'ville in el

the horses break / Fort
nights, break
in bed, reek / addendum,
bits & flies round up
me as an egg
mighty porous/ rakes
tinking about it
chandelierly
the soft of birds purchase
lastly grand indignant motion
out window
/ pisses again, flies
burning rubber junket
next stop new york
/ breaks it so / likely rain will
all morning and sheer addendum
files off / often
for reasons uninteresting
its units / yak
andarenotashamed

Larry and Larry

Last night I scrabbled for the last time with Sean Bishop, a poet in the UH MFA program. We couldn't have a more different approach to reading and writing, but we're aptly matched scrabblers and enjoy bitching about our prospective poetry universes. We were sparring about whether Larry Levis is a genius or a hack, I realized that I had no idea what I was talking about. I've literally forgotten what that kind of poetry is like. It's gone. He said the name "Larry Levis" and I knew I'd read at least one of his books and couldn't remember anything about the poems, what they tended to, what they read like, zip. I just knew he was in my don't-care-about box. So this morning I went a-hunting for Levis online since all my books are currently in boxes.

I still have no answers. I tried reading about some 7 or 8 poems and didn't really read them. It wouldn't be fair to argue if they're good or whever. There were these lines that distracted me to the point where I couldn't pay attention. So Sean, if your reading, here's the lines I stopped on:

Anastasia & Sandman : I refuse to explain.

For Zbigniew Herbert, Summer, 1971, Los Angeles: No matter how hard I listen, the wind speaks

In a Country: we could / make out the wide river for the first time, blue and / moving.

Readings in French : Which is what happens


I think that's about all I can offer as a rebuttal. A puny little rebuttal. Might even be called a gripe.

*******

This morning Paul sent me the letter from another Larry. Such a wonderful mangled letter, full of broken stuff and misdirection.

'....Abt 1970, 9-10 yrs after the
freon gas, my desire to write long pieces dimmed enough so
I got willing enough to end a poem at any point, any word,
I think that's how the poems got clearer, while before
they were Obscure much of the time....'
and so on...


I have nothing else to say on why I like and don't like these things. It's all very uninteresting, if not totally irrelevant. But I will say I'm very thankful I have people to talk to and argue with. very.

The Field by Joanna Gunderson

The Field by Joanna Gunderson

rating: 4 of 5 stars
Another good one from Red Dust. Gunderson's line-broken un-punctuated no-paragraph 'novel' is surprisingly novel-ish. The most continuous and recognizable element in the book is the place (in or around the mountains in NY): the house, landscape, seasons, etc. Certain events and relationships are repeated (with a difference) throughout the novel -- sort of appearing disappearing on the landscape. You'd think this would make a pretty boring novel, but the way the language is clipped gives it this really nice breathablity, also makes it more intimate.



City Eclogue by Ed Roberson


rating: 5 of 5 stars
City Eclogue by Ed Roberson



Book where. Get a sense of what is said and taking what is said pump it up and put it into the histories. A history set like a chemistry set. But not about histories, not concerned with history/ies as an end. No end to. What is said. Sayings aftershock. Proceeds of an aftershock. The scene. The version. The double version. All that still shuffles what decisions to make. Which who we were when we are going there.


View all my reviews.