Sunday, January 4, 2015

& what can make an imagined light be imagined as kindly












  • Woolf, Joyce, class, autodidacts, etc.
  • Pynchon's blue shadow. I can't decide whether I should reread Inherent Vice before seeing the movie, especially after reading this paragraph: Thomas Pynchon’s Inherent Vice (2009)—his extravagantly convoluted version of the private eye novel, set amid the detritus of the end of the 1960s—is the kind of verbal construct that at first glance seems inherently unsuited for filming, certainly not as a widescreen spectacle with an all-star cast. To say that Paul Thomas Anderson has faithfully and successfully adapted it to the screen is another way of saying that he has changed it into something entirely different.
  • { feuilleton }'s weekly links. 
  • On the Jackson Mac Low poem below. Just ordered the book.
  • By the way, the fonts in the poem below? Just how it copy/pasted and the limitations of my motherfucking free blogging platform. Read no Mac Low intentions into them, please.
  • It is interesting - if unfortunate (or not) - how the word amazonlight now glints off meanings Mac Low could not have imagined when he wrote it.








27th LIGHT POEM

Jackson Mac Low

I
 
A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O
1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10 11 12 13 14 15 
P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z
16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26
J-10, E-5, R-18, Y-25 = “EE” – 2 + 5 = E-7;
R-18, O-15, T-20, = K-20, H-8 = S-8, E-5, N-14, B-2, E-5,
R-18, G-7
 
j-10   = jack-o’-lantern light
e-5     = earthlight
r-18  = refracted light
r-18  = refracted light
Y-25  = e-7 = ether-lamp light
   
r-18  = refracted light
o-15  = amazonstone light
t-20 = k-20 = kindly light
h-8   = s-8 = shaded light
e-5    = earthlight
n-14 = noonday
b-2    = m-2 = moonlight
e-5    = earthlight
r-18  = refracted light
g-7    = j-7 = jalousie light
  
Is it Jack-o-lantern light
or earthlight –
this light that’s refracted over here
        to where I imagine I am –
or is it refracted light
or an ether lamp?
 
j-10   = jack-o’-lantern light
e-5    = earthlight
r-18  = refracted light
o-15  = amazonstone light
m-13 = moonshine
e-5    = earthlight
 
Not Jack-o’-lantern light,
& probably not earthlight,
but light refracted thru
an amazonstone,
bright green amazonstone light,
possibly moon shining thru stone
(possibly earthlight).
 
How wd we know
whether or not
light refracted
by an amazonstone
is kindly light
                                                            [a long silence]
Here I have a shaded light,
earthlight
or noonday
or moonlight,
but even if it be earthlight,
it is a refracted light
that filters thru imagined jalousies.
                                                            (10-11 Oct. 69/ 20-21 Jan. 75)
                                             
II
                                                                  (19 May 70/ 21 Jan. 75)
Imagined jalousies
can only refract
imaginary light –
imaginary earthlight
or imaginary moonlight
or the imagined light of an imagined noonday
– but can imaginary earthlight
ever be imagined as a shaded light?
 
& what can make an imagined light
be imagined as kindly,
& who can imagine light
refracted by an amazonstone
who’s never seen one?
 
Can one who’s never been far from the earth
ever imagine earthlight
as one can imagine moonshine
or even imagine light
refracted by an amazonstone
once one knows it’s green?
 
Can one ever imagine earthlight
as one can imagine the flickering yellow light
(or maybe merely remember it)
of a grinning orange pumpkin jack-o’-lantern?
 
I can only imagine ether-lamp light
as a kind of bluish movie light,
a horrible light,
since all I know of it
is from Shattuck’s Banquet Years
 
I quoted it in the 11th Light Poem
for poor dear dead Dick Maxfield,
whose light escaped or leaped
before this poem began.
 
– Let me sing your requiem,
dear Richard, dear friend,
you are a great composer,
& your murderous doctors were wrong,
just as you must have known they were,
except at moments like the one that took you away:
peace,
Richard,
peace. –
In 1897 in a charity bazaar in Paris
“in a rambling wood-and-canvas structure off the Champs
     Elysées”
they “set aside a room for a showing
of Louis and Auguste Lumière’s
recently perfected cinématographie. . . . 
 
“The film program attracted many children,
and a turnstile was installed to keep them orderly.
 
“An ether lamp provided light for projection. . . .”
 
& the whole place burned up.
 
Tho I’ve never seen it,
I can imagine the light of an ether lamp
refracted thru water,
but I who’ve never seen,
directly or reflected or refracted,
true earthlight
can hardly imagine it
as easily as well-remembered Jack-o’-lantern light.
 III
Why talk about Jack-o’-lantern light or earthlight,
refracted or reflected,
& why mention the light, reflected or refracted,
of an ether lamp
when the dog is barking crazily in the yard?
I can remember Jack-o’-lantern light
as easily as I can hear the dog
barking & crying crazily in the yard,
but the crazy sound of her barking in the yard where she’s
     been chained
& stands in the dark in the rain
blots out the possibility
of my imagining earthlight,
refracted or reflected or direct,
or amazonstone light,
direct or reflected or refracted,
for I can barely imagine moonshine
this dark & rainy night
when I hear poor Josie,
whom the landlady owns, not we,
& who’s been chained in the yard with the silent new male
     dog,
barking & crying crazily in the yard
in the dark
in the rain,
& nothing in me wants to make the effort
to imagine earthlight.
 
I cannot imagine light
refracted by an amazonstone
while Josie’s crazily barking,
& never can I imagine
any light that’s kindly
as she’s barking, barking crazily in the yard.
 
I can only imagine
letting Josie loose
in the shaded light of streetlights
that falls on her on the driveway in the yard beside the house;
& rather than half-illusory earthlight,
I can barely imagine
ordinary noonday light or moonlight
as Josie barks & barks in the rainy dark;
& any earthlight imaginable
is sure to be refracted
not by jalousies
but by Josie’s crazy barking.
 IV
Even the lamp’s electric bulbs
are giving a kind of darkness
as Josie barks in the yard
& I hope against hope
that those in the house next door
will let her loose before I’m forced to do so.
 
Altho when I open the window
I find the rain has stopped
& the moon & a star or planet
are shining,
I know I’ll soon be forced to let her loose
& risk a fight with Rev. Williamson
if Jose keeps on barking crazily
& crying on her chain in the yard in the dark
as the unchanging light of streetlights
barely makes her visible in the yard.
V
A full orange Jack-o’-lantern moon
is rising toward the zenith
as Josie sits in the yard
quietly whimpering
–so quietly you often cannot hear her with the windows closed–
but sometimes barking loudly,
usually when people pass by,
walking their own dogs.
 
A full orange Jack-o’-lantern moon,
shining in the cloudy sky,
nearly at the zenith,
is all that’s left of the lights from Jerry’s name.
  
The lamplight of my double-headed aluminum-colored
     gooseneck lamp
& the greenish reflected streetlights
& rarely passing headlights
are all the light that’s there
besides the orange Jack-o’-lantern moon.
 
But an airplane flashes green & white & yellow light
as Josie starts her barking once again
after “the Rev” and her handyman come in.
 
I wait to see what “Christian love” will do,
confronted by the crazy
barking & the crying
of Josie in the Jack-o’-lantern moonlight
& the shaded light of streetlights.
What has stopped her barking now?
I can hardly bring myself to look
down from my upper window & across the yard
to see into the shadows
where Josie now seems silent.
 
The streetlights & the headlights barely glimmer
as I sit in the yellowish lamplight
writing the poem’s ending
& wondering if it’s whimpering I hear
below the city’s roar
& that of passing jets.
 
Is the high-pitched sound I hear
whimpering or birds
or “merely” in my ears?
 
Raising the window, I hear her softly crying,
but when she hears the window rise
or sees me looking out,
she begins to bark once more
as crazily as ever.
 
I should have left
bad enough
alone.
 
My cowardice because I have no money left to move now
makes me end this poem in disgust,
with aching legs & head & sore throat,
just before I push the clink switch
to darken the double gooseneck’s bulbs.