Wednesday, February 12, 2020

FRANCO BELTRAMETT I ~






Our once a week visit to town, and of course
the post office, brought up this neat little
booklet of translations by Walter Franceschi,
untitled and double-stapled and thoroughly
modest the way the best poetry comes,
and all poems by an old friend to Longhouse ~
Franco Beltrametti
Franco visited us a few times with our mutual
friend Jim Koller and both would 
bring stories and poems and art 
work to us from the open road





THERE ARE MANY STRANGE OBJECTS DRIFTING IN THE WORLD





why don't you write longer epics

Lawrence Ferlinghetti once asked me

I had some broken ribs and a girl friend

took a nice picture of us




we were in Big Sur it was at the end of January

on the beach we found a wooden woman

shoe mold and I said there are many

strange objects drifting in the world




and Lawrence said this can be

the opening of a long epic and what do you know

years later somebody would take a picture of us

in Amsterdam near a bicycle painted like a zebra



6-7/8/82




____________________________
Franco Beltrametti
from Tutto Questo
translated by Walter Franceschi











Tuesday, February 11, 2020

HAFEZ ~



Miami University Press, 2014


Reviews & Such

Sahar Muradi's review of Hafez appeared in the October/November 2014 issue of the Poetry Project Newsletter.
In awarding Geoffrey Squires' Hafez the 2014 Lois Roth Persian Translation Prize judges for The American Institute of Iranian Studies write:
Since Sir William Jones first made the attempt to set in English the “orient pearls at random strung” of Hafez, the most canonical of Persian lyric poets, dozens of translators have attempted English translations and versions of Hafez, but few have succeeded. Squires’ Hafez captures the energy and depth of this fourteenth-century poet in contemporary English without archaisms or predetermined interpretation. It displays a supple and at times even exhilarating handling of language and form. The integration of annotations and commentary provide the uninitiated reader with the right balance of background information and a personal, lyrical encounter with the raw poem. Squires’ intimate familiarity with the poems, and the clarity and crispness of the diction he employs, almost makes Hafez a contemporary writer, but without obscuring from today’s reader the chronological and cultural difference, and the unique qualities of the fixed-form ghazal he practiced.
CHOICE: Current Reviews for Academic Libraries published a review by W. L. Hanaway in their September 2014 issue: "Translating Hafez is difficult for anyone ... Squires, a poet himself, has approached the problem in a new and refreshing way ... he breaks up the text of many of his translations into smaller units. By doing this he is able to use skillful arrangements of lines and phrases, emphasizing, for instance, examples of assonance and internal rhyme to emphasize his points."
Pierre Joris writes on his blog: "the best Hafez by far I have come across, with an excellent & most useful apparatus."
NewPages posted a review of Hafez: Translations and Interpretations of the Ghazals in September 2014.
Geoffrey Squires’ translations of Hafez are not only beautiful (and they are) but innovate a new approach to the translation and presentation of poets from the distant and exotic past.  In finding fresh means to show Hafez in context, Squires composes a work both faithful to Hafez and with a narrative power that opens a true dialogue between present and past.  His Hafez in that sense sets a new standard for our time and for years to come.
Jerome Rothenberg
In their careful, musical, painterly pointing of difference in similarity, stress inside equanimity and singularity breaking the continuum, Geoff Squires' Hafez translations weave a shimmering, moiré fabric from the old and the new, the strange and the deceptively familiar. Squires is the best of hosts, too, offering small, genial and always useful interventions, tiny palate-cleansers of data or abstract form, which arrive before you knew you needed them. If Paul Blackburn had improvised a verbal riff on Astrophil and Stella, and Brian Coffey had written it down, they might have come close to, but would never equal, the marvelous sensual minimalism of Hafez and Squires.
Peter Manson
Geoffrey Squires is a poet of note. What strikes me is his capacity to put into words what is fluid or elusive, writing characterized by the innerness of its language. This explains why he has an affinity with Hafez. His long absorption in the world of Iran has led him to the masterpieces of its literature. Analyzing Hafez in the light of his predecessors such as ‘Ayn al Qozat, he explores among other themes the mystic gulf between belief and faith. A richly mature work, this translation brings a new lustre to the jewel that is Hafez.
Charles-Henri de Fouchécour

About the Author and Translator:

The poet Hafez was born around 1315/17 and died in 1389/90, towards the end of what is often seen as the golden age of Persian poetry. He lived almost all his life in the southern city of Shiraz where he was involved in the court circles of various rulers and played an important role in the vibrant literary and spiritual life of the times. His poetry is collected in his Divan, which contains nearly 500 ghazals and some other verse. Little is known about his personal circumstances. His reputation was established in his own time and has continued to grow ever since, to the point where Iranians and many others regard him as one of that nation’s greatest poets.
Photo of Geoffrey Squires
Geoffrey Squires (b.1942) is an Irish poet who after living and working in various countries is now retired and lives in England. His work has been collected in Untitled and other Poems (2004) and Abstract Lyrics and other Poems (2013), both published by Wild Honey Press, Bray, Ireland. A translation of one book, Sans Titre, was published by Editions Unes, Nice, France in 2013. He is also a translator of medieval Irish poetry.





Monday, February 10, 2020

YOKEL ( 18 ) ~








B A S T A R D

Y O K E L




You shall know the truth,

and the truth shall make you odd


FLANNERY O’CONNOR






Men Without Women






What with two large

Barns, new garage and

100 acres of woodland behind

Him, Native’s gutted deer is

Hung from the front yard maple






Farmhand




Native is a farmhand

Always has been.

We don’t live that

Far apart, though

We’ve never met —

Rather seen each

Other’s face in a

Group and nodded

Hello. He lives with

His mother, never

Married and the

Last I knew he was

Working near town

Chopping corn and

Haying for a farmer,

Happy enough to do

That for twenty years.

But today I saw Native

On a back road tugging

A baler with an old

Tractor far from town

And that other farm —

It didn’t seem right

Seeing him way over

There, and even in a

Passing truck we were

Able to catch one another’s

Eye and nod. His face

Unshaved. All the fields

Nearby chopped and raked.






Killing in the Farmyard




It is no more than fifteen feet

But you should be closer —

Especially when using scattershot,

And same time in the morning as yesterday

They hear me coming, because then I shot

Their father or brother or uncle and I like

To avoid a face shot as I watch two bolt from

Compost to go under the chicken hut and one

Ditches into a hole without thinking while the

Other — the bigger one — pauses at the wire

Fencing and waits, curious as I am, actually

Turns around and almost sits up prairie dog style



It will have to be a face shot

If I blink — he’s gone



I’ve gotten this far stalking behind

A tree to a chopping stump and raising

Slowly I aim, he’s a dead-duck, and fire



He’s alive but looking at me his eyes are blood

I clean out a shell to reload and

Quickly finish the job



Each shot burns a whistle in the air

Wakes the dog, shakes the chickens, kills a rat






Old Hand





They wanted $100

For an ash pan

Imagine that —



Native took old scrap

Steel roofing and it

Took three hours



To flatten it out

Bend it around

But he made one




______________
Bob Arnold
Yokel
Longhouse
2011











Sunday, February 9, 2020

MOVE FREE ~





 Members of Move in front of their house in Philadelphia in 1977. The Move 9 were arrested following a massive police siege of their home. Photograph: Leif Skoogfors/Corbis via Getty Images









ROBERT CHRISTGAU ~








Duke University




Saturday, February 8, 2020

Thursday, February 6, 2020

VERMONT MAPLE CARTOONS ~






Kitcheneat | Vermont




It's that time of year again ~
sugar on snow!
Robert Schelling has now released
his endearing mutts of the snowy woods
gathering maple sap and making syrup,
zest and a whole town.
I love these cartoons and this book.
The book is kissin' cousin with my own
Sapline from the sugar bush.











Wednesday, February 5, 2020

JACK BURNS (LONELY ARE THE BRAVE) ~






K I R K      D O U G L A S
I s s u r      D a n i e l o v i t c h
December 9, 1916 ~ 2020




HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JANINE ! ~






Happy Birthday, Janine!
5 February 1942






FIRST SIGHT OF HER AND AFTER ~








First Sight of Her and After





A day is drawing to its fall

   I had not dreamed to see;

The first of many to enthrall

   My spirit, will it be?

Or is this eve the end of all

   Such new delight for me?



I journey home: the patterns grow

   Of moonshades on the way:

'Soon the first quarter, I suppose,'

   Sky-glancing travellers say;

I realize that it, for those,

   Has been a common day.




____________________

Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)








Monday, February 3, 2020

YOKEL ( 17 ) ~







Woodcutter’s Memo






It will fit into the firebox

If — when she measures it —

Its height doesn’t reach

Above her knee











Lumbermen




My father —

An old lumberman now

Tells me a little yarn about one

Of our descendants who were all

Sawmill owners and loggers and

How Grandfather Henry when he was 

Cutting off Mount Greylock for his mill and

For the state of Massachusetts carving a

Road out to the mountain’s summit also

Worked over one landowner for most of

One night about a particular oak tree he

Wanted and left quite pleased from his

Visit with the man because he was given

Permission to cut the tree he had already

Earlier in the day cut down







Hauling Wood





Winter after winter I used to cut my

Cordwood on the hill and backpacked

Up fuel jugs, water jar, an apple for a 

Snack and chain saw, and when I had my

Wood it was always near Spring. Over the

Spring I usually did something for Native like

Stonework or carpentry and in return he would

Bring his truck over when the woods were

Again dry and begin to haul the cord

Wood out with me and stack it at a

Landing near the house. Without fail

He always began with the woodpile

Furthest back in the woods, until after

Some days we ended the work with

The one closest at hand.





for Alden







Reclaimed






Where loggers

Went through



Now Johnny

Jump ups





______________
Bob Arnold
Yokel
Longhouse
2011