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Four Seasons Poem Number One Zillion Two
live
love
leve
lve
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I’ve done six or seven 4 season poems, I would guess. Now I’m thinking of trying to work up enough for a little book of them. I really do think this one is a masterpiece.
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A little while ago (it is now around 9 P.M., 9 January) I was feeling good. I attributed this to my having gotten two naps today, one of an hour, the other of one or two hours. And I had gotten six hours of sleep last night, which is about as much as I generally get. I had just about finished backing up my blog entries and was very pleased at how good many of my poems seemed to me when I noticed them during the process. Unfortunately, I got the dates up my upcoming entries wrong, and in correcting them, lost what I had written for this entry. That pretty much wiped out my mood. I can’t stand screwing up like that, but I do it all the time!
This is a pwoermd I stole from Geof Huth’s blog–because it has become too sophisticated to accept comments from dial-ups like my computer, and I wanted to comment on it. It’s by Jonathan Jones, lately of Brussels, but a citizen himself of the United Kingdom. What I like most about it is that it’s lyrical–as too many pwoermds are not. It wouldn’t be a visual poem for me, but an illustrated poem, except that I subjectively feel “apri’ll” is producing the wonderful colors of spring it is slanted into a portion of (through sheer will-power). Hence, in my taxonomy it is an infra-verbal visual poem.
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A few days ago I got a beautifully packaged hard copy of the webzine, The Bleed 0.1, from its editor, John Moore Williams. It’s a terrific overview of current visual and related poetry and art. I got the hard copy because my computer wouldn’t let me view the whole magazine at its website–due, apparently, to the fact that I’m still on dial-up. Anyway, Eric Goddard-Scovel has five infraverbal gems in the issue that became instant favorites of mine. Here are two of them:
Minor quibble: I would have had one more numeral 1 and two less exclamation marks in “11!”
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Tuesday, 29 November 2011, 3 P.M. Tennis in the morning, errands, then a nap. After the latter, I felt pretty good, but was slow getting into any of my projects–after fairly quickly getting my blog entry for the day done and posted. I just now took care of a very short exhibition hand-out. I seem now to have 17 little comments on various poems of mine plus a Curriculum Vita ready for the show. I’ve started to other hand-outs. I’ve avoided my book so far, which has become a major drag. But I expect eventually to get to it.
Okay, it’s two hours later. I did a little futzing around with the section of my book I’m having trouble with, then went to bed for a little while. Couldn’t really sleep although I’m sleepy and did doze off for a few minutes once or twice. I tried to think methodically about my problem section, then abruptly concluded that I need a break from it. So I’m going to stop work on it until I feel I’ll be able to get somewhere with it. Maybe I’ll work on the essay I need to write in response to an essay of Jake Berry’s. I should watch some tv, too, or something. Get into another cumb Clancy novel . . .
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It seems that almost every time I seem to be getting productive, something knocks me down. This time it’s only a lost entry–this one, that I was trying to correct some detail of and lost in the process–without realizing it, so was not able to try to find the lost material by backing up until it was too late. So now I have to spend an hour or so, restoring what I can recall of what was here two days ago.
And all three of my frames of “Triptych for Tom Phillips”:
About the ampersand, I commented something about how it expressed the essence of “andness.” I loved the way its bird regurgitated what looked like all of itself, while looking to continue “anding” forever. I said little about my full triptych except that if you click on them, you’ll see a larger image of them which may be helpful although still very small–and in black&white. The original frames are each eleven by seventeen. Oh, one thing I did point out was that the frames are about, “departure,” “journey” and “arrival,” and are intended to be about them in the largest sense, but particularly about them with regard to arriving–for either an engagent of it or its author.
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Sunday, 4 October 2011. Sunday is hazy to me now, three days in the past as it is. I played tennis early in the morning–badly. I didn’t return to my Shakespeare book, but evidentally got a blog entry posted, and probably wrote an exhibition hand-out or two.
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Comments are closed.
Is the last one actually “I’ve”. Or you could have put in “lave” and just washed yourself of the whole thing. OK. I’ll stop with the lavatory humor now.
– endwar
Although the context makes it clear that the first letter of “lve” must be an l, I’ll make sure there’s no possibility of confusion when I make the final version of the poem. No comment on the outrageous lack of respect for a poem I consider a sacred (pantheistic) object your attempt at lavatory humor. But thanks for taking the time to sprinkle your recent comments on my blog, Endwar.
–Bob