Sunday, June 30, 2019

GOREY ~













Just imagine for a moment—
Edward Gorey and Frank O'Hara 
as roommates at Harvard








Thursday, June 27, 2019

PHOTOGRAPHER (JOHN SHEARER) ~




John Shearer at Attic working it.
1971
photo by Bill Ray









RENE RICARD ~








God With Revolver





The inside of the body pushes towards the outside

And I push myself through streets full of men

Cafes full of men. I order a coffee from a man

Men push through the street in front of the cafes

Bargain in black eyes

My life overflowing its bounds

I can't buy food, negotiate the streets

or bargain in this life

There are men everywhere the

magnificent saber of Islam in their eyes

Men terrify me

Beauty terrifies me

Beautiful men terrify me

and I would faint in the Barbes mud

the inside of my body pushing towards the outside

I sit in a cafe in Barbes

and a woman walks by in tears

The God of Islam is the God of Love

and I know that love is a terrible thing

and a god of love will finish my life

Love is the steepest bargain

of terrible price.    The heart

pushes towards the outside the

heart is a souk

one civilization dents another

pushing towards the outside

and I would pass out in the

market-place men everywhere

My life not such important merchandise

The inside pushes me further out

I would die here without murder or suicide

Barbes or Essaouira full of men

The God of Islam, eighteen

years old. 100 francs a

God with a revolver



Barbes Dec 4, 1981




______________________
Rene Ricard
God With Revolver
Hanuman Books
1989












Wednesday, June 26, 2019

JONI MITCHELL WITH FRIENDS ~










NEW! JOSEPH MASSEY ~

Joseph Massey, Backroad Scroll

_________________

 Longhouse 
 Summer2019







 First edition

A Longhouse limited edition
 four page foldout 
with decorative label

_______________

Unsigned

$15


Signed by the poet
$20

______________


Buy now
with Paypal,
please use our email

poetry@sover.net



UNSIGNED —


 


SIGNED —


 





Check or money order ~

Longhouse
PO Box 2454
West Brattleboro, Vermont
05303






Monday, June 24, 2019

DAVE BARTHOLOMEW ~





1918 ~ 2019





BOB ARNOLD'S "WOODLANDERS" ~













Available now 

from

LONGHOUSE

$15.95

free shipping!

(USA)


Buy now
with Paypal,
please use our email

poetry@sover.net





Check or money order ~

Longhouse
PO Box 2454
West Brattleboro, Vermont
05303




Sunday, June 23, 2019

YANG MU ~









A Flurry of Snow





What flitted back across the hills yesternight, without a sound

I thought was a long buried matter of the heart

from the deepest recesses of a valley wallowing in death

With my own eyes I saw her open a little doorway onto the garden

tentatively venture forth, look here, there, then

promptly disappear, leaving, in the end, still

the very heart of winter, nothing but traces


1996

translated by Steve Bradbury



____________________________


Yang Mu
Hawk of the Mind
Columbia, 2018









Friday, June 21, 2019

PAT & FINN (WILCOX) ~





_____________________________
Pat & Finn Wilcox
at the wedding of one of their sons





At dusk, on summer's first day 2019
we love and remember Pat





WOODEN SHJIPS ~






summer 2019






CY TWOMBLY ~












Wednesday, June 19, 2019

BERT MEYERS ~








Rainy Day




Outside, nothing moves: only the rain

nailing the house up like a coffin.



Remember, in childhood, when it rained?

Then, the whole world sailed down the alley:

leaves, paper, old shoes, the buildings,

everything like a circus going to sea.



Now, the rain, the iron rain, with its little keys

is closing all the doors. . .



and I think we're all dead. See how the sky

sits like a tombstone on the roofs.






Evening on the Farm




Time for a jacket now,

and to put my hands away.



I must learn from the stars

how a field should look.



But one by one, bright children,

the stars rush downstairs



to meet my horses and hay

with their astonished eyes.







Apprentice




Because

I love you

I've learned to be

this hammer that runs

all day like a horse

with its hoof in its head.



In the afternoon

my hands

lie down together

for a minute.







Twilight at the Shop



A whole day at the saw —

when they come for the rubbish,

I throw myself

out with the dust.



We smile and smoke and praise

what's left of the sun.

Dark trees have bottled its light.

They glow like many beers.






______________________

Bert Meyers
Sunlight on the Wall
Kayak
1976








Saturday, June 15, 2019

OLGA CABRAL ~








Night-Letter



Nightly I write you letters

but morning is always a cancelled gray envelope

stamped ADDRESS UNKNOWN.

I've been wanting to tell you

how things are since you have gone:

the cherry trees still looks into your window

and offers its arms full of small birds

of your last Spring.



I've packed your luggage —

that worn leather suitcase with the labels of epochs

and sent it on freedom rides

to Mississippi jails.

Your clothes closet, once gay

as a carnival of bears

with your checkered shirts and poet's neckties

holds the odor of dead flowers

and more sinister than shadows

motes of dust in faded sunbeams

swing suspended from bare wire hangers.

Your rough jackets have gone

with their bearings —

they have given me their last embraces

to link arms with new companions

and your shoes are out walking again

on new picket lines.



But the grief of your old eyeglasses

that you patched with Scotch tape

is more than I can bear.

Lying in the lamplight before an open book

they watch me from a void

of vacant lenses

as I go from room to room on perilous journeys

groping with my fingers to construct your face,

seeking the answer of your lips

upon the sundered air

the way it was the last time I kissed you

under the wings of the Angel

of Death.



___________________

Olga Cabral
The Evaporated Man
Olivant, 1968




Olga was a very early friend to Longhouse
— we miss her.