Showing posts with label BC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BC. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Another kind of wildness



(Sonnet. Words yanked from "returning the books to their shelves" by Bernadette Mayer)

city          Feeling far from the city finally in Desolation.
time         Time to walk and stretch and swim and think until
19            19 o'clock in the evening
stream     when I hope we will eat a big fish you caught in the tide stream.
taxi          It's running so fast gulls taxi by
it              on blocks of driftwood; wing back; do it
mulch      again. Scent of kelp sea urchin and dessicated crab mulching
then         on the shore. The dog sniffs, then pounces cracking
window   shells with her teeth, each delicious crab leg a window on
nothing    another kind of wildness. Nothing can take this from her.
books       Like I here with my sketchpad and books,
cold         feet slippered against the cold, disregarding
phone      the insistent phone, opening turning
shelves    emptying the shelves of ordinary life.

I finish reading the 25th anniversary edition of Bernadette Mayer's wonderful Sonnets (Tender Buttons Press, 2014) while we are anchored in Desolation Sound. Despite their distance from where I am, Mayer's urban words and images suffuse my dreams, and I tap away at her lines, trying to understand how they fit together. One of Mayer's projects in particular, undertaken with Philip Good, strikes me: a list of fourteen words finds its way into a sonnet, one word per line (66). I decide I will try to co-compose with Meyer, by pulling words from another of her pieces that I love very much, a love sonnet entitled "returning the books to their shelves" (67).But as soon as I've decided on this method and pulled the words from Mayer's poem, I think, I can't make a poem from these words! I'm north of 50 degrees north latitude--what have I to do with cities, time, taxis, windows, phones or shelves? But as soon as I let the poem begin with that dilemma, the rest follows: being where I am lets me empty these words of their ordinary contexts and make other associations. Evidently, the neighbourhood is everything, no matter where you are.

Image: reflections north of 50.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Karin Removal Tool




-->
Karin removal tool.

Remove Karin now.

Find out how



how to remove

remove Karin now

remove Karin from your



manual and automatic

PC removal of Karin

Now



[Karin]

The primary purpose of downloaders….

[Karin] is



install malicious code in

[Karin]

now.
  
www.exterminate-it.com/malpedia/remove-karin



Note: Another found poem, of course--and possibly a dangerous tool. Not really what you want to find in your workplace inbox, which is where this odd device appeared sometime last year. Spam, of course. I think, although one can never be too sure.

Photos were taken at the tumbledown remains of a cannery in Butedale, northern British Columbia. For more information on that site, as well as more photos, see http://quoddysrun.wordpress.com/2013/04/14/the-sound-of-running-water-butedale-cannery/

 

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Lost last days of summer



Dry heat.
Golden light. Dusty
roads. Cornsilk and warm
tomatoes. Dogs riding in
the backs of trucks, tongues
lolling. Dry creek beds.
Stones in your shoes and the sweet
smell of water, forest
shadow, red cedar, green
moss.




Afternoon.
Children rush down the dock and
leap into saltwater.
Again. And
again. 
Look here,
over here. 
Watch me
now!
Onshore, by splayed
bicycles, a
damp dog barks.

Texada Island, August 2013


Photos were taken on Texada Island in August. The poem was composed from notes in my summer journals, drafted after a long walk on Texada.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Voces paginarum/ Shouting words



Voces paginarum*

The words speak

to me
they leap

up and dance and
then

so do I.

SIT DOWN!
the teacher says.
READ SILENTLY:
DON’T MOVE YOUR LIPS.
READ TO YOURSELF.

(Shouting words,
but

Not for us

a loud clamour and
exclamation
no declamation
no exultation
nor excessive
incantation vocal
ornamentation
no

voices in the head
no

voices not your
own may pass
your
            lips

no


)

KEEP your voice DOWN
(a lady does not shout nor
a gentleman)

(then why when I look
do I see so many
shouting?)

We are not like them those others
who tooth and taste their words
or yours

KEEP your WORDS in your mouth.
KEEP them scrubbed.
Don’t meddle or mix
promiscuously
with other idioms
(lenguas, langues, zungas)
KEEP YOUR TONGUE IN
YOUR MOUTH
lest those others
(les infectes)       you

Stray not with
strange sounds and scents or
savours

Neither dance nor sing nor
poietes be;
don’t
heap up your words:
cinoti,
(I dare you
read that word
quickly
aloud)
in Sanskrit or
any other spraak of
taal


(LEAVE SOME SPACE
lest

MARK MY WORDS
YOU)

not without a little red*

can
never get
clene
again.




Notes on words
*voces paginarum (Latin: voices of the page, or reading (calling out) as it was practiced, for example, in the early middle ages in Europe, the Middle East and North Africa.  For Augustine, for example, a text was meant to be followed with the lips, as much as with the eyes. In reading (from Middle English reden and Old High German rattan, to advise), one literally delivers or gives voice to and performs the assemblies noted in the text.  Or as Tim Ingold puts it, “the poetic text is…at once script and score” (Lines, 12).  But today, in school, we are taught that reading thus is bad form; unless we are performing or reading aloud to others to whisper or mouth the words we sight when we “read to ourselves” isn’t done.  The contemporary rule is clear: “read with your eyes, not your mouth”; shut up those words inside yourself, don’t mix insides and outsides; don’t get confused.

Lengua (Spanish: tongue, language)
Langue (French: tongue, language)
Zumba (Old High German: tongue)

Les infectes (French: infected persons; detritus; those who don’t count)

Cinoti from the Sanskrit, meaning to heap up; thought to be related to the Greek verb. poiein, to make, produce or create (poetry and other works of art). 

Poietes (Ancient Greek: poet, maker, creator)

spraak of taal (Dutch: speech (tongue) or tongue (speech))

* “not without a little red” Artaud, writing of the English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, argues that poiesis does not happen without “a little red blood.”  Here he is making a playful—poetic—link between the expediture of a life lived for poetry and a blood price—poine in ancient Greek, poena in Latin.  The difference one letter makes is at once nothing and everything.

Clene is middle English for what is free from dirt or pollution (but the word clean, in English ultimately comes to us from the Old High German kleini, delicate, dainty, which is thought to be derived from the Greek glainoi, ornaments. Clean is thus never quite properly purged of elements not itself, never unadulterated; never pure.)

Notes on photographs
I took these photos of intertidal creatures in August 2012 on Hakai Beach, on the west coast of Calvert Island, in Central British Columbia.  
The purple and orange starfish are variants of the species Piaster ochraceus, a keystone species on the northwest coast of the Americas.  Predators of common mussels, they prevent overgrowth in mussel beds, and thus help to maintain species diversification on northwest Pacific shores.  
The green tubes are a species of anenome known as aggregating or clonal anenomes.  These creatures may reproduce sexually (two gametes fuse in the water and then settle on a rock) or asexually, by fission, which permits the anenomes to form vast clonal carpets consisting of a single genetic variant that lives as a colony, and is hostile to other colonies. The green colour of these anenomes is supplied by symbiotic algae that live within the cells of the host animal, and contribute to the primary productivity of the intertidal zone. The lessons of such visually noisy interdependence shouldn't be lost on us.