Saturday, February 06, 2016

BLURRING THE DISTINCTIONS

The book randomly chosen tonight: Georgia O'Keeffe by Lisa Mintz Messinger. The random line, P.132: "...blurring the distinctions between what was near and what was far." 

BLURRING THE DISTINCTIONS BETWEEN WHAT WAS NEAR AND WHAT WAS FAR 

The future oh so distant
when I was just a child
is now the present instant
which I'm about to file. 


Maybe these distinctions
between the far and near
are only false convictions
we cling to out of fear

of being lost in space
with no sense of direction
which is, in fact, the case,
worthy of inspection.

Why not a history class
where some ancient bloody mess
is not taught as the past
but today's news, hot off the press?

Is everything déja vu?
Yes, I think so. Do yu?

Thursday, February 04, 2016

I TALK TO MYSELF

Blindly chosen book and line today - Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche.
P.214: "... I talk to myself, as one who has plenty of time"

I TALK TO MYSELF, AS ONE WHO HAS PLENTY OF TIME

though time is precisely what I have not.
I say to myself as I write this rhyme:
As poet I know I'm not so hot,
so why am I wasting my dwindling hours
on what is a pastime, nothing more.
Shouldn't I be using my artist powers
on something closer to the core
of what I'm on this planet for? 


Are you saying what I think you're saying,
comes a reply from the other me,
that time is wasted when you're playing?

Okay, I say, I do agree
that art and play are interconnected,
but how will I ever be respected
if all I can add to my CV
is a rhyme for you and a rhyme for me?

Suddenly, would you believe,
something pops out of my sleeve.
It's Zarathustra and he's peeved,
shoves me and my other self away.

I'm the one you called today
when at my words you aimed your finger,
you're in luck 'cause I can linger.
Forget about esteem,
read what I said, page two-sixteen:
"....spread out laughter like a coloured canopy."
Avoid the bland, the syrupy,
the fake, the flip, the pre-digested.
And with this my case is rested.

Wednesday, February 03, 2016

A LA RECHERCHE

At 6:14 AM today I was drifting into sleep when, again, a sentence just popped up. This time it was in French:  "On peut forcer un souvenir" 
 
I had to get up and write it down. Later the rest arrived. Here it is, with my very rough, free translation below. I prefer the French version.

ON PEUT FORCER UN SOUVENIR

mais pas besoin de l'expliquer
passé, présent ou avenir
ne devraient pas se prolonger. 


Proust a cherché le temps perdu,
tant mieux pour lui, il l'a trouvé.
Heureusement qu' il n'a pas su
que sa recherche me fait bailler.

J'éspère vivement, O mes amis,
que mes vers ne vous causent pas offense.
Pour mon ennui, O je vous prie,
accordez-moi vôtre indulgence.

************************************************

YOU CAN FORCE A SOUVENIR 
 
but there's no need for explanations.
Past or future or now and here
don't have to be investigations.

Proust did find his temps perdu,
all praise to him, it was well drawn.
But thankfully he never knew
his research only makes me yawn.

I hope sincerely, O my friends,
that my verse doesn't cause offense
and for my undoubted ignorance
I pray grant me your indulgence.

Tuesday, February 02, 2016

FOR THE LOVE YOU BEAR TO MEN

I struck lucky this evening in the book, and the first line, that chance gave me.
Dictionary of Shakespeare Quotations (Everyman's Reference Library). Page 119, from "As you Like it":

O WOMEN, FOR THE LOVE YOU BEAR TO MEN 

for that sudden urgent lawless yen
for Harry or Barry or Bob or Ben,
you will be charged with wanton lust
and with betraying someone's trust. 


But for Barry, Bob or Bill or Harry
the rules are different, and if they marry,
the power of that sudden flame
they will deny. It's just a game,
a game men play,
a brief delusion, they will say.

O women, plead guilty if you're caught
or hide your glee if you are not.
But in your heart (so shy, so pure)
O tell me, tell me, are you sure
that flame which burned so fierce, so real,
was not put there for you to steal?