Friday, October 27, 2006

80 words without dialogue

She stood at the edge of a precipice, between one moment and the next, a sailboat named “Joy-Luck” passed on the river below. The sound of road construction filled the air. Smashing concrete. Trucks. Trucks backing up. Machinery. Along the river the three-lane highway turned to four, dust floated and swirled around her 8th floor terrace, and she realized that joy and luck never intertwine, even if the boat moving toward the distance could have taken her, at least, closer.

102 words and some symbols

She is taking a scissor to every word, slicing individual letters. Tatters of ink stain her fingers, her lips, she presses each letter to her tongue to make it stick, presses the characters between sheets of wax paper, irons, lets it cool. The waxed alphabet in its variety of shades and fonts, serif, sans serif, bold, capitalized, lower case, is ready for the archives. “This will make all the difference,” she says to the bird who only speaks letters. “T,” he replies. “There will be no future of words if we don’t protect the letters,” she tells him. “S,” he squeaks. “D.” “J.” “G.”

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

a response

misconstrue
your grade
(this poem is more like a “C” poem)
the paper on foucault, however
subjective
use more images
fragments of care like the falling branches on my infected
ash tree
can you settle for a page
on which
every word begins with “M”
merry maids misled mist monday moving maintenance maneuvers
i am just thinking out loud here
usually it works best in line
breaks
a shadow of a leaf
(his burning anticipation, the fullness of the flower’s scent,
insert additional lines here)
a dog is a dog is a dog
until the continuum of history becomes
no such thing
and baseball teams win when the city most “needs” to feel
like a winning city
like a real team
like a reasonable argument
logically
or
you cannot respond
to what has not been summarized
properly

Sunday, October 22, 2006

sunday in the rain

what i’ve told you has been otherwise in circulation
history repeats
the fragmentation of
details
which red it was or the date was sometime in September
an object
leaf, stroke, yarn
connected to 100 buttons scattered
across the floor a series
of tests to determine in which system
each button
would like
to participate
a sense of order
the pattern becomes jumbled
once the buttons move too closely
together
at velocity
scattered repeats of
fragmentation
the details of which
would require
every square to be highlighted
in red

Friday, September 29, 2006

Perennial

The words are in Japanese
triangles
triangular

Step out of your dichotomy and we will begin translation

1. the words are not the words themselves but representations
of words formerly used as words

2. the words are images of the history from which the language of images

there should of course be a number 3

3. place your bets: sine, cosine, the inversion of any referent
(having never been to Japan)

The story is of a woman, a drifter, only walked by the light of the moon
(having heard this before, again, it becomes apparent)
The drifter is a woman with no language, or no history
Can one have history
without language?

Depending on the time of the moon’s rising and setting witnesses saw her pass
in any weather
nameless to others having never spoken

In the original description the subject is verbena, and its smell
In subsequent descriptions
Or the ratio, dependent on the appropriate angle

Monday, September 25, 2006

memo

these slender pieces
of
molecule
molecule
drip
gravity holds us together

his body was filled
with the chemicals that make up flame retardant

your black saturn
so shiny and new
forgive me

pass this on to the future

the plums i didn’t eat for lunch
not sweet
fresh from the farm

have we not (don’t say evolved, don’t say adapted)
been selected for this
all along
particulates
of a symphony for example (the one repeated/repeatable refrain)

can you hum the entire movement?

an ode
to an old
acquaintance

we swallow
and breathe
in a dangerously close space

proximity of red tiles
a recording device
lines on a road
separate me (green subaru)
from

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

hejinian exercise 2

take a line from a piece in hejinian's My Life and use it to begin a piece of your own writing:

i was in a room with the particulars of which a later nostalgia might be formed. neon lights. slot machines. the music hum twirl fantasy notes of casino bliss begin here as in a moment before gold squares on the floor, the detail broken each bead of light. or the chandeliers dangle colored glass reflects a trill shimmer of not quite melody parading endlessly like a dream until the clowns come in--come into the dream--wild haired and manic singing nursery rhymes roaming to the beat of coins lost to the intention of what might still, in this moment, tomorrow.

hejinian exercise 1

take a line from a piece in hejinian's My Life and use it to begin a piece of your own writing:

The afternoon happens, crowded and therefore endless. A mistake of what otherwise mingles painful. Red, pinched against a backdrop of everyday abuse, abuse, how long can they hold you in a cell the size of a coffin? Slipping again, he said like bombs behind you, or in your background, real or otherwise. She said turtles, and lavender. I wrote of Picasso once, and lavender, but this is not on the news. Of note is the four years away, four years in isolation, four years of endless happening, crowding ideas of a day that came otherwise before, again, today.

the importance of writing (exercises)

samar came to my classes today to talk to the creative writing students. she read a fabulous piece that weaved together her own conflicting/ed feelings and some information about the start and continuation of the war in lebanon, her family in lebanon and in dearborn, her time at an artist community so physically distanced from the events she was otherwise so connected with(and simultaneously disconnected from). Her writing in this piece moves and jumps, slows and lingers, as the words and lines on the page both take up space and leave space open to sound, to feeling, to the space of space itself. the language both makes connections and is unable to connect as the words physically exist together up-close, and separate from one another as a reader moves, as samar read aloud, from page to page.

although, as she says and i agree, the point of writing is to write. i also contend that she needs to start putting a book together because the rest of us are going to want to read and hear more of her work.

Following this, i'll include my own writing responses to the writing exercises she gave to the students.

Monday, September 11, 2006

on a day of the week

has

a.) too much
b.) enough
c.) not enough

been written about sept 11?


how long can we, should we, do we have to

a.) reminisce
b.) testify
c.) re-live
d.) conspiracy-orize
?


Where

a.) were you
b.) are you
c.) do you plan to be

while the world

on a monday.


fill in any or no blanks at your discretion.

Friday, September 08, 2006

sun today

at last the purple has become you

beauty (or define: the conditions of the aesthetic
regarding history regarding divided language)

ordinary is more strange than strange

hence, the purple

and how you used to wear that silk scarf around your neck
like a famous poet
reading aloud
singing to a mismatched piano
a room full of syllables

(you becoming what i always imagined the purple represented)

trace the moments intersecting with moments
lay these out on a chart
pinpoint each significance with a different colored pin
each point of our history

Thursday, September 07, 2006

8:20

after thought
an image
scented

where have you been, i'm looking

foward, around a constellation of minutes
that may or not
exist

yesterday

Thursday, August 31, 2006

an exercise

Take the first book you encounter (Thalia Field's Incarnate: Story Material; I pick it up from the top of one pile as I was across the room...)

Choose 10 words (randomly, flipping pages back and forth... a variety of nouns and other things...)

Write something

Spell
Slug
Sewers
Concrete
Salt or fog
Circuit
Violet
Warehouse
Cell
Chronic

Notice: the s and c words…. Happenstance


chronic infatuation in a space of salt and fog,
violet: a circuit relays individual blades
confined to the safety measures
of unrequited electricity.

a warehouse, a cell, a concrete passage
of misinformation,
containing only walls (painted violet), sewers
for what finds its way out
into the words into the world,

the otherwise chronic
stare from afar, lingering,
shielding eyes that burn too close,

from behind walls a slug moves through causes a stain
on the floor,
imagine,
when the light appears,
what color it will be.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

an activity

The hanging folder of time carried through contents filled

No that’s too wordy

There is a lot of crap in that folder

Green cover

Sage is my new color

A list of nouns…hat, icicle, (lost) acquaintance, (on a) day (like) today, (pink) mold, scissors

Cover to cover and between the sheets

I want to tell you also that the contemporary condition in which I find myself nameless

A difference of (seeming) together but veiling parts, my fragment

On the shelf, next to ________’s brilliant __________

Take the list of words

Sentences

Step 3 of the paragraph completion process

Just the facts

And the nouns

Tomorrow another part

Adverbs

Help to make the sentence

whole

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

these hard economic times or this house is very large

Well the summer’s come to an end and now rain and the local animal shelters are filled to capacity.

I only had a cat once when I was young. It wandered onto the porch. Then wandered into the house. We fed it. I loved it. I think one day my mom found it dead in the basement. I shouldn’t say “it.” This cat had identity. He. We called him Benny for some reason, some particular reason now unknown to me. She told us he was hit by a car. Buried him in the backyard under the tire swing under the big walnut tree in the very back corner.

Before that, years before, I had a dog. It my mind he looks like one of those long-haired, black and white sheep-herding dogs of some kind. But I think he was really all mixed up. He was good, we were friends. But he liked to escape the yard and bite people. After my mom had to pick him up from the pound a couple of times, she took him in to stay. I don’t think she made up any stories about this. Maybe I was too young to argue.

My mom’s youngest sister, the youngest of 5 girls had a dog as a child. The dog died. They told her he was sent off to be a seeing-eyed dog for blind kids. She believed this until she was well into her adult years.

The Dearborn animal shelter is housing cats in trailers out back because it is overfilled. A cat you can leave home alone. But I wonder, how would I like a cat, and how would the cat like me?

the end of something, or

to start again

or

the circularity of

this

Thursday, June 08, 2006

cultural or moral dilema?

Ellen writes,

But, I was reading Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by
Chuck Klosterman, and I ran across this question:

"Let us assume there are two boxes on a table. In one
box, there is a relatively normal turtle; in the
other, Adolph Hitler's skull. You have to select one
of these items for your home. If you select the
turtle, you can't give it away and you have to keep it
alive for two years; if either of these parameters are
not met, you will be fined $999 by the state. If you
select Hitler's skull, you are required to display it
in a semi-prominent location in your living room for
the same amount of time, although you will be paid a
stipend of $120 per month for doing so. Display of
the skull must be apolitical. Which option do you
select?" (126)

So, kids, which one do you choose? I do want you to
answer me this one. Let's pretend that we aren't
students and that $120 a month wouldn't matter all
that much to us--or is something we could live
without. Would you rather have the turtle or the
skull . . . and WHY??


and I respond:
see link: http://www.here-now.org/shows/2006/06/20060606_2.asp

...in response to the question posed... there is some controversy about this new type of violent video game, and particularly this Super Columbine Massacre...the question of even making such a thing, just the thought of such a game is disturbing. How can a game of this title, or how could a hitler head displayed, ever be neutral/apolitical, or even educational? That is the question here; can Super Columbine Massacre, in which the players take on the personas of the killer kids, be educational and teach players about the negative consequences of violence, about life as a teen, about how not to handle their problems at school and whatever? Does the game give players an outlet to redirect their angst and anxiety? The creator of the game says he does not at all condone violence, but that he was one of those kids in high school who was pushed around too, and he can then on some level identify with Dylan and Eric. Is that scarry and disturbing? Or is it better to actually say things like that out loud; should we not talk more to kids who can identify with the killers and help them to not be killers too? Or should we just give them more video games to play? Because of course the other question is whether or not the creator has exploited the event for the purpose of making and marketing a new game and making some money (good job on his part; controversy always sells more product...), though the game is free to download...so who knows about all of that. I haven't tried the game, but the interview with the creator is intriguing... see what you think.

I think it is valid to note also that if you ignore the skull, keep it in the closet, eventually you will forget about it... having hitler, or columbine, on display, potentially reminds (and continually educates) us about what happened, what can happen, etc. But where does the line fall between educating for the good and encouraging something else? Or, is there a difference here b/c Hitler/Holocaust happened so much longer ago than Columbine...is there a settle-in-to-history issue at hand too? A need for some distance-time. But then, who decides that?

Personally, I have given in totally to the oppressive capitalist forces around me and so I would display the skull and pocket the money. Or I would just go get a real job at Walmart... I don't know, however, if I'll take up video games anytime soon.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

poem

recite yellow


1.
down ice steps to move complete frozen aside from what flows underneath what moves over the top of blue ice falling from edges of rock every which way sensing you as i awoke alone remembering your fingertips imagine you writing the score for this as if it were a movie into the future of one question after another i repeat these words in front of the icy stairs how does one get back up or maintain extra padding over skin just in case winter which yes flows through gel ink into pens compete with the new technologies whisper i was saying morning after every other wherever you may or may not be deliciously singing through the film scene by scene


2.
vanish or curtains layer into the cold on sand beaches only partly in ice water i’m asking what’s been said recently the woman who refrains from my lavender where are the shining moments blanket or blue flower material with a zipper saying now the intricate directions of lace as satin trim on the collars of thermal under or if you prefer to shop at second hand stores be sure to have relatives help and remember to layer


3.
every other wherever you may or may not be deliciously singing through the film scene by scene vanish or curtains


4.
have all come and gone at one time yellow covered texts assent to sleeping all hours ignorant of noise and sliding ugly neighbors before dawn recite yellow mix with red trim, while wearing your best or at least a handed over sweater plaid, i dare say, peeks out of the closet my coat i declare blue with black like a bruise worn year after year what warmth have you of all places in january oh wind whispering wild what wake you at this hour?

Friday, June 02, 2006

etc.

Also, if you haven't checked lately, please see the cats' report on the da vinci Code, if you haven't seen the movie, this review might help you decide to go or not:

Lisablog