tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post7554420532633979915..comments2024-01-28T03:56:39.351-08:00Comments on TOM CLARK: Arctic Cold SnapUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-25121595442107467892009-12-13T18:12:52.131-08:002009-12-13T18:12:52.131-08:00Pat,
A growing sense of that communion at this en...Pat,<br /><br />A growing sense of that communion at this end, too.<br /><br />Beautiful poems, bringing back the feeling of the time.<br /><br />Poets are here to preserve the colors of the weather...<br /><br />Oft have I wished to trade my poetic license for a plumber's.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-56516916720030834302009-12-13T13:38:51.275-08:002009-12-13T13:38:51.275-08:00Tom – strange but then perhaps not so strange (we ...Tom – strange but then perhaps not so strange (we are poets after all). Had go to back and look at my notebooks for that time. Might have had a little dusting of snow down here close to sea level. But strangest of all is our telepathic communion. While you were grunting with a pipe wrench at Danny boy’s, the muse was inflicting me with this:<br /><br />FEAR OF PLUMBING<br /><br />In which a moderately<br />middle age man encounters<br />(once again) the horror<br />of water’s insidious nature<br />pipes valves nipples male <br />and female ends echo <br />the greater psychological<br />conflicts of his existence<br />a metaphor for impermanence<br />(his own in particular)<br />each drip of the faucet<br />magnifies his inadequacy<br />a Chinese water torture<br />to render his nerves raw<br />12/12/90<br /><br />Also from around that time:<br /><br />MISSING DAYS<br /><br />It snowed Saturday (at sea level)<br />every one was in shock all day<br />nothing got done<br /><br />Sunday was a long cold day<br />books and reading in order<br /><br />windshield webbed in frost<br />something new added to the familiar<br />Monday morning ritual<br /><br />what happened Tuesday<br />a little of everything<br /><br />and finally today<br />bone gray bare limbs vibrate<br />with the beginning shower<br /><br />tomorrow's appointment of <br />purely routine detailsxileinparadisenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-75845283117200982892009-12-12T00:52:37.291-08:002009-12-12T00:52:37.291-08:00Zev,
Well, one would always hope it is a case of ...Zev,<br /><br />Well, one would always hope it is a case of trick AND treat rather than one or the other. Any trickster would probably tell you honesty is the best policy. Perhaps the greatest trick of all.<br /><br />Ted was forever busy telling people what he was up to in his poems. A good way to throw readers off the trace, cover your tricks and keep your secrets safe. Actually I always thought his most telling trick was his sentimentality. Who would ever see that as a trick?<br /><br />Would probably take a fool to recognize it... And as we know, fools do rush in... or off the cliff... perhaps merely another trick, that, guaranteed to win an audience over? <br /><br />(Always best to make sure it's a low cliff however.)TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-37972608976068130542009-12-11T19:50:58.787-08:002009-12-11T19:50:58.787-08:00sliding on ice is such a dickensian image. and fun...sliding on ice is such a dickensian image. and fun to do. crawling on ice...not so much. <br /><br />i have to say that i dont know that much about Herzog. i’ve seen several of his films but cant judge fraud v. poetry. i spent a weekend workshopping and interviewing ed sanders and ted berrigan once and i remember what berrigan said about his own work. ” I am that kind of poet who uses tricks. ” i ask does a piece move me and if the poet/artist is dishonest who is he hurting but her self? if it hurts others then it probably isnt going to move me. truth = beauty, i still hope. here i am the fool again, stepping off the cliff<br /><br /><br />i am putting a link to your site on mine as well. thanks for the deelitefool energy of recent postsAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-91657602058302989112009-12-11T09:15:36.018-08:002009-12-11T09:15:36.018-08:00Zevstar,
An afterthought.
The more I stare into ...Zevstar,<br /><br />An afterthought.<br /><br />The more I stare into these wonderful lines<br /><br /> under the cloudy surface<br /> unrecognizable faces floating<br /><br /> no second lives<br /><br /> the snow pea weather<br /> snaps my amygdala<br /> across time<br /><br /> i am wide eyed<br /><br /> staring up through ice<br /> at grey beard me<br /><br />the more strongly grows my visualization of the scenes from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErbeEesvq7s" rel="nofollow">Bells from the Deep</a>.<br /><br />I can never quite sort out the poetry from the fraudulence in Herzog, so I suppose I should not have been disappointed to learn that his shots of pilgrims are really shots not of religious fanatics but of people ice fishing... and also of a few hired "actors".<br /><br />"I wanted to get shots of pilgrims crawling around on the ice trying to catch a glimpse of the lost city, but as there were no pilgrims around I hired two drunks from the next town and put them on the ice. One of them has his face right on the ice and looks like he is in very deep meditation. The accountant’s truth: he was completely drunk and fell asleep, and we had to wake him at the end of the take."<br /><br />He has said "I think the scene explains the fate and soul of Russia," but I think it may more truthfully be said it explains the heart and soul of a movie director.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-74372001946981268172009-12-09T02:55:06.050-08:002009-12-09T02:55:06.050-08:00Zevstar: "snow pea weather": Maybe I was...Zevstar: "snow pea weather": Maybe I was wrong: every second lives.<br /><br />Lucy, we honour the great architect by living in the house she has built. At least I hope we do. Even when we are shivering. B-r-r-r...<br /><br />Down to the upper Twenties here @ 3 a.m., Pat. I felt it coming.<br /><br />Our furnace no longer functional, unless toxic emission be considered a function, and the last time we attempted to employ our eighty year old fireplace, some years back, an adjoining bookshelf backsmoked out of Baudelaire's poems... amusing enough until we realized the wall was on fire. <br /><br />Maybe you will recall the similar period in early December, 1990. The first Iraq War was about to begin. I was up in Kensington interviewing Dan Ellsberg. Wound up down on my knees with a wrench, trying to do something about the Ellsbergs' frozen and burst pipes. No doubt the worst plumber on earth. You may remember the hard freeze that time lasted a week, the war, when it came, only a bit longer. <br /><br />(Did somebody say Afghanistan?)TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-27975016653048678812009-12-08T11:40:34.450-08:002009-12-08T11:40:34.450-08:00Tom -- ah, yes, "the thin indifferent sun.&qu...Tom -- ah, yes, "the thin indifferent sun." You were obviously anticipating this morning. 20 along the the lower Russian. A frost caked landscape. Beauty, but cold. Doing the California rotation in front of the heater. "Clear dawn frost rolled up with the bamboo blinds," as the old Chinese poet said.xileinparadisenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-22857696453506845662009-12-07T17:57:39.677-08:002009-12-07T17:57:39.677-08:00the snow pea weather
snaps my amygdala
across ti...the snow pea weather <br />snaps my amygdala <br />across time<br /><br />i am wide eyed<br /><br />staring up through ice<br />at grey beard meAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-24051129915703313302009-12-07T13:30:20.964-08:002009-12-07T13:30:20.964-08:00Nature is the great architect and you are the arti...Nature is the great architect and you are the artist that puts Nature's wonders into words.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-4736966292692893772009-12-07T02:24:43.882-08:002009-12-07T02:24:43.882-08:00under the cloudy surface
unrecognizable faces floa...under the cloudy surface<br />unrecognizable faces floating<br /><br />no second livesTChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-46802096914082766622009-12-06T15:13:17.809-08:002009-12-06T15:13:17.809-08:00break the ice
on the surface of the water trough. ...break the ice<br />on the surface of the water trough. <br />the goat<br />is thirsty this morning<br />and the horses in the barn <br />don't want to share.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com