I don’t know it rates as the third greatest Jeff metaphor my favorite newest Jeff metaphor: gouache not only begins fading the moment it starts drying, the way I layer it on itself the faster it crumbles when dries, I can’t glue them back to back and save without ruining both, I emergency laminate them back-to-back, less desiccated side down, the lamination dims their colors by reflecting light from above. Self-portrait with photon torpedos:
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Circles, the occasional square now. I now acknowledge my circles and squares *are* placemats to everyone but me and you and be honest not most of you and I agree wholeheartely (I like to think my fuckitpostit evolution directly related to my thankfuckinggod fuckit slow divorce from seething-seeking clusterfuck mining but then I dislike thinking my fuckitpostit evolution directly related to my fuckit slow divorce from seething-seeking clusterfuck mining), there are six song notes I can hit and *not* have the worse voice in human history, I love George inordinately cause they’re his six too: E Flat, our key, our voice, our range, our placemats
I never once in fifty years of writing poetry thought as much about poetry when hiking like I think about my just done, in process, and future placemats hiking now. L always remarks how much I love bells, she lets me listen to Swans in the car now. I pretend this a discovery not of my onset mother’s and mother’s mother’s dementia, they both loved bells, wrote nothing. Self-portrait 64, I've got Doctor Sevrin ears:
A SPOT OF FRAZZLE AND THEN
Clark Coolidge
The braincase was loose and the rest saw pie melting
we'd have to come home to the lineaments of fire
a lot of squatting included with the sleeping
I imagine pennants with the clothing closing in
dimity fudge due to silence in the breccias
partial poinsettias they lived on Olive Street
inclined toward wicked pencils we stayed
us jamokes quite worn through and bundled
to blow things up beyond all proportion
and crow in wacky dingle a portion of cheek
dried in detonator the telemetry theater
now the cheese quarry its more than human wails
present time now added it's long past time
to get the gargoyles to descend a history of pokers
then someone up near the ceiling he turns and
silence in the Vanguard silence to bring things to
then someone blew it or is this the copper time?
FWIW, I really think you're paintings are great.
ReplyDelete1/i like the paintings too
ReplyDelete2/after reading the poem "a spot of frazzle and then"
i thought of song by modest mouse "dashboard"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYe1-0ftWRs
3/on a more prosaic note, i recently commented elsewhere on the topic of "bottleneck" specifically population bottleneck more specifically human population bottleneck as discussed in a book by willaim catton
a book that is high on my to-read list, Bottleneck by William R. Catton, Jr. Wikipedia states Catton (1926-2015) was “an American sociologist known for his scholarly work in environmental sociology and human ecology. More broadly, Catton is known for his 1980 book, Overshoot: The Ecological Basis of Revolutionary Change, which is credited by younger generations of environmental scholars and activists as foundational for their own works.” I am currently working my way through his earlier book, which makes a convincing case for the proposition that things that can’t go on, won’t go on.
A review at Amazon cites the declaration of intent for Bottleneck; Catton writes, his two small great-grandsons alive in his thoughts, “I hope by the time they become great-grandfathers themselves, their generation will be so conspicuously more enlightened than mine was and our forebears were that the world population of bottleneck survivors will have evolved social systems better able to be circumspect in their use of their planet and its vulnerable biosphere. If readers of this book come to share similar hopes, and contribute to instilling them in their descendants, my reasons for writing will have been justified.”