fair to


 no one reads this . not even you. you? how did that happen. disappear. curl smoke. rested work. the batting boat. cluttered waves if such can be said to. exist . over its mouth open bird. grammar of 

sault.      shift tongue  rack sullen on the edge of . whatever its chore fire stating. some call it that. wish to hairbone. closeto phone. whisperd air.

that way

 the decisons you make step back into time. division vision of mask.       make the wheel. is it a wheel then? a weal working the back. Pedals for the darning socks. And the ready fox. the peel rhymes with the low word varying its weight carrying its vendetta. does a word vendetta the starling spills? can it break the smooth cutter of its belonging. become the belonging odd its pair of week. and dusk.

that way its pavement for the hurting foot, the gifted pain.    bent out of place buy its native flavour .             the word will it's second class. a slang potlatch on the thing. time. guests its beaks no how and round housing. 


A ... has that ... day

Okay say the beauties in the subway love
she stares at him staring away its a flash
love me love me love
take me here in my clothes
yes, love me hallow me with your hollow
you call that a poem
I call that a lover

She peers away flicking him ubiquitous quick
glances a woman's look always looking away

She's naked on the floor of her house gown
bare as the bedroom itself loving her loving

She's offering love at cut rate cost
isnt' she a woman's role determined by the
'flows of history' 'and' moon wagons
deleterious in its dawn

And this old hag came out to dance
finding her self trounced by the beauty
of the arrow ignoring her old mates
pretending surrender to nothing

Took off her clothes
he took   two that day


cause insist

ven saying ok ok you win' flee, flee even saying ok ok you win' 'If it does not, then you should not insist, you should not argue; you should flee, flee even saying ok ok you win'
'If it does not, then you should not in






because we hold each other anyway ~

Lovers and their bodies. Here in the flesh and between the walls of the screen. Press'd as always.


Say O lovers


become the other zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz






so many


So many beautiful women in the metro

So many longing for the

yearning for lover

a lover
the lover

eyes saucpan wide looking

pretending not to

a nd everyone was looking






A man being writes:


the earth is cold ||| soon heat
rising over the sidewalk

risking the love fleet boat of bodies

pregnant with their amble like your god
breathing over the swarm the moon

her fair repose

and the sun happy with its bursting seed

gifted to its long lungs to give its

breathless take beautiful I who's taught me





Like most great poets Olson was generou and could afford to be.

Sadly the usual currency between poets at least in my experience is that they are stingy, fearful and tawdry towards other writers, artists, and poets. There is a terrible and fearful economy between them and it keeps them cheap and fearful of giving anything that does not pay them. It prevents them from being what they naturally are which is Open Kind and Creative.

Poets become addled with the horrible Economy of Exclusion. THey are the most extreme example of the Pretence that everything is all right.

I did a radio show for five years that was free: I interviewed over that time at least 200 people ___Mostly writers and poets . The majority were when all was said and done, stingy ungenerous, and clinging. Many of them were petty backbiting and vengeful. One woman badgered me for years for a tape recording of the segment of the pro gramme she had been on. This was not her fault of course, _ She was and is a good poet performer. But her contignueal attemps to force me to give her a tape put me off. IT was her economy that pushd her in this Direction. The economy of poetry and life turned her into some thing desperate desperate enoguh adn prideless enough she wanted to needed to hear herself. She is now a forgotten persona and poet I have no t forgotten her.

She remains one of the countless unforgotten names in me

All were ambitious and fearful of the success of others. I say fearful because the general sense was that if others got some then they would not.

It was terrrible. This is not their fault___ it is the fault of the position and place of poets in our 'fair ' society. Poets are the most marginalized of workers and producers.

"Successful' middle class poets might laugh at this and deny its truth.

Well good for them. The truth is that everyone knows better. Recently aCanadian poet won a waht do you call it an Emmy? Ofr his records. This is shameful.

He is an embarrassment to all poets whose work and liveihood goes in another direction.
He ought to be hoenst and simply admit he is a cpaitalist opportunist

The Canada Councul ought to be dismantled.


CHARLES OLSON The Art of Poetry No. 12


Do you enjoy telling young poets what they ought to do?


Oh, Jesus, God, if I ever did, may the Lord of the whole of the seven saints of India and China Buddhaland, Gangestown, and all takers this side of where the Tartars went—may they forgive me because like I am happy to have some friends here in the kitchen. I mean, wow, I’ve been very lucky, very lucky. I’m sorry, but I was born with a towel on my head. 

Charles Olsen: The art of poetry

The interview can be dowloaded in pdf format

her voice


 her voice, in reality , was breaking dishes. suds for her arms. brawny
 like her fat lip
the cavity of her brain