Wednesday, May 25, 2011

 


 

 

 


 


 

Friday, May 6, 2011

mayandmorefrompastpresentfuture


............glass tabletop in a not-so-dark alley 4/28/11



5/03: I think I could well be a scientist.

I mean, I observe things. Well, actually I look at things,
but I’m thinkin’ observe might be a little more scientific.
Hell, I look at things, at leisure, and I make some
hypothotheses. I make a lot of hypothotheses.
Stop. Look, listen. Hypothothize. Yeah, that’s what
scientists do. And then they have a cup of java.

That’s what I did on Tuesday. But I had my java
first.

5/04: And believe you me. I would like to get
back to Tuesday. Heck, I could bet on the Lakers
vs. Suns playoff game and make me a bundle.
And maybe hire somebody to crank out this
blog.
But, seriously folks, there’s a good reason
we’re not doing this sequentially. My friend,
esteemed world traveller, poet and raconteur,
Craig Czury sez, recently, at a poetry reading.
that we don’t remember things chronologically.

Which is pretty darn true, so why should we
live our lives in any chronologic order?
(Well, I said that, but you catch my drift.)
I mean, if God wanted us to live our lives
in some slavishly sequential manner, why
would he have invented the damn flashback?
Or Tivo® for cryin’ out loud!? I rest my
case.

Whew! I gotta tell you, these digressions
take a lot of a guy. The tension of this Tuesday
lack-of-narrative-resolution is hangin’ over us all
like a 21st century sword of Damocles. Okay!
Sure, that’s a dated damn reference. But I feel,
I’m pretty sure/ we’re all in agreement about not
to be worryin’ about chronology, eh, wot?

5/05: Okay, so it’s not Cinco de Maio yet
(I’m writing, not posting this on the 4th) but we’ve already
established the value of being independent of
time, memory and traditional sequence. So let’s
not wait to commemorate that battle at Puebla. ok?

(sequence actually from may 2006, I think...)



talking along/over time, space & force & blue

I had barely uttered three words when an invisible
Hathaway force picked me up and bore me away.
Sometimes
I consider yr lips of fire
and maybe....

Pants are like soaring,
gliding. Shirts can be tricky.
Long
sleeve. Ars longa, not white, or off-white, or white with a
pattern. It sounds simple enough, but just think
about that. He's going to be wearing this shirt
under a sweater, or maybe with a tie. Elision. I
purse my lips.

This hypothetical trick shirt was going to be
almost impossible to coordinate? You can't really
match just any old green with, say, another random
shade of lime.

Oy! Shall I purse open or closed?
Stay or go? What comes around

goes. Around & I had an idea in my mind that I was
going to end up getting a villa with him near a place
called Indevdro. Like it sounds.

With extra large roofing tiles,
blue or green. That seemed simple enough, yet
Van Dyke Parks is the consummate studio virtuoso
and Cycles, is a landmark in American
pop history. Bigger than Woodstock or Plymouth
rock.
Then I'm. like, wandering around, and I see a piece
of, a piece of antique tile sorta built into the fortress
wall. Blue moon.
I was pretty sure he didn't already have
It. I wanted it. Movies, the poet said,
are like hard mortar. The first year after
someone makes the transition from VHS to DVD
kicks ass. Hot. The aforementioned kiss.

And all those movies that you're pretty sure
everyone already owns are generally without grace
or artistry. Yeah, the sky is blue, anyway. How
basic is that?

So I just upped and closed my lips. On purpose.
Yeah. Just/ for a thrill.


C'è 'na luna mezz'u mare,
Mamma mia m'a maritare
Figlia mia a cu te dare
Mamma mia pensace tu...
--Luna Mezzo Mare, Paolo Citorello