The words are a beautiful music.
The words bounce like in water.
Water music,
loud in the clearing
off the boats,
birds, leaves.
They look for a place
to sit and eat--
no meaning,
no point.
-Robert Creeley
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Algebra
something equally beautiful
in the deer running from the wolf
and the surrendering in fatigue
at the end of the chase-
the lying down, gentle,
just; the flight for life scared,
right.
in the deer running from the wolf
and the surrendering in fatigue
at the end of the chase-
the lying down, gentle,
just; the flight for life scared,
right.
Two Men
Two men are looking
into each other's eyes.
To this, we must ask,
"Does it matter?"
Three birds are like
a family except
the larger one has slain
the smaller. The third
looks on. To this
we must ask:
Does it matter?
One woman stands by
a fire hydrant. The red
matches her lipstick.
The proverbial dog is
pissing on the paint.
To this you might ask,
"Does it matter?"
A catfish has whiskers
like a cat, except
this cat breathes water
and in fact is not a cat at all.
It is a fish.
Upon reflection it asks
Does it matter?
Four moths will keep light
a social setting. Four shadows
in a night appearing darker
at the edge of streetlights.
Eight pairs of wings-
unless, perhaps, moths
have more than two.
To this I ask,
"Does it matter?"
In early April,
New Hampshire lakeside, a child
steps into water
into each other's eyes.
To this, we must ask,
"Does it matter?"
Three birds are like
a family except
the larger one has slain
the smaller. The third
looks on. To this
we must ask:
Does it matter?
One woman stands by
a fire hydrant. The red
matches her lipstick.
The proverbial dog is
pissing on the paint.
To this you might ask,
"Does it matter?"
A catfish has whiskers
like a cat, except
this cat breathes water
and in fact is not a cat at all.
It is a fish.
Upon reflection it asks
Does it matter?
Four moths will keep light
a social setting. Four shadows
in a night appearing darker
at the edge of streetlights.
Eight pairs of wings-
unless, perhaps, moths
have more than two.
To this I ask,
"Does it matter?"
In early April,
New Hampshire lakeside, a child
steps into water
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
East of Eden
Almost finished East of Eden by John Steinbeck. It's a large book. I read most of it in bursts, now slowing to a savoring crawl through the last chapters. His impetus, it seems, was to write his own Genesis. Or something like it. A very satisfying book, mostly due to the characters. It's one of those books where the characters really are the plot - the plot is all wrapped up in their habits, prophesied in their sensitivities and cruelties. I want to share a section I read this afternoon while waiting on a phone call from Thailand(!). This is Lee, a Chinese-American living as Adam's perennial servant, confidante, and effective family member, reading from a book for comfort:
"He lifted the bread box and took out a tiny volume bound in leather, and the gold tooling was almost completely worn away - The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius in English translation.
Lee wiped his steel-rimmed spectacles on a dish towel. He opened the book and leafed through. And he smiled to himself, consciously searching for reassurance.
He read slowly, moving his lips over the words. 'Everything is only for a day, both that which remembers and that which is remembered.
'Observe constantly that all things take place by change, and accustom thyself to consider that the nature of the universe loves nothing so much as to change things which are and to make new things like them. For everything that exists is in a manner the seed of that which will be.'
Lee glanced down the page. 'Thou wilt die soon and thou are not yet simple nor free from perturbations, nor without suspicion of being hurt by external things, nor kindly disposed towards all; nor dost thou yet place wisdom only in acting justly.'
Lee looked up from the page, and he answered the book as he would answer one of his ancient relatives. 'That is true,' he said. 'It's very hard. I'm sorry. But don't forget that you also say, 'Always run the short way and the short way is the natural' - don't forget that.' He let the pages slip past his fingers to the fly leaf where was written with a broad carpenter's pencil, 'Sam'l Hamilton.'"
As Aurelius says, things are in the habit of changing themselves - or conversely, that the nature of everything is change. The act of transcribing text, which I've done a lot of with all the blackboard posts and paper-writing and classroom work at college, definitely seems to bring a change. I often feel I understand things better after writing it out myself. Not sure where the change is. Myself? The words or their signifieds? Does it matter?
If change is the nature of everything, then it must be so constant as to be imperceptible. So overwhelming that it has to be ignored for any of us to properly function. Any motion is change. Natural as one generation following the next.
"He lifted the bread box and took out a tiny volume bound in leather, and the gold tooling was almost completely worn away - The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius in English translation.
Lee wiped his steel-rimmed spectacles on a dish towel. He opened the book and leafed through. And he smiled to himself, consciously searching for reassurance.
He read slowly, moving his lips over the words. 'Everything is only for a day, both that which remembers and that which is remembered.
'Observe constantly that all things take place by change, and accustom thyself to consider that the nature of the universe loves nothing so much as to change things which are and to make new things like them. For everything that exists is in a manner the seed of that which will be.'
Lee glanced down the page. 'Thou wilt die soon and thou are not yet simple nor free from perturbations, nor without suspicion of being hurt by external things, nor kindly disposed towards all; nor dost thou yet place wisdom only in acting justly.'
Lee looked up from the page, and he answered the book as he would answer one of his ancient relatives. 'That is true,' he said. 'It's very hard. I'm sorry. But don't forget that you also say, 'Always run the short way and the short way is the natural' - don't forget that.' He let the pages slip past his fingers to the fly leaf where was written with a broad carpenter's pencil, 'Sam'l Hamilton.'"
As Aurelius says, things are in the habit of changing themselves - or conversely, that the nature of everything is change. The act of transcribing text, which I've done a lot of with all the blackboard posts and paper-writing and classroom work at college, definitely seems to bring a change. I often feel I understand things better after writing it out myself. Not sure where the change is. Myself? The words or their signifieds? Does it matter?
If change is the nature of everything, then it must be so constant as to be imperceptible. So overwhelming that it has to be ignored for any of us to properly function. Any motion is change. Natural as one generation following the next.
Where the title came from
Here We Go Magic is a favorite band of mine. I would probably say they are in my top five. The major driving force, I guess, behind this group is a man named Luke Temple. His solo recordings are not much different from HWGM, but I think that is why I enjoy them. They illustrate a general drift/motion in his style. Here's a song from the first album as Here We Go Magic:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5RzWWEUwIE
I thought this comment was interesting enough to quote:
"its like im walking through a forest, but instead of wood, the trees are made of glass. and everytime something walks through the forest, you can see their reflection a thousand times. i want to go home, but theres so much going on that i dont want to let go."
Better than the usual whirlpool of name-calling, racism, and homophobia that youtube (or the whole internet, for that matter) seems to attract. Certainly the words of a satisfied listener. Here's some context from a video featuring LMFAO and Justin Bieber:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5RzWWEUwIE
I thought this comment was interesting enough to quote:
"its like im walking through a forest, but instead of wood, the trees are made of glass. and everytime something walks through the forest, you can see their reflection a thousand times. i want to go home, but theres so much going on that i dont want to let go."
Better than the usual whirlpool of name-calling, racism, and homophobia that youtube (or the whole internet, for that matter) seems to attract. Certainly the words of a satisfied listener. Here's some context from a video featuring LMFAO and Justin Bieber:
Monday, November 7, 2011
"Vik, Iceland"
the night we arrived in town
(though it was more
like a handful of people
clutched in the palm of the mountains)
we went straight to the water
it was summer
night is unnatural
at such times
the sun
only passes
behind mountains
black sand
at the infinite edge
of the ocean
is night enough
(though it was more
like a handful of people
clutched in the palm of the mountains)
we went straight to the water
it was summer
night is unnatural
at such times
the sun
only passes
behind mountains
black sand
at the infinite edge
of the ocean
is night enough
"The Rain" - Robert Creeley
All night the song had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.
What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it
that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me
something other than this,
something not so insistent--
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.
Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be, for me, like rain,
the getting out
of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.
-Robert Creeley
Why?
A place for objects.
A proof of memory.
A memory of things, words, images, sounds.
An assistant to memory.
A glass case.
A desk drawer.
A curation of creation.
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