is a tiny wandering imaginary dinosaur which migrated from AOL in October of 2008.

Thinking Lizard

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Rhodingeedaddee is my node blog. See my other blogs and recent posts.


[6-16-2009 Update Insert: Most of what is in this space is now moot. I found out what I was doing wrong and have reinstated Archives and Labels searches. They do work. However, in certain cases you may prefer Labels to Archives. Example: 1976 Today begins in November of 2006 and concludes in December of 2006, but there are other related posts in other months. Note: Labels only shows 20 posts at a time. There are 21 hubs, making 21 (which is for 1976 Today) an older hub.] ********************************* to my online poems and song lyrics using Archives. Use hubs for finding archival locations but do not link through them. Originally an AOL Journal, where the archive system was nothing like the system here, this blog was migrated from there to here in October of 2008. Today (Memorial/Veteran's Day, May 25, 2009) I discovered a glitch when trying to use a Blogger archive. Now, it may be template-related, but I am unable to return to S M or to the dashboard once I am in the Archives. Therefore, I've decided on this approach: a month-by-month post guide. The sw you see in the codes here stood for Salchert's Weblog when I began it in November of 2006. It later became Sprintedon Hollow. AOL provided what were called entry numbers, but they weren't consistent, and they didn't begin at the first cardinal number. That is why the numbers after "sw" came to be part of a post's code. ************** Here then is the month-by-month post guide: *2006* November: 00001 through 00046 - December: 00047 through 00056 -- *2007* January: 00057 through 00137 - February: 00138 through 00241 - March: 00242 through 00295 - April: 00296 through 00356 - May: 00357 through 00437 - June: 00438 through 00527 - July: 00528 though 00550 - August: 00551 through 00610 - September: 00611 through 00625 - October: 00626 through 00657 - November: 00658 through 00729 - December: 00730 through 00762 -- *2008* January: 00763 through 00791 - February: 00792 through 00826 - March: 00827 through 00849 - April: 00850 through 00872 - May: 00873 through 00907 - June: 00908 through 00931 - July: 00932 through 00955 - August: 00956 through 00993 - September 00994 through 01005 - October: 01006 through 01007 - November: 01008 through 01011 - December: 01012 through 01014 -- *2009* January: 01015 through 01021 - February: 01022 through 01028 - March: 01029 through 01033 - April: 01034 through 01036 - May: 01037 through 01044 - ******************************************************* 1976 Today: 2006/11 and 2006/12 -- Rooted Sky 2007: 2007/01/00063rsc -- Postures 2007: 2007/01/sw00137pc -- Sets: 2007/02/sw00215sgc -- Venturings: 2007/03/00216vc -- The Undulant Trees: 2007/03/00266utc -- This Day's Poem: 2007/03/00267tdpc -- Autobio: 2007/04/sw00316ac -- Fond du Lac: 2007/04/00339fdl -- Justan Tamarind: 2007/05/sw00366jtc -- Prayers in December: 2007/05/sw00393pindc -- June 2007: 2007/06/sw00440junec -- Seminary: 2007/07/sw00533semc -- Scatterings: 2008/08/00958sc ** Song Lyrics: 2008/02/sw00797slc ********** 2009-06-02: Have set S M to show 200 posts per page. Unfortunately, you will need to scroll to nearly the bottom of a page to get to the next older/newer page.


Friday, September 28, 2007


Another clear morning. At 8:07 the thermostat temp had descended to nearly 70. At 8:26 the furnace came on. It is now 9:10 and is still warmer in here than it needs to be. - In 1959 I entered Marquette University, and became a Schroeder Hall resident. One day I took a walk toward downtown along the north side of Wisconsin Avenue. When I came to a bookstore I went in to browse. A large reddish-brown hardbound stopped me. Near its jacket's top in bold black print was D A N T E. Beneath this name was an upright oval containing a sideview of the poet's head. I glanced through the book, attending especially to the photos of engravings accompanying the text. I read some passages. On the jacket's front flap the original price had been crossed through and a sale price listed. I bought the book. It is presently sitting to the left of me on my dictionary. I brought it into my bedroom about a week ago, but I did not start reading it until late last night. So far I've read the first five cantos. The chosen 69 engravings are by Gustave DorĂ© and the blank verse translation by Lawrence Grant White. The book was published and copyrighted by Pantheon Books Inc., New York in 1948. How much of this book I read during my year at Marquette/ I can't say. I thought I'd used it for the paper I wrote--which I also still have--for an Enlgish course I took in 1960, but when I went through that paper today I saw I had used Laurence Binyon's 1947 translation: The Portable Dante. I may have gotten that book from the university's library. I'm not absolutely sure what the proper title of the book I have is, but my best guess is: Dante Alighieri The Divine Comedy The Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso. - My paper: "The Fourfold Chariot": has a 9-line Prologue stanza I wrote. This stanza has a rhyme scheme: aababcbcc: the same rhyme scheme I used when five years later in the upstairs apartment in the Brumwell's house in Solon, Iowa, I began writing Onefor (Justan Tamarind). It staggered me as I read it and began to think it might be, a fact I proved moments ago via a "Justan Tamarind" search from Googleland. It still does not prove I invented it, but I did first use it in 1960. Here it is: I rode the fourfold chariot through lands Of liquid fire and ice where hope on sands Did die, where endless sorrows strolled; Where blackness killed the dancing golden strands Of beatific light. While thunder rolled In bowls of coldest dew; the lively steeds Increased their speed past Purga's prayerful fold, My spirit skipped across the rolling meads And stood in awe where paradise proceeds. I'm shameless. I know. And that I was only nineteen then is no excuse, which is not to say I've improved since. I may have devolved. My paper is dated May 2, 1960. That same semester a poem of four lines and two sonnets I had written were accepted by the Marquette Journal, but a far superior poem to any of mine, a longer and less encumbered poem, was also accepted. I have not yet been able to track down that poem's author, but I have kept the Journals mine were in, and so have kept his. Sharing it would be a pleasure, dark as it in someways is, but I have no right to. Its title is: "Pride's Offering to the Gods": you will just have to imagine the rest. Conjunctions of that nature always make me think, make me wonder, make me want to say: I"ll bet there are more great poems written by unknowns than there are by knowns. - Speaking of mysterious conjunctions, I am in the midst of one right now as the result of a "beyond language poetry" search. It is an essay by a poet new to me: Richard Jackson, an essay published in the Cortland Review. He focuses on the sounds of words, and how poets can get carried away by sounds, and how sounds carry meanings beyond those meanings words normally have; so that while a poet needs to maintain a kind of control, the words with which a poem is made depend on those sounds inherent in them for the sake of that poem's vitality. One example Jackson points to is/ canto 5 of Dante's Inferno. How is it this kind of ! occurs? In my life they do so over and over and over and over and over. Free will? Yes, but--. I am providing a link below and then returning to read the second part. It is PM 10:55, and amidst needs, I have finished attending Jackson's essay. The first poem he explores in index2.html is "The Writer" by Richard Wilbur, a poem I recently read. In reflecting on his concluding remarks, I at this moment realize how all poets (no matter their differences) are united: as users of language in ways which expose the cultural prisons attempting to enclose and silence us / as users of words in ways which seek to express the inexpressible / as explorers and preservers of freedom/ however we are able to do so. If the forces of deception prevail, all will die; for all such forces are bearers of death. Upon the reigns of imagination and empathy inside each human/ so much depends. ------------------------- Richard Jackson on Language-Driven Poetry Brian A. J. Salchert

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