Our Point of View

Wikipedia Poem, No. 607

   i meant to say something nice 
about you

say social justice warrior like it's a 
bad thing 
     nice about you one cannot stop no 
matter the temperature

   i meant to say something nice 
about you

        to you skin           is 
the 
      perfect procedure 
i          meant to say 
something nice 
the opposite of poet laureate 

   i meant to say something nice 
about you

let's       not stop      now
     halfway though the 
      gods know 
a bad thing 
   an efficient thing 
about 
       you 
i was wrong 
about your cool spots

   i meant to say something nice 
about you

  you 
did not stop 
the procedure i meant to engage with
your totalitarian layer i 
  meant 
to say salt isn't enough   
i meant to say salt

Ivy, After Forgetting, Again

Wikipedia Poem, No. 606

ivy2


ONE
of thf 
    thene be 
doesagicaow, ihow w now, pen find turn  
one 
magicwordsmain, scale 
misout arave g 
     luc

TWO
ind 
make otyour r? 
      i e to made e 
          mises tuufficne touto-cecomee 
gra doesrds rr? 
i 
    f theper 
   …encie

THREE
uffic 
a gre becale 
    f 
findoes 
o one to 
hoaper 
estifturn 
     s oneking 
       the 
wed 
tefrom  
    off 
emainf walying

In Which, Further Reading, No. 1

pinecone

Marcus Wicker’s Silencer is very good. I’ve spent a lot of time with its poems, yet it’s not enough. Wicker is sharp in this interview with Kathleen Rooney at the Poetry Foundation. You will come out more alive after reading both/either. Wicker:

  • “Poetry won’t save your life, at least not without (self) action. But a well-wrought language object can deliver a lightning bolt of feeling married to intelligence that’s capable of stirring readers into any number of outward actions and interior reactions. That’s power and magic enough for me.”
  • “I take my hip-hop influences as seriously as my literary heroes, and I’d like others to do so as well.”

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Over at the New Statesman, Jason Murugesu argues that Kanye West is “our first metaphysical rapper”. One might feel a gentle pop as their optic nerves retreat from their aggressively rolling eyes when, five graphs in, Murugesu writes: “According to Encyclopedia Britannica, Donne’s metaphysical poetry is “characterised by conceit or ‘wit'”. But keep going, the lay argument builds a compelling case, not for his intended point, but, for looking at contemporary artists with disengaged distance. Murugesu:

Not everything is so highbrow though. West and Donne enjoy a similar taste for puns made in poor taste. Donne’s The Good Morrow describes his thoughts as he awakes next to his lover. In it, Donne makes his now infamous sexual pun where he references his lover’s “country pleasures”.

The opening of West’s “Mercy” features the rapper Big Sean trying to make a similar pun on the word “ass” (throughout the song, multiple rappers featured on the song compare women to the super-car, the Lamborghini Mercy).

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Another reading suggestion — this one a deeper investment  — is “Tradition and Innovation in Hellenistic Poetry” first published in Italian in 2002, and translated by Cambridge University Press in 2004. Marco Fantuzzi and Richard Hunter take a monographic look at the poetry of the third and second centuries BC, and engage in close readings of “some of the most famous Greek poetry of the Hellenistic period”. It’s a scholarly text, so the reading isn’t as immediately accessible as either the interview or the internet errata above, but the first 43 pages are available to read on Google Books; try it out. I’m a zealous believer in the fact that this kind of information shouldn’t only be read between the dire walls of a university classroom. This stuff can be great fun. One representative sentence:

  • The intensive philological scholarship of the third century BC, which sought to describe and classify literary forms of the past, may have facilitated the contamination of traditional genres.

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And finally, some suggested reading from the last few weeks on wikipoem.org:

Bottlebells

bucolic clangors suspend themselves
behind the slow rise and in their teeth
hear crickets

Violence / In modest tints arrayed / Within the silent shade

euclid measures across the lull of a dog and me steaming
a mouthful of rod starvations of posture impeccable

I am Begging for the Approval of Any Potential Bros Out There with the Publication of this Three-Thousand Word Essay on Medium #hmu

          ‪men   stumble 
in spring street on flip flops and 
     broadway   phantom lovers   
phantoms   their damn selves

After Reading a Page and a Half of Tradition and Innovation in Hellenistic Poetry

           unreached but unreachable
this 
   condition is
the key then to 
         to verdant madness

marcus wicker and parmenides split a fifth and an order of pork fried rice and search for not-being in my spam folder

office hours 
the filter   power 
così così
through the wet black ink bureau 
file my will    somehow
on our   niggling wetness makes it appear   darker   somehow crammed

Bottlebells

Wikipedia Poem, No. 603

jake brake mass transportation 
i hear their    teeth   am nude   
amongst blood who won't pay attention   
bucolic clangors suspend themselves           
behind     the slow rise     and    in their teeth   
hear       crickets       terror to   rise and        
the sound of commerce   jake brake   
mass bottlebells*   ringing some         
behind terror some afore 
some despise this consensual abattoir 
at september's end

       *to lie closer to rise      and earth   burial        
i am a nude acrobat   the atom        bomb   itself
immolate a given rod of hand      which aggravates 
prescribes the heel to their teeth   this           late in 2017
ununshod acrobat     part your dead         body 
hand which aggravates   the dog steaming to rise    
and prescribes a mouthful of lies   closer to our lips        
sweet then like earthburial   i am dying chic deplaned 
and of some uses   where ever i go to claim my flesh
there are entrances of spirit   but are they sweet like leaves
‪men stumbling       against the wind    to be subtle                
copper-nickel bonded bones here   nor is my posture impeccable           
like broadway bends   in the truth          i'm only           permitted 
one stumbling drink   into the dog's steaming mouthful   of fatherhood 
subtle copper  cup       i am dying to drink   to be subtle      
to heat this pushing against heat into his      authority as philosopher                
invincibly   man's lips   slight and strawberry sweet 
bones here?                     ‪men stumbling dark   of drink   locust         
or nevermind your fathers' bodies    spread wide amongst family    who      
is an acrobat   out of   clowning and survival    our instincts   trade
if we remember then   elucidate   didactic   and the atom bomb 
(itself   impeccable   a chic cliche   people still prescribe   imitation imepeccable)
i close my parenthesis to you   like a similie of   our dead's       fathers' bodies    
specious    connected undesired layer   elucid  give birth to me
nor is late       in yr fires   specific people         hear crickets pulse 
who        is the slip    frogs across your lipstick-on-tossed-off-marlboro 
not them behind you     not the truth i'm only permitted in for a moment        
not some broadway imitation       the room wringing its hands   fucking 
a mouthful      of thought       a corsaid of discovery
nor is it       slow to our lips       offering the atom bomb 
itself-immolate in the       rod of fire

 

Violence / In modest tints arrayed / Within the silent shade

Wikipedia Poem, No. 602

“When I was a younger man / I could feel the entire world / But now that I’m older…” Busdriver

After Jane Taylor and Hoa Nguyen

verbal but not a lover who attunes illusion
nor is the lover a poem learning to walk on sand somatic stand-in
size and broadway that aggravates its homonym thinking about
him whether this lover meant moat or mote

slight quant of allusion is the specious condition of dollar
which aggravates you walking into the spinning fire
euclid measures across the lull of a dog and me steaming
a mouthful of rod starvations of posture impeccable

shorts tossed off like shirts like a healer‬-reader of wallace mic
eagle james american dream sketch paper corpse tree appears in the wild
a slight but specific plume men are taught that one wakes to his bodies
lined like a baking sheet matthew supermodel baraka my dollar

which aggravates that specious condition that attuned the dog outward
my dog ill and steaming a mouthful of patina-thought of whistle ‪men
taught at the front which aggravates the looming cross the tiki torch
now a dog steaming how to transform our shared conditional maw

I am Begging for the Approval of Any Potential Bros Out There with the Publication of this Three-Thousand Word Essay on Medium #hmu

Wikipedia Poem, No. 601

‪men / stumble around / a bag of steaming chicken bones
but not-doing
         en   stumbles 
chicken bones here  
    
‪men   stumble chicken bones here  

‪men   stumble 
       chicken 
  bones here  
  
‪men   stumble around a bag of steaming chicken bones here  

         ‪men   stumble 
flip flops and 
      broadway   in chicken bones cheap  

‪men   stumble chicken 
bones 
        here  
        
  ‪men   cheap cheap
       stumble chicken bones 
         here  

   ‪men   stumble 
around clucking cheap
        bag of steaming chicken 
        bones 
here  

  ‪men    chicken boned out on   

‪men   stumble 
around 
   bag of steaming chicken bones  

         ‪chicken 
         bones here  

‪men   stumble around 
      a bag of steaming chicken bones here  
      
         ‪men   stumble 
      chicken bones here  
     
‪men   stumble chicken bones 
         here  

‪men   flip flop 
broadway   
    in fucking flip flops 
and faded-red-lipstick-on-tossed-off-marlboro 
  shorts ‬
       
          not listening   but not-doing  that's for sure
      it 
listen   but not-doing
en   stumble 
chicken bones here cheap  
        
‪men   
stumble chicken 
bones here  

‪men   stumble   
chicken bones    here  
men   stumble   

   ‪men   
stumble 
      around a 
bag of steaming 
      chicken bones here  
        
‪en  
        stumble 
chicken bones en here en
   
‪men   cheap men  stumble around 
steaming   

   ‪men   stumble 
      chicken boned here  
      
‪men   stumble around a bag   

      ‪men   
stumble flip flops and broadway   
        fucking chicken bones 
        down there  

  ‪men   stumble 
    chicken bones 
here  

‪men   stumble in flip flops 
  around  
broadway and spring street  
      in 
fucking 
      chicken 
   bones    

‪men   
stumble bones 

      ‪chickens   
stumble 
      over men   oven-pigs
         
       ‪men   stumble 
          chicken 
  bones 
here  

     ‪men   
     stumble chicken 
bones here  

‪men   stumble chicken 
bones here  

  ‪men   stumble around a bag 
of steam 
   around a 
bag 
         of steam   playin' chicken there  

   ‪men   
     stumble  
     
‪men   
          stumble 
chicken'n 
  bones 
here  
          
‪men   there chicken there 
bones 
          here and hear   

‪men   do not hear 
    chicken bones 
       hear  

  ‪hairy men   chant
stumble in flip 
    chicken- 
         bone flop  

‪men   flip chicken bones here  

‪men   flip  
       bones here  

       ‪men   
stumble 
   over at above against   bones 
     here chicken chant

yellow ‪stumbling chicken shit 
bones

men   wear chicken bones 
when  it suits them

‪men   stumble 
chicken bones 
here  
       
          ‪men   stumble 
in spring street on flip flops and 
     broadway   phantom lovers   
phantoms   their damn selves

 

After Reading a Page and a Half of Tradition and Innovation in Hellenistic Poetry

Wikipedia Poem, No. 600

W600-3sm
“He who arrives at the door of poetry without the madness of the muses, thinking that he can be a good poet thanks solely to techne remains incomplete, and the poetry is eclipsed by that of the mad.” Plato
the keyhole 
of my broad back 
of 
my ignorance were i 
          ignorant as all the philosophers
poured into a visible earthen mold    
be       invincibly 
ignorant for being 
          unreached but unreachable
this 
   condition is
the key then to 
         to verdant madness 
and made 
one less
the 
light the winged the
sacred thing of madness

i am stone

the 
    poem
is no more
no  
 i am so enamored
       no  
 i am 
so 
enamored
  no 
  i am so enamored
         no 
      i am so enamored
    no   
i am so enamored

Couplets

Wikipedia Poem, No. 597

w597-b-sm

“The line between full personhood and complete self-objectification is whisper thin.”
Nancy Bauer

“Saturn looking like a confection of mint and cantaloupe.”
Kim Stanley Robinson

 

as flesh and           constraints of the 
nonsexual       and as both our   

chances for and common: neither mutual 
and young women requires what young     

women requires   what young women 
requires what young women in and 

stressing being convey self heretofore people 
who play by   an unjust women         

requires       that writhing for       happiness 
them           resist          poignant ways than 

the          achievement: both our      
experiences for happiness that these people    

may shrink that i’m identical-and-more people 
who play by its rules beauvoir author’s in 

perhaps ulting serious       sexual and 
common:        neither people may shrink 

there an and men as women call a world in 
perhaps ulting in these extremes to do that 

young women require not         only these 
extremes because language       not    just 

women        require what find of full 
perhaps ulting one’s way that might call after  

one in the morning looking beauvoir repeated forgive     
me   use language not just to mean authority      

of the satisfactions and desires to other an 
author’s      in way that might attenuate is 

what might be called looking beauvoir repeated 
forgive me use better intentions and sex       

toys can promise   flesh and flash our   
worse fate          that and our        weasley being we 

use language not just to apologize        and 
convey self-objectifying serious kindness 

ceaselessly an anything   and     young 
women and not        just     women and    an 

author in personhood and flesh and a
mother         an even word is   one of 

dualism or more perhaps ulting in anything 
women and and and the self-objectifications 

and convey self-objectification a genuinely      
of   full personhood and nonsexual and 

sexual young women          and as 
women require therefore an even worse fate 

the      locus often to cement of the ways      
but all               most people and nothing more

an adulterated           foamed happiness and our 
worldview or   more what might at temptations     

author our experience 
authentical           dead end risk frisk our 

chances forgive us our language not only 
the thing conveyed but its sense       ceaselessly 

an objectification is what our worldview 
tempts within winking           

these extremes because language not    just        
a woman’s sexualism or more          that might       

of night authentical    experience one’s ways them 
resist poignant ways we     and an 

authentical experience but also to get        
women requires the self-objectification in 

them   resist poignant ways   but also get 
women’s sexual experiences for and as 

both           our chances for       happiness 
the same time   our experience as flesh and 

a nonsexual pitch of love      place at out feet the 
self-expressesion    to transcend risk find us find us failing