lovejoy plunged (see note below)
a physical response suspended, glass globe, snow slow-falling on a tiny world’s steeple, café, baked snake (sage in the dressing) the undertaker’s: discount 0.00 %, its tiny swirl of smoke. serious hunting, hang up this poet trap; would you could you for dignity just a swath of grey at the temple, for example roam rome. chiaroscuro – draw this nude without looking at the paper, nex-t follow map blur curve of/and perfect copper engravings. all in the bark of a knee lovejoy makes it through the sun, skims earth. a hood hoodie woody and goody. keep drawing think line horizon, unconditional sense soul atoms, a shark. now who/how (go to page 3) to propagate swerve. world waver trigger whirr syzygy, + subtract mystery from mice. good night mr. holmes.
(Comet Lovejoy plunged through the sun’s corona at about 7 p.m. EST (midnight GMT on Dec. 16), coming within 87,000 miles (140,000 kilometers) of our star’s surface. Temperatures in the corona can reach 2 million degrees Fahrenheit (1.1 million degrees Celsius), so most researchers expected the icy wanderer to be completely destroyed.)
I brought this to my critique group last night. I love how good these poets are. These ‘crazy poems’ are a challenge to critique (for who wants to look at something written by a possibly mad person), but a couple of things are different because of their gutsy look at the piece. One of the best questions was Did you edit this? I had, but I liked that question. There were comments about the punctuation, the content. It made me think about why I’d written this at all, and why I’d brought it to the group. Necessary thoughts. These seem to be wanting to come out instead of straight lyric poems right now. So thanks to everyone in our Mother Tongue critique group, which we’ve named ‘Other Tongues’. If I bring things I’m questioning myself about, there you are with your experience and poetic outlook. An interesting thing happened; I found out what the poem was about. I had thought it was about fellow artists whom I’ve ‘lost’ in the sense of having ‘lost’ being in a particular drawing group, but then I said it is about losing my ability to draw like I did back then, only realizing it at that moment. So I shall continue having fun with these ‘lost’ poems. Maybe I’ll see what they are all about, maybe not. What would be the point? On the other hand, like Lovejoy, I may be either very hot, or coming out the other side of the sun.
Tonight a lucky glance at the bookstore poetry table, 50% off a gorgeous book. Against Forgetting, edited by Carolyn Forché! Also Four Corners Looking for a Room by Glenn Kletke. Along with that came the special of the week, a chapbook by above ground press, On Physical Real Beginning and What Happens Next, by Lisa Robertson. Maybe I’ll have time to post a quote tomorrow…