Scatterings Interlude For, and beyond, the black holes of our lives, The priests of God talk on, Hawking the universe. February, 1979 sm045 post1051
Thinking Lizard
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- brian (baj) salchert
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Showing posts with label Scatterings book. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scatterings book. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
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Friday, April 3, 2009
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Scatterings The Owl-Man's Response out of Ken Kesey No! Her fingers are stiff: a vice for our protection. They set impressions in our heads we cannot lose. Forcing a mineral hardness in our foggy bones, they spark them into accuracy, devise direction. McMurphy thinks to elude them; Bromden groans: "Papa knew of a winter iron and who could choose." (late 1960s) sm028 post 1034
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
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Scatterings Glints of the Sun Start with a hole for a universe. Start with a whole. In the beginning was the double You. Your breath was a wind that whoed in the hole; banged this universe, these whorls of stars, into our wonder. And we? How wee we are! specks, yet wonders ourselves in our consciousness, opening through our spectacles the spectacles around and in; changing them. Of course we seek to become as You. Nothing You make tends otherwise, pulsing: Your manifest heart, enlivening from depth to depth so oxygen and silicon define our souls. So the glints of the sun on the live oaks' leaves, now quavering, now still; on the flakes of snow where skiers cut; on the whooshing sea! (undated) sm027 post 1033
Monday, March 23, 2009
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Scatterings Three 1. To Francisco Varela with thanks to Charles Hampden-Turner Out of the Body emerges Mind; out of the Mind emerges Body. So also out the Universe God; so also out God the Universe. Mystery out of Mystery. Now. Forever. Our rooted skies are nets out of trees; trees out of nets: the tangible creating the intangible; the intangible creating the tangible. Yet the point of view: so eerily the point of view controls, controls. So the abstract skies seem a female prepared & anxious for the pulsing roots; so the concrete skies appear a male awaiting & needing the engendering roots. So the abstract skies appear a male; so the concrete skies seem a female. But triangle out of triangle: star after star: any is each; each is all. 2. Again to Francisco Varela Still, whoever he is I'm becoming and am, the tones of my body keep me apart, however vital empathy, however well I can understand myself and others, and try to. How the minnows dart & wriggle, caught in my net! How the multitudinous waters drag and pull as the net lifts; swim suddenly through! Struggling logic, tree— though poorly tended— I yet, when winds & nettings tire me, lean on you. At work / at rest, neither roots thriving in the dark earth nor roots withering in the bright air, but roots sustained by the Rune whose soul is energy, and pleasing it, I and you, as each, through each, each restore, wide-eyed and deep as the universe. 3. Energy . . . n /LL energia, fr. Gk energeia activity, fr. energos active, fr. en in + ergon work/ 1 : vitality of expression 2 : the capacity of acting 3 : power forcefully exerted 4 : the capacity for doing work syn see POWER These are the definitions presented in Webster's Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary. I am pleased; for Energy, Radiant Love, is: the creating soul of my Rune Lord, the Primal Poem / the Primal Song, Deepest and Holiest of Mysteries. The universe, the consciousness-rooted universe, the ever-changing universe, the violent, beauteous universe, alive, alive/ beyond our keenest imaginings, transformative, magnanimous! But manifestation on manifestation the universe is; not Energy. Within, and yet as well without, Energy— fetal here on my card table chair to defend my feet from the vanished flea (from who knows where) my eyes caught sitting black and smart on my opened poets' calendar but my killing finger's slow approach wanded into vexing air, I sag— Energy predominates, enigmatic, warm. 1–13&14–83 sm026 post 1032
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Scatterings The Purple Fox Now blows a dark and brawling wind Along the purple Fox; And stands a rake beside his love Near friendless coalyard docks. And she is supple, like a wave, In her delight with him; But he's as stiff as any drunk All bottle to the brim. He stumbles out and stumble in: She smiles; then holds him near. But he is numb to all her warmth, And stares, and drinks his beer. Then quick and rough, he grips her jaw. She grasps his icy wrist. And eyes fear eyes in ghostly pale— He pounds her with his fist; He bruises with an empty can And tears her blouse away, And strips her to each rattling bone And molds her breast like clay. The coal turns white; the snow turns red. His love squirms like a worm. Though every twist would flee the beast, His vorant arms grow firm. With seering lust his sockets roll; His fingers run insane. So crazed is he that even now Her screams and tears are vain. And all this craze and drunkenness Is tangled in her hair. And love is raped and turned to ash, And softly strangled there. Yet far and cold the still night falls, The frozen river flows; But only one can tell the tale: The brawling wind that blows. 1965 published in summer 1965 Pursuit volume V number 2 sm025 post1031
Saturday, February 21, 2009
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Scatterings With Apologies And then there was a rock of death upon a placid sea. And then there was a wispy breath, and it belonged to me. And then there was a brilliant kite athwart the setting sun. And then there was another night, and so much still not done.
by Brian A. Salchert 2-11-00 on p. 27 of the 1996 Perigee Book printing of Dr. Louis Jandra's: The Psychologist's Book of Self-Tests is also from the Preface for Intelligence Is Not Enough sm022 post 1028
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Scatterings Cautionary Some will call Many will send But in the end You are all So if you attend Attend with care Let not befall Conditions where No one is there July 3, 2000 from the Preface for Intelligence Is Not Enough a Thinking Lizard unpublished e-tailbook about the stock market sm021 post 1027
Monday, December 29, 2008
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After Bar Closing Two nights ago a famous couple entered the lobby; and just as they were about to walk out the doors, the woman whined "It's raining"; and turning towards me, asked me to please make it stop. Raising my hands, I addressed the rain. The following night this same couple passed through again, and the woman thanked me for stopping the rain. Stymied for a moment, I at last responded: "It took me awhile, but I did it!" We laughed a little. (Wish I really could stop the rain .) 1988/01/24 sm008 post 1014
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Scatterings
Pavan So long as words exist and humans who use them there will be those who enter them as a spelunker enters a cave, an astronomer new space, a piano tuner each key's sound, who in effect will live in them and both sustain and be sustained by each as it is and as they shape it, who write them; and, in the patterns they divine, change our lives. 1988/12/18-19 sm007 post 1013
Monday, November 17, 2008
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Scatterings Untitled Meaning to make more of it than he ever could, three dogs drink from the fountain he drove his way through sleep and Nebraska and rested in Cheyenne --------- Pronghorns running, rain on the mountains, the ocean folds, divides he pushed his eyes past salt and sunset, got three in a king at Elko --------- Late the following afternoon, deserts, peaks, and valleys behind, sprinklers low he shifted his heart into Oakland and Hayward and studied it on the map --------- Sunday, after San Francisco and the cleansing of Highway One, snails he dribbled off to fog and Santa Barbara, he walked be/ side the sand - [ The above--which I have revised a little-- was found in a notebook. The incidents in it are true. They occurred in 1970. The "three" were: me, my wife, and the eldest of her two younger sisters who was moving to California. The reason our destination was Santa Barbara was because an aunt and uncle of theirs lived there. ] sm005 post 1011
Saturday, November 8, 2008
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Scatterings Name This River: Longhorn What godlings breathe on Texas, spring tumbleweed through raspy dust; with flails of rain & ice & snow norther county after county into submission; out of the Mexicos comfort one day & the next one roast; birth from the Gulf of Mexico snail fogs, urchin humidities, songs & laughter, and roiling pirates intense of eye; welcome with pines & oaks & mesquite, and oil wells & bank towers, and famous steer & flashing fish, with lonesome rolling mile on mile, & sufferings, and yet again with kudos & ramadas; book Charles Behlen into & for my spirit, and likewise or elsewise you; ponder me in Austin, a migrant from Wisconsin for some 45 days now as I (still uneasy in my settling in) course roughly across 4 atlas pages-- from its Dawson County beginning to its end in Matagorda Bay--the river that sections Austin, the river whose name my naming heart may ever want to change? (from First Pick - selected poems by Alden St. Cloud, 1982) sm004 post1010
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Scatterings The New Seasons 1. Swept to angels the snow delights and the yards they suddenly touch seem somehow blessed as the children skipping tumbling lolleygag home dropping their goods for wings snowmen snowballs forts oblivious in their escapes 2. Softly rocking creaking the breeze from the fragrant green shining noon as it ruffles the daffodil curtain the wife and husband smile at each other while they share close memories and pictures of their kids and grandkids 3. Mowing the lawn by the garden where cutflowers rise and neatly slide into a braided basket unrhythmically swinging from his wife's left forearm the husband stops resting his paunch and shifts into a long idle 4. Quickened into the riveredge woods right off the high school parking lot the three boys and the three girls yell and squeal as they duck under ochreous leaves pop over a knoll shimmer through a dogqwood brake bob out of sight (from First Pick - selected poems by Alden St. Cloud, 1982) sm003 post 1009
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Scatterings Wells Mfg. Corp. Plastics Department Angels demons fireflies beige 'n' grey-black dust of plastics thin air-hosed flash a butterfly on a tank-top a medal on a breast a mole on a nose small oblong preforms stacked together on their sides a black aurora rotor bodies distributor caps tumbling jacks & switches coil heads boxes barrels slip carts gloves armbands scoops inserts trays the heat of ovens & grinding presses August days over 90 sweat stock handler or preform maker or press operator or set-up man in the patterns of your work you weave in pools of something to eat to drink of bullshit hassling anger of serious talk of rest of dreams for yourself for others as you want need to can you mold your muscles and mind producing satisfaction and someone listens to crickets someone feels a cool breeze after dark someone jumps from ragweed entering a window someone balks at the taste of heat & dust someone breathes love the foreman worries smiles Labor Day, 1973 (from First Pick - selected poems by Alden St. Cloud, 1982) sm002 post 1008
Monday, August 25, 2008
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Scatterings Repetitions 2 Spirits of flowers spear through earth Bodies of angels breathe through air Fire washes Water burns In rusting cages gods men (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind) - Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-08-25
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Scatterings Repetitions redheads on bicycles in the park we remember floating / upturned faces blind the sun (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind) - Brian A. J. Salchert
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Scatterings March 1, 1972 Snow streaks waves waves through oaks and maples my eyes 'n' bones the hemorrhaged sky (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind) - Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-08-25
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Scatterings Pattern Life Death The spinning of stars (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind) - Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-08-25
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Scatterings Recognition and Resolve Too long have I lived in death the frail armor of self-pity the galleons of Romance and let this century dangle from my wrists like rough unwanted charms. I will give my body to the woman I love delight the flowers to their earthy soles and the works of men to their fingered highs. (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind) - Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-08-25
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Scatterings Emptiness * Here we are in the Rathskeller with the deadly poets of old It is after eight pm Blue Tale Fly is setting up Between my thumb and index finger an Old Milwaukee bottle edges around ** My second time at the Grand The skin-flick's bad yet makes me aware we are locked in cages of fantasies where the rich earths mix with the poor *** Squat on the frontroom rug with me Let my voice hold your spirit Rocks don't want waters to win Wasps are at odds with honey bees Desires rage through roses Wrestlers flip and groan (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind) - Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-08-25
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Scatterings To ____ Stars fall, and grasses . . . and hearts. . . . Wherever light slices, I still move and you move, and stand apart: pulsing, changing, denied. Worlds turn, touch. Woosh! Woom! (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind) - Brian A. J. Salchert 2008-08-25
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