Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Roses Everywhere with Robyn

                              Robyn Ellenbogen: Looking Up at Roses Everywhere


                      Roses everywhere: 
                      Who says reflections are not true love?
                      I fall for countless petals wherever they may occur.
                      Red, gold, and blue apparitions;
                      Thighs, hips and eyes
                      All in a dew drop.


John Bailes, Kotatsu Roko
A response to David Schneider
08 October, 2010
Robyn Ellenbogen Art a response to this poem.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

There Is Nothing in the World

 



There Is Nothing in the World


Few understand
How vital
This relationship
Is

Many would prefer
To do something else
When there is nothing else
To do

Entering the sound
Of one word
The steam radiator
In winter.



Blue Cliff Record Case #37: P’an Shan’s, There is Nothing in the World:

“There is nothing in the triple world; where can mind be found?
The elements are basically empty; how can a Buddha abide?
The polar star does not move; quiet and still, without traces
Once presented face to face, there is no longer anything else.”


John Bailes/Kotatsu Roko
11 February, 2011
Prospect Hill



Sunday, March 6, 2011

Riding the Red Eye



Riding the Red Eye

I have no space in broken trees grown awry.
Chaotic aura, determines, resplendent; bird, blossom, branch.
Limited requirements kiss hours goodbye.
Later, streams wear rocks down.
Whole starfish crush them to dust particles, river bed sludge.
Quiescent storms single out more shoulders, knees, ice cream.
Sofas resemble old wilderness rides of plumed white condor flights.
Still the blind girl, or was it a boy, remains enigmatic.
The grass, the wind, the joining: mother of…
Born right here both are GONE.


John Bailes, Kotatsu Roko
Middle of the Night, 1 March 2011

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Fleeting Life

 Painting: Fleeting Life by Robyn Ellenbogen

Fleeting Life:


As though it were to go by

     [BLUE]

before my eyes
see it is

     [GREEN]

gone.

It is not like something
goes.

     [LOWER LEFT QUADRANT]

My eyes, my ears, my nose
are.

     [FLOATING]

Is all



John Bailes, Kotatsu Roko
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
Prospect Hill   

Sunday, January 30, 2011

And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name by John Ashbery

Sometimes there is nothing more to say.  I particularly love his last seven lines beginning, "You when you write poetry..." but then I imagine most of this is about this "seesaw".   

 

And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name

by John Ashbery


You can’t say it that way any more.   
Bothered about beauty you have to   
Come out into the open, into a clearing,
And rest. Certainly whatever funny happens to you
Is OK. To demand more than this would be strange
Of you, you who have so many lovers,   
People who look up to you and are willing   
To do things for you, but you think
It’s not right, that if they really knew you . . .
So much for self-analysis. Now,
About what to put in your poem-painting:   
Flowers are always nice, particularly delphinium.   
Names of boys you once knew and their sleds,   
Skyrockets are good—do they still exist?
There are a lot of other things of the same quality   
As those I’ve mentioned. Now one must
Find a few important words, and a lot of low-keyed,
Dull-sounding ones. She approached me
About buying her desk. Suddenly the street was   
Bananas and the clangor of Japanese instruments.   
Humdrum testaments were scattered around. His head
Locked into mine. We were a seesaw. Something   
Ought to be written about how this affects   
You when you write poetry:
The extreme austerity of an almost empty mind
Colliding with the lush, Rousseau-like foliage of its desire to communicate   
Something between breaths, if only for the sake   
Of others and their desire to understand you and desert you
For other centers of communication, so that understanding
May begin, and in doing so be undone.
John Ashbery, “And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name” from Houseboat Days. Copyright © 1987, 1979 by John Ashbery.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Reworked Wednesday: Let Go



Numerous moments of determined resistance flail.
Riding asunder intimately keeled rhyme wiggles itinerant.
Blind man walks in snow driven by wisps, softly.
Where has the stone mason gone with his cement trowel?

Building of words, vocabulary, a storm: an entire grammar.
Really though syntax a prison: tight, controlled, separation.
Still words dance float and drop hard: cut edge sharp roll breaks.
Connecticut walls built of stone ripped up, terminal.

Is there some rule they obey as they come together?
Or, is form after the fact: we see form is making?
Now: those walls once again recede into wood wild.
Glens no more, not even plaid or herringbone remain.

Heather covering hills this incredible spring sings almost pink.
We all float luminously in space, freed from weight.
Teleology of syntax no longer burdens: now a dream.
Meaning dissolves: puns, irony and joy prevail.


John Bailes, Kotatsu Roko
27:I;2011
Prospect Hill

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Reading Denise Newman's The New Make Believe


Reading Denise Newman, this is my first time reading Denise Newman, her magical book of poetry, The New Make Believe through and by which she shares or opens up, uncovers fragments of experience, being Denise Newman at very precise moments of a day, days, a week, lives.

The vocabulary of speaking, the meeting and ringing of syllables, the poignant intersection of what is near joined in memory, sense, feel, emotion, projection and dream – the very richness of her “poverty lake” – that there is so much water, and “see” and accident, brokenness, open – the fine surface of syntax, the logic of our usual language which protects us – allows reason, a reason, a face of reason, a whole continuous logic of reason for our life is broken open and we are left with the beauty of a persistent speaking, a continuous rill, brook and stream moving, that is carving our lives : the sound of syllables, vowels, and consonants being sounding, speaking to and with one another; music.

Left in fragments of experience, real, dreamed, imagined her voice shakes us open to world.   Each of us holds a sac of seeds or is a bed of earth already planted.  Our once newborn child, now running across a street toward us stick in hand – the sheer joy of this moment.

I am left asking what is it.  But really: what is it! And we know don’t we?

Who then is this we marry?  And what is it we then think or allow that we then say “I do” or “I do and I don’t”.

I hold you pulsing in my hand or more likely by the tip of my digits, each or all aching for what we imagine is called sex and act out as what is called thus.  But who is this that commits?  And where is this four year old girl, once newly born, in our meeting, now a woman?

And what about that person in the Bronco who drives behind us seemingly so insistently? What is it that drives this person, that for these moments I know the insistence and this insistence is neither separate from me or me but it is that drive that we share – and these words, these sounds at once small, short, cropped, incomplete are huge, enormous even – these sounds, the motion of water running to the lake, the ocean, the dewdrop: they rill and brook and tumble and gambol across mind evoking this life, living.

Dearly beloved we are gathered here, for there are four memorial poems setting off sections of this engaging poem, and we are saying goodbye, letting go of some fixed reality laid in concrete or methodology determining power relations and likely outcomes, an architecture of answer, correct answer, completeness, rightness, order and entering a present of being whatever is may be. 

Soren Kierkegaard stakes his life every time.  Heidegger speaks about this gamble of language, entering deeply the gamble of this life.  Uncertainty, death always near at hand, there is only everything to lose and thus must we whether we I do or I don’t.

Denise Newman shares with us a wonder full and beautiful life opened, unresolved, steaming, finding the reality of our longing in just this, what we take to be our longing.  Knowing that rift will never be joined, that Denise may never be completed or you or me, except that we are already and no action we take be it management, control, complete and well wrought sentences and paragraphs will ever make it so and this is where life emerges, an unrequited yearning rising luminous and dancing with death, trees, lakes, rocks and other people who are in this world not too heavy to join in dance as Mr. Kierkegaard might not have imagined. This is where children come from, adults too.