Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Assimilation/New Hastings Book/Mayer's Unsung&Unknown/Greg Fuchs



Assimilation



Eat your eyes for breakfast every morning.

This differs from Dali and Buñuel

slicing the eyeball to see differently.

This is ingesting the tools of vision,

eyes ceasing their work as portals,

begin to labor subject to digestion’s churning.


Fully mixed with urgent acids,

eyes transformed to soup

release nutrition into blood which, rising to the brain,

resumes its seeing newly

charged with matter from assimilation.


(Ed Coletti in Bay Area Poets Seasonal Review)


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New From Katherine Hastings


Updraft (Finishing Line Press - order at www.finishinglinepress.com)







Katherine Hastings is one of the most impressive poets writing in America today. Her poetry astonishes by the metaphysical clarity of the images from daily life and the intellectual power of her wit. Her affection for the living and her compassion for the dead vividly depict the world as it is while allowing her to project the freedom of transforming love. The language shimmers; the endings shine; the book announces a brilliant talent.

F.D Reeve, Author of The Toy Soldier and Other Poems and The Blue Cat Walks the Earth.

Here is a brief selection from Katherine Hastings' Updraft:


White Horse


Through the woods of Annadel,
past trees gently arched,
trunks and stones moss-matted --
comes the fair stallion steady on the trail

One angel on a treetop sings
one note, repeated,
repeated
Milky surface of stream,
little wall of water
falling into it,
and the white horse
coming nearer
with a steady sound
beating under the boughs
in the darkness of woods
as if by magic
moving towards
to where, upon the ribbed edge,
he passes
trails a veil of light
that shakes us
as though wind
as though ecstasy

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Following the back and forth we've had recently about methods of "judging" poems and who, among the critics and publishers are discovering the truly great poems,(see below Inviting Readers to Comment on "The New Math of Poetry" by David Alpaugh) it was my good fortune to come upon Andrew Mayer's take on this subject and others in the following poem.

In Praise of the Great Unsung Unknown Poets


by Andrew Mayer


Imagine you’re there when Rumi dances to the Friend,
spinning poem after poem not yet written down,
words formed by a Great Unsung Unknown Poet
dancing into verse the air you breathe.

Enjoy the inspirations, observations, visions, and revelations,
insights and beauty exquisite in compositions
of Great Unsung Unknown Poets.

Living on in the spirit of Frank O’Hara’s great poems
scribbled on napkins, discovered after death in his drawers and cabinets,
Unsung Unknown Poets writing great verses,
awesome discoveries and powerful rants kept under wraps in handmade gift books
to a few friends, or scribbled in notebooks unseen
for personal art filled with tremendous talent
or self-published in cheap chapbooks or limited edition printings of paperbacks,
or revealed at open readings and spurious slams.

Unknown poets preoccupied with day jobs driving taxis
or teaching toddlers to sing, or driving semi trucks full of frozen foods
to Tonapah, Red Wing, Tehachapi, Reno, Truckee and Tahoe while reciting poetry
on the road late at night to stay awake. Poets on the night shift
nursing at the hospital or security guarding garbage trucks at the dump,
waiting tables at all night diners, or changing diapers and soothing baby’s tears
in the middle of the night and the heart of day.

Pay attention to the great poems of Unsung Unknown Poets,
victims of unfair economics, or overwhelming life responsibilities,
of shyness, social phobias, fear of failure or success,
distaste for business, disorganization, or just plain lack of motivation,
depression, exhaustion, children and family demands, or addictions,

unkown poets with terrific sonnets,
haikus, raps, villanelles and quiet reflections all written better
than the anthologies that shun them, publishing circles of friends
in cliques and clubhouses of certain styles and academic territorial turf war protectors.

So drop your judgmental inner critics
and external egos of accomplishments
and just listen to the great poems
by unsung unknown poets unpublished by prominent distributors.
and support their efforts with a donation, buy their chapbook, visit their website,
share kind words and give them hugs to show your appreciation.

So many forgotten voices of unknown great poets
lost out of posterity,
but their great poems
live on in the minds
of readers and listeners
and the surprised hearts of browsers, perusers,
and poetry loving passers-by.

So listen to the great poetry around you,
uncredentialed, uncertified, even unrefined
but powerfully true and beautiful,
by Great Unsung Unknown Poets.

Notice intricate innovations and true to life stories
by Great Unsung Unknown Poets
whose poems live long in your mind,
move your heart throughout time
transforming your life,

that poetry you love in the moment
with potential unlimited
from the Great Unsung Unknown Poets.



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Mother's Day
by Greg Fuchs

From the Venus of Willendorf to Kiki Smith

You are totally now, even if others seem more now,

Now is inclusive: the center & the margin

The profitable & the not, the sublime, ridiculous, & grotesque

In the golden house beneath the clouds lives mother nature

From which all beings spring holding within all feelings

Of creation & annihilation like Chauvet-Pont-d’Arc Cave

Holds abstraction & representation in the beginning

I fall in love with you over & over again through time

Like when you casually describe speleology in France

Amidst Uncle Baby’s thrift store art collection

Simply without pretension, totally natural

Your beautiful son is a reflection of you

Even when he loves the sun by frowning upon the moon


Greg Fuchs who wrote this intelligently beautiful poem is a NYC poet and friend.



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