Triolet

The triolet is a tight little form, with enough repeating lines that, once you write a good couplet, the rest of the poem is not too far off.

Triolet (TREE-uh-lit, -lay) noun:

A poem or stanza of eight lines, having a rhyme scheme ABaAabAB, in
which the first, fourth, and seventh lines are the same, and second
is the same as the eighth line.

Here's an interesting link. And here is my lame attempt:


Can’t Swim, Can’t Whistle, Can’t Dance

Can’t swim. Can’t whistle. Can’t dance.
Obviously, we were meant for each other,
though anyone can see we both wear pants
and can’t swim, can’t whistle, can’t dance.
Such things should not be left to chance.
Who’d’ve guessed we’d be happiest with a lover
who can’t swim, can’t whistle, can’t dance?
Obviously, we were meant for each other.

Twenty Years Later, My Sister is Still Drowning

An amazingly prescient poem, by our own Kelli Russell Agodon, in the current issue of Bellevue Literary Review:


Twenty Years Later, My Sister is Still Drowning

She tells me about the ovenbird, its orange crown traveling swamps after sunset. She says it keeps an infant under its wing, tells me birds can sense children underwater. The dishes soaked overnight and though she knows it's just her reflection between suds, she mentions Jude, how saints appear in the waves of every body of water. We never talk about her second summer when she disappeared into the lake, the kingfisher hovering above her, the water that entered and exited in a burst as our father tossed her to shore shouting, Breathe, breathe! When she opens the refrigerator she laughs as she sees cantaloupe. Someone has carved God into the orange center, she says as if this world has not flooded around us, as if everything she said made sense.

The Bushes . . . goin' fishin' . . . 

from New Orleans

"On Clouet Street, where a days-old fire continues to burn where a warehouse once stood, a man on a bicycle wheels up through the smoke to introduce himself as Strangebone. The nights without power or water have been tough, especially since the police took away the gun he was carrying - "They beat me and threatened to kill me," he says - but there are benefits to this new world."

"You're able to see the stars," he says. "It's wonderful."


— DAN BARRY, The New York Times 9-7-05

Bob Denver RIP.
You'll always be Skipper's lil' buddy to me.

Kirk and Spock 

Kees & O'Hara: strange bedfellows

Great essay by John Yau in the current issue of American Poetry Review, comparing the lives and work of Weldon Kees and Frank O'Hara.

"Although separated by more than a decade, and associated with different literary tendencies, Kees and O'Hara loved the movies, modern art, and all kinds of music. They found popular culture exciting and vivacious, and they hated pretense. Both died young."

Kees comes off, in Yau's reading, as, ultimately, a joyless loner, who could not accept his life. O'Hara fares much better, as a playful, generous, and sensual participant in life. Near the end of the essay, Yau quotes one of my newest favorite O'Hara poems: "Ave Maria." I can just hear O'Hara's singular voice reading this poem out loud (and proud), and it makes me laugh and cry at the same time. The mix of the sublime with the mundane is truly magical.


Ave Maria (sorry the layout is not as in the original, but it doesn't really matter that much)

Mothers of America
let your kids go to the movies!
get them out of the house so they won't
know what you're up to
it's true that fresh air is good for the body
but what about the soul
that grows in darkness, embossed by
silvery images
and when you grow old as grow old you
must they won't hate you
they won't criticize you they won't know
they'll be in some glamorous country
they first saw on a Saturday afternoon or
playing hookey
they may even be grateful to you
for their first sexual experience
which only cost you a quarter
and didn't upset the peaceful home
they will know where candy bars come
from and gratuitous bags of popcorn
as gratuitous as leaving the movie before
it's over
with a pleasant stranger whose apartment
is in the Heaven on
Earth Bldg
near the Williamsburg Bridge
oh mothers you will have made the
little tykes
so happy because if nobody does pick them up
in the movies
they won't know the difference
and if somebody does it'll be sheer gravy
and they'll have been truly entertained
either way
instead of hanging around the yard
or up in their room hating you
prematurely since you won't have done
anything horribly mean yet
except keeping them from life's darker joys
it's unforgivable the latter
so don't blame me if you won't take this
advice and the family breaks up
and your children grow old and blind in
front of a TV set seeing
movies you wouldn't let them see when
they were young

When The Levee Breaks

If it keeps on rainin', levee's goin' to break,
If it keeps on rainin', levee's goin' to break,
When the levee breaks I'll have no place to stay.

Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan,
Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan,
Got what it takes to make a mountain man leave his home,
Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well.

Don't it make you feel bad
When you're tryin' to find your way home,
You don't know which way to go?
If you're goin' down South,
There ain't no work to do;
If you're goin' North,
There's Chicago.

Cryin' won't help you, prayin' won't do you no good,
Now, cryin' won't help you, prayin' won't do you no good,
When the levee breaks, mama, you got to move.

All last night sat on the levee and moaned,
All last night sat on the levee and moaned,
Thinkin' about me baby and my happy home.
Going, going to Chicago... Going to Chicago... Sorry but I can't take you...
Going down... going down now... going down....


from Led Zepplin IV, 1971, based on a 1929 recording of the same name by Blues artist Memphis Minnie McCoy.

Life in the Vernacular

a lapsed Catholic
the attic trunk a tabernacle

bits of silver
hammered to a rosewood cross

the dark Madonna
her death flowers

composed
among the dust motes

prayer
for the mute


— from Rock & Sling fall 2004 issue

Word Made Flesh

I am on a panel titled The Word Becomes Flesh at the Bumbershoot Festival in Seattle this afternoon, along with Shelley Jackson (of tattooed-on-the-body novel fame), Emily Warn, Marc Bamuthi Joseph, and Dennis Evans. Read more about it here. And read a terrific interview with Shelley Jackson here. I am not sure what I am going to say or read, but I'm sure it will be viscerally spiritual (or is that spiritually visceral?).

My Favorite Martian

I grew up watching My Favorite Martian in the early sixties. It seemed perfectly normal to me, these two men living together in a little apartment above a neighbor's garage. But I know now that Tim O'Hara's secret was not that his "Uncle Martin" was an extraterrestrial from Mars: He was his queeny gay lover. How else explain all the camp cultural references, the gourmet meals they cooked together, the endless wit, and the biting sarcasm.

. . . aren't they just an adorable couple? 

MODIFIED BEAUFORT SCALE:

Developed in 1805 by Sir Francis Beaufort

0- Calm: Silent; smoke rises vertically.
1- Light Air: Direction of wind shown by smoke drift.
2- Light Breeze: Wind felt on face; leaves rustle.
3- Gentle Breeze: Leaves and small twigs in constant motion; wind extends light flag.
4- Moderate Breeze: Raises dust and loose paper; small branches are moved.
5- Fresh Breeze: Small trees in leaf begin to sway;
6- Strong Breeze: Large branches in motion; whistling heard in telegraph wires; umbrellas used with difficulty.
7- Near Gale: Whole trees in motion; inconvenience felt when walking against the wind.
8- Gale: Breaks twigs off trees; generally impedes progress.
9- Severe Gale: Slight structural damage occurs, chimney-pots and slates removed.
10- Storm: Seldom experienced inland; trees uprooted; considerable structural damage occurs.
11- Violent Storm: Very rarely experienced; accompanied by wide-spread damage.
12- Hurricane: A giant sucking sound occurs, the end of the Bush presidency.

Question of the Week(end)

If you were a gay man, would you wear capri pants?

Please choose one:

A: Definitely yes! They are the latest fashion statement.
B: Maybe: it depends upon how hot it it is outside.
C: What are capri pants? Are they like cargo pants?
D: Definitely no. I would not be caught dead wearing them.
E: Gay men do not wear capri pants. They are strictly for metrosexuals.

Autobiographia Literaria

When I was a child
I played by myself in a
corner of the schoolyard
all alone.

I hated dolls and I
hated games, animals were
not friendly and birds
flew away.

If anyone was looking
for me I hid behind a
tree and cried out "I am
an orphan."

And here I am, the
center of all beauty!
writing these poems!
Imagine!


— Frank O Hara



I just adore this little poem. I have been feeling very much in tune with O'Hara's voice and sensibility and playfulnesss of late.