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Thread: Primitives

  1. #1
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    Primitives

    Banish the glaze of objects from the firmament,
    undo formica & fundament, pinch off the ridges
    of the Caucasus & irons of clay used in hearths
    some four millennia ago. Ask how blind urges
    creolized in burnished arabesque surfaces
    that once glowed in fire are now backlit in humidity-
    controlled glass capsules indexed by number,
    defined by placard, sold at auction. Recall
    that clusters of bird bones found buried with relics
    are those of Gallus gallus—the domestic chicken.
    Trace a chain of Y-chromosomes from the Upper
    Paleolithic imagination to rock walls scarred
    with petroglyphs & handprints. To poems.
    Burnish the gaze of subjects with firm remnants.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Primitives

    Patriarch Sky

    Just for the hell of it,
    you took out scissors
    and cut up the sky.
    Mostly clipped shapes
    of the svelte female hip,
    water jugs,
    Cheshire leers,
    grinning way the blades opened
    and closed.


    Loose raiments curled, torn, wrung,
    flying
    limp as old bed linen kids jump on,
    ripping when the wind blows.


    This is what's left of my
    ceiling,
    helter-skelter
    puzzle,
    mansion of the mind.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Primitives

    Flock Life

    They fly these snap
    roller coaster curves,

    these taking your breath drops
    and lifts drawing out the stretch

    and rebound anyone watching feels
    and all without their flying apart —

    within unison in untamable directions
    when in a sense they fly in place.

    and all other movement emerges out of
    keeping out of each other's way:

    squalling patterns, the dash, the lilting shapes
    just happen out of their correction for

    each other's shifts almost as if
    forgiveness is to fly.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

  4. #4
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    Re: Primitives

    Seawall

    Ten mile long stony face
    On which a long light shines,
    Gentle scoop by the sea,
    Border between men and

    Their original salt,
    Holding the island's shape,
    Shaping the waves into
    Choirs of longevity.

    Early last century,
    Elegant architects
    Walking through the rubble
    Sadly took account of

    The stricken city that
    Papers said lay prostrate
    Under catastrophe.
    One might have yelled, "A wall!"

    Whatever happened, soon
    They began rebuilding
    And staging protection
    Against the water's teeth.

    Important afternoons
    Of dazzling bodies built
    A memorial to
    Protect against and taunt

    The ocean's forceful art,
    Putting forth a sign that
    Can be seen but not read,
    Its fortune lost in sound.

    That fortune is too plain
    However, anyone
    With a past knows what end
    Awaits every sure bet.

    And so vastness may be
    Frustrated by stones that
    Outweigh the sea's own, but
    Whoever returns won't

    Remember this place's
    Antique and hopeful mood,
    When it was still cut off
    From sorrow's chandeliers.

    The future has arrived,
    Each storm describes it, and
    Until the relentless
    Lives of fantasy and

    Remembrance fade, no peace
    Will be known by this town.
    It works day and night in
    Wind and waves, its people

    Always toast to better
    Wages for better wine.
    To honor past dreamers
    And maintain dignity

    They must keep doom distinct.
    What once was an image
    Is now an afterlife
    Of working. Those who bermed

    The leeward side and built
    This new place on that old
    One need some space to sleep
    Or open mystery.

    Now all the cargo's gone
    In waves of memory.
    The ocean cleans the face
    Of the old, friendly wall

    With bubbles of soft foam.
    Gulls fill the placid sky,
    Seaweed gathers in heaps.
    It's a nice place to watch

    Nature's indifference
    Break like a winter wheel
    Against mankind's talent
    For physical withdrawal.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Primitives

    I Remember Lost Things

    I remember getting letters addressed to me with my name and street address, followed on the next line by the word City. Which meant the same city in which they had been mailed. Could life have been that simple?

    I remember the first time I heard Joe read from his I Remember. The shock of pleasure was quickly replaced by envy and the question, Why didn't I think of that? Aesthetic pleasure comes in many forms and degrees, but envy comes only when you wholeheartedly admire someone else's new work. Envying the talent of a person you love is particularly beautiful and envigorating. And you don't even have to answer the question.

    I remember feeling miffed at García Lorca because he made me feel like crying about something that may never have happened. There is a 1929 photograph of him standing next to a large sphere on a granite pedestal that also bears a sundial, on the Columbia University campus. Passing by the sundial this morning, I suddenly realized that Lorca had stood on that very spot 70 years ago, a few years before he was shot to death. It was as if he had been there just moments ago. Such a brutal, stupid death! Tears came to my eyes. But on second thought, I found it hard to believe that someone would put such a large sphere on this spot: it would have come between the light and the sundial, no? Later, when I examined the photo again, I saw that it was taken there. But that sphere? I like it because it keeps distracting me from the idea of his death.

    I remember the mill, a piece of currency that was used for a few years near the end of World War II and just after. A thick paper (and later a lightweight metal) coin with a round hole in the center, the mill was worth one-tenth of a cent. It was fun to press it hard enough between thumb and forefinger to create temporary bumps on those fingers. On price tags, it was written as if it were an exponent; for example, ten cents and four mills was written 104. I don't know if mills were used anywhere other than in my hometown, and since they went out of use I have heard references to them only once or twice. They have faded away, even more forgotten than the black pennies of the same period. But if you mention the mill to people old enough to remember them, their faces will take on a rising glow of recognition that turns into a deeper pleasure in your company.

    I am trying to remember what it felt like to have never even heard of television, to be six years old with your toys and maybe a dog. You roll the wooden truck along the carpet and make a truck sound that turns into a honking horn as you approach the outstretched paw of the dog that jumps to her feet, just in case, and you say, "Aw, I wouldn't have hit you." Wagging her tail, she comes up to lick your face, which is fun at first, before the doggy breath becomes too strong. Then you wipe your face with your sleeve, turn back to the truck, and start up its engine again. The sound of dishes from the kitchen.

    I remember when some cars, older ones, had running boards, and the fun of standing on one and gripping the window post as the car accelerated down the block to the corner, the wind in my ears. Gradually there were fewer and fewer of them, and then none. At least the new cars still had hood ornaments, the most memorable being the shiny chrome head of an Indian man, his profile knifing into the wind, headdress feathers blown back. And then he was gone too.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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