted a lot in various places in relation to our current economic woes.

The thoughts of others
Were light and fleeting,
Of lovers' meeting
Or luck or fame.
Mine were of trouble,
And mine were steady,
So I was ready
When trouble came.
---o0o---

Poem: Narcissus [revision]

Ed note: We can't find out who created this cartoon.
If it was you, let us know! We like.


Narcissus

"They all sound the same," shouts someone in the audience. "It's all one song," replied Neil Young.

It's all about me;
Who do we spoof
When we pretend otherwise?

It's all one story,
It's all one poem,
It's all one song,

It's all one job,
It's all one painting,
It's all one game,

It's all one life,
It's all one wife,
Like it or not.
---o0o---

Poem: a pod of sea lions

I hear a pod of sea lions barking
Down the hill at Golden Gardens
And I wonder what brings them in tonight.

Is it a run of chum or tuna
Sneaking through Puget Sound,
And the glutted sea lions

Crawl on the sand and rocks
To take a break between feeding?
Is a cranky fisherman

In a smoke-belching motor ketch on Elliott Bay
Taking pot shots at the bandits
For eating fish he thinks are rightfully his?

Or did they just stop for the night
En route From Vancouver Island
And discover a banquet all around them?
---o0o---