Apotheosis Made to Measure

“And sometimes for great poetry, an infinitely small vocabulary is what you want. Perhaps that would be the ideal, except for the fact that it’s pretty hard to write a poem that way.”—Jack Spicer, from Vancouver Lecture 1

Ideal it would be indeed,

And infinitely hard and great yes,

But imagine

How easier that way would be

If only our words were

As modest as our measure.

The Trial

Believe me, I’ve tried

To be as honest

As I believed

A poet should be—

Forgive me.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Putting Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Enough, I say—

Only a fool would think seriously

Of writing poems

Day in and day out

And then

Go on and do it.

Moderator’s comments: Don’t look at me, Huuklyeand—I think I’ve paid my wages; now all I have to do is sit back and wait for an eternity to see if my investment pays off.

Have Poems, Will Travel

 
Depending on your time frame, this could be either 1) an announcement for an upcoming poetry reading, or more plausibly 2) a souvenir from my one and only poetry reading  32 years ago when I returned to the Pacific Northwest for three months during the summer of 1979. John Levy was living in Seattle at that time and was instrumental in setting up the reading. I think there must have been about thirty people in attendance.

The flier announcing the event is from the cover of my first book, Sentences, and most of the poems I read that night were from that collection, though I did read some translations I had done of Seferis' Mythistorema.

If anybody out there wants to pay my travel expenses, I'd be more than willing to return to the US for my second poetry reading! I'd even be willing to dispense with the honorarium. If interested, please submit your proposal within the next 32 years. 

 

 

Urban Indian Legend

No place

on any white

man’s map—

red

abstract

rib

like

tracks

treading

a

cross an end

less pale

concrete

tract.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Levity in Poetry

Levity does have a place in poetry—

It has to be somewhere 

Between having your head stuck 

In the ground and your feet 

Ascending in air.

Moderator’s comments: I felt so giddy while reading this poem that at first I thought Cinquor had written “feat” instead of “feet”—but then again, I’ve always been a sucker for puns—like John Donne—or should that be “did?”

Stillborn

that

we

could

be

whatever

we

wish

what

a

wish

that

could

be