UPDATE: Getting there...
Smoother version:
There you go. I'm giving up on the watermark, because I have real work to do today as well.
Happy birthday, America.
-NO WAIT ONE MORE-
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Uncle BAM
UPDATE: Getting there...
Monday, June 3, 2013
The Japanese Garden
Just finished an essay that I thought I would publish here. Then I thought, wait a minute, I should submit this for publication. So the search is on for a journal, any journal, that will publish a piece called "Lake Shitty Way".
Since submitting my essay means I had better not drop it here (yet), I guess I might as well share with you this piece, which was published in Ruckus about a year ago:
The Japanese Garden
This is the hardest I've seen
my grandmother laugh:
a frog with a rock on its back.
Was it the strange reversal
of nature, usually the frog
sits on the rock, or the fact
that the frog, unstartled,
stared back at her after
she tossed a stone at it?
My grandmother is a hard read.
The licked tooth, the scrupulously
clean kitchen. Direct subtext.
She gives marvelous responses
to poetry. Explained "number one"
instead of "I have to pee."
When grandfather exclaimed
"My son. I have a son!"
She said "Yes. Sometimes you
just forget,” her delicate hands
clasped around his waxy fingertips.
But anyway, she thought
that frog was hysterical.
Those peals of laughter
sent ripples across the pond.
Since submitting my essay means I had better not drop it here (yet), I guess I might as well share with you this piece, which was published in Ruckus about a year ago:
The Japanese Garden
This is the hardest I've seen
my grandmother laugh:
a frog with a rock on its back.
Was it the strange reversal
of nature, usually the frog
sits on the rock, or the fact
that the frog, unstartled,
stared back at her after
she tossed a stone at it?
My grandmother is a hard read.
The licked tooth, the scrupulously
clean kitchen. Direct subtext.
She gives marvelous responses
to poetry. Explained "number one"
instead of "I have to pee."
When grandfather exclaimed
"My son. I have a son!"
She said "Yes. Sometimes you
just forget,” her delicate hands
clasped around his waxy fingertips.
But anyway, she thought
that frog was hysterical.
Those peals of laughter
sent ripples across the pond.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Phantom Phone Syndrome
Okay, I don't really have anything to say about phantom phone syndrome, except that it's obnoxious.
Phantom Phone Syndrome is also a horrible headline. I've written headlines on this blog that range from terrible to nothing special. Why do I care what quality of headline it is, anyway? I'll get to that.
I rate these headlines as poor, lackluster, inane, or too blatantly bokononist :
- Website
- In Progress
- Galaxy Bird
- Busy, Busy, Busy
Here are some headlines I find more acceptable:
- 3 Reasons You Should Watch Doctor Who
- Liam Neeson as an Action Star
- A Review of "Reality Hunger" by David Sheilds
- A Year in Books
These two are my personal favorites, but I'll understand if you disagree:
- Doctor Who is Santa Clause
- Inappropriately Named Rivers
I've been writing a lot of headlines lately, so it occupies a fair amount of brain space. Here's a few that I've written on other blogs:
Don't know if the new ones are quite up to snuff. I think "Doctor Who is Santa Clause" is still my favorite.
UPDATE: I hacked by brain into cutting out the phantom phone stuff by switching my phone to the other pocket of my pants for two days. No more phantom vibrations. Take that, brain! Chalk another one up for the little guy.
UPDATE: I hacked by brain into cutting out the phantom phone stuff by switching my phone to the other pocket of my pants for two days. No more phantom vibrations. Take that, brain! Chalk another one up for the little guy.
Monday, October 15, 2012
In Progress
I haven't been submitting too many poems lately, so why I figure no harm in sharing a piece still very much in progress:
Ether
There is a phone call that will change
your life. No more so and so celebrity
impersonator for you, oh no. A voice that
unlocks parts of your brain you didn't
know existed says calmly "Agent Icarus,
we have a new assignment for you." Click.
You live in the future. Are you
ready for your eyeballs to crackle with
raw data? Shut up and create new
robots already. Ray guns were forecast
by the '50s. Come on. It isn't the
phone that calls, it is the work.
I know you Icarus, and you are about
to learn a hell of a lot about water.
Ether
There is a phone call that will change
your life. No more so and so celebrity
impersonator for you, oh no. A voice that
unlocks parts of your brain you didn't
know existed says calmly "Agent Icarus,
we have a new assignment for you." Click.
You live in the future. Are you
ready for your eyeballs to crackle with
raw data? Shut up and create new
robots already. Ray guns were forecast
by the '50s. Come on. It isn't the
phone that calls, it is the work.
I know you Icarus, and you are about
to learn a hell of a lot about water.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Ever Lovin' Poems
What is so great about poems anyway?
Few things:
Rhythm, rhyme, meter, visual presentation, the cadence of speech, are a short list of what I'd say sets poetry apart from other word combinations. They are the tools poetry uses to capture your attention.
Does it work?
Lets find out. Here's a poem by Kay Ryan:
Kay Ryan, everyone. United States Poet Laureate from 2008 to 2010. In other words, helping you appreciate poetry was her job for two years.
Two years is a long time to be Poet Laureate. C'mon. Read that again.
Here's one by Maria von Rilke (in german):
Howzat? Let me know if you enjoyed these in the comments. Also let me know if you can find a good translation of the Roman Fountain. I'm having trouble googling it.
Few things:
Rhythm, rhyme, meter, visual presentation, the cadence of speech, are a short list of what I'd say sets poetry apart from other word combinations. They are the tools poetry uses to capture your attention.
Does it work?
Lets find out. Here's a poem by Kay Ryan:
Pitcher
A pitcher molds
the air in it, dividing
from the air beyond
the air it holds. And
should the pitcher
vanish, something
would take a minute
to escape, a gradually
diminishing integrity,
a thinning pitcherful
of pitcher shape.
Kay Ryan, everyone. United States Poet Laureate from 2008 to 2010. In other words, helping you appreciate poetry was her job for two years.
Two years is a long time to be Poet Laureate. C'mon. Read that again.
Here's one by Maria von Rilke (in german):
Der römische Brunnen
Aufsteigt der Strahl und fallend gießt
Er voll der Marmorschale Rund,
Die, sich verschleiernd, überfließt
In einer zweiten Schale Grund;
Die zweite gibt, sie wird zu reich,
Der dritten wallend ihre Flut,
Und jede nimmt und gibt zugleich
Und strömt und ruht.
Howzat? Let me know if you enjoyed these in the comments. Also let me know if you can find a good translation of the Roman Fountain. I'm having trouble googling it.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Super Position
The Horse has two riders, one facing forward,
one back. Insolent, they stare at each
other. What path did the horse take?
In a similar tale, there is a cat.
Her assassin possessed with urgent ignorance,
Don't open that box! the man said.
Ships call to one another off the waterfront,
not out of loneliness, a ship in love is a wreck.
They share a kinship of distance.
This is the natural defiance of the river strider,
it falls to the atom to observe itself.
An ocean of belief is balanced by a drop of doubt.
Words are symbols, not cement. Call me a liar.
If there's to be uncertainty, let its mother be my mouth.
one back. Insolent, they stare at each
other. What path did the horse take?
In a similar tale, there is a cat.
Her assassin possessed with urgent ignorance,
Don't open that box! the man said.
Ships call to one another off the waterfront,
not out of loneliness, a ship in love is a wreck.
They share a kinship of distance.
This is the natural defiance of the river strider,
it falls to the atom to observe itself.
An ocean of belief is balanced by a drop of doubt.
Words are symbols, not cement. Call me a liar.
If there's to be uncertainty, let its mother be my mouth.
Fresh Ingredients
Ruckus takes the form of a zine. It contains a handful of essay's, poems, and perhaps open letters, on a background of cut and paste collage. Personally, I enjoyed the style and layout of the memoirish essay, "My Old Black Band Shirt", by Joseph Sutten-Holcomb. The poem of mine that appeared in here is called "The Japanese Garden." Interestingly enough, I was asked for revisions and came up with a new version that I feel is closer to the mark than the submitted version. They didn't use this revision, so I'm gonna shop the new one around elsewhere. In other words, I'm not ready to post it here. You can find the zine around the University of Washington, and a few of the pieces within at http://oag.org/category/uwruckus/
Next up, we have Issue Six of Hoarse, titled "Undercover." This book is tight. That is to say, this book is elegant. Passages are redacted, and the works within fit well with the theme. Basically, great design work and great editing equals great success. Don't quite know where you can get a copy, but they sell previous editions here.
I've made edits to "Super Position" as well, but they don't alter the poem in any profound way, so what the heck? Might as well toss it up on the 'ol blog. Maybe it will entice you to seek out more poetry to read. Maybe it will nauseate you. Either way, I won't know unless you leave me comments. I'll just create a new post for it now, because I've rambled on enough.
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