Death of a turd.
Reacher Said Nothing, by Andy Martin (easily found)
The Cartel, by Don Winslow (easily found)
Sweetness and Power, by Sidney W. Mintz (easily found)
Zone: Selected Poems by Guillaume Apollinaire, translated by Ron Padgett New York Review Books
Poems for the Young at Heart, by Martin Stannard Leafe Press
Take the a Train Matana Roberts Lines for Lacy
Bored in the USA Father John Misty I Love You, Honeybear
Suggestion Diabolique, op. 4/4 Sergeï Prokofiev Prokofiev Plays Prokofiev
I’d Rather Go Blind Koko Taylor Deluxe Edition
Exchange Matana Roberts Live in London
Love Jihad Skip & Die Riots in the Jungle
The Blue Hour Federico Albanese The Blue Hour
Direct download: twonah.mp3
Tom Clark continues his excellent documentation of Birds and Turds from the Oregon Accumulator
A glimpse of sunnier days.
Photo © Claude Royet-Journoud
The procedure on December 22nd was cancelled at the last moment again (i.e. “in theatre”).The surgeons confessed the impossibility of getting my BP below 225/110, though both they and my GP had tried many and various means during the weeks prior. Again… too dangerous to try. So that was that. The thought now seems to be to have meetings with my cardiologist and the higher ups in the world of anaesthesia and “see”. Cato arrived for a few days, and with him and Bruno we spent Christmas Day in Lewes with Lloyd and Hannah.pictures. By the day after Boxing Day I was down with what proves to be pneumonia. I fought being put into hospital and even the doctor admitted it is no place to be during a holiday period. Outside, it is cold, damp and windy (probably three more of Peter Manson’s favourite Beckett characters).
Perimeter Thralls, Angel Exhaust 23. I probably owe Andrew Duncan thanks for this copy of a journal always worth the effort. A good selection of poems and a fine review/criticism/essay/various section. I always find things of interest throughout Andrew’s writing, and the editors’ and literary consultants’ drones’ surveillance of space and time is exemplary. There might be information on www.pinko.org or angelexhaust.blogspot.org The editorial address is 12, Eliot Hill, Lewisham, London SE13 7EB, UK.
Physics Envy: American Poetry and Science in the Cold War and after. by Peter Middleton University of Chicago. Peter is another whose writing I find both readable and intelligent and this book helped me through a couple of otherwise bleak days/
From Almost Everywhere: Selected Poems 1965 – 1995. By Franco Beltrametti. Those of Franco’s poems either written in or translated into English. Edited by Stefan Hyner, with many photographs and graphics. Fondazione Franco Beltrametti & Blackberry Books. Available in the US from SPD and in the UK from Amazon.
tensioni, by John Gian. Printed and published in an edition of 27 by edizioneinedite, Venezia, December 2015, with a cover by Francesco Giusti, hand-sewn. As I can’t see how anyone can get a copy, I hesitated including it, but getting and reading this seven-part bi-lingual poem, dedicated to me and “dopo structure from motion“, over the New Year was what my spirit needed. Ciao Gian, ciao Chicco.
I Don’t Need To Be Here The Henrys Joyous Porous
In The Bleak Midwinter The King’s College Choir
Cirrus Howard Riley Flight
The Virgin of Guadalupe Myra Melford Snowy Egret
Enchanted Adventures of a Quixotic Character Pt. 3 Tom Harrell Trip
Passé Mette Henriette Mette Henriette
Cadenza on the Night Plain: Captain Jack Has the Last Word Kronos Quartet Sunrise of the Planetary Dream Collector
Direct download: solsturn.mp3
Last posting for a while. I’m taking as a good omen that hospital work tomorrow morning is four hours post-solstice and thus heading into the light,.
Lyn Hejinian special issue of Aerial 10
Dick Cheney’s Heart, by Heather Fuller Edge Books
Letters Against The Firmanent, by Sean Bonney Enitharmon
Touché, by Rod Smith Wave Books
Primitive State, by Anselm Berrigan Edge Books
Loitering With Intent, by Muriel Spark this Bodley Head Edition long o.o.p
Crowded by Beauty: The Life And Zen Of Poet Philip Whalen, by David Schneider University of California
The Crossing, by Michael Connelly easy to find
Sonnets, by Ian Heames Face Press 2015
Average Cabin by Tom Raworth 250 copies, Face Press 2015
A Manual For Cleaning Women, by Lucia Berlin Various publishers, you’ll find it
For Face Press information it’s probably best to enquire of Ian Heames (ijaheamesATgmail.com)
Drummond Busch Hadley
May 28th 1938 (St.Louis County, Missouri) – November 26th 2015 (Cooperstown, New York)
I read through some old poems of Drum Hadley’s early this morning after getting the news of his death. News a little old as Drum died at Thanksgiving, but I’m out of range of the local news, most mutual friends are also dead and it was all long ago and far away. But New Mexico and Arizona light and scents flooded my memory and I was grateful to Ed Sanders for thinking to let me know. An aside in his message opened another memory door.
… we had just asked him possibly to help purchase Olson’s house at 28 Fort Square in Gloucester (it’s for sale, and will likely be torn down and gentrified).
So I was thinking of friends and death and money and progress and found this old Los Angeles Times piece in a rusty part of the web where links are corroded. I took a while to retrieve the parts and made a single pdf file hoping someone might ride by and look through the window. Goodbye Drum.
Here’s the poem from Ed’s message:
Remembering our old, dear and missed friend Edward Merton Dorn; and thinking of Jenny.
“I had come across the cartonbox (which is delivered to the home of the bicycle buyer when ordered thru postal channels). I took it home and put it downstairs where the storing-spaces of this building’s inhabitants are situated; however the next day it was gone, somebody had taken it away, it was stolen. Damn I should have chained it to the wall or something. Never thought there were people in my building who would do such a thing. And if there were such people how come I hadn’t seen them coming in or also possibly going out the other way? Anyway I got over it and soon I found another cartonbox in another part of town and walked it home. I still had this huge chain from when I did the all night shift as a firewatch man in the harbour and also the big Russian lock from the market. I cut 2 holes in the carton, one hole thru the frame and the other hole thru the frontwheel. Now my velo cartonesque was safe and ready to go places.”
Harry notes about his video:
… just a show set out from my container in the harbour where I store all those things, I was trying to get an item on a television program run by those two guys asking me silly about the works, my intentions and how I got started and why work with found already existing material etceterara. Hadn’t slept the night before and it took a lot of work setting it all up. In the end the video was not used but they gave me a copy of it.
A batch of the poems in Harry’s book noted below cover the period he lived in Ireland more than forty years ago. Here’s another gem from that time:
Harry remarks now:
All of the books were returned to me a couple of months later, I had written a letter to the board; “Dear Sirs, I have read all those books you in yr infinite wisdom have confiscated and their content has become a part of my neurological well-being, are you gonna censure my brainwaves , my dreams?”
Fred Hampton & Mark Clark
Chicago December 4th.1969
Country Life, a novel by Ken Edwards Unthankbooks
De Un Dir Apocrifo, by Francesco Giusti Campanotto Editore, Udine
Siderea Arx Mundi, by Pier Franco Uliana Dario De Bastiani Editore, Vittorio Veneto (o.o.p.)
La Casa, Il Posto, Il Tempo, by Francesco Giusti (poetry) and Vanessa Milan (illustrations) 70 copies printed silkscreened by Vanessa Milan, as Edizioni Doppiofondo, Venice.
An 8 a.m. phonecall again postpones surgery; this time until December 22nd.
Just back from a few days in Venice. At the last minute surgery was postponed until December 15th (when recommended surgeon is available). We took the chance of a cheap flight from local airport. Airline did everything right this end, and friends met the plane in Venice with a wheelchair. No internet. Did little more than see old friends, be wheeled around avoiding bridges; eating, drinking, talking, laughing, remembering. The furthest I’ve been away from these rooms for more than a year. I’ll try to catch up on mail over the weekend.