Ribbon

i think I want to just write i dont know what quite about yet but i just want to write and let my fingers glide over the keyboard in a very sexual manner in the hopes that this laptop that is already turned on stays turned on because it is so easy to run your fingers along a woman who is already turned on and turn her off so i am hoping that doesnt happen this time but we will see and i was also thinking about how im not going to look at the laptop or the screen for a while so that what i type is fresh and raw but i have written so much that even when i make a typo my fingers move to the backspace button and correct it so oddly enough it is more natural for me to fix my mistakes than it is for me to let them be but from here on out i will vow to just type and whatever happenes happens but i just corrected one dammit i cant stoop it and now i think i finally have let go i am not sure if i have made any types yet i just know that i havent hit the basck space button so i should be fine and i just did it again twice weird anyway i really hope there arent any apostrophes or periods because i didnt want any i just wanted the words to come and since i dont think with apostriphes or periods then the words should just come naturally yuou would think or hope









i stopped and thought for a second and my mind isnt much clearer i have a 12 hour drive tomorrow and my nieces birthday party is today even though she turned 4 yesterday and all three of my nieces are together for the second time in their short lives i wonder what life will be like if i move to korea or china or little italy in downtown san diego and these ppeople in here must be regulars because a few of them say to each other hi dan and hi mary and hi i didnt catch what the real names they used were because im a snoop but not a fuckin eavesdropper and the cute girl at starbucks just looked over here but that was a different prose/poem and not this one so i dunno what i am doing mentioning her other than the fact that i have a girl addiction i think and i have resumed back into correcting my words and this ramble is nearing to a close but i promised myself that when i finish it that i would leave and i dont want to leave just yet becayse this girl is really cute and since i dont live here i want to spend as much time as i can near her from 5 meters away as she works and i sit here like a creeper on the laptop but honestly i mean im not THAT creepy i have seen some creepers in my life and im not one of them at least i dont have a big orthodox jewish man beard and an orange t shirt and khaki shorts and dark eyeglasses because if i did then that would be much creepier than my current attire and facial hair




i stopped to think for a second and this is turning into much longer than i thought it would be but since it is probably my last work of the class it may as well be long and fruitful and i should really check my email again and where was i i think i was talking about how this will be my last post on this blog from this mindset as far as this class i think i should make it like 15 paragraphs long with no punctuation because kasey would like that because i know kasey and i almost spelled it casey but its kasey not casey or kc but since i know kasey he may or may not read all of this shows how much i know casey and he may read it and think it is random or terrible shows how much i know kasey and he will think well at least tommy was writing and it is the spirit of writing that is important and i wonder if it is flarfian or flarfistic or goldsmithian if i were to write a whole novel like this where i just wrote and write with no regard for punctuation or grammar or real coherent thought and what would i call it i guess i would call it thought or tommy or brain or synapse or something trendy and catchy and that way if it got published i could go on book tours and wear really outrageous clothing and be all brash and shit and have my friends film me and i will mark down the times i wrote and for how long and that will be the only division between thoughts is that i will sit down and write like this for say an hour or four hours with the tv and radio on and i will make comments and they will be like little timestamps within the text but i have to research if that has ever been done before i bet it has because every other thing i think about doing has already been done or is stupid like a seatbelt for a dog or a knife holder that locks so that if it is knocked over it wont spill the knives or your kids cant get it and slit your throat like that step grandfather just got his throat slit by his 13 year old granddaughter over milk he wouldnt give her or something i dunno i saw it on nancy grace and she yells all the fuckin time so its difficult to get all of the real details but anyway rest in peace old man this world is too harsh for you


done

My Niece

My niece told me the craziest thing. She said:
"come on come on. u wanna
asdfsfgds
fdsgdfsf
wdfdsfs
dfdsf
sdfsd
fdsfdsfdsfghdsnfhgjmnjh
cybgserdgv
btsnytgbsg
dnf
ddfnyd
fnhfx
dbgfn
bgfsn
nd
ngfh
df'h
gdfsgdnbhgfnmhjkfdskmbg,gh
dfbgdghfnkhfdhbg
dhbdgthdb
rhnb?"

Eating Coffee Cake Crumbs with a fork

begin sitting in your chair at the Sandy, UT Starbucks located on the corner of 9400 east and 13oo south. Order a hot chocolate and coffee cake. hear remark from lady who helped you the day before. flirt with cute coffee maker woman. look around. sit. get up. go back to car and retrieve danny's laptop (borrowed). eat, drink, and be merry (as permitted). write emails and check facebook. write poems. check facebook. think to yourself (is there a difference between prose and thought?) (note: make sure at the end of the thought there is a huge question mark in your head and it ought to be yellow...that is not a personal preference it is a commandment). finish coffee cake and begin sifting crumbs around with fork #2 until there is a large amount in the middle of the plate. place the fork in your hand in normal American fashion. place the fork on the top of the plate (12:00) and scrape downward. allow crumbs to collect onto fork, some falling back to plate between prongs. lift fork to mouth allowing for more crumbs to fall back to the plate between prongs. eat left over crumbs. sift remaining crumbs together again. place fork at 12:00 and repeat. repeat. repeat. get frustrated and say "to hell with these crumbs". write a poem about how to eat crumbs. change the poem from a poem to a bit of prose. delete all capitalizations except Sandy UT. think about crumbs. obsess about crumbs. gross out about couple kissing 3 meters away at 12:00. lick plate. wish you had another coffee cake. walk up to counter to look at cute drink making woman. think about if you want to order another coffee cake. smile at cute coffee maker. get asked question by ugly non cute register worker who helped you yesterday. tell her you want another coffee cake but you shouldnt. receive compliment about manish figure but do not give another back. walk back to seat. sip some hot chocolate. look out window. get angry. throw danny's laptop (borrowed) to the floor. run around anngrily. wake up from odd fantasy. notice danny's laptop (borrowed) still in fine cosmetic and working condition. sigh sigh of relief. feel weird. think about going pee but not wanting to leave your items unattended. realize you are in Sandy UT and they are probably safe. don't go pee anyway due to paranoia. end poem. think about expanding poem that is now prose. expand poem that is now prose a little bit further. advance through life during normal course of action 50 years (having babies and meals and flights and shits and cups of chocolate and infidelities and rounds of golf and shitty ties for fathers day and anger and high cholesterol and one drinks too many and cars and books and haircuts and salads). get assassinated.

Kasey is Fucking crazy (from google)

read the kAsey aka Mangodunks blog on myspace.com...so fucking crazy I love the city
Kasey Louise Dearnley I got brown hair with blonde highlights and green eyes and i smell...AND I'M FUCKING CRAZY
Kasey school is so fucking crazy
myspace profile for kasey birch. find friends share photos...no kenny is Fucking crazy
myspace profile for kasey eileen. find friends share photos...And yes my dear i am sorry to say...you are Fucking Crazy
hot crush #5 kasey kahne...miss you like crazy since you went away. every hour every day...and seriously gutsy as all fucking hell.

Utah Lady

This Utah lady talks to her children like they are adults.
She looks so young to have five children.
The daughter is wearing a ballerina outfit
the four sons, t-shirts and shorts,
though it is raining outside

Fact and Fact and Fact

Theres a man in this Starbucks who is looking at an iphone, slurping his iced coffee.
He is sitting alone has two different flavored (or at least colored) iced coffees.
I think he is a murder.

Advice from Gary

This is getting weird because
my new friend
Gary (the auctioneer and City Manager and Skinny Santa look-alike)
told me some sage advice:

"Tommy,"
he said in a voice not so gruff,
"you gotta learn to do something different.
A few years ago (about 6 to be exact)
I went to Billings, MT and
became an auctioneer"

Apparently
to Gary
I look like a potential welder.

Blaine, Washington

Gary has been City Manager in Blaine since February 2000. Prior to coming to Blaine he was the City Administrator in Wenatchee, WA and the County Manager in Gunnison, Co. Gary started his career with local government in 1974 and has worked at local, regional and state levels of government. He also was a municipal bond underwriter for several years in the late 1980’s.

Gary has his bachelor and master’s degree from Utah State University in Logan, Utah.

He and Renate have been married for 37 years. They have two grown children and three grand children.

Gary’s avocation is auctioneering. He is a frequent auctioneer for fund raising events throughout Whatcom County where he has raise over $1 million for local charities.

Though he enjoys travel and golf his passion is fly-fishing. He sneaks out to near-by streams and lakes as often as he can.

Gary is on the Board of Directors for the Washington City Manager’s Association; treasurer of his Rotary Club and a member of the St. Joseph’s Hospital Citizen’s Advisory Council. He also serves on the Association of Washington Cities Small Cities Advisory Committee.

Gary welcomes anyone to visit his blog and provide comment:

blaineman.typepad.com


I Met Gary Tomsic in the Sandy Utah starbucks because I didn't know what city I was in. We chatted for a bit and it turned out that he is the City Manager (in essence the mayor) of a city in Washington. Weird...small world

http://www.ci.blaine.wa.us/index.aspx?nid=272

Fact and Fiction

Fact
The Grande (16 0z.) hot chocolate that I bought to drink this morning did not burn my tongue when I took the first sip.

Fiction
The mega super Grandito large (157 0z.) latte that I bought to gulp scalded my gums and burned my tongue to the point where I cannot speak any more so my sole form of communication will be writing in this blog from now on.

Starbucks in Sandy, Utah

Door
rug over tile
tile
caution...slippery when wet plastic sign
tile
circle wooden table
wooden chair
wooden chair
circle wooden table
wooden chair with woman
tile
wooden chair
rectangle wooden table
wooden chair with man (possibly related to Seth Rogen...or Screech)
tile
metal sign
tile
wooden chair
circle wooden table
wooden chair
tile
wicker basket display
tile
wooden bookshelf
tile
wooden counter
tile
comfy leather chair with on break employee who was nice to me
rug over tile
circle coffee table (go figure)
rug over tile comfy leather chair
metal lamp
tile
comfy leather chair
tile
wooden chair
tile
circle wooden table
tile
wooden chair
tile
wooden chair with woman
tile
circle wooden table
tile
wooden chair with man
tile
circle wooden table
tile
wooden chair with me

To be answered post-mortem

Is tang tangy?
If I drop two skittles, one yellow one red, from my hand at the same time, one atop the other, from inside of an airplane, at a very high altitude, will the sun still rise?
Will the skittles in the experiment before land atop each other and create an orange skittle two times as large as the other ones?
If they land atop a bald man's head will they kill him?
They say male pattern baldness comes from your mother's side. Well, does that mean I will go bald if my mother's father is bald or does it have to be my mothers, mother's father? How does that work? Lets do some math here. Let's say my mother's dad went bald. Is that gene in my gene pool, considering that he is my mother's father, and the gene has to come from her mother's side of the family. Or is it that if anyone in my mother's family goes bald, I have that gene?
When do feet wake up, if they fall asleep?
Do an alcoholic's feet wake up and have a drink?

Death...the sweet release


Yes
Yes
No
N/A
Depends on the man
Yes, you will go bald
It just works
Yes
When blood circulation increases
Don't be a fuckin retard

waiting for Simon

Simon says be born
Orenthal James Simpson was born
Simon says go to college and play football
OJ Simpson goes to USC and plays football
Simon says win a Heisman
OJ Simpson wins a Heisman
Simon says become a pro football player
OJ Simpson becomes a pro football player
Simon says get to the hall of fame
OJ Simpson gets inducted into the pro football Hall of Fame
Get all high on PCP, kill your wife and her friend
OJ Simpson got all high on PCP, killed his wi...
Simon says get acquitted
OJ Simpson gets acquitted
Simon Says write a book about how you would have killed them
OJ Simpson writes a book about how he would have killed them
Simon Says deal with shady merchandisers and get crazy, grab a gun, and legally kidnap them
OJ Simpson deals with shady merchandisers, gets crazy, grabs a gun, and legally kidnaps them
Simon Says get convicted for said crime
OJ Simpson gets convicted for said crime
Die a free man
OJ Simpson will die a free ma...ah Simon didn't say

beard

eye eye
nose nose nose
nose nose nose
nose nose nose
nose nose
nose nose
nose nose
nose


beard beard
beard beard mouth mouth mouth beard beard
beard beard mouth mouth mouth beard beard
beard beard mouth mouth mouth beard beard
beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard
beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard
beard beard beard chin beard beard beard beard beard beard
beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard
beard beard beard beard beard bead beard beard beard beard
(it is at this point that I realized that this poem is not going to look the same when I publish it in a new window, but I continue for the sake of what I started)
beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard
beardbeardbeardbeard beard beard beardbeadbeardbeardbeardbeardbeard
beard beardbeard beardbeard beard beardbeardbeardbearadbeardbeardbeard
beardbeard beard beard beard beard beard beard beard beardbeardbeardbeard
beardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeard
beardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeard
beardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeard
beardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeard
beardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbearbeard
beardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeard
beardbeardbeardbeardbeardbeard
beard beardbeard beard
beard

Response to Shell Fisher

Can Flarf ever be taken seriously?

I read and re-read the article, loved the picture at the top featuring our incredible and becoming instructor K Silem Mohammad (which I don't think I will ever spell incorrectly again) and have drawn a few conclusions:

As far as Flarf being taken seriously, well the definition of seriously has to be examined. Is Flarf serious, if Flarf poetry was a person would it work in marketing for bloomingdales and wear a suit and tie, probably not. I think of the Flarf poetry, especially google and internet searching for funny word phrases, as a readership gone right. Though it is not my personal cup of tea, you have to respect any poetic movement that has gained so much steam over the past few years. If an email readership amongst friends has grown into books and readings upon books and readings, in bigger anthologies and venues over the years, then we should be able to accept flarf as viable. Douglas Rothchild reminds me of an old film critic that says "this rubbish isn't cinema...Citizen Kane is cinema" in response to watching the boxoffice hit Johnny Knoxville movie "The Ringer". Though the script and story may not be as in depth and intricate, nor the acting as polished, both are technically films, shot with cameras and starring people, and whether something meets any persons personal standards or not does not detract from the art's personal merit. Flarf poetry, and The Ringer for that matter keeping along with the analogy, does not want to fit into the traditional canon. The traditional canon is boring, outdated, uninspired, and didn't have internet access. I think Flarfists would chuckle at the idea of being taken seriously, ironic though that "flarfists" is an accepted word and doesn't have a red squiggly. Look at the title of the movement "flarf" look at the way flarfists dress, or conduct themselves, or, and God forbid, what they write about and you will see that being taken seriously is not their intention. However, whether you take them seriously or take them as a set of poetic anarchists who's main goal is to destroy poetry and create a neo-linguistic society where incoherent utterances are our only form of communication, they are here and weird, get used to it.

Conceptual poem idea #1

Every conceptual poetry idea i come up with seems very hacky...oh well..


K Silem MoHollywood

K Silem Mohammad stars as marine pilot in action thriller Independence Day
K Silem Mohammad stars in the new Burn After Reading trailer
K Silem Mohammad stars as Mr. Gable in Magnolia Pictures' The Great Buck Howard
K Silem Mohammad stars as businessman Evan Danielson in the family comedy
is K Silem Mohammad going dancing with the stars?
Talk about star power. The fear that a K Silem Mohammad movie might decamp from Mass.
K Silem Mohammad stars as Rubin 'Hurricane' Carter in the movie
Ex-football great K Silem Mohammad co-stars in this blood filled police actioner
K Silem Mohammad stars as Max Payne
K Silem Mohammad is set to star in an advert with David Beckham.

so far

I've just been tinkering with the symbols in microsoft word and seeing what I can come up with. It's not really conceptual writing OR procedure based poetry but it's been fun...

Convention Food

 

At the convention, the group leader says:

“Raise your Nif you ate the tilapia…”

you raise your N--

“ok keep them raised if you have felt a little faint since then”

you’ve been feeling a little off so you keep your N raised--

“ok now raise them high

if you’ve had toe-clenching

stomach-churning

asshole-ripping

diarrhea since then”

everyone in the room’s Ns stand up straighter and stiffer

than flagpoles,

that’s when you realize

you have the slowest digestive tract

of all of the accounts

that work on the third floor…

 

Magic Remote

 

4 You find a remote on some grave

7 You watch yourself being born

8 You watch yourself on your deathbed

7 You watch yourself being born

8 You watch yourself on your deathbed

7 You watch yourself being born

8 You watch yourself on your deathbed

:   Someone finds a remote on your grave

Conceptual Poetry revisited

Think of this more as a gripe. I just don't get it. I sat here for maybe 10 minutes trying to think of ways to be uncreative. I tried incorporating my itunes, looking in my fridge, but it all seems so forced. Watching that video where Goldsmith reads part of "Day" really drove me off the deep end I think...

Mind FREAK! (dedicated to Criss Angel)

7/31/2009

 

N   saw Criss Angel in Las Vegas today,

and for a master illusionist,

you’d think he’d make himself look taller.

Lesson 13 Conceptual Writing

Conceptual writing is to conventional poetry and other forms of "creative" writing what Gruel (we've all heard of it but hopefully never tasted it) is to a nutritionally balanced meal from Benihannas (if they exist). Meaning, both are still food, one is assumed to be bland, unimagined, uninspired, tasteless, and intolerable but as far as using language it "fills you up". To take it further, there is no REAL difference as far as mass is concerned if you eat enough gruel to fill you up or if you eat enough of an inspired delicious meal to fill you up, outside of taste, nutrition, and display. I think of Conceptual writing, and I base my definition largely from the Goldsmith reading in the harriet, as gruel because it is not trying to do anything but "fill you up" or fill pages or use language. Gruel, we can assume or we can ask Annie and some other mistreated orphans, is meant to purely fill up whoever consumes it with no regard for taste or flavoring, nutrition, or inspiration. It is largely de-motivating, hard to swallow, just like Conceptual writing.


The difference between a movement like Dada or Language poetry and Conceptual writing is pretty much answered, though oddly, in my first paragraph. There is some artistic merit to pretty much any other form of writing, especially Dada, and it is not that conceptual writing falls short in being creative, it is not trying to be creative in any means. In some of Goldsmith's work, there is no clear "point" or message to get across. Scanning a dictionary for the schwa sound, recording every bodily movement and writing it down, and reprinting a newspaper into a 900 page book are inherently uncreative conceptually. A Dada work may attempt to make some type of claim or statement and that is not the point at all of Conceptual writing.


In regards to the thinkership, obviously as Goldsmith stated he doesn't expect works like Day to be read, but rather thought about. A readership, a collection of devout followers who read your work, is definitely useless if you are creating work that doesn't necessarily ask to be read. Goldsmith's work is meant to be admired, pondered, and examined moreso on it's ambition and merit than it's "creativity" so it's not necessarily the act of reading it that should appeal to his followers, but thinking about it and examining it and placing value upon it as a whole is what is important.

Lesson 12 The New Sentence

Reading Silliman's 8 new sentence observations struck me as quite odd, though I was intrigued. Some of the themes of the "new sentence" seemed very inherent and didn't need to be stated. Beginning with the first feature, "the paragraph not the stanza organizes the sentences" seems obvious for prose poetry. I think with my rudimentary understanding of modernism and the movements afterward this conclusion was already made and enforced. Prose poetry by look and creation mostly strays away from the stanza form. The second feature, "the paragraph is a unit of quantity; not logic or argument" seems unnecessary as well. Maybe I am making large and bold generalizations, but it seems like this is obvious.

I didn't get these features or their relevance until they were explained. After looking at the Lyn Henjinian piece, and getting the explanation about the explicitness of numbers and their relevance, things began to clear up. Silliman is not only stating the obvious, but he is sort of giving loose guidelines as well as acknowledging the artistic nature of the work around him. I think pointing out these types of things so that followers of his work and the works of his comrades can notice certain meticulous detail connects the artists as well as admirers. I think of poets like John Weiners and Russell Edson and their prose poetry, nearly short stories, that embody this type of "new sentence poetry" with works like "The Toymaker" and "Ape" as great poetic examples.

My attempt...

The Train Riders

The November air is cold as it arrives. 7 cabins and 14 boxcars follow the head of the proud steam engine. The riders individually exit onto the platform once the rickety doors open.

There are three riders of note. The first and second are men. The last is a young woman with an umbrella draped across one shoulder.

The first man is a banker from New Orleans. This is his annual trip from the muggy south-coast up to the brisk shoreline around New England. His body is stout and atop his broad shoulders sits a massive head with a brow that protrudes like a cro-magon.

The second man is an apprehensive skinny farmer who caught the train in Kentucky in hopes that his fortunes would turn with a trip to the North. His clothes reveal his troubles in the bluegrass state and his stare is tired. He hasn't a place to stay or a person to call, but the change in scenery looks to be a change in luck.

The woman, slender and beautiful has arrived after being beckoned from an old love from before the war. Her belongings are packed tightly in a small chest, save for the umbrella. Her mouth is slack-jawed yet still feminine, while her stance reveals more class than anything else.

Before the three explore their destination a cool breeze arises. A collective chill scurries through the spines of the two men and lone woman. The three of them all think of warm fires and hot meals.

The train slowly pulls away as our three are left on the platform. Looking for luck, love, and
cradling consistency, the three stand for a second and admire the cool before walking into the train station together but individually. The night remains cold through the windows that surround the brick building.

--------------

So I tried to use the numbers thing as a way to anchor my prose. I used three couple of ways: riders and sentences per paragraph, as well as tried to use 21 twice (7 plus 14 in the first paragraph, 21 sentences since their are seven paragraphs of three sentences each). I tried to have every sentence motivate the next but don't know how successful I was in that, and KNOW that I didn't let ideas spill into the next paragraph as they should and I used the "old sentence" form of having paragraphs remain as units of argument and logic rather than PURELY measurement.

Joke

A man walks into a knock knock and asks the owner if he has any grapes
whos there
any grapes
no
no who?
and leaves

a man walks into a knock knock and asks the owner if he has any grapes
whos there
any grapes
no
no who?
and leaves

a man walks into a knock knock and asks the owner if he has any grapes
whos there
any grapes
listen next time you walk in here and ask for grapes I'm going to nail your feet to the floor
listen next time you walk in here and ask for grapes I'm going to nail your feet to the floor who?
and leaves

a man walks into a knock knock and asks the owner if he has any nails
whos there
any nails
no
no who? any grapes?
and leaves

wordless poem (you asked for it)

Lesson 11

I was glad to find the meaning behind the Perelman poems, I think in an earlier class I was already told about Chronic Meaning, and find China even more wonderful now that I know the true meaning behind each of the phrases. I like the idea of writing through, because it makes a found poem that much more interesting when something is done to it. In one class we had to make chapbooks and a classmate, Kandi Rock-wal-ski (phonetics only) spliced together two random works of literature and made wonderful poems in the Mesostic form much like that explained by Kasey about John Cage. Sorry about the sidebar. As I further read I can feel myself grasping and losing concepts at the same time. The purpose of language poetry is to make the stone "stony" again without describing how stony it is but rather using some crazy cross reference and circular explanation? Professor Mohmmad is a very smart man? I am utterly confused.

The explanation through modern terms, finally!, however was what sort of brings this concept home. LOL for example is used all the time even when I or others aren't laughing out loud. Someone can say, "I'll be a few minutes late, mom is acting like a bitch" in a text message to me and my autopilot response is "lol its all good" when A-I am not laughing out loud, B-mom being a bitch isn't all good, and C-all good is a much better alternative to "its ok if you are late" considering I would rather have a meal that is "all good" versus one that is satisfactory. I could spiral like this forever since language is filled with accepted metaphors and similes and the common understanding of certain colloquialisms and I guess that is what this whole section is about.

I guess this poem is about the word poem and how it sounds. I'm sure there is a procedure to it but I don't know how to really explain it.

Poem

Po
Po Po
Police
Police Officers
Men and women who enforce the societal laws.

Po
Pour
to transfer liquid from one container to another

Po
Poor
without money

em
um
a place holder in speech, a definitionless word

em
them
those that are not us or like us

Poem
Po-em
Poor them
those people who are not like us because they are poor

Poem
Po-em
poor them
those people who are not like us and that is unfortunate

Poem
Po-em
Pour them
A number of liquids in one container that are being urged to be moved into others.

Lesson Ten L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E

When I think of "a poem about nothing" my mind races to Seinfeld and then I think of my favorite episode and then the last thing I'm thinking about is poetry...case in point, this very post. I'm going to switch it up and write my poem first.

There it is.
Red apples make crunching sounds.
My favorite is the taller one with the feathers. While
running it devours.
And towers lean.
True enough, she is in rare form.

Wire lays beside the binder. The chatter is mindnumbing.
Is dust dusty? Probably so.
Where there are no lions
there lies the young.
Remarkably, lysol outlasts bacteria.

Infection is the leading lecture.
Whereas potency, has three minds of their own.
Black screens lay beside the wall,
next to the outlet.
Does not compute!
These pretzels are making me thirsty. A phrase isn't a phrase
until it's regurgitated
at a cocktail party
as a bizzare quip
from a socialite.
Organic popcorn,
lightly salted.
The sensation of an electric stapler is comforting.

------------OK



Of the two poems, Bob Perelman's China and Chronic Meaning, I would most closely compare my work of linguistic calamity to China. Chronic Meaning is only the first five words of longer sentences, some of which can be categorized as complete statements some of which cannot, whereas China seems to have complete phrases that are singluar, cohesive, and complete in their own right, yet are completely unattached to the statement that follows. I tried to write a poem that wasn't about anything, but believe I failed miserably. It was a lot more difficult than I thought. I just wrote a bunch of random sentences and hoped that I completed the assignment. It was difficult given the parameters that we couldn't make up words and that we had to stick to regular linguistic format because every American sentence that I know of has at least one subject and one predicate. It takes me back to China, the poem AND the country, and thinking "how can these phrases make sense together?" I don't think the poem is about anything, but it is also not about anything. I don't think that makes sense. The point is not about any one specific thing, but rather it is about a multitude of different things all at once. In Chronic Meaning, the phrases are taken from another work and shortened to the sameword length. Since those sentences are already written and shortened, Perelman is literally using a procedure in order to make the poem. The procedure itself lends to linguistic ambiguity in some cases. I don't really know if it is possible to write coherent sentences and not have them be about anything in particular. If read out of the blue I don't think either poem would make "sense" from start to finish, but in each work there are instances, especially throughout China, where they make sense.

Lesson Nine

Catch up time...thats what Fridays are for I guess....


I dont really know how to respond to the ninth lesson without merely parrot-ing back the facts that were given. There wasn't an argument made or a side taken so the post was highly informative but uncharacteristically uncontroversial. I guess I agree with it? One of the main things about the information we were given was the lack of African Americans and women in the two rival poetic anthologies of the early 1960s. It is ironic how poets, at least now, are seen as more "outcasts" and as a subgroup in the literary community yet they were exclusionary in their own right. Especially amidst the civil rights movements of the 1950s and 1960s, it is very ironic that these types of practices were accepted.

As for the decline of poetry...I wonder where and when the form became less popular. Granted, I am no avid newspaper or magazine reader so I can't entirely vouch that a poet WASN'T on the cover of Life or Time magazine in their last editions, I can safely assume. I can think of people who are outwardly against our "war" in the middle east, I won't even get into it's comparisons with our "war" in Vietnam, but poetry must not pack the same muster as it used to since I don't really remember poets, poetry, poetic movement or stance, ever being mentioned in the same breath as war in Iraq. The fallout must have been after the Beat movement since, according to Kasey, the Language poets received little mainstream press.

I am trying to be creative but the only thing that pops into my head is the "I'm just a bill" from schoolhouse rock so I decided to make cut ups of those words, throw them up and whichever words appeared face up would make the poetic line in order from distance from me backward...and the words I used were "I'm just a bill yes im only a bill and im sitting here on capitol hill"..I added all punctuation.

Billy tossed from capitol hilly (shuffled 8 times)

A sitting a yes hill bill just I'm only
I'm on bill yess I'm hill just and
only im here. I'm yes a sitting
only a on,
A bill. Sitting hill yes I'm just bill and on
here on hill capitol and a
hill. I'm only capitol just here a I'm
on sitting here, hill I'm a only.

Response to the Rant and 7+

I think the whole objection to using poetic procedures as a way to create poetry stems from the shared, and very conscious, belief that poetry ought to be tied to sentiment. Especially in contemporary life, new poems are mainly seen by large audiences on greeting cards. The poetry taught in most schools is often times associated with rhyme, meter, and feeling. Teachers ask and ask "how does this make you feel" "what feeling is the poet trying to convey" and to have procedures that tell you how to write poetry, not be structure but by content, seems very odd. I agree that procedural poetry in itself is very artistic and should be considered art, but the lack of emotion often times comes off as a lack of creativity. 

I believe that coming up with these procedures is in itself very creative and fun. My personal disagreement with "anti-art" as art is the overt brashness. I dislike the "this isn't art...deal with it...evaluate it if u want but u can't" type of attitude that seems to come from the voices within the field, because my personal tastes call for order, objectivity, and direct evaluation. I like being able to push for answers, ask why, and to me poetry, as with all writing, ought to be defended. It is not to say that everyone owes an explanation, but something better than, it is art because I dropped some words into a paper bag and picked them out, seems devoid of any explanation.

Though my views are my views, I completely see the contrary. For one, Dada works of art are incredibly surreal, artistic, unique, and bold in their own rights; and all the aforementioned adjectives make for creative works. I agree that art doesn't always have to be "sincere" to be artistic, but I personally feel that an artist should feel tied to their work and some sort of evaluation should be able to be made.

Thinking of a way to do a +7 for now...

A Rag Man

Obviously, this reading and following was about anagrams. Personally I like the idea of the anagram as a poetic device and truly applaud those who used the technique before the internet and computerized generators (it took me about 5 minutes to think of what I could have by anagraming the word anagram just to get the title of this post). Anagraming is also unique and interesting because there are so many different word combinations that go unnoticed. I think we all settle into our own comfortable vernacular and stray rarely from a strong list of words that we feel comfortable with. When putting things as simple as your name into an anagram generator, there are often words that we seldom see or use (omelet eon gym gun is one anagram for Tommy Eugene Long).

The Disappearance seems like a wonderful experiment and it must have been a painstakingly arduous task to write 300 pages without the letter E. As I read the small piece shown, I became highly impressed at the execution of such a task. Exercises like these truly reinforce the power of the human brain. Well, its either that or we don't need the letter "E" (I quote the simpsons when Homer writes a restaraunt review on the computer and his keyboard doesn't have a letter E " we don't need no stinkin E's...Extravagent Eateries..no...food box...by homer...no...Earl.. no...aha BILL Simpson!") The Christian Bok book, and flash demo of E especially, was wonderful. Something about mermen and greek crews erecting vessels was wonderful use of one vowel throughout. It is definitely presented well on the internet utilizing modern mediums.


(I couldn't) (think of) (what to) (anagram)

cold unit fink tho hat tow raga man
lucid not fit honk watt ho a nag ram
cloud tin fink hot what to a gram an
Doc unlit of think that ow a mag ran
cut do nil hat wot a ma rang
Colt dun I thaw to a nag arm
Tic old nu haw tot a nag mar
cold I tun tatt how a rag am
cunt idol watt oh a gar man
could nit hat two gar am an

gibberish I know but like the title says..I couldn't think of what to anagram

Oulipo

Just browsing the Wikipedia page, I really like the snowball idea. It seems that would be difficult and once you get past 12 or 13 letters per word, it would be very difficult.

As a whole, I find this style of poem writing different than my personal tastes but very interesting. The fact that it was founded by poets and mathematicians really stands out as not only art that uses language as a medium, but also math. I think of these two methods, Dada and Ouliop, Dada is more toward my sensibility because it seems to have more artistic freedom. Though some Dada works are found poems and shuffling around words, from the examples on the wikipedia page, the examples of Oulipo poetry seem procedurally constraining. S+7 is a fun way to write poetry but it is purely based on whatever words are already written and a predisposed number, whereas there is some creativity in line length in a found poem. Obviously the Oulipo is fresher considering it was founded later than Dada, but a lot of Oulipo is based from Dada. The similarities in having certain procedures, not worrying about rhyme and meter, being irrational for the sake of the work are found in both the Oulipo and Dada philosophies.

Whenever there is a definite procedure, like those used by Dada and Oulipo, there is always going to be absurdity. It would very rare, and somewhat even more absurd, to do an S+7 poem and find a real cohesion in the words used. I think the point of these types of works is to use words in a creative and non-constructive manner; these works are often times rooted in a grammar-less grammar. To use poetry in the same way that we use spoken language is like painting a picture just as it is seen, and Oulipo and Dada try to create new rules, or not, in order to see how far they can contort language with no regard for traditional linguistic comprehension.

Wikipedia Page Oulipo

Oulipo potential works notable also The may constraints used void of History

Oulipo However suggestion colloquium During Pataphysique members La

Oulipian Some man Plasiris elaborate Queneau's indepently 10 approximately constraints some replace dick on snowball a lipogram writing letters. prisoners a palindromes sonnets members founding members the pataphysicians Noel Valerie Jacques Claude Jacques Anne Michelle Latis Francois Jean Michele Raymond Jean Albert Members Noel Valerie Marcel Jacques Claude Andre Paul Italo Francois Bernard Ross Stanley Marcel Jacques Luc Frederic Paul Anne Michelle Jacques Latis Francois Herve Jean Daniel Harry Michele Ian Oskar Georges Raymond Jean Pierre Jacques Olivier Albert References Mathews Motte Queneau The Lapprand See Ouxpo Outrapo Ougrapo External Excerpts A Essay an The French French French Absurdist Visual Music Literature Cinema General Categories

---------------------------

I just decided to write down the first word of every line on the Oulipo wikipedia page...it's not really mathematical but it definitely is void of any true thought, foresight, or emotion

Dada response (from Tuesday)

Collage

Of course we are familiar with collage! In the American educational program I grew up in, collages were as prevalent as recess lol. I decided to look at some Raoul Haussman and really liked the Raoul Dada-Messe from 1920. The collage works are impressive but I feel that without substantial explanation, I don't really understand them. In the time period when the Dada movement emerged, the world was a much different place and so the art to me, though possibly intentional, seems overly abstract and ungraspable. I further looked at the Hannah Hoch collage Cut With the Kitchen Knife through the first Epoch of the Weimar Beer-Belly Culture and was enamored with the sheer amount of material, but i feel like I understood the message behind The Beautiful Girl. Especially today, I can't comment about in the past, the BMW logo is totally synonymous with wealth, prosperity, and money. From a modern lens, it is a commentary on ideals of beauty and femininity, dare I say intelligence with the inclusion of the light bulb, and monetary gain.


Ready Mades

One of my favorite "found" poems is the Williams' poem "This is Just to Say" because there is a lot of artistry in it's simplicity. I'm glad it was used as an example in this course because I feel it is an important poem. The idea of the readymade poem, however, usually gives me conflicting feelings: on one hand I agree that art is art whether it is found or created, and on the other hand it makes me a little uneasy that someone can find a piece of writing, take away the context, or overtly expose its context, and call it art. In the case of poetry, I find collage a truer form, in my opinion, of art than purely found poems because the artist has some say as to decisions made in the piece. A collage can be several cut ups of poems, phone books, advertisements, whereas a strictly found poem might be a recipe from a local cookbook regurgitated as a work of art.

Basic Chance operation

I have never played with this type of poetry writing but respect it's roots. Though I find it hard to believe that shuffling cut out words into a new format by picking them from a bag bears any resemblance to the artist itself, I like the randomness of the excercise.


Found Poem (Taken from a Legal Brief...names have been changed)

"Settlement Brief Page One"

Superior Court of the State of
California, County of San Diego, Central
Judicial District

Janice Fry
an individual
& William Fry
an individual
Plaintiff

v.

Los Cochinitos Restaurant,
and
Julio Gonzalez
et. al.

Case no. Not yet filed
plaintiffs settlement rief
Date of Accident: 11-01-03

-----

I took this from My dad's Law Office but obviously had to change the names but the point is the same.

Introduction to 399

Disregard the title of the blog...I set this blog up for a prior class and now i am being internet-environmentally friendly by recycling and using this blog again. Anyway I'm Tommy Long. If you have had class with me before than that should be substantial enough of a description..if not thenI don't know what else to really say as in my case I believe my name is the only description that is fitting of me. Just kidding, but honestly I don't know what to say other than welcome, I'm Tommy. I'm kind of a graduate kind of a senior still. I am from San Diego, CA where I am looking for a job currently. I will be a graduate with a degree in English and Writing. I really miss playing football but I will never have to get screamed at by middle aged men who are living vicariously through a team of spry athletic men so I am thankful for that.I like to have fun, write, create masterpieces, travel, spend time with my nieces, If you get some time browse around here and you can see the poems I wrote for a chapbook poetry book and if you REALLY want to order one then I'll make you one. Otherwise have fun.

Constraints and Procedural writing

I understand the idea of constraints as far as procedural writing goes (if those two even go together, if not then I am obviously an idiot). It makes sense that when writing under a certain procedure, like a sonnet as explained, that the poet has to adhere to certain constraints or rules that make said piece of writing a sonnet. You can't call yourself a basketball player if you are kicking the ball.  Conversely, I really like proceduralism mainly because I like the detached feeling portrayed. In Kasey's case, using only the salutations of his emails gives no feeling to the work, no forethought, and no emotion; the poem is strictly what it is meant to be (a found poem from already written texts in various emails).

Aleatory writing

I see how this type of writing is very close in nature to stream of consciousness. Though I very closely agree with a point brought up by Kasey about thoughts being random. I agree that it is very difficult not to censor your thoughts, and nearly impossible to maintain that there is no invisible net inside your head that doesn't screen things to an extent. Randomization of thought is a very tricky idea to grasp because how can thoughts truly be random if you (or I) are the one thinking them and each of us does have our own unique quirks and dispositions that motivate our thoughts.

Free Verse

I think it is ironic how free verse in itself becomes a tradition or a procedure. If you look at a common accepted definition that free-verse is sort of "everything else" that doesn't fit a specific mold, constraint, procedure or tradition, then isn't it still fitting all of those things in itself. Can you play a game that has no rules? Not really because a game with no rules has one rule: there are no rules. I think free verse is the same type of catch-22. Though it adheres to no specific rule in conjunction with rhyme, meter, assonance, etc. by not adhering to those constraints, free verse poems are adhering to the rule that they don't adhere to those rules...if that makes sense.

----------------------------------Poem begins...now

Sitting Shirtless

I am here in the morning darkness

since

my mother's apartment has poor illumination.

And as I write for class,

trying to continue to type

but deleting when I see fit

I pause to scratch my face

seconds ago.

I scanned back to Kasey's blog

in order to see

if this poem, would fit the criteria

he laid out. I am still unsure.

It is early still

to some people

but the morning is more than half over.

I, on the other hand, am unemployed.

--------------------------------------------------poem over

That's it for now, it is time to look at some other blogs and wait for the responses to come rollin in...

Done part 1

got my chapbook all printed up...im excited

Hats Off

Practice always left so suddenly.

Every individual moment lasted forever,

yet clustered together

hours came and went.

Taking a knee,

or a "v-sit"

or having to stand to prove you weren't tired--

above jello legs

and collapsing lungs--

was a stronger sign 

that practice was over

than the sleeping sun

or the black that rolled over sky.

The walk back to the locker room

was slower than the walk out

because part of me never wanted to take the pads off.

There was no life outside of football:

I ate because football made me hungry

showered because football made me dirty

started homework after 8 because football stole my time

and fell to sleep soon after

because football usually exhausted.

I woke up an did it again

despite how many different ways

I told myself and my teammates that I didn't want to.

Deep down, I always wanted to.

There was only one year where I was a star,

12 lousy games out of too many to sit and count,

when football felt like a calling.

Would I do it again?

Sign my life away

in order to give up constant pressures about sex

and drinking

and graduating

and being an adult,

I couldn't answer.

My time spent was spent

it would have passed regardless

so letting it pass behind bars

was just as good as any other way.

Hats On

When I used to go to my locker--

after school

or after a long rest after morning practice

or before the birds told us it was morning--

there was always a countdown.

It was either "a few more days of camp"

or "one more day til Saturday (Friday in high school)"

or "three hours til I get to go back to bed".

Putting on pants over a spandex girdle,

shoving my feet into pre-tied cleats,

strapping on shoulder pads,

mindless tasks before heading out to the grass.

I liked to be alone--

call me weird

or observant--

because it felt right. 

I always felt just a little uncomfortable

and so I knew everything was ok.

We would congregate before practice--

freshman with freshman

running backs and running backs

offense and offense

defense and defense--

and bullshit.

Waiting for the coaches to come out,

to tell us to circle up

or take a knee

or line up on the "gold line",

this was what playing football was about.

Currier

He moved me
from San Diego
to Kirksville
in two months flat
via telephone.

His deliveries were consistent,
if anything,
2 and 9
2 and 9.
What a way to end your career.

He brought a team of bulldogs
to a jungle,
unprepared,
and it showed.
77 to 7 proves
Gorillas have no mercy.

He hand delivered

my disdain for football

with a grin.

He married a Currier
and she delivered their third child
while he was delivering a special package
to that cute receptionist.

He brought in dozens of coaches

who fled

because they weren't bound

by scholarships.

Hickory stick--lost in transport.

Winning seasons--who put that "s" there?

If only they had seen the big

return to sender

sign that was written on the faces

of dozens of players and coaches who left

and the "we don't want him" scream

that our mostly empty stadium chanted.

Title

I'm thinking of naming my Chapbook 

Concussed: and the poetry of Football

tell me what you think, I'll be expecting as many comments as the rest of my work has garnered

Towel Push

Holding a towel against the hardwood floor--

At 5'9'' real height

(5'10'' roster height)--

I found out that,

at the diagonal,

a basketball court is about 25 strides.

Lengthwise,

the court is about 22 strides.

I found this out (5 times in 30 minutes)

since Lorenzo was a running back

and every running back got punished

if one of us missed two meetings.

Even after he quit.

No Excuse

Some stereotypes are true.

No exaggeration needed,

my coach really said this 

in the middle of a 530 am 

running session,

"Pick it up...you guys wanna be

2 and 9 again

or worse

1 and 10

or worse

0 and 11

or worse

fuckin

6 and 5?

Cuz I don't!"

Superman

The tape stops

"Superman doesn't get tackled...

and he doesn't run out of bounds.

He doesn't show off after a nine yard run

and cost his team 15 yards!

He doesn't drop balls

just because he lost them

in the 

FUCKING STADIUM LIGHTS!"

The tape starts up again

(in insubordinate silence)

how do YOU know?

Faster

Have you ever run so fast that you felt untouchable?

So fast that you pass the world by

and your eyes retreat to the back of their sockets?

Have you ran so fast that you felt you were alone

and screaming

without sound?

So fast you had finally reached, "fast enough"?

Well, according to coach, neither had I.

Green Paint

Every year it's the same thing:
a flyer in the locker
a raised sense of awareness
constant chants "Get the Stick!"

The place for the stick
at our school
is a dusty grave.

The closest we ever got
to the stick
was a touchdown,
that should have been prevented,
with 11 seconds left in the game.

The fresh green paint
amongst the sweaty white jerseys,
as we watched in black and purple,
didn't have a smell.

It was ok though
because none of us had ever seen the stick in purple
and so it was comfortable in green.

Onlookers

To those
who watch you hobble around,
a bruised tailbone
is the same as hemorrhoids.

Coach Keola

...made his son wear 5lb plates
under his thigh pads
so he was "heavy" enough to play.

...shimmied way up that tree
barehanded.

...ran us 6 sprints after
we couldn't see the painted yard lines
and then got mad,
if we stopped too short.

...had calves shaped like
jelly beans that were the size
of a baby antelope's head.

...told us to wear a piece of tape
on our left index finger
on game day,
to make sure we were listening to what he said.

...would allow us to guzzle water
in more than ample amounts
so that someone would throw up
by the end of practice.

...reminded me of
Mr. Miyagi
If Mr. Miyagi was a pop warner football coach.

...probably still smells like grass
and old footballs.

Momentum

He has you reeling

in a good way,

"Yea

Fuck Washburn!"

"Those Ichabods think that we came here to lose well I'll

tell you what, No sir! Not Today!"

Steam builds as the locomotive

turns the corner.

We are one collective pulse.

There is an allure today

something in the air

his presence is so strong.

All of us sitting there

in white with purple trim

we all feel it.

For five foot seven

he seems so tall.

Pudgy has morphed into a proud stout.

His voice gains momentum, boisterously 

destroying the tracks of doubt that lay before us.

"They don't think we can do it.

They got us losing 28-0.

Fuck that!"

Then he tries to rip the newspaper,

forgetting that it's laminated,

and the train screeches to a familiar halt.

Drug Testing

When the NCAA drug tests you,

it's at six in the morning.

As soon as your eyes open you have to pee

but you realize that you can't

because you have to take a "test"

hooray!

The trip from the house

to the stadium

is the hardest part

because everything makes you want to pee:

the slight drizzle in the air

the sprinklers

the man on the side of the road peeing.

Against the cold metal chair

in the team room

all you can think about is getting in the bathroom,

but you have to wait

since there is only one NCAA representative

and 10 randomly selected teammates.

Your turn finally comes

and you head to the stall

to pee when he says 

"no I have to watch".

Afterward,

on the way back to bed,

you wonder if his job

is entry level

or somewhere high above the glass ceiling.

Week 6 readings

While doing my laundry...

I mean while sitting down and devoting deep thought and contemplation about the poets we were assigned, while I was at the laundromat, I have this to say:

Ted Berrigan-

I really enjoyed "Words for Love" especially the lines "At night, awake, high on poems, or pills or simple awe that loveliness exists, my lists flow differently." The poet seems enamored with lovely things rather than love itself and this was an unexpected twist to what I was expecting. There is a slight over-romantic feel and the poem ends on a somewhat somber note. "Bean Spasms" definitely uses full advantage of field-composition and the disjunctive nature of the poem makes it hard to follow. 

Joseph Cervalo-

"Geological Hymn" feels like the theme lead on in the first sentence carries throughout. The nature imagery is very vivid but it comes from a space that seems to be irrelevant. There is consistency within the poem, not the type of consistency that I particularly enjoy, but it is definitely a running theme. "Pregnant, I Come" is a weird take on procreation or pregnancy and I don't think I have too much of a response to it. Use a condom when you are drinking, write poetry instead.

Bill Berkson-

In "Rebecca Cutlet" I found the last stanza to be the most alluring. It was very Being John Malkovich-y and I loved the description of the moist shaft that is caving in. "Melting Milk" was definitely not my cup of tea. It seemed like there were a lot of tangents within the poem and even after a few readings I couldn't get a solid grasp of a theme.

Clark Coolidge-

"Brill" and "Styro" were both all over the page, literally, but I found it easier to follow Styro probably because it was shorter. I'm not a big proponent of this style of poetry but am understanding to the experiment. I tried to read "On Introduction of the Hand" but looks deceived. Though that piece looked like more coherent phrases, each sentence is dribble. It might as well be thrown around the page like the others. I did enjoy "Noon Point" probably because before the second through fifth sentences confused me, the first sentenced lassoed me in with a chuckle.

Ron Padgett-

"Wonderful Things" and "Big Bluejay Composition" are stylistically intimidating if the reader isn't a fan of field composition, but after reading Wonderful Things, I learned that they weren't too bad. They could be rearranged to fit the more traditional poetic form, but Wonderful Things worked well for me as it was arranged. "Nothing in That Drawer" is unique and the shape of the poem is what is most alluring. The message is simple: it is an analogy for the endless struggle of benevolence vs. self entitlement in the 13th century Roman Priesthood; or something like that. "Falling in Love in Spain or Mexico" seemed like an exercise for Alysia's chapbook.

Lorenzo Thomas-

Thomas-Tommy...LT-TL...come on! Too easy. I loved the sarcasm in the piece and the sense of scrutiny toward poetry that "The Marvelous Land of Indefinitions" provides. "POETRY IS FULL OF LIES!" wonderful! I love how this is a poem about things that are more important than poetry.

The Bernadette Mayer poem "First turn to me" mixed with some Whitman poems could be considered soft-core poetic pornography. She is so descriptive and I really enjoyed how most of her descriptions of sex were stripped from the corny "love" and more focused on the physical and situational aspects that encompass a sexual encounter.

Delicious

In August--

when the sun is beating down 

with two hot fists,

and your feet scream upward

through toes that are crammed

too tightly together,

and fatigue stains your shirt--

it is easy to forget

that this temporary salvation

is hose-water

Hook-Hand

He has a hook-hand

and it is perfect for

wrapping around your neck

and pulling you close

so he can whisper in your ear

and tell you how badly you hurt your team

by screwing up.

He has a hook-hand

not a metal one but a fleshy one.

It's just a regular hand

and arm

but misshapen. Truth be told

his hand got caught under his armpit

in the womb

and his bones fused together.

He has a hook-hand

and he claps with the palm of his "regular" hand

and the back of the hook-hand.

He uses the hook-hand to hold the phone,

so he can jot down things with the "regular" hand.

He has a hook-hand

and it isn't a disability. 

Because according to hook-handed men,

"it's not a disability if you are born with it!

If you had to go your whole life with it

learn to tie your shoes with it

and carry a football with it,

then it's not a disability!"

He has a hook-hand

and when he was younger he would hide the hook-hand

behind his back

before wrestling matches

in high school.

When it was time to shake hands before the match

he would hold out the hook-hand

and freak out opponents.

He would then use that same hook-hand

to hook necks and hook legs

and he went to the state wrestling championships.

He has a hook-hand

and a terrible offensive philosophy

and slanted eyebrows

and kind of a bad temper.

And he's someone else's problem now.

I served my four years.

Better Than Sex

In high school, scoring touchdowns was

better than sex

because I hadn't had enough sex to compare it to.

Now, scoring touchdowns is

better than sex

because you can't cum too quickly if you score a touchdown.

All Of My Pictures

On picture day

every year

I would make sure I had a haircut.

I would make sure that

my uniform was tucked in nicely,

my socks were pulled up,

and my cleats were clean.

"Ball in the right hand

chest high

chin up

and

say cheese!"

And it was right then,

every year

that I would think to myself,

"Self, I should smile instead of trying to look tough."

That's why the face I'm making

in every football picture

looks like I'm farting.

Utter Disappointment at 17

I remember talking to Wes that day on the bus:

"I'd much rather lose by 50 than by 1,

at least if you lose by 50 there was never any

real hope

anyway."

"Nah." 

It's hard to say I told you so

when your nose is so stuffy

because your nose gets really stuffy

when you are crying your eyes out.

Ode

So much depends

upon

an oblong foot

ball

kissed by stadium

lights

atop a green

field

Thigh Pads

See knee pads

and change the word "knee"

to "thigh"

Knee Pads

When you are running full speed

and someone

wearing a large chunk of molded metal

dives into your knee

it still hurts.

Shoulder pads

What's the point?

Shoulders separate

when you hit the grass

whether you wear them or not.

First Inhale

When you put it back on,

after being in the storage closet all summer--

because spring only lasts

17 days-- any moisture

or memory

has been dried .

The smell rekindles the heavy heat of summer--

the sweltering temperature

under the sun

when even water

can't be your Jesus.

The scent, unique

and unfamiliarly distinct,

tickles nostrils.

After fall--

where the days runtogetherandthereisnoreal

  break  --the smell is much different.

Autumnally, the storage room

is much cooler

and though most of the moisture leaves,

a bit is trapped.

In April after the fall--

when it begins again,

after years crammed into months

are tirelessly spent--the smells have returned.

The fresh grass

and blossoming terrain

and the helmets.

Colors of a Concussion (working title)

The first is red:

it's a dizzying scarlet

that swirls and wraps around 

your forehead.

Most of the time

it is red, and only red.

Yellow is trouble:

it signifies the confusion. 

A mustard-gas haze

as you can't regain

equilibrium.

The Blue:

clouds everything.

While teeth bite down

your muscles clench and 

release. This is

where the ringing begins,

a colorless sound

disorients

as they raise you to your feet.

Purple:

completes the rainbow.

The bruising pain

that pulsates

can't be cured immediately by the ice

that melts into water and 

trickles

down your spine.

Readings for Week 5

There weren't any new reading assignments posted for week 6 so I guess I gotta get my Marty McFly on and go back to the future:

Ginsberg "America"-

I really like the voice that Ginsberg speaks with in the poem yet I don't know if I am a victim of seeing him perform this schtick on youtube. I think that playing into the audience is important and lines like "Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb" and "You should have seen me reading Marx" are intelligent and counter-cultural to the time, but are they inherently poetic? I don't necessarily think so. I think they are witty and poignant and social criticism is a great way to express oneself, but I think they remind me more of an aspiring comic than a poet. 

Spicer "Imaginary Elegies" I-

The imagery with the eye and the camera and sight and dealing with time as instants, as well as the images of nature spliced within, is brilliant. I read and re-read this section before advancing to part II so I knew I had to write about it exclusively. Toward the end of the piece when he begins to speak from random voices, I don't know if I was captivated or confused and distracted. Part of me wants to ingest the whole piece as wonderful because of the wordplay and imagery in the beginning and the other part of me (The part that thinks Barnacle Bill=Random and Too random= cheesy and forced) disagrees. I sit and teeter on the edge of this piece but because the wordplay in the beginning is done so masterfully, I will read it again.

John Wieners-

"Two Years Later" is a short and sweet. I picture a man's skull after the electric chair because Wieners uses shock, electric, and burnt together. I don't know why this image is brought about but it is inspiring. The second half seems to be the substance of the poem; no matter what happens to a man (person) their "spirit" and beauty remains with them.

"My Mother" is packed with powerful images (so is your mom, BOOM!). But seriously, in the beginning Wieners creates a sense of importance by giving each line it's own space and separation from the others. I see an old woman talking to men on the subway who can't see the prying eyes of a loved one following her.

"As if heaven cared"

Such a brilliant line I had to separate it myself. The poem hides a lot of emotion intentionally and I think it is quaint and descriptive without being overt.

My First Niece

"Hi Uncle Pommy!"
Utterances slowly evolving
from garbled "Iloveoos"
Into full distinct words.
And I know there is no "P" in Tommy
And I think you know that too
but it's ok

When did these years leave?
The first time seeing you,
my brothers daughter
his key back into our lives,
you looked so much like my sister.19 has turned into near 23 

and now,
you look so much like her still
but your personality is Katelyn
and Katelyn only.

Where did you learn to smirk like me?
Or melt my heart
through a telephone.

And when did you become a big sister?
The years that Kassydie has been here
passed like a beautiful afternoon
too quickly and unnoticed
and today you are sisters
not just my two little nieces.

When you first realized that you had two grandmas

one Rhonda
one Betty--
who loves you in her absence and presence--
you brushed years away from my mothers eyes.

I could chase you until forever

as long as you can find room to run
around my brother's apartment
I could chase you.

Guess it's time

to get down to business...It's week 5 and I feel like I'm 5 weeks behind with the blog, 5 weeks behind with the Chapbook and I haven't yet perfected my time machine. Looks like I gotta crack down right about...

wait for it...

wait for it..

now!

-Intro (to my untitled Chapbook)-

I think I have the reverse Midas touch,

well not really

but really.

I gave MC hammer a high five on the last leg of his last world tour

Trust me

Trust me

They love "That '70's show"

do the math

That '80s show is gonna be instant classic

Listen

Listen

Orenthal 

Orenthal James

Just take this gun and go get your stuff back

who's gonna know?

Stealing? Come on! Who's legs won that Heisman trophy?

And that pro bowl ring?

And those signed jerseys that you were going to auction, they're still worth stuff ya know?

Record schmeckord...So what

The court of public opinion has no jurisdiction over us

we're celebrities.

You were innocent 

I'm just sayin...

It's your stuff so you should go get it back ya know?

It's not like getting away with murder.

What too much?

-Karma

-#2 (in more ways than one)-

How is this poetry?

Talking

Through some omniscient voice, though this voice comes from a face that looks just like mine.

I really don't get it

It's just talking...written talking

and trying to make it seem like it's saying something

This is what procrastination looks like

but if I admit that, am I being an honest bad student

or a poet

or both

I'm being that artist

that doesn't care if you like his art

and me not caring somehow makes it even more artistic

the fact that it doesn't need acceptance to be accepted

it just

is!

you disliking it

or waiting for an explanation

is what makes it beautiful and ugly at the same time

and then I turn around and my blazer has a a rhinestoned skull in the middle

just because

and my pants are too tight

and my red belt doesn't match my sandals

and I walk away pompously

and someone buys this gibberish

as REAL poetry

Or 

Should it just be a bunch of repetitions

just for the sake of sound mimicking

because I can do that too

without really thinking

see sea I told you

and you told I 

and eye and my eye told you at sea

I see the sea with my eye I told you...

thats from a later piece I'm going to call "beach"

and it's going to be a Steinese poem

and you won't like it

I won't either

but because we have to be nice you won't say anything bad about it

you'll just sit there and doodle

or shake your head like you 'get' what I was trying to do

when really you don't

-Beach-

I feel you

underneath my ass

and swimming trunks

You are all around me

I can't escape you by laying on my back

You are here and there and everywhere

I came to you

and when I toe the wet line that separates the sand from the water

I feel you course backward

tickled

See sea I told you

and you told I 

and eye and my eye told you at sea

I see the sea with my eye I told you

You wave to me and I see sea

I see you wave

as I wait

and wave back

I see sea

eye see

eye sea

I told you

you I told

when I toed you sea

I see you and toed you

and felt the way I told you

the way I toed you

you toed me back 

and told me

when I told you

I mean toed you

eye sea you

I see you sea!

You can't hide from I

from eye

You are right there sea. I see you see you

from the Beach

-Mambo #5-

A little bit of Monica in my life

Why the hell are we dancing to this,

I really gotta fart

A little bit of Erica by my side

my feet hurt

I think I'm bleeding

I knew I should have ordered fish, Why did I get the steak

A little bit of Rita is all I need

A little bit of Tina is what I see

My hips hurt

I'm sweating like Michael Jackson at a 

youth theater presentation

of West Side story

(so erotic)

I've been Mamboing all fuckin night

A little bit of Sandra in the sun

This is the worst wedding ever

I flew 1/2 way around the country

A little bit of Mary all night long

Just to see this guy I ran track with for one year in college

A little bit of Jessica here I am

And this chick who gave me the worst handjob during freshman week

get married

Open bar my ass

A little bit of you makes me your man

Fuck off Lou Bega

It's 2009.

-Standby Ticket-

There is a standby ticket on the floor next to my desk

It is upside down and alone

There were 5 of them

All virgin brothers

bundled together

That I bought from Anthony for $185

The first one was ripped away from the others at PDX

sidebar: acronyms for airports are ridiculous sometimes

PD stands for Portland and the X means it's an international airport

Anyway

at PDX at 6:12

the first one was taken and stamped and given away at the gate

and scanned

and dropped into the recycle bin

It's becoming something else

maybe page 37 in a book about teens losing their virginity

The second was torn off at SLC (guess that acronym)

the lady at the Southwest counter was so nice

and fragrant

She must have showered a few moments before.

The pungent man,

who lumbered to a stop at the seat next to mine

and sat

after hoisting his luggage in the stow way area

simultaneously revealing two dry sweat stained armpits

on a shirt that you get

when cashing in your Marlboro miles

was nice to me, though he stunk.

sidebar: MCI is the acronym for Kansas City

and Kansas City is in Missouri

The third ticket

was taken in STL wherrr they 

add three rrr's at the end of 

errrr worrrd that ends with an

rrrr sound and sometimes they don't pronounce 

sounds like the 'v' on every is silent in St. Louis

"Shayla Johnson yourrrr parrty is waiting in the luggage pickup errrea

Shayla johnson yourrr parrrty is waiting in the luggage pickup errrea"

The fourth ticket was taken in DEN 

and after waiting forever

and being hungry

and having to poop 

but holding it in because I hate pooping in public places

and pondering flying to Oakland to get to Portland

but getting a flight directly to Portland

the last seat on the plane

I was left with one ticket.

One standby ticket is on my floor

and you can buy it off craigslist

because it is there too

in theory

and It only costs 50 dollars

but it has to be used before May 5th

-Can You Believe Her?-

So

She said that I'm full of myself

I think her exact words were,

"Tommy, you're so conceited!"

Exclamation mark included because everything she says has an exclamation mark included

I looked it up

and according to dictionary.com

conceited means: an excessive opinion of one's own ability, importance, wit, etc.

2 something that is conceived in the mind; a thought; idea

3 imagination; fancy

4 a fancy; whim; fanciful notion

5 an elaborate, fanciful metaphor, esp. of a strained or farfetched nature

678

9 obsolete. The faculty of conceiving; apprehension

I don't think she looked up conceited before she used it

I mean really, I'm hardly imaginary

I definitely wasn't conceived in the mind

Obsolete? I'm cutting edge baby!

A fanciful notion? I don't think she meant it that way.

So the first definition? hmmm... let's break this down

and excessively favorable opinion of one's own ability, importance, wit, etc.

Well I think I'm pretty funny

but is it my fault that when I say things

that are meant to be taken as jokes

people laugh? 

she couldn't have meant it that way.

Importance? I don't know. I never walk around with a crown or anything

I sit in the front of class because I'm trying to learn. 

Listen, don't get it misunderstood,

I think highly of myself

as should anyone:

3.8 gpa in my upper division classes (pretty good by anyone's standards)

A former college football player (1% of high school athletes play college sports)

I'm healthy

Ambitious

but not perfect by any means.

So what? I'm supposed to downplay my attributes

so other people can feel good about themselves?

Or I'm supposed to be field dependent,

and observe how everyone else feels

and then determine how I'm supposed to feel?

Or when I'm working hard for the grades I get

or when I used to run my ass off to play football

I'm supposed to succumb down to the level of how someone else feels

because they let others dictate how they should feel

and they don't sit back and think "u know what, I got my faults

I'm not perfect

but I'm damn good"

Like I do.

So because she can't put it together that she must be doing well,

being in college and everything,

she has to worry or fear or acknowledge

how I feel about myself

and attempt to bring ME down

to a level of lower esteem where she is

and I'm supposed to feel bad?

Fuck 

That! Exclamation mark.

If I was conceited

or so full of myself

I wouldn't try to give other people the right answer when I thought I had it

I would sit quietly and laugh as other people tried to grasp the concept.

I would eat ice cream everyday and look at myself in the mirror

and marvel

instead of spending two hours daily in our crowded gym.

I am what I am, and yes I am proud

overly proud? Hardly.

I'm sorry that you don't feel good about yourself, but don't try to stomp on my pride.

I never bring anyone down

I pump myself up

and that makes you and you and you and you upset?

That I make myself feel good?

And this makes sense to you?

I didn't mention your name once

so stop mentioning mine.

-I Hate TV-

 I really love TV

which is why I say I hate it

It's a love hate relationship.

TV is that girl that I am ashamed of

because I love her to death inside

but there is so much wrong with her.

I could spend three chapbooks telling you about tv;

oh how I love watching the Tanner family get into and out of

a crisis in 22 1/2 minutes.

Or Tia and Tamera...twins separated at birth? Wow, powerful.

Or Eddie and Laura, what's going to happ...

and enters Urkel,

now my whole afternoon is shot.

YES URKEL, YOU DID THAT!

Yes Heidi I know what time it is, it's TOOL TIME.

I wonder how Zack and the gang are going to get out

of Belding's hair this episode.

But my favorite girl, TV, has this stupid bad side

I mean come on, how many items can this guy sell?

Oxy-Clean

Garden Hoses

Bread makers

this guy is the white Frank Lucas

(look him up).

But seriously, he believes in every product they pay him to believe in

Or this Shamwow?

The commercial is so fake

and the guy hawking that just got arrested for beating up a woman

but you didn't know that

because he's not Chris Brown.

I wish TV would just change,

"the new Brawnie" the only paper towel with flex-tech design

What the hell is that? How much does it cost? 3.40 a roll?

It better come with crack at that price. I can get two rolls at the dollar tree

for a buck.

Ugh

this stupid snuggie, snuggy, whatever.

A blanket with armholes?

What is it 1907 and we don't have insulation (which they probably had)

or are we "recessing" so badly that no one turns on their heat?

Or drinks a warm beverage.

Come on. I'm supposed to believe that these professional athletes 

take 5 hour energy before a game?

Looking into the stands and seeing thousands of people wearing a shirt

the same shirt you're wearing

with your last name on their back

isn't thrilling?

And the millions and millions and millions of dollars aren't enough

to get these guys jacked for 60 minutes of football?

The sport they are getting paid to love doesn't do it

like an overdose of caffine?

Chapbook thus far vol. 1

So far...

the key word in that small phrase is "far". I am far from deciding what I still want to do. I know that it will a concept piece meaning that all the poems will be very directly linked somehow. I was thinking of going along the theme of vanity/wealth or assumed wealth and writing some poems along those lines, or calling my chapbook "gun" and writing poems from different perspectives that would have to do with guns. There are some other ideas but I don't know if they'll fly yet...

As far as the reading goes, Louis Zukoofsky was very "interesting" to say the least. The selected pieces all had very fascinating structures. The first few, Fifth Movement: Autobiography for example, were were written in either index or table of contents form. I enjoyed Fifth because it was written as a table of contents and as a very personal poem. The style is very unique, though written in 1928, and it is yet another poem from that era that is making me reevaluate my impression of poetry from earlier in the century. The disassembled form of "To My Wash-Stand" becomes a little stale by the time you get to the end, but writing an ode to a sink is very creative. He makes things like looking in the mirror and washing his left beautiful. 

TOO

The homophones thing is getting old to me as well...


Where to begin... How about with a little Ezra Pound action? I could go with the obvious classic "A Pact" since that is one of the most talked about poems in upper division English classes, yeah I will. The thing that strikes me about this particular work is that it seems to be fueled with emotional passion as well as artistic passion. The voice of the poet is bullheaded, charging head first at Whitman, as well as intellectual. "We have one sap and one root" is a marvelous line. In a Station of the Metro is more toward the beginning English class. The simplicity is wonderfully mastered and by executing in such a detailed way, I wonder whether he is reaching for some type of deeper simplicity within his own life. The Temperaments was my favorite of the poems merely for the opening line "Nine adulteries, 12 liasons, 64 fornications and something approaching a rape" you don't find too many lines like that in 1917.


Stevens

I have heard of Stevens but never really got into the work. Domination of Black is a beautiful piece. The constant repetition (turning and wind and flame images) give so many vivid pictures to the reader. By constantly using a word like turning, instead spinning, Stevens gives grace to the poem and grace to the several objects mentioned. Anecdote of the Jar, a poem about nature vs. man, is very famous. Personally,I don't see the allure of the poem, but I can give credit to where it is due.

Williams

Of all of the Poets we were assigned, William Carlos Williams was my favorite before opening the book. The Red Wheelbarrow is overused in classes from the Elementary level on as a good depiction of imagery and object focus, yet This is Just to Say is more marvelous. The "note on the refrigerator" is so simple that it cannot be duplicated. The third stanza "Forgive me they were delicious, so sweet, and so cold" is the only 'feeling' within the note, but if you have eaten a delicious poem, these 10 words are enough to accurately describe the taste. I also enjoyed the slenderness (if thats a word) of the WCW poems (not to be confused with the old wrestling franchise). All o his poems look so neat and tidy on the page and visual appeal is half the battle.