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Thursday 16 November 2017

YOU / coexistence

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_DSC0831 | by noppadol.maitreechit

_DSC0831: photo by noppadol maitreechit, 23 April 2016

_DSC0831 | by noppadol.maitreechit

_DSC0831: photo by noppadol maitreechit, 23 April 2016

_DSC0831 | by noppadol.maitreechit

_DSC0831: photo by noppadol maitreechit, 23 April 2016
YOU (I

The door behind me was you
and the radiance, there like
an electric train wreck in your eye
after a horrible evening of waiting outside places in the rain for you 
       to come
only to
find all of them, two I know, the rest scullions, swimming around you
in that smoky crowded room like a fishbowl
I escaped from, running away from you and my André Breton
dream of cutting your breasts off with a trowel
and what does that matter too them or you now, but just wait, 
       it's still early
to the children embroidered in the rug, who seem to be setting up siege
engines under a tree house full of midgets who look like you.
Where are you in this sky of new blue
deltas I see in the drapery, and your new friends wearing bamboo singlets
what are they doing down there in the moat waving tridents like stalks 
      of corn?
Me, I'll be happy to see their blood spilled all over the bedspread
pavilions of your hands as an example. If you come home right now I'll 
      scrunch your hat
between my thighs like a valentine before you have time to wipe them. 

YOU (II

You are bright, tremendous, wow. 
But it is the hour of one from the horrible tremendousness
Of youth is about to depart.
The boats are ready. The air is soft and you perhaps nearby
Do pass, saying "I am for you."
This is as much as "Everything is great."
But desperation builds up all the time.
Life is nothing
            more to me
strapped at the bottom
      of  the throat
Than majesty, I think. You are arduous as that
Ashtray.  Swallow me!  since
Your hands are full of streets
And I walk out upon the streets
And I think the girls are better looking, vicious, cool
And the men are flying kites and newsprint
Gets on my arms. I enter rooms -- 
Wild my steps like an automaton's --
Where batons are linked into some residue.
A gull is eating some garbage.
The sky is an old tomato can, I think.
I buy a newspaper and begin to walk back.
Smells torture the kites like gulls. Wild gulls, and
It's the tremendous sky of survival.
Few things are still visible to me. Baseball
Withholds the tremors. They fall, so
I drag you down and
You are akimbo as I stick it in
And everything is thunderous accordion April, great,
Risen from palms and hypntism. I run home
And dip my coffee in bread, and eat some of it. 

YOU (III

Today I get this letter from you and the sun
buckles        a mist falls over our villas
with a hideous organic slush like the music of Lawrence Welk
I lay in bed all day, asleep, and like some nocturnal
beast. And get your salutation among the torn green numbers
in the sky over the council houses. And see your eyes when 
                                                   the retired pensioners pass
me by the abandoned railway station -- this is not nothing, it is not 
                                                                                          the hymn
of an age of bankrobbers or heraldic days but it is to sing
with complete gaiety until your heart freaks. I love you.
                                                         And go down amid the sycamores to

summer. Wandering by the lake any way
seems lovely, grand, the moon
is a gland in the thigh. Tumble and twinkle as on the golf course apparel
lifts. And a door is opened to
an owl. It is snowing, and you are here on the bed with me
and it is raining, and I am as full of frets as a guitar or a curtain
and I am singing, as I sponge up the cat place. You
                                                     are heaped. A curtain
of belief keeps me away from the tombs
of imagery. I love you, I'd like to go.   
    
YOU (IV

The chords knotted together like insane nouns         Dante
you are in bed           in the dark copula you
of the musical phrase          a few star birds sing in the branches
their voices are tangled not high
now all of them are dark and some move            you
were a word in the wood of my life
where the leaves are words, some of them fucking
in obscurity their clasping is terrible and brusque
pain birds ache thru them            and some
are lighter and seem to suggest less
of death than of a viola da gamba player these
birds sweep past in the forest
of my hands on your chest,            as we move
out on the glowing sea of the tropics on an ice pack,             you,                  
 
YOU (V) (after Hölderlin)
 


Desert flowers (sunset): Tom Clark
O Earth Mother, who consents to everything, who forgives everything
don’t hide like this                                                        and tell

Her Power is sweetened in these rays, the Earth before her 
         conceals the children
of her breast in her cloak, meanwhile we feel her,

and the days to come announce
that much time has passed and often one has felt
          a heart grow for you inside his chest
They have guessed, the Ancients, the old and pious Patriarchs,
          and in the secret they are, without even knowing it,
          blessed
in the twisted chamber, for you, the silent men
but still more, the hearts, and those you have named Amor,
or have given obscure names, Earth, for one is shamed
to name his inmost heart, and from the start however man
when he finds greatness in himself and if the Most High permits,
he names it, this which belongs to him, and by its proper name
and you are it, and it seems
                                              to me I hear the father say
to you honor is granted from now on
and you must receive songs in his name,
and you must, while he is distant and Old Eternity
          becomes more and more hidden every day,
take his place in front of mortals, and since you will bear and raise 
       children for him, his wish
is to send anew and direct toward you men’s lives
when you recognize him           but this
directive which he inscribes in me is the rose
Pure sister, where will I get hold, when it is winter, of these
flowers, so as to weave the inhabitants of heaven crowns
                                          It will be
as if the spirit of life passed out of me,
because for the heavenly gods these signs
of love are flowers in a desert       I search for them, you are hidden



Desert flowers (dawn)
: Tom Clark

TC: YOU (from The Sand Burg, 1966) 

Untitled | by Vladislav-A-

Untitled [Cannon Beach, OR]: photo by Vladislav-A-, 14 October 2016

Untitled | by Vladislav-A-

Untitled [Cannon Beach, OR]: photo by Vladislav-A-, 14 October 2016

Untitled | by Vladislav-A-

Untitled [Cannon Beach, OR]: photo by Vladislav-A-, 14 October 2016

underpass/ガード下 | by s_inagaki

underpass [Tokyo]: photo by satoshi inagaki, 8 October 2017

Untitled | by Talisman39

Untitled [Texas and Pacific warehouse, Fort Worth]: photo by Gable White, 21 March 2015

Untitled | by Talisman39

Untitled [Texas and Pacific warehouse, Fort Worth]: photo by Gable White, 21 March 2015

Untitled | by Talisman39

Untitled [Texas and Pacific warehouse, Fort Worth]: photo by Gable White, 21 March 2015

9917 | by maerleanders

9917: photo by Margot Geisler, 26 October 2017

Untitled | by el zopilote

Portland, Oregon: photo by Jorge Guadalupe Lizárraga, October 2011

Untitled | by el zopilote

Portland, Oregon: photo by Jorge Guadalupe Lizárraga, October 2011

Untitled | by el zopilote

Portland, Oregon: photo by Jorge Guadalupe Lizárraga, October 2011

sunday morning | by Andrea Schuh

sunday morning: photo by Andrea Schuh, 18 September 2017

static | by philipgreene

static [Guilford, CT]: photo by Philip Greene, 18 October 2017

Spray bottle | by philipgreene

Spray bottle [Guilford, CT]: photo by Philip Greene, 8 November 2017

Barras Market - Raymond | by stuedwards_filmmaker

Barras Market - Raymond [Glasgow]: photo by Stu Edwards, 27 October 2017

For many years, I did not on a swing. | by masamiy21

For many years, I did not own a swing [Osaka]: photo by Masami Yamada, 5 November 2017

Tucumcari, New Mexico | by josephvavak

Tucumcari, New Mexico: photo by Joseph Vavak, 3 November 2016

Tucumcari, New Mexico | by josephvavak

Tucumcari, New Mexico: photo by Joseph Vavak, 3 November 2016

Tucumcari, New Mexico | by josephvavak

Tucumcari, New Mexico: photo by Joseph Vavak, 3 November 2016

15317 | by maerleanders

15317: photo by Margot Geisler, 17 October 2017

the Farmland | by masamiy21

the Farmland [Nara, Japan]: photo by Masami Yamada, 27 October 2017

waiting for the subway/地下鉄を待つ | by s_inagaki

waiting for the subway [Tokyo]: photo by satoshi inagaki, 19 September 2017

* | by Hg T

Untitled: photo by Hg T, 22 July 2017

* | by Hg T

Untitled: photo by Hg T, 22 July 2017

* | by Hg T

Untitled: photo by Hg T, 22 July 2017

Forest gorge | by fotoswietokrzyskie

Forest gorge: photo by fotoswietokrzyskie, 15 October 2017

coexistence/共存 | by s_inagaki

coexistence [Tokyo]: photo by satoshi inagaki, 15 September 2017

Coexist | by Mirage44

Coexist: photo by Mirage44, 5 January 2011

Untitled | by Stoyan Nikolaev

Untitled: photo by Stoyan Nikolaev, 14 November 2017

Untitled | by Stoyan Nikolaev

Untitled: photo by Stoyan Nikolaev, 14 November 2017

Untitled | by Stoyan Nikolaev

Untitled: photo by Stoyan Nikolaev, 14 November 2017

@ | by Ania Klosek

 @: photo by Ania Klosek, 28 August 2017

Untitled | by Andrés Luciano

Untitled [Hispanic Day, Nellis AFB, NV]: photo by Andrés Luciano, 12 November 2017

Untitled | by Andrés Luciano

Untitled [Hispanic Day, Nellis AFB, NV]: photo by Andrés Luciano, 12 November 2017

Untitled | by Andrés Luciano

Untitled [Hispanic Day, Nellis AFB, NV]: photo by Andrés Luciano, 12 November 2017

4400 S. Wentworth | by all quiet please proceed

4400 S. Wentworth. Built 1885. [Chicago]: photo by Annie Maus, 9 January 2015

London Road | by Andy Feltham...

London Road: photo by Andy Feltham, 29 October 2017

London Road | by Andy Feltham...

London Road: photo by Andy Feltham, 29 October 2017

London Road | by Andy Feltham...

London Road: photo by Andy Feltham, 29 October 2017

Untitled | by Street photographer - http://www.gabibest.com/

Untitled [Tel Aviv]: photo by Gabi Ben avraham, 6 November 2017

Untitled | by Joey Harrison

 Untitled [Shrek, Toledo, Ohio]: photo by joey harrison, 2 February 2005

To The Devil A Donut | by Sergi_Escribano

 To the Devil a Donut [Barcelona]: photo by Sergi Escribano, 23 September 2017

Holiday display window, Seattle, 1965 | by MichaelRyerson

 holiday display window in Seattle, 1965: photo by Michael Ryerson, 29 September 2017

Bangkok, Citizenship | by Piti Dui

Bangkok, Citizenship: photo by Miki Takayuki, 11 November 2017

Bangkok, Citizenship | by Piti Dui


Bangkok, Citizenship: photo by Miki Takayuki, 11 November 2017

Bangkok, Citizenship | by Piti Dui

Bangkok, Citizenship: photo by Miki Takayuki, 11 November 2017

Untitled | by Ania Vouloudi

Untitled [Munich]: photo by Ania Vouloudi, 26 October 2017

West Hollywood, October 2017. | by GrownUpBoy

West Hollywood, October 2017: photo by Karl Edwards, 1 November 2017

West Hollywood, October 2017. | by GrownUpBoy

West Hollywood, October 2017: photo by Karl Edwards, 1 November 2017

West Hollywood, October 2017. | by GrownUpBoy

West Hollywood, October 2017: photo by Karl Edwards, 1 November 2017

untitled | by t-miki

Untitled [Kasuga Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo]: photo by Miki Takayuki, 15 November 2017

kpp_15_26_5_11p | by typograph030

 kpp_15_26_5_11p. Berlin-Plänterwald, formerly "Kulturpark": photo by Michael Roggeman, 26 May 2011

kpp_15_26_5_11p | by typograph030

 kpp_15_26_5_11p. Berlin-Plänterwald, formerly "Kulturpark": photo by Michael Roggeman, 26 May 2011

kpp_15_26_5_11p | by typograph030

 kpp_15_26_5_11p. Berlin-Plänterwald, formerly "Kulturpark": photo by Michael Roggeman, 26 May 2011

6 comments:

TC said...

Ali Farka Touré & Toumani Diabaté: Kala Djula

Ali Farka Touré: Sambadia (live from Malian TV c. late 70s/early 80s)

Toumani Diabaté & Salif Keita

"tolon (fun) yelai (laughter) sewa (Joy) Kini (rice) soguo (meat) djegue(fish) mousso (woman) = what made them laugh" 

TC said...

That's ok, I didn't expect anybody to pip a squeak.

This one is entirely truthful. It's got a lot of nerve. Sometimes it takes 50 years to get over your fears. This one has scared me that long. Which is why I've never exposed it to the killing floor silence of the world wide web. But f__ the world wide web and I'm not afraid of it any more, plus didn't somebody once say The truth shall set you free?

Life's not a niceness contest, despite what the world of creeps may think (the world of creeps = here today gone tomorrow, disposable world, get the money, big deal, die).

The details and scene... action such as it is takes place in a wee dead-end ex-fishing village on the N Sea... The abandoned railway station was a real abandoned railway station, the line stopped running through there when the summer traffic to that part of the coast ebbed, some time in the 11th century or so... the retired pensioners were real retired pensioners etc.

Anyhow blah blah I hope you enjoy and if you don't, well I'm sorry to say, I don't care, because all of a sudden I'm liking it a lot.

And you must try to understand this: if nothing else can be said of it, it's not like anything else.

I was listening to this at the time.

The Kinks: I'm Not Like Everybody Else, 1966

On the other hand, tolon yelai sewa kini soguo djegue mousso sounds pretty good to me, especially when sung by the greatest singer of all time. Sometimes it's the singer not the song, but when that happens it's of course also the song not the singer. As everybody knows.

kent said...

May I again repeat the words of my dear friend and writer Bruce Shlain: "What Tom Clark is doing is like nothing else in the world today." I see now Ray Davies would have to agree. Keep the faith, cuz. k

Unknown said...

Hey Tom. I'm still behind a few posts -- and drinking each in slowly. Anyway, as I'm reading your poem, You (I-V), right hand to God, I'm saying to myself, 'This actually happened. These are real events, real images.' I even reeled in the visit to search for Holderlin on the WWW to understand more. Just made me more curious. Just so you know!

TC said...

Thanks very much Tom. Yes, pretty much real. Enough evidence perhaps to found a... what would it be? Dossier? Charge?

TC said...

(Not forgetting in his defense that the protagonist was solitary at the time, suggesting all this to have been a sort of dream, or vision, if it please the Court.)