BACK ROAD CHALKIES ~ JULY 4th

Henry David Thoreau moved into his habitat at Walden Pond, Concord, Massachusetts on this day 1845 — one week before his birthday.

He wrote of the pond, "blue at one time and green at another, even from the same point of view. Lying between the earth and the heavens, it partakes of the color of both."

photo © bob arnold

EARTH ~

EARTH ~

Hobart Smith

Frank Proffitt

Roscoe Holcomb

GENTLEMEN

Hobart Smith was the oldest of the three gentlemen, and gentlemen is the key word when remembering and listening to their music today.

Smith was born in Virginia in 1897. Gifted as a player on fiddle, banjo, guitar, accordion, harmonica, piano and organ. Whew.

Roscoe Holcomb was born in Kentucky in 1912 — he often worked as a farmer and coal miner and it would be his corroded lungs as a coal miner that would end his life. Luckily we got his music first.

Frank Proffitt was a year younger than Roscoe and born in Tennessee and raised in North Carolina on a tobacco farm, which he took up, along with work as a carpenter and in a spark plug factory. With his own hands he made fretless banjos and dulcimers.

It was the musician and music historian John Cohen who coined the term "High Lonesome Sound" for Roscoe, but this may be heard in passages of all three gentlemen.

Play them, and watch the animals and birds come closer.

Hobart: web.ukonline.co.uk
Frank: www.loc.gov/folklife/guide/folkmusicandsong.html
Roscoe:www.southernspaces.org/.../2008/matthews/1g.htm

ALL THIS WEEK ~
NEW BOOKLETS FROM LONGHOUSE !

DONNA FLEISCHER

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WHICHWAY ~

construction & photo © bob arnold

ALL THIS WEEK ~
NEW BOOKLETS FROM LONGHOUSE !

ANDREW SCHELLING

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EARTH ~

YOFIYAH

ALL THIS WEEK ~
NEW BOOKLETS FROM LONGHOUSE !

GEORGE KALAMARAS

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BACK ROAD CHALKIES ~

Alvaro Cardona-Hine





photo © bob arnold

LENORE KANDEL ~

Writer and actor Peter Coyote remembering his close friend Lenore Kandel at a memorial for LK in January 2010

POETRY IS NEVER COMPROMISE ~ LENORE KANDEL

Lenore Kandel in the center of things, 1967


foundsf.org/index.php?title=LENORE_KANDEL

ALL THIS WEEK ~
NEW BOOKLETS FROM LONGHOUSE !

MICHAEL HETTICH

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ALL THIS WEEK ~
NEW BOOKLETS FROM LONGHOUSE !

JOHN BENNETT

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THINK BACK, PILGRIM VII

FRANK SAMPERI

poetfranksamperi
http://poetfranksamperi.blogspot.com/

Let me introduce myself. I am Claudia Samperi-Warren, the daughter of the American Poet Frank Samperi. This blog will be in honor of my father's life as a poet.

Frank Samperi was born in Brooklyn in 1933. Discovered by Louis Zukofsky and Cid Corman, he published some twenty books of poetry and appeared prominently in journals such as Origin and Caterpillar.

Master of the lyric and an autoddact steeped in Dante, Aquinas, and Shankara, Samperi created a unified, highly original lifepoem of pilgrimage through the American City and world of the spirit.

He passed away in Sun City, Arizona in 1991. He is survived by his daughter, Claudia & son, David.

As a poet, as in other respects, Frank Samperi stood apart. Orphan and first generation Italian-American, he discovered Dante in a Brooklyn institution, taught himself Aquinas in Latin, studied the Indian philosopher Sankara, non-Euclidean geometry and astrology. His work was not just counter-cultural but also counter-fashionable. Although discovered by Louis Zukofsky and Cid Corman, and appreciated by other poets of his generation, including Robert Creeley, Robert Kelly, and Will Peterson, as well as other "knowing readers," Samperi's poetry has heretofore been available only in limited editions.

With recent works like, Spiritual Necessity produced by John Martone and others we hope that this web site will bring to light his voice to a new generation of thinkers.



*From the introduction of Spiritual Necessity by John Martone, Huntington, NY 2003

A GREAT BOOK ~

The photographs were taken on twelve Himalayan trips between 1986 and 2005 using an old fashioned 4x5 Toyo view camera mounted on a sturdy wooden tripod.

(Fields Publishing, North Truro, MA.)

ALL THIS WEEK ~
NEW BOOKLETS FROM LONGHOUSE !

JEFFERY BEAM

photo: barbara tyroler

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EARTH ~







HUMMINGBIRD



Rarely pausing

Though I have seen

It stop the flutter

Of its amazing

Wings and perch

Nearly invisible

On a wire against

The evening sky —

And be sighted —

And being very

Still, be thought

Of as not there





LOSS



Put no trust in nothing, not even yourself

Yesterday was like summer, today snow blows

I’ve walked six miles with an axe and wedge

Actually make my living near a river running bright water

Home to a small hawk found mangled in the woodshed

Eyes opening, I load my rifle but won’t use it

Instead talk with the closest thing to me right now

Heavy gloves moving back short feathers

The break in its neck, claws no use, eyes closing



from Where Rivers Meet, Bob Arnold
photo © bob arnold

EARTH ~








ROPE OF BELLS


It is the

Rope of bells

You have put behind the door

That let me know

Whenever one of us goes

To the privy

The woodshed

The outdoors

Lovely







WINTER


Just before supper

I watched a storm draw in

Taking light

The trees toss

No matter

I have finished carrying

Elm from the edge of the woods

Bucked, split then stacked

I am done

Well used

Come snow







HOW WE BUILD


It is a day

Of sawing slab wood

Splitting

Then stacking

And be done



Tucking away insulation

Fixing windows

Sharpening every tool



The happy moment

Is there are still

Small grasshoppers

In the slip of meadow

That it is 28 degrees

At 7 this morning

And I wash your hair

In one bucket of

Strong spring water —

There is nothing like it




from Where Rivers Meet, Bob Arnold
photo © bob arnold

TONE ~

SONIC YOUTH

(Kim Gordon & Thurston Moore)


JAMES TENNEY

What do you get when you bond two sonic and tonal mavericks together?
~ lend your ears.

Sonic Youth have been jamming, performing, busting into smaller groups and headlines and re-grouping like a force of nature since 1981. I've seen smaller portions of the group play in a bar and even a church.


Electronic and computer composer (& so much more) "James Tenney" (1934-2006) is the answer given by John Cage when he was asked in 1989 who he would study with if he were young.

JAMES TENNEY

SONIC YOUTH

photos:

www.thetripwire.com/tag/kim-gordon
www.kalvos.org/tenneyj.htm
blog.kexp.org

EARTH ~

STEVE SANFIELD



Once upon a time in Nevada City, California Susan and I and young Carson arrived early in the day after days on a train. We had a few names and addresses in our heads, and Steve Sanfield was one. Steve's been on the same road address for as long as I can remember. Since we were in the post office to start the day off and sending out some postcards to folks back home, I thought I'd ask if they could tell me where this road was. Nope. Nobody knew. Nobody knew when later in the day we asked about another friend in Grass Valley. I was nicely impressed with how the neighborhood was mum. People were pleasant but they had that look that said — I don't know you and I don't know why you're asking. Fair enough. Steve and I have yet to meet in almost 35 years of sending our poetry back and forth to one another. We have mutual friends and we all like one another's poetry. Nothing at all wrong with that picture.

This morning in the mail Susan brought back from her hike up river a new book by Steve, beautifully designed and hand printed by Jerry Reddan at Tangram. Steve sent this with a note inside, always a friendly note from Steve inside. Often Jerry sends things, and I always send things back to them both. Sometimes I read a postcard poem or broadside Jerry has printed and it's in me enough to part with — someone else might like this, so I set it in the bookshop. Some I'll need to read over and over for years and years. The Perfect Breeze is one. Here's a few warm water drops.

the old man's place

filled with stuff

never to be used again








changing the stream's song

simply by moving

a stone or two







twenty-five years later

still dazzling in or out

of her clothes

for Sarah







long after

breaking the cup

still finding the pieces







the death of an ancient pine

presents us with a view

we never wanted







wrote the poem

that said it all

can't seem to find it








Thanks Steve & Jerry ~ the perfect visit.