Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Lock Yourself in the Lugubrious Gondola

More new Fennesz. A brief Napoleon update - he's fine - then songs and poems (including another new John Ashbery poem below the Baker) only this Dead Blegsylvania today.


John Ashbery

That building has won over everything.
Here in high school opportunities are numerous,
but what are they for?
You could live like a girl of thirteen
in a single dream,
quash outside solicitations,
go back to sleep every time,
wherever your suns take you.

This is outside, and remiss:
It takes tools to deploy the core of your dream,
face a common ford others have crossed too,
on Saratoga waters, now and again imbibing
notes of lemongrass and coconut.
I told him we don’t get anything from North Dakota.
Bilingual bullying was on the next floor.

We had the most beautiful morning and afternoon.
    We just had lunch with
Dean Pavlov’s proxy; the entire breeze,
right on the tabletop here.
They’re not going to sue their money,
accident waiting to happen, which you would need
Leonard doesn’t take himself for just anybody.

Ah, ça alors! Mais pas du tout!
A very good guide, no doubt,
bringing up fine images in the guts of the past.
Occupy it by dint of occupying it.
I was saying that to you when
plotting new frescoes:
It was a comestible kind of love.
Get in and learn something.

Go smack into Mrs. Duvet. The heart’s buildings—
simply ripping. Half a building up
(and we need many), lock yourself in
the lugubrious gondola. He was
just standing over there,
talking to them.


Barbara Guest

sound opens sound

shank of globe             strings floating out

                something like images are here

                opening up avenues to view a dome

       a distant clang reaches the edifice.


                understanding what it means
                to understand music

       cloudless movement   beyond the neck’s reach

       an hypnotic lull in porcelain   water break   mimics

       tonality   crunch of salad under waddling

                a small seizure
                from monumentality

                does not come or go   with understanding

       the path will end

       birdhouse    of trembling cotton

       or dream   expelled it   

       parcel   on the landlocked moor.


                              explaining music

       and their clothes entangled

       who walk into a puddle of minnows;

                      minnows in a bowl

       consonant with water.

the drifted footpad

       ambushed by reeds signals the listening


                              music disappears into oars.


       in the middle the world is brown;

       on the opposite side of the earth

       an aroma of scarlet.

       this accompanies our hearing music;

       the sleeve of heaven

       and the hoof of earth

       loosed from their garrison.

       dissonance may abandon miserere

       on bruised knee hasten to the idol.   


       and what is consonance—the recluse—

       entering and exiting   

       as often as a monarch butterfly   

       touches a season;

       by accident grips the burning flowers.

       in the stops between terror

       the moon aflame on its plaza.


       autumn of rippling wind

       and the noise of baskets

       smell of tin fists.

       and harsh fists   

       on the waterfall changing the season;

       the horse romps in flax

       a cardboard feature

       creating a cycle of flax.

               music imagines this cardboard

       horse in cardboard jacket

               flagrant the ragged grove

                              red summit red.

       dissonance royal traveller

                              altered the red saddle.                         


  1. oh, i see you've added notes the ..sounds , moors out of the tub, tow er is glacial, nor', to fa crane gone ,and royal of go' ld

    1. of what the royal gould was in its brought to mind by something of reading above, of that at osgoode last after noon, when one of the lawyers suggested i could wait in a room while they went for the other lawyers ..of not going back out to the busy lobby of noise, i said .."yes i might bach out there like glenn gould ", and she said "who's he" ,/ i think of glenn as a' oh ,canada ..royal his remaining here til death myself