2014/12/29
O_________________Kay ___
._________________________________
large adjectives that splattered the speech it was going like a tripe spinning
around its splintering sides and a blather and a bang bang bang of its what was that? you asked
its warning keeping around the long ascending hen come to me my children round like a
flock a geese round her mother of the sunset its kale away lake O my loud ones how you
feel this drop drop drop no one holds its like this and the last thing you want to hear is
the overdubbed keening of the cockamamie quail
talking is one thing as its worked to the punch of the reboot the breath the sentence coming up
from the consciousness deep in the well of the hid stomach's dark lining and over the castle
light fading over the ridge silhouette clinging to the eyes re-knitting the gold and light kindling
up the clearing and there's the bending branches backwards that dance particular to the view
of its heart scope hope and the blaring river did no one remind you the yellow flecks favouring
their view and cascading coarse on the tide upping on the beach rock and the way it sounds
as a bell melancholy but no sadder than a day of meadow and cloud clear rows and orchards
on the widening mountain the dustied up roady going over the side and round the bend your
eye can't see past the raid-on sights and the close pen where the moo bulls pull and mull the pond
or the sunk out land with its bog root oat the what do you call trench rung round the bounded
rim she knew the christian name of every person boarding that boat and of the scholarly nights
she was acquainted and knowledgeable as one should be in the face of its cardinal points and rumors
of towns and facts of history tabulating its chronicle as proper to its station in the rising decay
of time's dong dong cock a doddle ding and the downgrading of its outline and she raised it to
the roof risible to the decibel of its larder and the laughter of the love come applauding to greet her
_____________________
2014/12/20
Vivaldi Winter
.
Winter Concert - Norway Mari Samuelsen - Violin
Trondheimsoloists
---------------------------------------------------------------------- This version of Vivaldi's Winter is the emotional and astonishing thing I have heard, ever? perhaps ever is too big a word but it threw me right around, tears, gnashing of the teeth , swirls, Ups DOwns __ the whole thing indescribable .. it would take me nights to do so and I don't have time right to describe it ... when did I ever have time ? time to write to breath? to love __________________
.
Trondheimsoloists
---------------------------------------------------------------------- This version of Vivaldi's Winter is the emotional and astonishing thing I have heard, ever? perhaps ever is too big a word but it threw me right around, tears, gnashing of the teeth , swirls, Ups DOwns __ the whole thing indescribable .. it would take me nights to do so and I don't have time right to describe it ... when did I ever have time ? time to write to breath? to love __________________
.
2014/12/17
figment of a ,
as i worse predicted president was worsted wool its increase was
day to sun summer fool canned by its whipping post the poor
thing was green to her summer leave-taking the rope tense
with wicked one pushed by its severity contrasting Isabelle's
tenderness of once its thing a ma-bob her breath and surreal
door came before ringlet of hair curled back beneath the brown
hair glistened its air in sun dark and day over moor heath peat-bog
brogue belfry outside of the duck toad working hand and feet
whiter as pale geese it's your knees i am holding it out to your cell(s)
it was her hips and smile worked first caught your attention
what cloud had come along opening out a direction lean-to
mild as weather river taking off each letter curled it tack
lettering along the ridge or seam as you would call at the kiosk
at the newspaper collector's home what it would lion? she knew
it never was the si'm /hocking her open mouth a lover's dog
crowded by every sunday messenger she's could it pend?
a question every parliamentary member gulped down its liege to
legislative power soured no not soured by won by every staging day
passing its minute woman there is a pharmacist whose pen carries this tone
.
2014/12/16
'Materiality'
_____________________
the materiality and non materiality of blogs is what I think of/ ponder consider
am glad of and frustrated about
without being slight or silly or light in a way frivolous
it's akin to the not dissimilar materiality and non materiality of the body
and the question, or one of the big ones anyhow, at the heart of human consciousness
is the body's life ~ and matter ,, resurrection it's the question arrayed behind every human fear it's there in all the poetry, a ll the religions all philLoCopSophy!
does the body died and when it does rather do we die with it? is the end of our being physically the end of us ? do we move into another plane
Another plane __ the air-plane of consciousness and its green wish
more soon from the conscious being on his way out the door the winter night
fogging in the bringing
the ringing
christmas cards? toboggan sleigh bells
horse smell pulling the carriage up to st joseph
______________________Add stamps as needed/
a poem can work anyway
_____________________added up to the totality of its things
___________________
the materiality and non materiality of blogs is what I think of/ ponder consider
am glad of and frustrated about
without being slight or silly or light in a way frivolous
it's akin to the not dissimilar materiality and non materiality of the body
and the question, or one of the big ones anyhow, at the heart of human consciousness
is the body's life ~ and matter ,, resurrection it's the question arrayed behind every human fear it's there in all the poetry, a ll the religions all philLoCopSophy!
does the body died and when it does rather do we die with it? is the end of our being physically the end of us ? do we move into another plane
Another plane __ the air-plane of consciousness and its green wish
more soon from the conscious being on his way out the door the winter night
fogging in the bringing
the ringing
christmas cards? toboggan sleigh bells
horse smell pulling the carriage up to st joseph
______________________Add stamps as needed/
a poem can work anyway
_____________________added up to the totality of its things
___________________
2014/12/15
hour
.
that link's become your denote
time passes changes the sturdy one
and regains passage with mighty alacrity greed
knocking back a dozen or so
women waitresses gather like 'Canada' geese
remembering their preternatural youth and love's loyoalty through body thick and thin
fairhead to the visible its ancient dead
tiring by the invisible dare to metamorphosed 'content ' as the redundant dissonant form of a sound
Or say as a body in poor
and the pore you always have with you being to the hole that's wax in the fun that rose
clarion bell between two knees guarding by the delphic angel fox
and the connotation working its flight guess
this love holding her breast beyond a mouth transcendence my love totalizing all foregone and lame
concluding but not precluding the possible wearing odd socks and bent backs each lover knows this
and you are breath as the wind swept past her blonde leg tawny in the back breaking sun hung by the
lantern which only seals get up to watch as the sun pulling its weight each day undertakes
there are no accidents but provincial debts pay our taxes to the rich
the king and mighty kingdoms of god transcendy our betting day
the often only hour
ii
and one dyed her hair red
and another 'upgraded it ' blonde as the sun is that what we say?
(a lover too hard on herself )
(the first thinking red dyed hair'd take the 'weight off her feet')
rays shining off the iridescent sun
but hope was material wealth to all three
(the one I didn't name)
disciplined like the biting word
transduced by the coming of the lord
.
.
.
that link's become your denote
time passes changes the sturdy one
and regains passage with mighty alacrity greed
knocking back a dozen or so
women waitresses gather like 'Canada' geese
remembering their preternatural youth and love's loyoalty through body thick and thin
fairhead to the visible its ancient dead
tiring by the invisible dare to metamorphosed 'content ' as the redundant dissonant form of a sound
Or say as a body in poor
and the pore you always have with you being to the hole that's wax in the fun that rose
clarion bell between two knees guarding by the delphic angel fox
and the connotation working its flight guess
this love holding her breast beyond a mouth transcendence my love totalizing all foregone and lame
concluding but not precluding the possible wearing odd socks and bent backs each lover knows this
and you are breath as the wind swept past her blonde leg tawny in the back breaking sun hung by the
lantern which only seals get up to watch as the sun pulling its weight each day undertakes
there are no accidents but provincial debts pay our taxes to the rich
the king and mighty kingdoms of god transcendy our betting day
the often only hour
ii
and one dyed her hair red
and another 'upgraded it ' blonde as the sun is that what we say?
(a lover too hard on herself )
(the first thinking red dyed hair'd take the 'weight off her feet')
rays shining off the iridescent sun
but hope was material wealth to all three
(the one I didn't name)
disciplined like the biting word
transduced by the coming of the lord
.
.
.
.
I've always felt the call of your love
even though the water washed it back
waves rolling into the tide and
if that it humbled the ride then
I was not afraid to say I love you
at the birth of water and sound
these tracks heard a word flying
'maybe I'm too healthy' and me ' you're too hard
on yourself remember it was a kid that felt
what you did ' and she 'O ' pause and her beauty felt the way
.
I've always felt the call of your love
even though the water washed it back
waves rolling into the tide and
if that it humbled the ride then
I was not afraid to say I love you
at the birth of water and sound
these tracks heard a word flying
'maybe I'm too healthy' and me ' you're too hard
on yourself remember it was a kid that felt
what you did ' and she 'O ' pause and her beauty felt the way
.
2014/12/12
on the other hand
------------
On the other hand it's just possible possible likely? that some of the plays (Shakeyshakes) were done in
slow motion? what is speed anyhow? someone once said you could be late by speed? going so fast you miss miss miss miss miss miss
recording reproducing .... creating making 'in' the new medium which is a place of creatin'
---
On the other hand it's just possible possible likely? that some of the plays (Shakeyshakes) were done in
slow motion? what is speed anyhow? someone once said you could be late by speed? going so fast you miss miss miss miss miss miss
your stop! that's too quick to be on time..... and Imagine the accent incomprehensible high speed or
over-slow gibberish. like the old 33 and a half records.....
recording reproducing .... creating making 'in' the new medium which is a place of creatin'
---
2014/12/10
Our Captain Jean Béliveau
___________
__________
O CAPTAIN! our Captain! your fearful trip is done
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
Walt Whitman ( a revised for this occasion)
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
Walt Whitman ( a revised for this occasion)
__________
2014/12/09
'SPECIAL JEAN BÉLIVEAU EPISODE: Dick Irvin, Ron Reusch and Michael Farber remember Le Gros Bill'
____________
___________________________________________ BUt you know what I m not special there are
thousand people in our city with stories like that....
______________________
___________________________________________ BUt you know what I m not special there are
thousand people in our city with stories like that....
_______________
______________________
2014/12/05
in a house....
.
growing up in a house ( rue Anger street Cote St Paul)
you found a Rabelais and Gargantua illustrated book in the living room
and the thousand adventures of Sinbad
were lying around and the 6 hour fasts
2014/12/03
re: 'The Accidental Archivist: Criticism on Facebook, and How to Preserve It
This is fine (and dandy) where there is a conversation to 'archive' if archive one wants to do. but where is there a conversation? ___
a conversation hardly exists anywhere (and certainly in fb there is a flattening out of any such event .... )/hence
would one expect it to be different in a media that billions 'use' daily hourly? billions pressing billions of buttons going like like like like like like like ad infinitum .
however, the work continues| but in my view at least those artists, especially those that speak and write in languages in which they are able to understand one another, are responsible for the failure of conversation to begin and continue
as one of the responsibilities of the artist is the teaching faculty
to promote discussion among people, 'the' people 'the' populace...
those who think otherwise are simply promoting silence and the end of discourse
'The Accidental Archivist: Criticism on Facebook, and How to Preserve It
-------------------------
my Captain! Adieu Mon capitaine ! Jean Béliveau
.
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
Walt Whitman
.
Adieu Monsieur Béliveau!
Red Fisher: Jean Béliveau was a special man on and off the ice
Jean Béliveau est décédé: un pan de mur de l'histoire du Canadien s'écroule
Wednesday Habs Links: Remembering the great Jean Béliveau
2014/12/01
re: .. since
.
: .. since
Ted Hughes wrote that in Shakespeare's days the plays were performed at high speed and the language spoken very fast... which explains a lot ...
Shakeapearean performances had to be fast ... too much to absorb so the speed got it out there and across and later the printed plays added 'weight' as it were to what had been performed so dangerously....
: .. since
Ted Hughes wrote that in Shakespeare's days the plays were performed at high speed and the language spoken very fast... which explains a lot ...
Shakeapearean performances had to be fast ... too much to absorb so the speed got it out there and across and later the printed plays added 'weight' as it were to what had been performed so dangerously....
dangerous you ask? well, the theatre back in those days was a messy place wasn't it? not like the 'centaur' theatre back in Montreal and even the cute little 'fringe' theatres.... the best theatre is where you least expect to find it... and on film.. because at least in film they can control their milieu in theatre that's not possible ... live theatre ought to be a place where control is the goal but as a means to producing a real dirty theatre, a piece of live booty (my bootless cries to heaven.. out out brief candle ... these our actors as i foretold you .... ) alive alive on the stage gesticulating and howling then crying the lowest whisper of perfect intelligent lines intelligence as beauty.....
----------------------
and no one doing good theatre thinks about sW's intentions they're long gone....
_____________________
and no one doing good theatre thinks about sW's intentions they're long gone....
_____________________
O sweet Jesus lest I be accused of being a jackass , which would only prove the true hope of any writer to be abused by his fellowship of readers (so called) I have not forgotten the great
Orson Welles film versions of Shakespeare. All of which were notoriously equal to the task at hand,__
to wit,___ creator to creator.
Unlike certain recently deceased American writers who tried to equal their betters only revealing thereby their inferority and rancour before superior talent. ! what! speaks here a ghost of grandeur and rank? O that ranky panky!
One writer, who was a popular figure of the so-called beat generation exemplifies the worst of resentment and hatred for anything that's great and beyond his scope....
We won't name him! lest his soul perish in the flamy letters he left behind!
------------------------ god bless even this hybrid addled writer. a damned race if ever there was one.
___________________
.. since
--------------
there's prb. been no version of Shakespeare done in English, with the British language that's equal to its work since the 19 th. c.
there might be on the other hand hundreds of unknown and exciting ones done outside of the sphere of the official and schooled interpretations.
a few years ago M. told me about a punk version of Macbeth that'd had been done in New York... that sounded amazing. I think Lady Macbeth had pink punk hair and her .. more
but the ones produced a t the official level even the so called great film versions esp. those in britian are awful
Peter Brook is not included here his version of King Lear is astonishing and no less than visionary.
Carmelo Bene's Italan film versions, at least the ones that I've seen are beyond anything that Stratford or those type of places can imagine
Polanski's Macbeth was good Akira Kurosawa ... what I have seen is visionary but I have not seen a complete film.... .. I think the contemporary educated British accent no matter how hard they try, just kills Shakespeare and makes a mockery of it..
so for god's sake read the books for yourself with your voice and in your own accent
that is it's easy to mock when hearing... I find myself mocking some of the greatest lines ever if I hear these type of interpretations....
That horrible long Hamlet with pompous Branag was almost great but he killed the soliloquy with his stupid music.. it ruined the film
a great artist cannot make mistakes of that sort I 'd never want to have to go through that again.. I wanted to shout out
and its been a few years and I've still not forgotten how horrible it was : I wante d to shout
Shut the bloody garbage music of f please .
I learned a lot from watching that film how music can betray and steal from words... I learned a lot about the underhanded way in which the best music can stab the words it purports to carry forth and assist......
I don't blame music! I blame the cretins who try to use it that way.
And as for Milton, well what can one say about his poetry? in terms of accent and interpretation. its a pathetic and suspect and dead paltry sad thing
when words that strong are reduced to the 100,000 bad readings of them given everyday.
Better that texts are silent than be heard that way.
___ In sum for this is a quick sum , a quick accounting of JM and WS the two friends who were two sides of the same coin,
Don't ruin them with the English British __ find your own way of reading and performing them.
the everyday British are not stupid people they know that Shakespeare and Milton's best left to them and their gifts, their talents and genius and not to that class which keeps down all great talent.
--------------
there's prb. been no version of Shakespeare done in English, with the British language that's equal to its work since the 19 th. c.
there might be on the other hand hundreds of unknown and exciting ones done outside of the sphere of the official and schooled interpretations.
a few years ago M. told me about a punk version of Macbeth that'd had been done in New York... that sounded amazing. I think Lady Macbeth had pink punk hair and her .. more
but the ones produced a t the official level even the so called great film versions esp. those in britian are awful
Peter Brook is not included here his version of King Lear is astonishing and no less than visionary.
Carmelo Bene's Italan film versions, at least the ones that I've seen are beyond anything that Stratford or those type of places can imagine
Polanski's Macbeth was good Akira Kurosawa ... what I have seen is visionary but I have not seen a complete film.... .. I think the contemporary educated British accent no matter how hard they try, just kills Shakespeare and makes a mockery of it..
so for god's sake read the books for yourself with your voice and in your own accent
that is it's easy to mock when hearing... I find myself mocking some of the greatest lines ever if I hear these type of interpretations....
That horrible long Hamlet with pompous Branag was almost great but he killed the soliloquy with his stupid music.. it ruined the film
a great artist cannot make mistakes of that sort I 'd never want to have to go through that again.. I wanted to shout out
and its been a few years and I've still not forgotten how horrible it was : I wante d to shout
Shut the bloody garbage music of f please .
I learned a lot from watching that film how music can betray and steal from words... I learned a lot about the underhanded way in which the best music can stab the words it purports to carry forth and assist......
I don't blame music! I blame the cretins who try to use it that way.
And as for Milton, well what can one say about his poetry? in terms of accent and interpretation. its a pathetic and suspect and dead paltry sad thing
when words that strong are reduced to the 100,000 bad readings of them given everyday.
Better that texts are silent than be heard that way.
___ In sum for this is a quick sum , a quick accounting of JM and WS the two friends who were two sides of the same coin,
Don't ruin them with the English British __ find your own way of reading and performing them.
the everyday British are not stupid people they know that Shakespeare and Milton's best left to them and their gifts, their talents and genius and not to that class which keeps down all great talent.
--------------
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