Obligatory juncture

Deafening silence not harsh enough reprisal?

Reprise ad nauseaum.

Copious sighs, thigh-warmed.

A bit less melody, or pull back: you're sharp.

On competence

Kasey on competence (& wit) here

& then more here


**

Still thinking [first smooshed that into "stilling"] but to relate this to my own frustrations with poems (with Poetry?), my own (especially) and others (sure, often) being so "poemlike." Lately, oh f*ck, when I can see what I am going to do before I do it, and see what you're doing before I read it, it makes me groan/want to rip and ball go for the three-point go read something else (like a novel).

I'd really rather a poem just be bad. Willfully bad. Messy. (Alice Notley doesn't neaten anything, by the way.

let us substitute for you a more agreeable poet
you may substitute for me your splinter thought.
and if you ever desire to know
what your evil is composed of
the mirror is everywhere frame encrusted with
decorative carven lilies
commissioned by you. "follow your discomfort"
                                                         but you
acknowledge none. what
can the spirit say to you?)

So yeah, there's a current type or a contemporary set of rote moves and these come fairly easily to quite a few people--once you've seen them if you're a passable mimic, well. (Not sure I'd blame the magazines for this & can say from my own mag-editing experience, that people after a while do begin to send a certain kind of thing thinking that it will "fit." It's the idea of fitting that's maybe the obstacle, for *both* the editor and the writer, yeah? Fitting works nicely though for the the critic, who attempts to describe the milieu/scene/zeitgeist by applying the concept of "fitting" either positively or negatively, once it's been identified/defined.)

Added: I think Lanny and Stan Apps both make good points in Kasey's comment streams, Lanny drawing a parallel between flora and us poetically inclinded fauna (out of all the possible shapes efflorescences could have been, they are these due to the common/shared restraints/conditions/fertilities of evolution) and Stan makes some headway with his assertion that "competence" is a "group bias." Nathan Austin's post is also a good one, bringing in ideas about art-by-committee or poll-results, i.e. what we could think of as Poetic Pandering (which is about as stunningly effective as it is in our So-Called Democracy.)

To get on with the ramble: if I/you can make a poem almost with my/your eyes shut, or like getting dressed in the morning not even awake (shirt + pant + shoes = dressed, but without flair), a particular kind of poem anyway, then it's not really a poem, is it? It's just passing for a poem?

Of course writing a poem should not be like speed-dial. When phoning it in, try to hang up. (Talking to myself, uh huh.)

Continuing

...to work on my chapbook for the Dusie Kollectiv but have not gotten it quite together yet, though I am enjoying collecting bits for it and thinking about its design (which keeps changing as the content changes; if I had time I could do alternate versions).

Alternate versions are appealing, letting me slip out of (and into) certain choices. A branching sort of progression. Interesting to play around with if ultimately (probably) indecipherable to anybody other than myself (i.e. readers, who I very much do write for), or plain impossible to execute.

I've collected a stack of the chaps that have come in so far, but have decided *not* to read them until I'm finished, because I don't want to think of mine in that context yet. (Eh, that doesn't make any sense.)

*

I've been reading Alice Notley's Alma, or the Dead Women but it's been freaking me out. Despite the escape sought (dulling, desensitizing, distraction) of Alma shooting up directly into her forehead (significant there, of course), Notley's hiding nothing, letting nobody slide. Jen Benka wrote about it as a brutal indictment of the Bush administration in the PP newsletter (and it is) but Notley indicts not just THEM but also US. It's angry, but it's true. A wrecking wreck.

So I'm alternating it with Nada & Gary's Swoon--a story so irresistibly romantic and excessive that I can't put it down even when I've sunburned both legs and one arm OH MY. I read it before but was in a different place (headspace, age, physical location, season, year) then, and this time it's even more urgent, feels more inevitable. (Or course, now knowing them I also know how it will end, but that doesn't spoil anything. It actually makes it all even more fun.)

**

I'm in a boring meeting about winter accessories, gloves, scarves, hats, mufflers, wraps, no mittens this year. Where are the mittens?

Every day is like Sunday

[expired]

The Weekly Box: Week One

 




Green leaf lettuce, red leaf lettuce, kale, bok choy & garlic scapes
grown at an organic farm on the watershed less than 4 miles from my kitchen.

Yum.

Update: Grilled Chicken [Tofu*] with White Peaches and Mozzarella [Almond Cheeze*] on Leaf Lettuce with Grilled Garlic Scapes

For dinner, grilled some chicken breasts [marinated tofu*] and pitted/sliced some white peaches (left skins on) to toss with ribbons of the green leaf lettuce and fresh mozzarella [almond cheeze*] bocconcini and a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly ground pepper. The juice from the peaches--oh! And the lettuce almost herblike with an actual leafy flavor. Peace juice from the bowl drizzled over the whole.

On the side, the garlic scapes. Never had these before (tho I've seen them begin from a clove, that tender green shoot that develops in the middle and will eventually poke through the pointed end). They can be prepared either like asparagus or green beans. I tossed them in a bit of olive oil, seasoned them with salt & pepper and grilled them till they brightened and softened just a little. The flavor of the raw scapes is very garlicky but it mellows when cooked. Next time I will cut them into greenbean-sized pieces and steam them. They can also be finely minced or snipped to add to dishes just like chives or scallions. Delicious, and very beautiful. Floral designers should love them, with their curly shapes and fantasy-pointed tips.

*[This post has been modified because I have since gone vegan.]

Done & next

Essay done & delivered. DIY updated again. Dishes washed. Gym attended (ouch).

Today I've *got* to gather some poems into groups to go to the lovelies who have asked for them. I don't know why I am so bad about this lately. It is difficult to let go of them, or if not difficult, just easier not to. Or I am preferring a longer ripening time. Or shit, maybe I'm just too busy, as usual. The writing is getting done. It's the revising/finishing that's drifting. A phase, whatever the matter, I suppose.

Also to continue work on my Dusie chap & the Gringo resizing & other things bloofy.

I'll have to figure a way to do these things *outside,* however. It's just too beautiful to stay in.

Our farm share begins paying out in vegetal goodness next week. We've already had some pick-your-own strawberries. Well, ok, the neighbor children picked them, but there were still delicious, sun-warmed & sticky.