Poetic Conversation - draft

 

In Other Words: a Conversation in Others' Words



1this country might have
been a pion
                  eer land.     once.
                                              and it still is.
check out 
                the falling
gun/shells                 on our blk/tomorrows      


2Washakie 1804-1900
A Wise Ruler
Always Loyal 
to the Government 
and to his 
White Brothers


3You would not know
that the souls of old Texans
are in jeopardy in a way not common
to other men, my singular friend.

You would not know
of the long plains night
where they carry on 
and arrange their genetic duels
with men of other states--



5What's going on here?  Can no one help them?  
Must everyone witness their downfall?  
This reduces us all.  
Someone must show up at once to save them, 
to take everything off their hands right now, 
every trace of this life before
this humiliation goes on any longer.
Someone must do something.
I reach for my wallet and that is how I understand it:




                              6we lay waste our powers;--
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hears away, a sordid boon!






9Quite unexpectedly as Vasserot
The armless ambidextrian was lighting 
A match between his great and second toe
And Ralph the lion was engaged in biting
The neck of Madame Sossman while the drum 
Pointed, and Teeny was about to cough
In waltz-time swinging Jocko by the thumb -
Quite unexpectedly the top blew off:







12And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, 
pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens





13I have split the earth and the hard coal 
                                  and rocks and the solid bed
   of the sea
And went down to reconnoitre there a long time,
And bring back a report


15A man has to begin over and over – to try to think 
and feel only in a very limited field, the house on 
the street, the man at the corner drug store.








17You can know all about what Henry James 
really meant, or the art of the fugue, but if 
you are not at home in the world under your feet 
and before your eyes, 
you are actually uncivilized.




19There is a kind of love called maintenance,
Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it;

Which checks the insurance, and doesn't forget
The milkman; which remembers to plant bulbs;







21what matters is that you graft the right slip
onto the right tree (selah)
if the executioners then knock on the door
they come too late
a few ice-ages pass and the youngsters
will then savor your delicious apricots


23Mind your own yard.

































4No water in the water fountain
No phone in the phone booth




[…]



He gave me a dollar
A blood-soaked dollar
I cannot get the spot out but
It's okay it still works in the store





7A collection of loud tales
Concentrating eternal stupidities,
That in remote ages lived unhaltered,
Roaming through a fenceless world.

8[Aldous] Huxley grasped, as Orwell did not, 
that it is not necessary to conceal anything 
from a public insensible to contradiction 
and narcoticized by technological diversions.


10creating a sequencing of information 
so random, so disparate in scale and value, 
as to be incoherent, even psychotic.


11I am not interested in preventing Asia from being Asia
and the governments of Russia and Asia will rise and fall 
but Asia and Russia will not fall
the government of America also will fall but how can America fall
I doubt if anyone will ever fall anymore except governments
fortunately all the governments will fall
the only ones which won't fall are the good ones
and the good ones don't yet exist
But they have to begin existing they exist in my poems





14Dictated a long time ago, but its time has still
Not arrived, telling of danger, and the mostly limited
Steps that can be taken against danger
Now and in the future, in cool yards,
In quiet small houses in the country,
Our country, in fenced areas, in cool shady streets.


16ἔπειτα γονέας εἰ εὖ ποιεῖ, 
καὶ τὰ τέλη εἰ τελεῖ, 
καὶ τὰς στρατείας εἰ ἐστράτευται.
(Whether he treats his parents well, 
and whether he paid the taxes he owes, 
and whether he served his military service.)


18a car had passed over the clay
just where the ant came out busily with its pine needle now
[…]
Time after time it slid back down with its tottering load
and worked its way up again








20it's you, Potentilla Anserina, an old acquaintance
from Tartumaa and Vorumaa farmyards
we can never forget as we cannot also forget
gooseshit I so often stepped in
and that stuck between my toes

22My young son asks me:  Must I learn history?
What is the use, I feel like saying.  Learn to stick 
Your head in the earth, and maybe you'll still survive.

Yes, learn mathematics, I tell him! 
Learn your French, learn your history!

Sources:

1.  “Right on: white america,” Sonia Sanchez

2.  Tombstone marker for Washakie, Chief of the Eastern Shonone, Ft. Washakie Cemetery, Wind River Indian Reservation, Wyoming

3.  “Slinger, Book 1,” Edward Dorn

4.  “Water Fountain,” Tune Yards

5.  “Distress Sale,” Raymond Carver

6.  “The World is Too Much With Us,” William Wordsworth

7.  "War is Kind," XII 'A Newspaper is a Collection of Half-Injustices,' Stephen Crane

8.  Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman, p. 111, 1985

9.  “The End of the World,” Archibald MacLeish

10.  Introduction to the Twentieth Anniversary Edition, Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman, p. xi, Andrew Postman, 2005

11.  "Death to Van Gogh's Ear!" Allen Ginsberg

12.  "Shine, Perishing Republic," Robinson Jeffers

13.  “I am the Poet,” Walt Whitman

14.  "The One Thing That Can Save America," John Ashbery

15.  Sherwood Anderson, from a letter (to Roger Sergel, 1939)

16.  Question set 55.3, Constitution of Athenians, per Josh Nudell, “Bring Back Dokimasia”

17.  Kenneth Rexroth, His Corner of the World, NYT Book Review, October 27, 1957

18.  “Rubber,” Rolf Jacobsen

19.  “Atlas,” U.A. Fanthorpe

20.  “My Wife and Children,” Jaan Kaplinski (trans. with Sam Hamill and Riina Tamm)

21.   “Cultivate Your Garden,”  Hans Magnus Enzensberger (trans. Eduoard Roditi)

22.  “My Young Son Asks Me,” Bertolt Brecht

23.  Jack Hicks, Emeritus Professor of English, UC Davis, circa 2000

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