Monday, September 28, 2020

POETS WHO SLEEP #18 ~





P O E T S     W H O     S L E E P

______________________



                                           drawn & scribed by Bob Arnold


















all drawings
copyright

Sunday, September 27, 2020

RE-READING PHILIP WHALEN ~

 





Further Notice



I can't live in this world

And I refuse to kill myself

Or let you kill me


The dill plant lives, the airplane

My alarm clock, this ink

I won't go away


I shall be myself —

Free, a genius, an embarrassment

Like the Indian, the buffalo


Like Yellowstone National Park.


                                                            22:ix:56



__________________________

Philip Whalen

The Collected Poems

edited by Michael Rothenberg

Wesleyan University Press, 2007




____________________________

For nearly any other collected poems

one can almost assume cracking the book open

to the middle will well provide the reader

with some of the best poetry by the poet.

Not so Philip Whalen.

For the last 50 years I guided my Whalen trajectory

through my favorite book of his, On Bear's Head,

a book devised and brought into existence through the

tough work of James Koller, Bill Brown and Don Carpenter

after a little fight with the co-publisher Harcourt & Brace.

Coyote Books was the rightful instigator, as usual.

Whalen was hot from the start — say after he gets through

his apprenticeship in the 40s— from the 50s onward

he is sailing, and Michael Rothenberg's perfect book

for Whalen: cover jacket design and hundreds of poems

(what more do you need?) plus Whalen's drawings and

doodles and general Philip-energy, it's all here in the Wesleyan

edition and I've come during a virus pandemic and read it all (ALL)

now a second time. Reading Philip Whalen is like bicycling up

a hill while eating an ice-cream cone, and maybe it's a hot day

but it doesn't have to be. Energies transfix. You know you've

got a poet when everyone says he or she is reading him and

no one knows who you're talking about.






Saturday, September 26, 2020

LENORE TAWNEY ~









The University of Chicago Press
2019









Friday, September 25, 2020

LARRY CAMPBELL & FRIENDS ~

 








HEY JOE ~

 



Billy Roberts



RE-READING RONALD JOHNSON ~







from ~
The Book of the Green Man





Of the seasons,

seamless, a garland.



Solstice

to equinox —
days,





The length of

breath,

a sequential foliage



firmly planted in

our veins,

we stand in our rayed form:



blue-eyed,

a chicory,



Sponsa Solis



& upon the sun appears

a face

also with rays



in descent

trough an undulant



blue.



_____________________
Ronald Johnson
The Book of the Green Man
Norton, 1967







There is something beguiling and transfixed,
at least it happens to me, when I re-approach
Johnson's early books published exquisitely 
by Norton.







Wednesday, September 23, 2020

RE-READING 80 FLOWERS ~






L I L A C



Sere ring a pipe wood

lodging sweet by tempest lodged

nose knows two colors pale

and deep lilac blossom breezed

pruned some red fall-scattered blossom

hesperis purple mother-of-evening gone spring

angels in bustles deep lilac

pales lilac angels for white







Q U E E N   A N N E' S   L A C E



Top-turfy gimp fiery oes eyes

light white flat lacy heads

centrums purple many uneven small

flowers each whorl umbel if

awry ladies songflawed wit pretty 's

well queen unwanted princess throws

horse prize wild carrot autumn

hurdle stands jackdaw-course carried her







S N O W - W R E A T H



From solitary flowerstalk some fingers

fragrance look down ridge-back enamel

leaves snowdrop impetal seagreen unseen

months snowflake unplanted snowdrift sweet

alyssum self-risen snowtrillium new valleys

east snowpoppy snow-in-summer starry grasswort

prairie snow-on-the-mountain wilding seacoast

snowberry-drupe snow-wreath earth-rounds bees' rose



__________________



80 Flowers
only
80 copies printed by
The Stinehour Press
Linen cloth boards
Gilded paper title label to spine
I found my copy in a northern
New England working town with
one used bookstore, bottom shelf
old plank floors, big front windows
Priced to move
Lucky me







Monday, September 21, 2020

POETS WHO SLEEP #17 ~





P O E T S     W H O     S L E E P

______________________



                                           drawn & scribed by Bob Arnold



















all drawings
copyright

Sunday, September 20, 2020