Showing posts with label blabla. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blabla. Show all posts


Field theory, breathing and projectile verse

The other day, while dusting my shelf, I came across Charles Olson’s Selected Writings and started rereading his essay (if it can be called that) on what he thought poetry should be like.

I’m not very good at remembering abstract details, but I recall a few of his keywords, such as field, breath and projective.

Once again I feel compelled to illustrate theory to myself by practice, i.e. by living it.

The following poem practices everything Olson mentions.

Three Breathy Fields


It is an open field, unhindered by obstacles.

Not even a cow projects from it.

(Actually, I should remove the periods at the ends of the lines to achieve openness, and it surely won't hurt to move the subfields or breath units about a bit)

It is an open field, unhindered by obstacles

Not even a cow projects from it


Here I practice breathing. Everything I write should be spoken in one breath. It should be spoken without breathlessness, however. Since that’s a double negative, I’ll put it positively: It should be spoken with breathness. Still with me in the same breath?


Is like Neil Young’s field of opportunity, where "it’s ploughing time again"


This field is left open for your convenience, to plough things in, under or over. Fill it with breath, openness, projectiles, whatever. But remember not to damage the screen in front of you.

This ends today’s occupation with Charles Olson’s projective field and breath theory. Perhaps I shall return for another lesson soon. Await it with baited breath.


Ancient Wisdom

If the terrain is rough
but you need to get across,
look for a gap in the rock.

– Chief Glory Horse

(aka Iself)

This ancient wisdom was retrieved in response to the request for literature with “gap and/or rock” (Two for Tuesdays IX).


My favorite triumph

My favorite kind of triumph is
neither military nor literary.
It's British, old-fashioned and
esthetically very pleasing.

Writers Island invited contributions on the topic of triumph.



A section of Glyph13

Active bloggers
can deliver even
funner glyphs

– Iself

again – in not the deepest poetic mood – inspired by a word (active) from BlogFriday, contributing to the world's fake haikus.


Youth suspected in banana store hold-up beaten by police officer

Lieutenant Shylock Enrique García of the Fuentecarral Police Force was no myrmidon by any means – just a little incapacitated in the conscience department and somewhat frozen in earlier history when the softening-up of suspects was routine preparation to elicit some useful answers.

– Iself

Written upon inspiration by Raven’s Week 7 Mini Challenge. The words frozen, history, myrmidon, Shylock and incapacitated were to be used.

Thank you, Raven, for getting me acquainted with the word myrmidon.


A near-miss haiku

So I was on my way to the store close-by,
only to find out, once I got there, that it was closed.
Well hell, I thought, that saved me some money coz I’s about to buy me some clothes.
That’s what I call a close call
and less wear on the clothesline.

Written upon instigation by BlogFriday – seeking submissions for the word ‘closed.’ This haiku with its syllabic structure of 11 / 13 / 19 / 7 / 7 is not the only thing that’s a amiss here. Or a close call.

– Iself

in a not so sincere writing mood.


A historical perspective

These are a few things that happened on February 23s a while ago (courtesy msn encarta):

1847: About 5,000 American troops commanded by General Zachary Taylor defeat some 15,000 Mexicans under General Antonio López de Santa Anna near Buena Vista, Mexico.

Way to go, Santa Anna:

Heave her up, and away we'll go
Heave away, Santianna!
Heave her up, and away we'll go
All on the plains of Mexico


1870: Mississippi is formally readmitted to the Union.


1934: Casey Stengel, who had previously been the team's coach, becomes the manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Hhmm ... don't see the historical significance of that, but then I've never been that interested in the Brooklyn Dodgers ... or any baseball team for that matter.


1940: The Walt Disney animated motion picture Pinocchio, about a wooden puppet who longs to become human, is released.

Pinocchio, as I noticed last night, also puts in guest appearances in Shrek (2001).


1945: U.S. Marines capture the highest point on the island of Iwo Jima and raise the American flag for the second time that day.

Clint Eastwood's Letters from Iwo Jima (2006) tells the story of the battle from the perspective of Japanese soldiers who fought in it.


1997: Scottish scientists announce what they have kept secret for seven months: that they have cloned adult sheep DNA and produced a healthy sheep who they have named Dolly.

Dolly, who was apparently named after Dolly Parton, lived from 1996 to 2003.


Gilded gold, painted lily

After publishing a poem with gilded lilies, I wanted to find out what exactly the expression means and from whence it came.

Apparently from Shakespeare, who wrote in King John:

Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

Which means that the expression is actually an incorrect quote. It is the gold that is gilded, while the lily gets painted, both actions denoting superfluous adornment.

An annotated sailing poem

What shall we do with the sober sailor?
… so early in the morning?

He missed his boat oh no!

He’s been missing a number of boats
Truth be told

Like the rum boat*, the hum boat**,
the society boat***,
the boot boat**** and the new boat*****.

Thank God there’s the old boat

To which he is used
At least that

– "Sloop" John B. (© 2007)

* Otherwise there would be no complaining about sobriety
** Otherwise there would be song
*** Otherwise there would be company, including three marvelously gilded lilies most likely
**** Always good for a kick in the you know what
***** That is yet to emerge


Ulrike und das tröpfelnde Glas

Nahezu ein Poetron-Gedicht*

Übrige Schneen

Unter entbehrlicher Hose
saubere Körper und ein Rabe

Karierte Muskeln schmelzen so leis
Ulrike und das tröpfelnde Glas

– Poetron (Copyright 2007)

*Ein paar Wörter in den Poetron gefüttert, und fertig ist das Gedicht. Allerdings nicht immer grammatikalisch richtig. Die "Schneen" habe ich suggestiv stehen lassen.

Einladung an die Leserschaft:
Dieses wunderbare Werk darf gern interpretiert werden.


Semantic hotline experience

I called the agent with my problem, who told me I needed to talk to the editor. The editor told me that he was not the person in charge, and to please hold for the adaptationer. The adaptationer referred me to the arranger, who said to get in touch with the issuer, who passed me on to the originator. The originator transferred me to the processor, who was neither authorized nor willing to deal with my issue. By this time I had been on the phone for 1 hour and 55 minutes including the time I had been listening to upbeat muzak and please hold the line messages. Oh what to do!

Title explained
The synonyms this account toys with are the result of a search for the German term “Bearbeiter” – in other words, they are a semantic field.

Leonard Blumfeld



Vacuous people party

Today's personalized horoscope said:
A big party you are attending tonight might seem tedious and boring, ISELF. If you're single, probably no one there really interests you, and the few possibilities you meet might seem too crazy. If you're involved, your current love partner might not be able to come to this party. Why stay if you're not having fun? Better a video alone than a room full of vacuous people!
Too bad I wasn't invited to that kind of party. In fact, I wasn't invited to any kind of party. But I'd really love to go and take my trusty & proven vacuity tester along (a neat, hand-held model).

And the few possibilities might be too crazy? Hmmm, I'd like to check them out.

Alas, I'll have to settle for the video and use the vacuity tester on it.


Frauen sind einfach heißblütiger

Ja, Frauen sind einfach heißblütiger als Männer.
Woran man das merkt?
Na, in den Filmen rennen sie immer nahezu unbekleidet herum (siehe Lara Croft, aber auch Xena usw.), selbst im tiefsten Winter, in Lawinen, Schnee und Eiszeiten, während sich ihre männlichen Kollegen immer zutiefst bedeckt halten.


One kind of fascination

One kind of rare

is the one
of older

poetic ladies
gone bonkers

on younger
male poets –

a mixture
of guruism,

strange new
world discovery,

near suicidal

and late

(Written by iself thinking of Friederike Mayröcker and a certain younger neighborhood poet)


Unnoticed in an ocean

... a situation that spells trouble.

More so, I would guess, than up the proverbial shit creek without a paddle.*
And pray
what might I
be trying to say?
– Little J. from his rosebed with flowers

* There, it seems, you always have the option of going with the flow, for which you don't need a paddle. Unless Shit Creek has some dangerous white water passages in between the yellowish brown ones...


Delayed April Fool's Day Issue

Work of the Poet has some hilarious historical April Fool's articles, e.g.:

  • Taco Liberty Bell and Ford Lincoln Mercury Memorial
  • Richard Nixon runs for President again
  • Alabama changes Pi to biblical value


Schande oder Ehre oder was?

Heute gelesen (wo und über wen tut nichts zur Sache):
mit Preisen bedachter Literaturkritiker und bekennender Bob-Dylan-Fan
Tja, was sagt man dazu? Dass man ein nicht bekennender und nicht mit Preisen bedachter Irgendwer ist?

Zumindest aber soviel, dass mir bei manchen heute – auch gerade in der Literaturwelt – gängigen Redewendungen und Phrasen nicht nur die Galle, sondern auch der Mageninhalt hochsteigt.


Or did you write that yourself?

Was that a real poem

or did you write that yourself?

That came out of my head by itself,
with words that formed themselves,
a beginning by itself,
and an end in itself,
so yes, I wrote it myself
and it is real in itself
and in any other selves
exposed to it whether or not they themselves
realize the significance or insignificance of this or themselves.

– P. Lato


blöd... kapiersch net

Das war der Kommentar eines hier nicht namentlich zu nennenden Cybermitbürgers zu einer andernorts im Cyberspace veröffentlichten Geschichte (Details tun nichts zur Sache), die mir eigentlich logisch einleuchtend und durchaus zu verstehen schien. Vielleicht setzte sie aber etwas literarisches Hintergrundwissen und sogar sowas wie Denkfähigkeit voraus.

Dieser Kommentar, so könnte man – vielleicht etwas abgehoben und zu verallgemeinernd – mutmaßen, steht für eine heute gehäuft anzutreffende starke Ausprägung Kantschen Selbstverständnisses:
Wenn ich etwas nicht verstehe, dann kann's nie und nimmer an mir selbst liegen, da meine Sicht ja das Maß aller Dinge ist.