Monday, November 30, 2009
Coke announced that it is going to start making Coke bottles out of 30% plant based materials (derived from sugar cane and molasses). Scientists have developed bacteria that create plastic.
What is nature? The coke bottle is moving towards being as 'natural' as genetically modified nature (salmon, tomatoes, cows, wheat.)
Soon there won't be a difference between nature and the manufactured world. Or, at least, we won't be able to find examples of the difference. The Pacific? Half plastic. Breast milk? Full of dioxins. Forests in Borneo? Greenland? Subject to climate change and the atmospheric chemical stew. Teenagers? Full of growth hormones. (That must be why I am so short compared to my students.)
We have manufactured language. Can we use it to 'see' nature? Does language automatically mean GM ('grammatically modified') nature?
Can we stop global language from warming? Can we find structures that remember or preserve 'nature'? That help us understand how nature changes as humans change? Is humanity's relation with 'nature' the ultimate grammar?
I went outside and listened to a rock. I learned about fashion.
My radio has antlers.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
A song based on the beautiful psalms of Donald Rumsfeld.
Yodeling in Africa: the beautiful songs of the Baka people.
time, love, or history is
on the back
the sky tongue of space
lining the brain of an owl
what is liminal
between dusk and twilight
the feathers of a goat
the chrome shine of a tree
Monday, November 23, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Fantastic video of a great Tom Waits song ("come down from the cross, we need the wood") from his masterful Mule Variations. In the video, text animates all over a body. The video, by Anders Lövgren, makes the song a drama of written text and the "forces inside" the words--the letters--as they relate to the body. Our minds and bodies are crawling with words in some kind of lexical formication. Our bodies are pages for memory, for textuality, and, as Harryette Mullen, says, "we are licked all over by the English tongue," which, to me, sounds like she's not talking about a lover, but that big dog, that overenthusiastic galoot of a language that is English.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Troy Lloyd sent me an astounding package of his work quite a few months ago. I was mesmerized and overwhelmed into total inaction (I'd hoped to document it in photos and scans) the package was so marvellous. Here are two images culled from this wondrous Lloydarama. And: hey, Troy, could I use some of the images for a chapbook I'm creating?
Friday, November 13, 2009
A hidden comma curled like a seahorse in the mind. Wraithlike periods, ghostly ellipses, the semi-colons albino and invisible. These are the spectres of phantom punctuation, the incorporeal spirits of the mouth, gathering the breathlessness of thought, run-on and indivisible, as if between the cupped and narrow hands of paradise.
If the written word is weather fallen from the troposphere of speech, punctuation, rising from the apostrosphere, is the seasons, giving shape to the spoken year with its ecliptic and paradoxes, its long summer dashes, its bitter winter of exclamations. Grammar the pre-emptive counsel of language before the chaos of the mouth.
I have been carefully examining past works of Canadian poetry and I have uncovered something quite startling. After a close reading of the text and an investigation of other facts that have recently come to light, I have discovered that my book, Raising Eyebrows is in fact a forgery. It wasn't written by me at all. It is in fact a copy. I am still working to discover the source of the original.
I am in the process of returning my royalty cheques to Coach House Books. I hope I don't have to give up the condo.
Monday, November 09, 2009
a baboon rents a canoe
then smashes into the moon
fragments of moon, baboon, canoe
and as you breathe your lungs fill with
moon, baboon, canoe
moon, baboon, canoe inside
as you breathe
people that I love, you say
people about whom I care
moon, baboon, canoe
moon, shoelace, canoe
Saturday, November 07, 2009
I make boats run through the sea. I make boats run through the sea. I make it rain. I boil the trees and the giraffes loud as knives. I raise babies pink between the slats of cribs. I make it rain. I boil the trees and the giraffes loud as knives. I raise babies pink between the slats of cribs. I make boats run through the sea. I make the boll weevils cry. I make it rain. I boil the trees and the giraffes loud as knives. I raise babies pink between the slats of cribs. I make it rain. I boil the trees and the giraffes loud as knives. I raise babies pink between the slats of cribs. I make boats run through the sea. I make the boll weevils cry. I make it rain. I boil the trees and the giraffes loud as knives. I raise babies pink between the slats of cribs. I make the boll weevils cry. I make the boll weevils cry. I make the boll weevils cry. I make the boll weevils cry. I make a difference. I’m a big stupid baby stuck between ground and sky.
“You’re a know nothing” sky says to me. “Sky’s right,” ground says, but what do parents know? I take off my hat in the river, set my hair on fire.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
A recent post on Steven Fama's very excellent blog the glade of theoric ornithic hermetica discusses two 'translations' of Robert Creeley's iconic I KNOW A MAN one by Rachel Loden and the other by Douglas Rothschild. They are both translations or altered versions, using the Creeley original as a meme both in terms of structure as as well as a cultural artefact. The comments stream, with posts by both authors, are very interesting too. In responding to the post, I made up a quick version of the Creeley original, clearly riffing off both Rothschild's and Loden's versions.
I KNOW A MEANING
words, I sd to my
friend, because I am
always talking,—words, I
sd, which was not his
name, meaning sur-
rounds us, what
can we do about
it, or else, shall we &
why not, just say something,
words, he sd, for
look out where yr going.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Because it is autumn and regret for the past causes the trees to recolour the leaves and then give up on them, and everything seems further away, I have decided to create "Daylight Saving Distance." I propose that in keeping with the season, we change the distance of things and make everything a meter closer to us, that is, until things return to their previous green closeness in spring. I think this will be good for us emotionally, but also I consider how beneficial DSD will be for trade and the economy.
Remember: Fall closer. Spring further.
Keep your friends close. Your regrets closer.