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Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Here Howls



Here howls a beautiful language,
We men never thought communication gave best effect.
Did we care, trust?
Think, walk, a favorite idea stuck - to have her stand.
Paint a rhythm, up, down
I am for mellifluous death.

See, choose only play,
Style, a Queen crept in,
Will her father love jealous joy?
Shared solutions negative,
Think! I resent open unity!

Lead her above denial, for psychedelic drug
They avoid or give reach to insane diversity
Make thin grass opinion,
That clean fun when found, blocks totally.

How old is life?
Know if life was experiment, I see childhood's best,
     a faithful young companion.
Balance through our great film,
She must try to test over life and not feel bitter,
     She is sweet.
     Alleviate Mother!
     Believe Brother!

with N____ N____, 7/15/06, 39,  40,  41


The Muse Poems:

   1  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54
55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72
73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

This Mare above Him



This mare above him, was caught, and must know music.
Mounted under metaphor, it came to show my sculpture,
    and green water.
Create grandeur, beside a perfect childhood,
    a question, about that awesome studio.

Fragment of Lost Poem, with Jamie Matson, 10/18/06,  40, 41-1, 41-242


The Muse Poems:

   1  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54
55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72
73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

Speak Out!

Speak out Father!
Silhouette her limpid body.
Laugh at your mother's music.
Almost chat when will you yield,
an emotional high, big as a milky soft space.

Still why make him, girl?
Sadistic cats eat jealous music.
Improve, our pithy streets should be dysfunctional,
Don't tread on her,
some could lick out opinion, and sculpt.

Sweet choices I know, sleep well.
Mere cunning knows opportunity from smoke,
So question the solution.
Care, yell that gut missive my son,
Tend every repressed sister.
So for her, try some moon child.

Use delight! Mellifluous talk on dating . .
Esteem would never mind,
daze, then a period.
Marry please a vintage favorite.
He would avoid pain, character switched.

How strange then she says it wreaked of hot use.
Could obtuse enormous pressure end it?
As threads break about me . . .
in time, greenery could end pain.
Respect the fast, I mean it.
Your mama bears with us, their opaque secret.

Come, Heal aesthetics, then give weak love.
A favorite composes the metaphor.
Mom eats glass in silence.

Draw not behind our son. Dormant wasted metal,
if my mind must write a crass choice,
Ask if Guilt is abuse.
Did some infant reach them?
Better confront thought, through my curious ear.


with Jessica Crandall, August 16, 2006, 41, 42, 43


                                                                 (photo: The Brazilian Sisters)

The Muse Poems:

   1  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54
55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72
73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

You Won't Cover All Love II


TRANSCRIPTIONS OF POEMS WRITTEN WITH TIA HUNTER DURING TWO SESSIONS
Jan 7 and 28th, 2008.

Transcriptions from five cardboards, in reverse order as they lie on my floor. The psyche can't wait for the pen of a secretary. Like an unexpected dream, content begins to evaporate.

We wrote poetry, then set it out on these bits of cardboard. What follows is my my honest attempt to transcribe then understand what was written.

[Already I see deviation from what was put into the paintings, Tia re-arranged some words, I also took transcription liberties and made some errors, as well. Transcription liberties? Again, I follow rules, the minimum that may be done to a sequence of sounds to give them sense. Verbs change tense, plural may become singular, vice-versa, pronouns and prepositions dispensed as needed, but only as needed. The objective: attain some sense. Always to praise. Never to flatter. Always listening for 'her' voice. If in doubt, self-deprecate. The cruelest message is preferred to the kindest.]


CARDBOARD ONE

He caught some bird of black
who want under my fear
Relate me how dirty canvas come
s chameleon who guts earth    [add letter 's' to prev. word, make plural.]
then say wry marry have trouble
pathetic parasite envy ing music
humidity give s notorious skirt
a share our pride hearted system

CARDBOARD TWO

you passion in sleep
for uatch capture sure face     [interpret ''uatch" as 'watch]
what howl did serve my young face
to always need
as slimy curvy and emotional snake


MY INTERPRETATION CARDBOARDS 1 and 2

He caught some bird of black
Who wants under my fear
Relate to me how dirty canvas comes
A chameleon who guts earth.
Then say why marrying has trouble

Pathetic Parasite! Envying music!
Humidity gives notorious skirt
A share in our pride-hearted system.
Your passion in sleep
for watching captures, sure, faces.
What howl did serve my young face?
To always need a slimy, curvy and emotional snake

[The Muse speaks about my becoming an expert tracker of Raven . . . or rather. . . the principle of guidance. Remember the Muse, or 'She' as I often refer to her in these rambling diegeses, and 'Raven' are in a sense 'cousins'. Raven's from Native America, the Muse from Ancient Europe. Both are mythic representations of a psychic force present in all being(s).]

My friend Rainbow called me after Tia left to say "Mark there are two hundred crows in my yard" (why two hundred?) . . . She (the Muse) is curious how I 'found' this principle, likes the story, and so she asks me to tell it again. . . "Relate to me how dirty canvas comes. . . " . . . about the 'chameleon who guts' / cuts, earth. . . This chameleon. . . or representative of Quetzalcoatl, the sacred lizard / snake / bird . . . then says . . . 'Link that thought to 'why marrying has trouble'. . . i.e. 'tell it to me again!'

The Muse, and here I am speaking very much of Robert Graves' Muse, loves to be told stories. In this she is not unlike a child at bedtime. She becomes quiet, dispenses with her prognostications, and clairvoyances which she normally dispenses as if they are condemnations, or commands, and in this mode she is truly terrifying. But her eyes glaze over like a child ready for sleep, as if she needs our dreams to see and understand.

She blasts us again with the phrase 'Pathetic Parasite' . . . Envying Music'.

Yes I do envy music . . the gift of the Muse herself . . how is it not possible to envy the nature of music, the mystery which is sealed away even from our most talented.

"Humidity gives notorious skirt' as if 'make it damp enough and it will get sexy'.

Really? 'Humidity' sounds like "Humility'. She is the first to call down any mote of ego.

So she continues 'take a share in our pride hearted system . . . . your passions in sleep' . . .for watching captures. . sure . . . faces . . She is talking about my night-time projections and journeys . . . . . Then she asks why do you always need a slimy curvy and emotional snake? . . . meaning why are you endlessly attracted to the notion of original sin. . . Garden of Eden . . . Woman in that role. . . To Tia . . what howl did serve my young face . . meaning does this poem make sense to you?]

CARDBOARD THREE

Over me, I can, I will almost know heaven
You belly dance and surf!
Whose saucy women will phone?
 . . .think through dreams some know
as more aggressive cuddle

Babe he talks behind dim harmony
Gives date fit husband
 . . . plays rank.

CARDBOARD 4

Glorious spotted slug, hypocrite lust party!
Your body blossom through ruin!
Understand! No grandeur diagnosis upon
are dazzled with a silent crowd.


MY INTERPRETATION CARDBOARDS 3 and 4

Over-mechanical will almost know heaven
You belly dance and surf!
Whose saucy woman will phone
Think through dreams, some know
. . . as more aggressive cuddle.
Babe he talks behind dim harmony
Give date fit husband!
Play your rank!

Glorious spotted slug!
Hypocritical lust party!
Your body blossoms through ruin
Understand no grander diagnosis's are upon her.
Dazzle with a silent crowd.

[She comments that my neural model for psychic intelligence is far too mechanical to 'know heaven'. She says this as an aside at the beginning of the cardboard, dismissing in one line much of the work I've done this year. 

Then she turns to shapely Tia . . . . 'You who belly dance and surf!' . . . She clearly imagines Tia doing these things. . . then she asks "Whose saucy woman will phone" . . . i.e. which of your girlfriends will call later? . . . Tia, this guy's busy! . . stay away!, . . and further dismisses my speech as 'talk behind dim harmony'. "Give a date fit husband'. . . I am a husband and somewhat fit for my age so that's me . . . but give a date? . .. . oh well I tried but Tia turned me down . . no the date she speaks of must mean something else . .. a date by which I must? . . . haven't figured this out yet. . . . 

She goes on to describe me as a 'glorious spotted slug' running a hypocritical 'lust party!' . . . yes in some ways . . . and then to Tia who had expressed concern about her 'body wearing out' . . . she warns 'Your body blossoms through ruin' . . this is true of all things as beauty appears invariably before decay . . . . But she also says that Tia is healthy . . . and goes on to encourage me to work silently . . . this is a constant theme in her statements, and is always telling me to 'shut up!'.]


CARDBOARD 5

you wont coward all love creature
hone how minion nerve esteem fellow
clean here there it
little sister breathe sweet
thoug did forget my only
past has yet ebb
observation
I
sure marvelous
emotion electric
or his play
our many companion
concrete vapour
palpable past
infinite faithful idol
more balance will free
make important and very crass
impulse & sculpture
drive chisel sculpt when aware together


FIRST INTERPRETATION CARDBOARD 5

You won't coward!
All love creatures hone how I'm in nerve
Esteemed fellow come here, there it is.
Little sister breathe sweetly!
Thou didst forget my only past
Has yet ebbed your observation.

I sure marvel, emotional electricity . . or his play.
Our many companions. . . concrete vapor . . .
Palpable past . . infinite idol . .

More balance will free and make important a very crass impulse.
And sculpture drives chisel, sculpt when we're aware together.


FINAL INTERPRETATION CARDBOARD 5

You won't cover all love!
Create your home, how I am enough?
Esteemed fellow come hither.
'Tis your little Sister,
Breathe sweetly,
Thou didst forget my only past
Has yet ebbed your observation.

I sure marvel, emotional electricity . . . or his play.
Our many companions . . . concrete vapor . . .
Palpable past . . . infinite idol . . .

More balance will free and make important, a very crass impulse.
And sculpture drives chisel, so sculpt . . .
 . . . when we're aware together.


[in our last cardboard the Muse, after calling me a coward, but also an 'Esteemed fellow' and addressing Tia as 'Sweet Sister', goes on to admonish Tia for forgetting her . . .

Why 'Sweet Sister'? Ah. . . . The Muse, whether she be Calliope as defined by the latter Greek poets, or, Demeter or Hera, or Artemis (goddess of the hunt), or any of their antecedents, or, even the Mother of all these Goddesses without a Greek lineage, . . . . who ever she 'is' indeed she is acutely aware that Tiana last name is "Hunter", and that her first name means 'princess'. So she calls Tia, "Sweet Sister". One Goddess to another. 

She admits to being marveled by emotional electricity (from the work) . . as well as the dramatic 'play' aspect of it . . . but wants me to take the abstract past. . . all the 'companions'. . . the 'concrete vapors' of the past and make them real . . this will take a very crass impulse (i.e. sexual attraction) and make it 'important' . . i.e. endow it with grace. She wants me to make sculpture 'when we're aware together.']

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