junkyard quotes week 7

"I'm booting the grime of the world in the crotch, dear." -smiths

Junkyard Quote week 7

"baby, there's only two more days 'til tomorrow."

-gary wilson

Improv week 6

The Rescue
Robert Creeley

The man sits in a timelessness
with the horse under him in time
to a movement of legs and hooves
upon a timeless sand.

Distance comes in from the foreground
present in the picture as time
he reads outward from
and comes from that beginning.

A wind blows in
and out and all about the man
as the horse ran
and runs to come in time.

A house is burning in the sand.
A man and horse are burning.
The wind is burning.
They are running to arrive.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A dog ambles in a uselessness
with a boy guiding him in an operation
to a moment of both paws and feet
above the useless pavement.

A time bursts in from stage left
harboring this newly formed picture
as the dog looks to his right
four ideas in his head.

A stormcloud forms above
and inside the body of the boy
the dog barks twice
finally understanding.

A window is broken.
The dog and his boy are running.
The storm is forming.
The boy's father drinks a coke somewhere.

Free Write week 6

Back to Carrollton.

Young me, face like a dishrag, keeper of the scene,
back from the unyielding redsand oceans
of the great wasted land:
watch me lie,
Stomping, mind flooded with irreducible patterns.

And so, back home
to the cow town.

Where the weary Kathleen aims an exalted kick at the groin,
and old Rabbit trots out, greeting her roadworn master.

For home is the fool,
home from his revelries.
 An odor on his breath
of some kind of malted hop.

And whether or not he knows,
there is always bad weather.

An electric atmosphere hovers above
the blue-tinted sounds
of Lake Carroll.

the cutting floor. revising.

There was an accident on South Street,

The night that old prostrate moon installed itself,

And held its breath.

I advocated for a new, calmer method

Of motivation—detached.

Wanting so accurately, my face, out in that long night,

Somewhere in that wreckage, had to see it.

But, in the dark, as you slept,

Demanded it from you.

Beyond those sirens, gazing, I saw,

In our house on that same darkened street,

Tonight’s silent, unvoiced boundary—

Your sweet, blackish hair slowly recharging itself.

Who diagnoses these memories,

And counts the hours of sleep's relentless poverty?  

It is only me: dis-remembered and unhitched,

A collision under that same salient moon.

We’ve known each other far too much—

And, in fact, far too long—swallowing one another

Like mirrors on this dazed, nice planet.   

Sign Inventory week 6

The River of Bees

William Stanley Merwin

In a dream I returned to the river of bees
Five orange trees by the bridge and
beside two mills myhouse

Into whose courtyard a blind man followed
The goats and stood singing
Of what was older

Soon it will be fifteen years

He was old he will have fallen into his eyes

I took my eyes
A long way to the calendars
Room after room asking how shall I live

One of the ends is made of streets
One man processions carry through it
Empty bottles their
Image of hope
It was offered to me by name

Once once and once
In the same city I was born
Asking what shall I say

He will have fallen into his mouth
Men think they are better than grass

I return to his voice rising like a forkful of hay

He was old he was not real nothing is real
Nor the noise of death drawing water

We are the echo of the future

On the door it says what to do to survive
But we were not meant to survive
Only to live

----------------------------------------------------------------------
 Inventory

*The poem exhibits a preoccupation with the passage of time (ex. "The goats stood singing/ of what was older"; "soon it will be fifteen years"; "he was old", the speaker travels "a long way to the calendars"; "we are the echo of the future")

*Alongside this concern with passing time is a fixation with aging. For instance, "he was old" appears twice in the text--also, "the blind man" sings "of what was older."

*Additionally (and perhaps this can all be ONE large multi-faceted sign), this preoccupation with time and aging develops into a concentration on mortality in the last 5 stanzas. (Ex. "nor the noise of death drawing water," "we were not born to survive/ only to live," ""in the same city I was born"

*The poem centers around the number/word/ idea of "one" ( literally, as this sign appears only in the two middle stanzas. (ex. "one of the ends is made of streets," "one man processions," "once once and once" Interesting, this fascination with "one," especially in a poem that is largely concentrated with the passage of years on a large scale.

*I see the poem also concerned with this idea of, what I want to call "repetition"--but that's not the right word. Perhaps "revisitation"?? Anyway, the poem seems to be hinged upon this idea. (ex. the opening line of the poem is "In a dream I returned to the river of bees," the "blind man" "sings of what was older"--perhaps implying a sort of "revisiting" of the past?; the speaker also visits "the same city I was born" ; "I return to his voice rising like a forkful of hay"; also, the line "we are the echo of future" carries itself on this idea of "an echo." Fascinating also because this is a poem already so concerned with the nature of time and aging and death!

*Also, in the middle of the poem there's this strange moment where "men think they are better than grass" immediately followed in the next line by " I return to his voice rising like a forkful of hay." So, we have this image of man's idea of the natural world, instantly followed by this image of "hay" which is dried, dead grass as fodder. Strange little juxtaposition perhaps connected to a larger sign working its way through here.

* As maybe a facet of the previous sign, I noticed that nearly every mention of the natural world aligns itself with the commodization of it! For instance, the speaker travels to the river of "bees"--whom are farmed and maintained for honey production; next is the mention of "five orange trees," followed by the mention of "two mills" ; then we have "a blind man following goats."   This seems like it might be a stretch, but I think it could work here.

Junkyard Quotes week 6

"the proof will be in the pudding when they realize what he's done is good" --from a conversation with my mother about president Obama.

Pedagogy Forum week 6

I really cannot imagine the ride it must be to teach high school. Tuesday's class made me realize exactly how challenging it must be to make some sort of learned connection with high schoolers--especially 150 of them! It's really staggering to imagine teaching that many students, more than half of whom desperately don't want to be there, meanwhile somehow crafting an effective pedagogy. It seems like it would have to be constructed in the most basic and fundamental way--convincing students that critical thinking is a vastly important skill. However, I am ignorant to all of this. I really do not know what it takes to manage, let alone teach a class of high school freshman. And its a frightening thought, and also incredibly fascinating. After hearing Jeff and Rachael's ( and our other H.S teacher classmates) speak about these pedagogical challenges they face on a daily basis, truly got me thinking in some different ways about the craft of the educator.

Classmate Response week 6

Trista,

  I was just reading over your journal and found this really great calisthenics piece from last week. I don't know if this came from the translation exercise, but I guess that doesn't matter--I see some interesting things happening here. The piece is chock full of all this puzzling language and this almost Merwinesque dreamlike register. I especially dig the moments where the images of the rabbit (or foot) (or really just the natural world, ex. "footprints criss-crossing the pasture and out into tomorrow") are bordered against this sort of broken, ahem, human world? or civilization? (ex. "full of soured wristwatches/ belts graze dinner plates, concrete polaroid dinners").

  So, I agree with Dr. Davidson's commentary about utilizing some sort of guiding image to try to "contain" all of this great ethereal language. I know because this is where I struggle. When I write I get so involved with the words themselves--mad scientist mode takes over, anything goes. I think the key is in the "housing" or in the containing of the thing with a guiding image or a maybe a constellation of these images.

I hope this makes sense. It's really cool things.

Junkyard Week 5

"She walks like a bearded rainbow"

Junkyard Quotes week 5

"lisp service"- robert wyatt

Junkyard Quotes week 5

Ruder forms survive- Cormac McCarthy, Suttree

Junkyard Quotes week 5

"steamboat gwine 'round de bend" - charlie patton lyric, and j. fahey song title.

Calisthenics Week 5

We are ten, so arm the volcano and dole out the regimented cacti.
Infrequently, multiple, important and trained animals caused
the memories that I owe you often. I tell you, this, fatso, as the genus
un-dies. Hurry, do the people remember their dumb concerts? Let us
admire their labor. Quick, antiquate the radio at Bell's House and pirate those
damned combustible insignias, OK?
My cause makes no numbered losses, only multiple eyes on the taciturn roads.

______________________________________________________________________
Revision:

We are ten.
So, arm the volcano and dole the grasp.
Multiple important and trained animals have caused
these memories that I owe you often.
I tell you this, fatso, as the genus un-dies.

Hurry, dose people with memories of shit films
and we'll admire their labor.
Quick, let's isolate the radio at Bell's House and pirate
combustible insignias, alright?

My cause makes no numbered losses,
only the multiple eyes on the taciturn roads. 

Calisthenics Week 4

Today's definition of infinity is broken, let's fix it.
The road to a breakup defines infinity.
Today, our definitions won't last.

Today's definition of infinity was de-scoped
and somehow more clear, reminding us
that we were once ghosts, too.

Today, 100 red crayolas coalesced and deposited color in our brains.
Tomorrow showed me how fragile it all is, establishing a clouded binary.

Today, our definition of infinity won't last if we don't try.

Improv week 4

"Dream Song 29"

John Berryman

There sat down, once, a thing on Henry's heart
so heavy, if he had a hundred years
& more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time
Henry could not make good.
Starts again always in Henry's ears
the little cough somewhere, an odour, a chime.

And there is another thing he has in mind
like a grave Sienese face a thousand years
would fail to blur the still profiled reproach of. Ghastly,
with open eyes, he attends, blind.
All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears;
thinking.

But never did Henry, as he thought he did,
end anyone and hacks her body up
and hide the pieces, where they may be found.
He knows: he went over everyone, & nobody's missing.
Often he reckons, in the dawn, them up.
Nobody is ever missing.

--------------------------------------------------------------

There lay down, once, a procedure in my mind
so molten, that if I had more time
& longer, & faster, awake, from all that year
I cannot install these ideas.
Beginning again perpetually in my ears
a tiny dream somewhere, a version, a token.

And this other thing in my mind
like a swollen, lifeless mass that
ceases to launch this incredible sleepless panic. Gleefully,
with open arms, I consider, unbridled.
All the broken things say: so long. This is not for you;
blinking.

But never did I, as I once thought,
act upon any thing and hunts down that very thing
hiding the various segments, where I can finally be discovered.
I know: I saw the document, & it is not gone.
Often I have calculated, in the long mornings, that too.
No thing is ever truly gone.

Inventory Week 4

"Soonest Mended"
John Ashbery

Barely tolerated, living on the margin
In our technological society, we were always having to be
rescued.
On the brink of destruction, like heroines in Orlando Furioso 
Before it was time to start all over again.
There would be thunder in the bushes, a rustling of coils,
And Angelica, in the Ingres painting, was considering
The colorful but small monster near her toe, as though
   wondering, whether forgetting
The whole thing might not, in the end, be the only solution.
And then there always came a time when
Happy Hooligan in his rusted green automobile
Came plowing down the course, just to make sure everything
was OK,
Only by that time we were in another chapter and confused
About how to receive this latest piece of information.
Was it information? Weren't we rather acting this out
For someone else's benefit, thoughts in a mind
With room enough to spare for our little problems (so they
began to seem),
Our daily quandry about food and the rent and bills to be paid?
To reduce all this to a small variant,
To step free at last, minuscule on the gigantic plateau--
This was our ambition: to be small and clear and free.
Alas, the summer's energy wanes quickly,
A moment and it is gone. And no longer
May we make the necessary arrangements, simply as they are.
Our star was brighter perhaps when it had water in it.
Now there is no question even of that, but only
Of holding on to the hard earth so as not to get thrown off,
With an occasional dream, a vision: a robin flies across
The upper corner of the window, you brush your hair away
And cannot quite see, or a wound will flash
Against the sweet faces of the others, something like:
This is what you wanted to hear, so why
Did you think of listening to something else? We are all talkers
It is true, but underneath the talk lies
The moving and now wanting to be move, the loose
Meaning, untidy and simple like a threshing floor.

These then were some hazards of the course,
Yet though we knew the course was hazards and nothing else
It was still a sock when, almost a quarter of a century later,
The clarity of the rules dawned on you for the first time.
They were the players, and we who had struggled at the game
Were merely spectators, though subject to its vicissitudes
And moving with it out the tearful stadium, borne on
shoulders, at last.
Night after night this message returns, repeated
In the flickering bulbs of the sky, raised past us, taken away
from us,
Yet ours over and over until the end that is past truth,
That being of our sentences, in the climate that fostered them,
Not ours to won, like a book, but to be with, and sometimes
To be without, alone and desperate.
But the fantasy makes it ours, a kind of fence-sitting
Raised to the level of an esthetic ideal. These were moments,
years,
Solid with reality, faces, nameable events, kisses, heroic acts,
But like the friendly beginning of a geometrical progression
Not too reassuring, as though meaning could be cast aside
some day
When it had been outgrown. Better, you said, to stay cowering
Like this in the early lessons, since the promise of learning
Is a delusion, and I agreed, adding that
Timorrow would alter the sense of what had already been learned,
That the learning process is extended in this way, so that from
this standpoint
None of us ever graduates from college,
For time is an emulsion, and probably thinking not to grow up
Is the brightest kind of maturity for us, right now at any rate.
And you see, both of us were right, though nothing
Has somehow come to nothing; the avatars
Of our conforming to the rules and living
Around the home have made--well, in a sense, "good citizens"
of us,
Brushing the teeth and all that, and learning to accept
The charity of the hard moments as they are doled out,
For this is action, this not being sure, this careless
Preparing, sowing the seeds crooked in the furrow,
Making ready to forget, and always coming back
To the mooring of starting out, that day so long ago.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Sign Inventory





*The poem seems heavily engaged with the "receiving" of information, the act of learning and exactness of meaning.
Ex. "About how to receive this latest piece of information," "solid with reality, faces, nameable events, kisses, heroic acts, but like the friendly beginning of a geometrical progression," Tomorrow would alter the sense of what had already been learned, That the learning process is extended in this way," "None of us ever graduates from college," "learning to accept the charity," etc...

* Though the poem remains preoccupied with this "acquisition of information," it also resists clear, surface level understanding. Indeed, most of the lines are filled with obscure images and high ambiguity. For example, the speaker wonders "how to receive this latest piece of information" And follows with "Weren't we rather acting this out/For someone else's benefit, thoughts in a mind/ With room enough and to spare for out little problems." The speaker continually entangles the "desire" for exact meaning highly obscure language. "Better, you said, to stay cowering / Like this in the early lessons, since the promise of learning/Is a delusion, and I agreed, adding that / Tomorrow would alter the sense of what had already been learned, / That the learning process is extended in this way..." Ashbery 's use of unclear referents--"this" and "what had been"-- keep a clear surface level reading at bay.

* In a poem otherwise concerned with the abstractions and ambiguity as I noted above, it also manages to contain three moments of hyper specificity. In the first 15 lines of the poem, the speaker makes the following highly specific references: "...like heroines in Orlando Furioso" (Italian romantic epic), "Anglica, in the Ingres Painting" (referring to a 19th century french painting & painter) and "Happy Hooligan in his green automobile..." (influential Opper comic strip).

These are strange, both for there textual proximity (all three moments of hyper specificity occur within the first 15 lines) and also for the simple fact that the poem is largely engineered by abstractions.

*The poem also contains these odd moments of repetition, typically occurring within lines concerning learning and the retrieval of information. Ex. "About how to receive this latest piece of information/ Was it information?", "the promise of learning," the sense of what had already been learned," "the learning process is extended in this way."

*The poem also seems very concerned with the "daily" experience. For instance--many times the speaker refers to "food and the rent and bills to be paid," "Conforming to the rules and living/ Around the home.." "Brushing teeth." etc.

* The speaker refers three times to sort of "textual realities." Ex. "only by that time we were in another chapter and confused," "the being of our sentences, in the climate that fostered them" "not ours to won, like a book, but to be with."  In all three moments, the mention of the textual takes on a more, I want to say, corporeal or landscape quality.  I'm still working this one out.

*The poem also contains a few other moments of odd repetition-- not necessarily concerning "the search for knowledge" but instead moments of removal? or obstacles?

Ex. "These then were some hazards of course, / Yet though we knew the course was hazards and nothing else", "The moving and now wanting to be moved, the loose meaning..." "To step free at last, minuscule on the gigantic plateau--/ This was our ambition: to be small and clear and free."

Classmate Response Week 4

In his pedagogy entry last week, James suggested compiling alternative methods of wording lines or phrases during our class workshops. Personally, I would find all of this additional language to be of a tremendous help. Leaving a workshop with essentially a mountain of language to work through, I know would aid my writing in  many differing and interesting ways. Also, I would imagine that helping to rework and rephrase other students work may also prove beneficial to both parties here. With the next workshop, I'm going to give this a shot and see what comes of it. Thanks for the idea, James.

Junkyard Quotes Week 4

"July like a dog" - RSM

Free Write Week 4

On South Street there was an accident:
that night the old prostrate moon mounted.

I advocated for detached variation
and suggested a new method for a dissolved re-invigoration.

Wanting so accurately, my own face had to see it,
but in the dark, then, as you slept, demanded it from you.

Beyond the walls of tonight, gazing, I saw,
downstream, your archaic origin steeped in translocation.

What if we could diagnose various remembrances?
Once we analyze the poverty of sleep.

I knew her too long:
swallowing each other like reflections.

Do I want to be remembered
bellow the black midpoint of this November?

O actual events!

Junkyard Quote Week 3

A friend of mine showed me this and I thought it was just a really interesting display of homonyms in the English language.

This is a grammatically valid sentence:

"Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo."   The sentence reads as description of the social hierarchy of buffalos living in Buffalo. There are three different meanings of the word bufallo at work here: Buffalo- a city in New York, buffalo which means to bully or intimidate, and buffalo the animal. Thus, the a different way of saying this is: Bison, from Buffalo, New York who are intimidated by other bison in Buffalo also happen to intimidate other bison from Buffalo.