Sunday, January 31, 2016
Saturday, January 30, 2016
TWO MANY GOODBYES ~
Photo: Clem Albers, The Chronicle
P A U L K A N T N E R
J A C Q U E S R I V E T T E
Friday, January 29, 2016
WOODCHOPPER ~
If you've cut trees for half a century as I have
made your income from the same
are still at it just the same
it doesn't matter
you will enjoy this read.
There are certain things you've missed
as I found, plus there is all that Norway.
If you have never cut down a tree in your life
wish to
this book may save your life.
[ BA ]
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
WATERCOLOR ~
Dear Longhouse Poetry,
I just like to share a little watercolor illustration I made with (if I’m not mistaken) a poem by Bob Arnold (see the attachment).
I’ve put the drawing on my Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/miekesmakes/) and hope I’ve referred to you correctly… :-)
Best wishes,
Annemieke Spruijt (from the Netherlands)
some days arrive just like this. . .
thank you, Annemieke
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Monday, January 25, 2016
CHESTER HIMES ~
Way back in the 50s, re-released by 1966
Chester Himes was years ahead on the
story line of the white policeman
killing African American men
C H E S T E R H I M E S
(1945)
Sunday, January 24, 2016
HANDSOME FAMILY ~
Drawing out of Chicago in the 90s
and now keeping house and home in Albuquerque, New Mexico
Brett and Rennie Handsome
are the Handsome Family
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Friday, January 22, 2016
LARRY LEVIS ~
GOSSIP IN THE VILLAGE
I told no one, but the snows came, anyway.
They weren't even serious about it, at first.
Then, they seemed to say, if nothing happened.
Snow could say that, & almost perfectly.
The village slept in the gunmetal of its evening.
And there, through a thin dress once, I touched
A body so alive & eager I thought it must be
Someone else's soul. And though I was mistaken.
And though we parted, & the roads kept thawing between snows
In the first spring sun, & it was all, like spring,
Irrevocable, irony has made me thinner. Someday, weeks
From now, I will wake alone. My fate, I will think,
Will be to have no fate. I will feel suddenly hungry.
The morning will be bright, & wrong.
_______________________________
L A R R Y L E V I S
The Darkening Trapeze
(Graywolf, 2016)
Last poems, edited with an afterword by David St. John
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
JOHN PHILLIPS ~ HERETIC
J O H N P H I L L I P S
New and available now from Longhouse 2016 ~
With collages by the author
160 pages
Perfect bound softcover
____________________________________
160 pages
Perfect bound softcover
____________________________________
$18
Shipping $3.95 ~ U.S. orders with Paypal
Buy now through easy-to-use Paypal, US Orders, $21.95
International orders ~ complete $38 with Paypal payment
L O N G H O U S E
PO Box 2454
West Brattleboro
Vermont 05303
A selection of poems from Heretic by John Phillips ~
Heretic
Today I made another mistake.
If I’m not careful, I’ll be caught.
What then? Years ago
they stopped burning heretics.
For me, they might bring it back.
I would almost want them to.
Only then might I forgive them.
This Floating World
Bashō
along the Fuji River
came upon an abandoned child,
two years old, crying.
From out his sleeve,
threw it some food,
walked on.
______________________________
In a dark
in a darkened room there’s a music
a music playing there
a woman slowly no
quickly passes she
into the room behind
dark in shadow the
dark
behind the music remains
doesn’t quite remain it stays by going
she stays now gone still lingers his
lips to her music
the music is not dark it is
in a darkened room it makes not dark
gives a certain light to
light to the lips saying dark saying
light is a woman in the dark
music of a woman
a woman in a dark room of
light a woman
dark light
each in the other being one each other
one is more than oneself or is not
woman is a man loving the woman is a
man and woman loving a newborn daughter in the dark
light loving a child sung to
in a room darkened by dark
lips on lips light
a certain music of
NEW: a review of Heretic ~
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
I'LL BE RESTED ~
This beauty was recorded two years after the passing of Franz Kafka
My own father was two years old
Blind Willie Johnson was also working the neighborhood
Monday, January 18, 2016
ONE OF US ~
( Farrar Straus Giroux 2015)
"One of Us is a book about belonging, a book about community. The three friends
from Troms all belonged in definite places, geographically, politically and with
their families. Bano belonged in both Kurdistan and Norway. Her greatest aspiration
was to become 'one of us.' There were no short cuts.
This is also a book about looking for a way to belong and not finding it. The
perpetrator ultimately decided to opt out of the community and strike at it in the most
brutal ways.
As I worked on the book, it came to me that this was also a story about contemporary Norway.
It is a story about us.
To all of you who have told me drops or streams of stories, written to me or commented
on my work: we made this book together.
Through the book, I want to give something back to the community from which it
sprang. My royalties for this book in Norway are being donated in full to the 'En av oss'
(One of Us) foundation. The foundation's statues allow for the money to be distributed
to a wide range of causes nationally and internationally, in the areas of development,
education, sport, culture and environment.
I have chosen to let those who contributed most to the book to decide which causes will
receive support.
I think that would be in the spirit of their children."
Asne Seierstad
Olso, 20 January 2014
I hesitate not wishing to lift boughs off those lost but after reading this
shattering book and for whatever very good reason knowing now
many of the children and others lost, by name, character,
and even families, I went to see what these beautiful
children looked like, and sure enough,
quietly, there is a memorial film
in their names.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
THE FIRST COLLECTION OF CRITICISM BY A LIVING FEMALE ROCK CRITIC ~
J E S S I C A H O P P E R
The title of this book is not entirely accurate.
There's Ellen Willis' Beginning To See the Light,
though it wasn't all music writing, and then her
posthumous collection that was. Of course Lillian
Roxon's Rock Encyclopedia from 1969, Caroline
Coon's crucial 1988: The New Wave Punk Rock
Explosion and the collective, life-changing Rock
She Wrote. We should be able to list a few dozen
more — but those books don't exist.Yet.
The title of this book is about planting a flag; it
is for those whose dreams (and manuscripts) lan-
guished due to lack of formal precedence, support
and permission. This title is not meant to erase
our history but rather to help mark the path.
This book is dedicated to those that came before,
those that should of been first, and all the ones
that will come after.
Featherproof Books
Chicago
2015
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Friday, January 15, 2016
Thursday, January 14, 2016
BRENDA IIJIMA ~
this the. this
how this is this
.
life. this.
.
war. this.
.
ramped up. yet. not, and this.
subtle transitional feelings.
away. subtle, satin.
walking.
.
You are
there.
.
here.
here is this.
trouble finding.
could function. This.
.
.
.
coagulating.
.
. . .you could.
________________
BRENDA IIJIMA
revv. you'll—ution
Displaced Press, 2009
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
LIU XIA ~
A Soul Made of Paper
for Xiaobo
Born in the dark hours,
I'm not concerned with what's waiting
for me after death.
I've already lived
a thousand years, long enough
to shock you.
There's always something surprising
in this world. The more magical a creature is,
the more it should display its strangeness.
I'm not a madwoman.
Everything is a sign.
A beam of light reflects off my hands,
then instantly disappears,
getting rid of what stands here,
the various mediocre details.
I observe symbols
and hear a voice in my ear —
indistinct.
The perpetual orphan,
the child who refused to be born,
he clings to my hands, tight.
Each time I try to push him away,
he twitches and curls
in my palm.
Sometimes, though,
he stretches forcefully
and flies to the stars.
I indulge in singing absurd
and monotonous songs from childhood,
and my sadness numbs.
Mice return to their cave
and I discover a strange
phenomenon: people walk
toward the ground
tilted.
They are turning into animals,
Ha ha! The human soul
is made of paper.
________________________
L I U X I A
translated from the Cinese by Ming Di and Jennifer Stern
E M P T Y C H A I R S
(Selected Poems 2015)
Graywolf Press
Liu Xia is a Chinese poet and artist. She has been living
under strict house arrest since her husband, poet and
activist Liu Xiaobo, was imprisoned in 2009 for "inciting
subversion of state power." and received the Nobel Peace
Prize in 2010. Empty Chairs is the first publication in both
English translation and the Chinese original. The book is
selected from thirty years of the poet's work, including some
of her haunting photography.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Monday, January 11, 2016
DAVID BOWIE ~
D A V I D B O W I E
(b. Brixton, London, England 8 January 1947
10 January 2016, New York City)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
