The wild boys are calling on their way back from the fire
in august moon's surrender to a dust cloud on the rise
wild boys fallen far from glory
reckless and so hungered on the razors edge you trail
because there's murder by the roadside in a sore afraid new world
they tried to break us, looks like they'll try again
wild boys never lose it
wild boys never chose this way
wild boys never close your eyes
wild boys always shine
you got sirens for a welcome there's bloodstain for your pain
and your telephone been ringing wile you're dancing in the rain
wild boys wonder where is glory
where is all you angels now the figureheads have fell
and lovers war with arrows over secrets they could tell
they tried to tame you looks like they'll try again
wild boys never lose it
wild boys never chose this way
wild boys never close your eyes
wild boys always shine
--Duran Duran
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Jean Valentine poem in The New Yorker
On a Passenger Ferry
by Jean Valentine
(For Grace Paley)
The deck is big, and crowded. In one corner,
an old woman, sick, on chemo, not in pain, is
writing in an elementary-school notebook.
Nobody else saw her, but I saw her.
I had seen her before. Her round, kind face,
smiling and still as a photograph
outside a window—
The New Yorker
September 24, 2007
by Jean Valentine
(For Grace Paley)
The deck is big, and crowded. In one corner,
an old woman, sick, on chemo, not in pain, is
writing in an elementary-school notebook.
Nobody else saw her, but I saw her.
I had seen her before. Her round, kind face,
smiling and still as a photograph
outside a window—
The New Yorker
September 24, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Poem
Mango
Delicious slivers of mango
cut like long tongues--so it's as if we eat
our passion, this longing
sticky like the afterglow of our sex,
with skin the reddish mottle of mango skin.
How often had I eaten these alone
bought at some Upper West Side bodega
and cut open with a pocket knife,
sitting at Riverside park, sunset
orange in the Hudson below:
sunset orange with a knife in it,
bleeding orange in my hands.
Delicious slivers of mango
cut like long tongues--so it's as if we eat
our passion, this longing
sticky like the afterglow of our sex,
with skin the reddish mottle of mango skin.
How often had I eaten these alone
bought at some Upper West Side bodega
and cut open with a pocket knife,
sitting at Riverside park, sunset
orange in the Hudson below:
sunset orange with a knife in it,
bleeding orange in my hands.
--Gerry LaFemina
Originally published in the Winter 2004-2005 issue of The Southeast Review.
Originally published in the Winter 2004-2005 issue of The Southeast Review.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Spinner
Some recent records of note:
Liars - Liars - [Mute]
I'm not entirely convinced that Liars, one of my favorite bands, have written a cohesive, fully-realized record with this, their fourth release, but that particular truth may not matter, given that the new songs are more about mood and tone, as opposed to ideas. Having said that, it is best that would-be listeners not overlook Liars for what it is: a document of a daring, risk-taking music prepared by a band interested not in pleasing its audience, but in circumventing tired norms.
The tracks to which my ear is especially drawn include: "Leather Prowler"; "Sailing to Byzantium"; "Clear Island"; and "Protection," a song that can best be described as haunting (a falsetto has never sounded so right), and which is probably the best album-closer that I've heard in the last five years.
I will take your Polaroid / You will show me how to drink...
M.I.A. - Kala - [XL]
It has a good beat and you can dance to it.
The tracks to which my ear is especially drawn include: "Leather Prowler"; "Sailing to Byzantium"; "Clear Island"; and "Protection," a song that can best be described as haunting (a falsetto has never sounded so right), and which is probably the best album-closer that I've heard in the last five years.
I will take your Polaroid / You will show me how to drink...
M.I.A. - Kala - [XL]
It has a good beat and you can dance to it.
Monday, September 17, 2007
from "Stars" by McGrath
We are human and our form is a corruption of starlight
poured like heavy syrup into soft-skinned molds,
like decorative soaps, or candles.
Like the stars we burn fiercely, reluctantly,
as a dragon consumes its golden hoard.
Of my eyes, of my skin, the stars shall know nothing.
--Campbell McGrath, a selection from his forthcoming Seven Notebooks, published in mipoesias.com
poured like heavy syrup into soft-skinned molds,
like decorative soaps, or candles.
Like the stars we burn fiercely, reluctantly,
as a dragon consumes its golden hoard.
Of my eyes, of my skin, the stars shall know nothing.
--Campbell McGrath, a selection from his forthcoming Seven Notebooks, published in mipoesias.com
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Writing Tips
1. Parenthetical Remarks (however relevant) are (usually) unnecessary.
2. Don't use no double negatives.
3. Proofread carefully to see if any words out or mispeld something.
4. Eschew obfuscation.
5. Verbs HAS to agree with their subjects.
6. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.
7. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.
8. Avoid cliches like the plague (they're old hat).
9. Be more or less specific.
2. Don't use no double negatives.
3. Proofread carefully to see if any words out or mispeld something.
4. Eschew obfuscation.
5. Verbs HAS to agree with their subjects.
6. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.
7. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.
8. Avoid cliches like the plague (they're old hat).
9. Be more or less specific.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Close, But No Fine, Hand-Rolled, Imported Cuban Cigar
Dear Danny _________:
Thank you for sending us "The Cartographer." We really enjoyed this piece, but it didn't work for (esteemed literary journal) right now. We hope that you will continue to send us your work.
Sincerely,
The Editors of (esteemed literary journal)
I love Google translate this page
Linee di Florinda Fusco, from www.editricezona.it/linee.htm:
“Like clearly enunciated sin from the frontispiece, those collections from the Fusco are `lines here', not “backs”, or “poetries” (even if the proposed tiration wants obviously to be offered like vicaria regarding such alternatives). `A line' is something of other (not “less”, even if is fuor of doubt the tone `in minor') regarding a back. But in what consists this difference? Or, said otherwise, and perhaps little better: what characterizes `a line' of the Fusco and of it it determines its same leggibilità? They said, a lot in order to express to me with a formula, the coincidence and nearly the superimposition, between `the capacity' of its development on the page (just in the sense of the amount of oral materials, of images etc that every `line' transports to the just inner) and its ritmica necessity. The prosodia, insomma, it is a category of analysis that with `the lines' works little: you notice yourself, in so far as, the nearly absolute lack of the enjambement, that is the ritmica figure that than more every other denunciation the collision between prosodiche requests and syntactic requests. For against, those turn out amplify all to you mark them (lines white women, inner spaziature to the back, paginations to step: and then also parenthesis, italics etc) that they stretch to isolate every single `line' or fragment of it like unit in sure measure self-sufficient person.” (from the famous one of Mark Berisso).
to have a north wind to two ropes (I could perhaps be raised)
I dredge in the water the shapes of I dredge in the water
the body that wheel (a grooved pleasure)
to prepare itself in the bottom of the sand/to imitate the shapes of the water
misurala as you can you remove the coat and misurala with the body
sordamente
the minimum sinks to articulate
glacial states of waking and generations
to go up or to wait for to touch the field
to have the just words to mistake with the words
to try the force points
to float like the north wind
(not there is certainty in repairing
in the repair broken one is something much
of untied frozen cut I confirm
broken one is something much
I want to say that the center is various from the side
the repair is maceration)
to soil the face of black
to be based to a small table in station
“Like clearly enunciated sin from the frontispiece, those collections from the Fusco are `lines here', not “backs”, or “poetries” (even if the proposed tiration wants obviously to be offered like vicaria regarding such alternatives). `A line' is something of other (not “less”, even if is fuor of doubt the tone `in minor') regarding a back. But in what consists this difference? Or, said otherwise, and perhaps little better: what characterizes `a line' of the Fusco and of it it determines its same leggibilità? They said, a lot in order to express to me with a formula, the coincidence and nearly the superimposition, between `the capacity' of its development on the page (just in the sense of the amount of oral materials, of images etc that every `line' transports to the just inner) and its ritmica necessity. The prosodia, insomma, it is a category of analysis that with `the lines' works little: you notice yourself, in so far as, the nearly absolute lack of the enjambement, that is the ritmica figure that than more every other denunciation the collision between prosodiche requests and syntactic requests. For against, those turn out amplify all to you mark them (lines white women, inner spaziature to the back, paginations to step: and then also parenthesis, italics etc) that they stretch to isolate every single `line' or fragment of it like unit in sure measure self-sufficient person.” (from the famous one of Mark Berisso).
to have a north wind to two ropes (I could perhaps be raised)
I dredge in the water the shapes of I dredge in the water
the body that wheel (a grooved pleasure)
to prepare itself in the bottom of the sand/to imitate the shapes of the water
misurala as you can you remove the coat and misurala with the body
sordamente
the minimum sinks to articulate
glacial states of waking and generations
to go up or to wait for to touch the field
to have the just words to mistake with the words
to try the force points
to float like the north wind
(not there is certainty in repairing
in the repair broken one is something much
of untied frozen cut I confirm
broken one is something much
I want to say that the center is various from the side
the repair is maceration)
to soil the face of black
to be based to a small table in station
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Brooklyn Book Festival
The second annual Brooklyn Book Festival will take place this Sunday, September 16 in various venues throughout the borough, and is due to feature a number of interesting poets/writers, including: Jonathan Lethem, Colson Whitehead, Jonathan Safran Foer, Kimiko Hahn, A.M. Homes, and many others. Of the gathering, Marty Marokowitz, Brooklyn borough president, writes:
Greetings,
The second annual Brooklyn Book Festival on September 16, 2007 is a book lover’s dream come true! The festival presents exciting and innovative fiction and non-fiction programs with author discussions and readings—come early to get a seat! Nearly 100 booksellers and thousands of books will fill beautiful Borough Hall Plaza and Columbus Park. You can hear a poetry slam, participate in a define-a-thon, and have your favorite book signed by the author. Children can hear their best-loved books read at the Target Children’s Pavilion; teenagers will find sports, fantasy, graphic novels and more at the Independence Community Foundation Youth Pavilion. The Brooklyn Book Festival is a best seller! See you there!
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Wow Poem by Anne Carson
Poem: ‘Triple Sonnet of the Plush Pony’
Anne Carson
I
Do you think of your saliva as a personal possession or as something you can sell?
What about tears? What about semen? Linguists tell
us to use the terms alienable and inalienable
to make this distinction intelligible.
E.g. English speakers call both blood and faeces alienable on a normal day
but saliva, sweat, tears and bowels they do not give away.
Bananas and buttocks, in Papua New Guinea, belong to the inalienable class
while genitalia and skin of banana are not held onto nearly so fast.
Such thinking will affect how a word like rape is defined
or how sorcerers aim their spells or how you feel in your mind
when you address animals. Of course cows and cats,
sheep, pigs, donkeys, dogs and rats
depend on their owner to keep or dispose.
But your pony you cannot sensibly classify with those.
II
Another thee.
A summer’s day.
Double vantage me.
Never to repay.
And Will in overplus.
Making addition thus –
your pony is all these to you – and more:
he can detect the smell of danger
and will not take you through a door
if there is doom or pain there.
So at the end of his life if you want to sell him for meat
you’ll have to change the pronoun with which you greet
at dawn his shaggy head,
at dawn his shaggy head.
III
A body in the dawn.
A body in the cold.
A body its breath.
Its breath a plume.
A dance a plume.
A dance not thou.
A thou, a thee.
Thou, breath.
There stands.
Breath, plume.
How cold is.
A dawn is.
How still stands.
Thy breath.
Anne Carson
I
Do you think of your saliva as a personal possession or as something you can sell?
What about tears? What about semen? Linguists tell
us to use the terms alienable and inalienable
to make this distinction intelligible.
E.g. English speakers call both blood and faeces alienable on a normal day
but saliva, sweat, tears and bowels they do not give away.
Bananas and buttocks, in Papua New Guinea, belong to the inalienable class
while genitalia and skin of banana are not held onto nearly so fast.
Such thinking will affect how a word like rape is defined
or how sorcerers aim their spells or how you feel in your mind
when you address animals. Of course cows and cats,
sheep, pigs, donkeys, dogs and rats
depend on their owner to keep or dispose.
But your pony you cannot sensibly classify with those.
II
Another thee.
A summer’s day.
Double vantage me.
Never to repay.
And Will in overplus.
Making addition thus –
your pony is all these to you – and more:
he can detect the smell of danger
and will not take you through a door
if there is doom or pain there.
So at the end of his life if you want to sell him for meat
you’ll have to change the pronoun with which you greet
at dawn his shaggy head,
at dawn his shaggy head.
III
A body in the dawn.
A body in the cold.
A body its breath.
Its breath a plume.
A dance a plume.
A dance not thou.
A thou, a thee.
Thou, breath.
There stands.
Breath, plume.
How cold is.
A dawn is.
How still stands.
Thy breath.
Friday, August 31, 2007
recipe for suddenly single
Cockgobbler Cocktail
6 oz. Marino's cherry italian ice
6 oz. Finlandia Vodka
Stir into slushy liquid. Drink.
6 oz. Marino's cherry italian ice
6 oz. Finlandia Vodka
Stir into slushy liquid. Drink.
wooden spoons
from http://www.oddtodd.com/message434.html:
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Marino,
The other day I was at the supermarket looking for some alternative to ice cream because my face is too round and when I push my chin into my neck it doesn't look so good. I was considering some yogurt fat-free frozen gunk when I saw a box of Marinos Italian Ices. Watermelon flavor. Six cups in the box! I'm like, 'Italian ice! I loved italian ice as a kid! Psyched! Yummy with the wooden spoon thing scrape scrape fun delicious activity thing!' I threw the box in my cart and shoved off.
When I got home and opened the box and was hugely disappointed. There were no wooden spoons in the box! There were no spoons at all! Just the six things of italian ice all alone! I shook the box out and looked inside. What?! No wooden spoons?! WTF!? That's half the fun of having italian ice I think! How could you (of all people!) not know this!? So I grabbed a stupid regular old metal spoon and did the scrape scrape with that but it wasn't the same. It sucked. And there was something slightly chilling doing the scrape scrape with the metal. Like chalkboard nails stuff.
So Mr. & Mrs. Marino, I'm telling you you're making a huge mistake by not including the wooden spoons! I'm definitely not going to buy any more take-home italian ice until you rectify the situation with the wooden spoons! You're f'in crazy to not have the wooden spoons in there! Is it a cost cutting thing? How much could a wooden spoon cost? Uncheapify yourself! I'd settle for one and just reuse it!
Get your act together Mr. & Mrs. Marino! C'mon! Jeez louise!
ok bye!
tOdd
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Marino,
The other day I was at the supermarket looking for some alternative to ice cream because my face is too round and when I push my chin into my neck it doesn't look so good. I was considering some yogurt fat-free frozen gunk when I saw a box of Marinos Italian Ices. Watermelon flavor. Six cups in the box! I'm like, 'Italian ice! I loved italian ice as a kid! Psyched! Yummy with the wooden spoon thing scrape scrape fun delicious activity thing!' I threw the box in my cart and shoved off.
When I got home and opened the box and was hugely disappointed. There were no wooden spoons in the box! There were no spoons at all! Just the six things of italian ice all alone! I shook the box out and looked inside. What?! No wooden spoons?! WTF!? That's half the fun of having italian ice I think! How could you (of all people!) not know this!? So I grabbed a stupid regular old metal spoon and did the scrape scrape with that but it wasn't the same. It sucked. And there was something slightly chilling doing the scrape scrape with the metal. Like chalkboard nails stuff.
So Mr. & Mrs. Marino, I'm telling you you're making a huge mistake by not including the wooden spoons! I'm definitely not going to buy any more take-home italian ice until you rectify the situation with the wooden spoons! You're f'in crazy to not have the wooden spoons in there! Is it a cost cutting thing? How much could a wooden spoon cost? Uncheapify yourself! I'd settle for one and just reuse it!
Get your act together Mr. & Mrs. Marino! C'mon! Jeez louise!
ok bye!
tOdd
Friday, August 10, 2007
Monday, August 06, 2007
Up in Smoke
Found on a postcard at St. Mark's Bookshop:
If Jesus smoked he would have made
It easier for those who pray
A little match, a little flame,
A little smoke that spells our name
And by that smoke, immortal life--
By Camel, Kool or Lucky Strike
If Jesus smoked he would have made
It easier for those who pray
A little match, a little flame,
A little smoke that spells our name
And by that smoke, immortal life--
By Camel, Kool or Lucky Strike
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Charles Simic for the Win
Charles Simic has been named the new poet laureate of the United States. Of the new consultant to the Library of Congress, the Academy of American Poets writes: Simic was appointed the fifteenth Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry in 2007. About the appointment, Librarian of Congress James H. Billington said, "The range of Charles Simic's imagination is evident in his stunning and unusual imagery. He handles language with the skill of a master craftsman, yet his poems are easily accessible, often meditative and surprising. He has given us a rich body of highly organized poetry with shades of darkness and flashes of ironic humor."
Late September
The mail truck goes down the coast
Carrying a single letter.
At the end of a long pier
The bored seagull lifts a leg now and then
And forgets to put it down.
There is a menace in the air
Of tragedies in the making.
Carrying a single letter.
At the end of a long pier
The bored seagull lifts a leg now and then
And forgets to put it down.
There is a menace in the air
Of tragedies in the making.
Last night you thought you heard television
In the house next door.
You were sure it was some new
Horror they were reporting,
So you went out to find out.
Barefoot, wearing just shorts.
It was only the sea sounding weary
After so many lifetimes
Of pretending to be rushing off somewhere
And never getting anywhere.
This morning, it felt like Sunday.
The heavens did their part
By casting no shadow along the boardwalk
Or the row of vacant cottages,
Among them a small church
With a dozen gray tombstones huddled close
As if they, too, had the shivers.
Friday, July 27, 2007
The Poets on Ponies Series
Click on the following pictures for a clearer, undistorted view of the poet(s):
(Imagine a photograph of Marquis de L-Mo here.)
(Imagine a photograph of Marquis de L-Mo here.)
Monday, July 23, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
Rules for the Road
I'm jealous! I love Audrey Hepburn and cross-country trips. Though I could do without the U-Haul of baggage...
p.s. when are you going? Sure, you can take my portrait! I just went on a 4-hour kayak trip (against the wind with oncoming thunderstorms). Now would be a great time, cuz I look ravishing. Anyway, here are my tips for long road trips:
Avoid nothing. Be open to going to crazy places and take pictures of your UHaul in front of monuments.
Pack light. Bring travel sized toiletries. You can always buy more.
Bring iPod and headphones because there are gonna be times you wanna be in your own world. Lots of CDs. Lots.
Bring roll of toilet paper.
Buy water by the 2.5 gallon
Know the difference between and exit and a rest stop
Bring a cooler with ice and yummy drinks/food
Good food to pack: apples, chips, crackers/bread, peanut butter, trail mix, Beef Jerkey...
Bring a sleeping bag or blanket and a pillow just in case
Sleep on a field in Alabama
Layer
Have camera ready at all times for you may see a black bear cross the street (as I did yesterday in Jersey)
Make hotel reservations. Don't drive drowsy.
Get a good lock for the U-Haul and protective blankets.
Write the world's greatest book of travel poems.
Write travel haiku, like:
Bush bumper sticker.
Sing sexy motherfucker.
Crush your Dirty Mind.
People look like cars
you must be a limousine
the ride is so smooth
Side of the road stop
Seven-Eleven Big Gulp
Wait. I have to pee.
berries sweet mulch pies
pausing for traffic to pass
black bear looks hungry
p.s. when are you going? Sure, you can take my portrait! I just went on a 4-hour kayak trip (against the wind with oncoming thunderstorms). Now would be a great time, cuz I look ravishing. Anyway, here are my tips for long road trips:
Avoid nothing. Be open to going to crazy places and take pictures of your UHaul in front of monuments.
Pack light. Bring travel sized toiletries. You can always buy more.
Bring iPod and headphones because there are gonna be times you wanna be in your own world. Lots of CDs. Lots.
Bring roll of toilet paper.
Buy water by the 2.5 gallon
Know the difference between and exit and a rest stop
Bring a cooler with ice and yummy drinks/food
Good food to pack: apples, chips, crackers/bread, peanut butter, trail mix, Beef Jerkey...
Bring a sleeping bag or blanket and a pillow just in case
Sleep on a field in Alabama
Layer
Have camera ready at all times for you may see a black bear cross the street (as I did yesterday in Jersey)
Make hotel reservations. Don't drive drowsy.
Get a good lock for the U-Haul and protective blankets.
Write the world's greatest book of travel poems.
Write travel haiku, like:
Bush bumper sticker.
Sing sexy motherfucker.
Crush your Dirty Mind.
People look like cars
you must be a limousine
the ride is so smooth
Side of the road stop
Seven-Eleven Big Gulp
Wait. I have to pee.
berries sweet mulch pies
pausing for traffic to pass
black bear looks hungry
1a) Last Monday, GMC Category A member Lothes and I saw a tiny film called Wait Until Dark. The film, starring Audrey Hepburn (was she always this cute?) and Alan Arkin, tells the story of a blind woman who is terrorized by a trio of men who are after a doll packed to the frilliest lace with baggies of heroin. (Score!)
I'll try not to ruin too many of the plot surprises for you, but let me just say that in the span of two hours, some interesting things...oh, you'll just have to see it.
1b) While the sexism in the film speaks to a certain time in the twentieth century (is it possible for a blind woman to save herself and hold off criminally-minded men intent on hurting her?), the heroine emerges victorious, overcoming any and all disabilities, while confirming the belief that, yes, there is hope for Hollywood actors/actresses past their prime.
I'll try not to ruin too many of the plot surprises for you, but let me just say that in the span of two hours, some interesting things...oh, you'll just have to see it.
1b) While the sexism in the film speaks to a certain time in the twentieth century (is it possible for a blind woman to save herself and hold off criminally-minded men intent on hurting her?), the heroine emerges victorious, overcoming any and all disabilities, while confirming the belief that, yes, there is hope for Hollywood actors/actresses past their prime.
Thanks again, Reagan!
*
The GMC Album of the Week is Our Love to Admire by Interpol.
Hot Wax:
"No I in Threesome"
"The Scale"
"The Heinrich Maneuver"
"Pace Is the Trick"
"Rest My Chemistry"
"The Lighthouse"
This album is one the finest of the year, for sure--ignore it at your own peril!
*
Who has ever been an extended road trip? Do you have any tips on how to make the trip a successful one? What should I avoid doing/seeing while crossing this nation in a U-Haul?
*
I haven't written anything in weeks--not even a grocery list.
*
All I bought today was a small iced coffee at Dunkin Donuts, which cost me a total of two dollars and sixteen cents. (For those of you who are numerically inclined, that means: $2.16.)
*
Is anyone up for allowing me to take their portrait?
*
Have a good week, everyone.
*
I haven't written anything in weeks--not even a grocery list.
*
All I bought today was a small iced coffee at Dunkin Donuts, which cost me a total of two dollars and sixteen cents. (For those of you who are numerically inclined, that means: $2.16.)
*
Is anyone up for allowing me to take their portrait?
*
Have a good week, everyone.
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