Friday, December 30, 2011

fri / STOKED to be ab done w/ my lil book

these two bunnies played a show last nite at plush.  it was stellar.  afterwards joe & i came back here & had a backyard fire in the chiminea where i read the almost finished book from start to finish.  i learned a lot of things by doing so, so all the thanks in the world to lolo for his ears.  thanks to mija mara for also helping me out with thorough notes.  i have some interior peace today that everything is going to be just fine.  

tonite is puttanesca nite at MMs.  nice!

What stood in our yard were like demons
outside of time. One had a rock in his mouth,
another a tree branch
And “each man became what he was”

We gave our meat to the meat plant
& the garden, town, village

Lifted from the mind


From above we saw:
A ruined shape
We turned to [colorless]

The sea was like the sky                        a long, long chain that tethered everything

At last, at last

To hunger and terror
Salami and buckwheat

We’ll stand between death and its shining ideals
We’ll fatten from hunger and light the whole earth
With our comrades’ debris

We’ll be grim set on living

We’ll bury the headquarters schools and the baths

And the water main

Oh strange person
Oh person in a vacuum
We with our canons and spaceships were children

Man is simply frightening

(Instead of fields) the forest rises again

Thursday, December 29, 2011

THURS / it sounds like winter / winter / winter // take care of your

peacock says bon iver sounds like snow, 'i can barely listen it sounds like snow, like winter, it's painful/beautiful.

king of the everglades, population 1, i write poetry for myself, i write poetry for myself.

me & the las woke happy.  back settled in tucson & life is good.  got a jan 1 book deadline.  work!

grits & eggs breakfast of champs.  run to gym.  go, go!

it's official the neighbors are gone.  miss you gio!--but that would be it.  there's a silence now to rubio.  i watch jose my gaybor walk to the mailbox.  no high-pitched voice next door, nothing breaking, just silence.  i can write.

kaia and joe are playing the early set tonight at plush.   it's gonna be nice, i'll be there, happy.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

sat / dolly christmas montage / me? i'll bounce right back. lord it's like a hard candy christmas.

been writing all day over in my little cottage on the smaller pond.  and reading 2666:  christmas eve superb.  came down to mama & daddy's house for a snack, back down in a min to dress & get ready to go to granny's for veg soup & spend the nite, then xmas celebrations & hopefully dad will give me some pool tips.  tomorrow nite i somehow gotta watch the packers bounce back & stomp the stank bears while also driving to tifton to have xmas festivities with my grlbear, ladybear LL. 

Monday, December 19, 2011

mon / fresh week / continues to be cold/wet desert holiday season / the new Trickhouse is out

Noah Saterstrom has put out a new issue of Trickhouse:  TRICKHOUSE vol 14

Tenny Nathanson has work in it:


I love how Yeats in “Meru” has several wildly irregular lines mixed in with the regular ones. The opening’s metrical unruliness gives a sense of the cultural-historical phase (Yeats’s “unwinding of the gyre”) that is the poem’s subject:


every moment sitting in the ten kalpas
every moment
sitting just right now

sun-face Buddha
moon-face Buddha

where is Mazu (Basso) (Great Master Ma)

“ever since Ma kicked me in the chest I have not stopped laughing”

(An Lushan rebellion)


I hope that's not where we're going, but you know if this Congress keeps going the way it is, people are really looking toward those Second Amendment remedies


yesterday was not a good packer day.  joe-lo took this pic of sunday ritual.  look how sad i look.  abe & i were blue.  [understatement.]  

Sunday, December 18, 2011

SAT / grading / christmas shopping / big mexi-dinner with lolo / DESSA was on NPR today

in the interview, Dessa speaks of her literary/philosophy background.  i have her book Doomtree (MN hip hop collective) put out--Spiral Bound (thanks Nick)--& i love it.  Minneapolis hip hop is rad.  esp Dessa & POS...see below.  POS started music as a lover of hardcore punk...his other project, building better bombs, is a definite nod to that genre.  i dig how he articulates process.  how he is an artist, & he's humble while being straight about who he is & what he does.

great POS song:

Friday, December 16, 2011

FRI / ADV PO ROCKED CASA LIBRE LAST NITE / magical nite / im a proud mother hen / GRADING / RECOVERY FRI

love to my adv po class at pima nw.  they rocked the much heart, such devotion to writing--i got all emotional & overwhelmed by such po love.  relish it.  it dont happen enuf.  joe lo novelli played the astral slide whilst we mixed & mingled--thanks lolo.  thanks to kristen nelson for allowing us to use casa libre.  bout 50 folks showed up & adv po melted faces.  looking forward to spring with these guys.  bring it.

---- i was googling travis nichols the poet cause i like his naked book cover for iowa & i wanted more details & instead i found travis nichols the bklyn comic-strip badass & think thanks google, for hooking me up.  i mean, look at this dude's dance after he received his first book in the mail.  wow.  i know what im doing next time i open my new book box. ----

im kinda in love with this guy...travis nichols.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011





Readings by Andrew Becerra, Elizabeth Brown, Clarissa Bueno, Steven Cates, Kaia Chesney, Ian Hudick, Eric Jackson, and Rachel Mindell.

wed / last day being on campus / EXCITED EXCITED



Tuesday, December 13, 2011

tues / imitation / ARTIFICE / this shit ain't rocket science the scene changes with beats / my obsession with 50 Ways to...

more stuff im thinking about by way of writing head space.  kid cudi it took years but i get it now.

mon / last day of full classes at pima / went to the loft for melancholia

now that school is about over i can get back to the writer's life.  i decided to throw myself in it tonite.

i got a vanilla porter & a bag of popcorn.  sat in the back row & automatic wrote for five or so minutes eye-squinting til the dark hurt my eyes.

genet / women or killed themselves for love or the earth

the rich sculpt trees call 
a bird loose in dreams, still-shot
scythes on the hillside, the backwards black 
horse, a marriage from the hands loves
everyone affluent to vines grasp it's
lyric fascination these oaks grew
what if five seconds?  bad taste
Ophelia head-on
collision he sharpens she 
head forward entrusted cue
strings, it happens first then we backtrack

Justine they're always arch
a white limo the ugly winter 
grass wedding attire already filthy
unhappy nothing lasts.  the red one
you can see that, me, i
hate marriage come with
me against appropriate becomes
a drama for the back nine
this to the stars happy?  happy?
a noose, head-cocked you've
no business here

i'm never one to impress my opinion, however, i will say i did like & did not like this film.  only a film w/ such affluence can have apocalyptic measures on such a lush lawn.  had the family been middle class the narrative wouldve been raw tragedy so one couldn't concentrate on the inevitable death.  empathy would've shot you down.  von trier wanted this plasticity.  i get bored by the sun dial in the yard & all the plush rhetoric & malaise that everything becomes a symbol of white privilege/intellect/culture focused on self-indulgence/heavy narcissism, etc.

this is where my head is at in terms of books i need/thought processes in order to write this thing i now want to write:  zizek's violence, for some reason carlyle's sartor resartus, the practice of sati, burton's the anatomy of melancholy (only for lang.), ontology via aquinas (esp on essence & being), taylor from the bev hills housewives, the idea of deliberately touching the electric fence, suicide/alcoholism, francis 'two gun' crowley's on death: 'you sons of bitches.  give my love to mother.'

Sunday, December 11, 2011

sun / PACKERS 46 - THUG RAIDERS 16 (13-0 BABY) / recovery sunday

grading journals.  getting ready for the last week of school.  excited about that.  am/have been pretty tired, psychically tired.  tired, tired.  i always said i'd never be one of those people, those perpetually 'tired' people.  we'll see.  

went out last nite & determined not to go out again for a long time.  just too much mentally/emotionally.  thinking on throwin it in a bag again.  will weigh options.  we'll see.


i like these poems from fence.  

Under the Influence of Ideals
The extra fine ingredients sift down on you
or stir at your feet and cover your shoes
with the dust of it. The back of your hands,
dusted. Some fine glass particles stick.
The long bath only removes the thin layer
that can be removed. Everything else
is taken in and kept. You stand up
when you can to the curled lip,
some dogface raking back the curtain
to expose the starving. Who isn’t on edge?
Always the look that says don’t. And then,
the strategic repetition of the threat.
Death in the performance foreground,
some long-past allegory in back.
“Zero” plays on low while you look back
over your shoulder in a three-way mirror;
look up—there’s the glass chandelier
that substitutes for a people on the edge
of their seats. The natural birthright
position. Every last scene lasts for no more
than a second; some ceramic panther
stands in for the extinct. Is it today yet?
On stage, in a moment of everyday realism,
an accordion folds and unfolds while
we pretend we forget we said we ’d be kind.
-mary jo bang
 The Horse Declares
Conversation between me and my horse—the horse declares you enter into the world of time. How long have you known me? I thought. Reading lions of france for the lords of finance. Toast qua toast, whole taken for parts. The haystack—it figures. Me and my horse, we are delicately bound to one another by the resistant air. I came, I saw, I want to go home.
-norma cole

Saturday, December 10, 2011

sat / curling my hair to go out / thinking on my most favorite paragraph ever written / i want to share with you

from Jim Harrison's Dalva, pg. 13

Dear Son!  I am being honest but not honest enough.  Once up in Minnesota I saw a three-legged bobcat, a not quite whole bobcat with one leg lost to a trap.  There is the saw about cutting the horse's leg off to get him in a box.  The year it happened to me the moon was never quite full.  Is the story always how we tried to continue our lives as if we had once lived in Eden?  Eden is the childhood still in the garden, or at least the part of it we try to keep there.  Maybe childhood is a myth of survival for us.  I was a child until fifteen, but most others are far more truncated.


Next most fav paragraph is as follows...[& also deals with animal traps/amputation.  Maybe in a past life something like this happened to me.]

Baldwin, from "Sonny's Blues"

So we drove along, between the green of the park and the stony, lifeless elegance of hotels and apartment buildings, toward the vivid, killing streets of our childhood.  These streets hadn't changed, though housing projects jutted up out of them now like rocks in the middle of a boiling sea.  Most most the houses in which we had grown up had vanished, as had the stores from which we had stolen, the basements in which we had first tried sex, the rooftops from which we had hurled tin cans and bricks.  But houses exactly like the houses of our past yet dominated the landscape, boys exactly like the boys we once had been found themselves smothering in these houses, came down into the streets for light and air and found themselves encircled by disaster.  Some escaped the trap, most didn't.  Those who got out always left something of themselves behind, as some animals amputate a leg and leave it in the trap.  It might be said, perhaps, that I had escaped, after all, I was a school teacher; or that Sonny had, he hadn't lived in Harlem for years.  Yet, as the cab moved uptown through streets which seemed, with a rush, to darken with dark people, and as I covertly studied Sonny's face, it came to me that what we were both seeking through our separate cab windows was that part of ourselves which had been left behind.  It's always at the hour of trouble and confrontation that the missing member aches.

sat / slept best sleep in forever / just put my u of a grades in / pics from the week

G Bear goes to Christmas Disneyland
Backyard fire chiminea
Joe Lo & Soulgee
My bed - there's a string of elephants on the far side that one of my favorite students this semester gifted me.
Jimmy Choos in the mail from Rouch for my 30th.  LOOOOOVE.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

wed/thurs / my sweetheart he's a rambler

it's 2am & i'm coffee-wired but done with the majority of my grading for the U class.  relief!  today i was a work horse.  i did step out for a brief minuto to see kaia chesney's show at solar culture.  below is eric, clarissa, & kaia, all students/amazing folks that comprise some of adv po!  angels.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

tues / when i hit the brick new whip

nose to grindstone week.  grading.  joe lo came over to help last nite with journals, thank goodness.  i have like 90 of those to grade.  i took up 23 essays yesterday from U kids that i have to get done by fri morn.  then i take up final exams.  fun.  next week 50 something research essays.

it's cold in tucson.  all my plants are inside or either snugged up in old sheets.  bitter cold last nite.  righteously bitter.  i got takeout soup post-gym from el minuto.

i just got back from steve salmoni's intro to poetry class at nw.  recruiting for adv po--hoping to make numbers!  what a great class!

here's a poem i reread in the sauna last nite at the gym that i had read years ago & dog-eared & refound again:

sawako nakayasu's nothing fictional but the accuracy or arrangement   (she    
(Quale, 2006)

finds an urgent need to get away from
people who look familiar:  familiar gait,
familiar smile, familiar expression of
disappointment when losing the lottery.
After finding such a place, where the be-
havior of people is sufficiently unfamil-
iar, slightly disengaged, somewhat off of
her normal expectations, how much long-
er this can last before the need to move,
again and again, each time hopefully less
urgently, more slowly, in peace, with the
space in her heart to even carry along a
few regrets.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

IRON AND WINE sun eve (church) / all dead white boys say God is good. white tongues hang out. God is good.


abe:  this time / rodgers:  sniff them / smellin salts brett was / always nose quaffin afore / kick offff
st:  YEAH!
st:  Ballet!
as:  yeeeeee jord dee
st:  haahee i just yelled at / people fer 4 mins bout / how that were ballet
as:  driiiiiiiiiiiiiverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
st:  Bing!
as:  Holy effin helllllll
st:  Callin Jesus
as:  Yank him by the beaard
as:  no drops / no drops / no drops
st:  YES!!
as:  awwwesome
st:  rough on my heart / but all ends well / thank you God
as:  weee smoked em! my  / rosary is all embery!

football sunday / packers in progression: get it! / max sympathy in nairobi / me & possum in tubac / last day before i take up essays at the U / ew

one:  buy cowboy hat.
two: tubac flowery, cold.
three: smores by a fire, luminaire fest.
four: always lite candles for loved ones.


renegade poetics, max sympathy:


Saturday, December 3, 2011

sat / almost a ROADTRIP W/ POSSUM / LO comes to town today / pics from the other nite

Thanks, Grannny, for the pool skills.  I need another lesson though!

Friday, December 2, 2011

fri / it's rainy, cold, & just gross in tucson / couch weather / book weather / movie weather

THANKS SO MUCH TO POET KRISTI MAXWELL FOR ROCKING ADV PO LAST NITE!  Kristi's new book Re- was just released from Ahsahta Press.  After she left, the class was like she's so smart!  And she is.

Thursday, December 1, 2011


the first couple mins & then around 8 mins JH again.  makes me miss him.


i got to thinking about this 'no reservations' clip when having a toast with Ms DD now that she's back in town from med school residency tryouts in cali.  Nick, who is now bartending at Scott & Co used to be my fav barback at Congress, is from montana.  he rebuilds old custom harleys & stuff.  after bear hugs or either before, i did agree to jump on the back of his motorcycle for a roadtrip to montana end of may.  this is one trip i definitely hope to keep.  i adore nick.  and his philos. of keeping the overhead low, one i could never quite manage myself among others.