Sunday, January 25, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Another poem from 1994 -- and a photo of myself from 1997, observation deck, South Tower, World Trade Center; and a very brief time lapse shot of Manhattan and surroundings from the WTC, made by holding down the shutter button for a few seconds on a point and shoot camera. Today, wind clobbering the tops of fir trees, sun droning the twilight.
By Jonathan Falk
I remember the city stacked in the night, a shattered bottle tipping into the dock. I remember birds arcing over the square, Korea town heights of hangul hair shops lit at twilight, the skin of waters, barges full of wood, pull downs lined on shops, piers slapping into gelid waters, the crumbling top of retirement home on Coney Island, birds attracted to its chalk yellow, concave recesses, eggs shrouded and skinny like skulls in divine manses, waterspouts, pigeon beaks and dwindling monuments, orange tea sipped through straws, the splash as boats anchor above wiry trees booming with the nostalgia of bleeding light in late afternoon, mica picked up by yachts and slouching driftwood, ocean liners hovering above bars of violet offing, a Jimi Hendrix impersonator playing notes to the square, speed chess and ginseng beer.
Posted by Jonathan at 3:14 AM
Sunday, January 11, 2009
G.W. is going to have to give back the keys to the car in a little more than a week -- wonder who he'll pardon? The vehicle's got a couple of dings in her. Collage from 2004, and the "Reagan Amplifier," which I recently unearthed -- had completely forgotten I'd done it. From the 1980s, of course, given the images and concerns (all-out nuclear war the main worry then -- giving way to a sort of slower crumbling now).
Last night watched a great camp classic, Horror Express, with Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, and a cameo by Telly Savalas. Great line, when someone threatens "I'll send you to Siberia," to which Kojak responds "I'm already in Siberia." The frozen ape thing in the case is eldritch in a way more expensive special effects can't match.
Have been reading The Prince by Machiavelli for the first time, as well. Move a lot of your people into the conquered lands --
Posted by Jonathan at 7:37 PM
Sunday, January 4, 2009
I've posted this before online, but I'll rerun it -- a cut-up of words by Jimmy Buffett, Kenny Rogers, and a translation of the poem De Profundis, by Georg Trakl. The following was fashioned with an online cut-up machine, after the technique developed by William S. Burroughs and Brion Gysin.
Nibblin' on sponge cake Watchin' those tourists covered away again in shaker of salt Some people to show but this brand new beauty A Mexican cutie of salt a woman to blame Now be my But there's booze in will render That frozen concoction claim blame But I know it's and some people on a train up with a gambler, we sleep to speak He said, son of reading people's faces sayin', I aces For a taste of some advice asked me for a deathly quiet, and his face You hold 'em, know when to walk away and for countin', when knows that the secret to throw that you can hope for And when he finished darkness, the in his final words I could keep is a hissing wind this evening.
Past the village pond
The awaits the sweet body
Decayed in the remote from sombre a light that I found myself upon a dust of Strummin' my six-string On my shrimp they're beginnin' there's a woman it's nobody's fault I don't here it got here I haven't again in Margaritaville Searchin' it could out my flip-flop Stepped on had to helps me hang on Searching for my lost shaker Yes there's a woman to blame own damn fault
On too tired to at staring out the window overtook knowing what the cards were, their eyes So if give you him my bottle, and he Then he all expression Said, if boy, you gotta learn to to to run You never count at the table Knowing what to to keep 'Cos every hand's a he turned back for the faded off to sleep that I stubble field on which a tree which, orphan still gathers scanty her eyes are gazing in am of God
I drank from the metal forms.
Spiders look garbage and the copse
Crystal angels have sounded once with oil front porch swing Smell those Chorus: Wastin' blame But I know know the reason I stayed How a clue Chorus: Wastin' away my lost shaker fault I blew a pop-top Cut my heel home Wastin' away again in Margaritaville of salt Some people claim that And I know it's my summers evening, So we took turns at the darkness The boredom And by the way they held don't mind my So I handed drank down my last swallow and you're gonna play the game, play it right Chorus: know when your money, when you're sittin' time enough away and knowing what a winner and every hand's speakin', window Crushed out the cigarette, somewhere in the There is a black rain falls.
There is a here.
There ears of corn.
Golden and round the dusk
And her lap hamlets.
The silence woodland well.
On my forehead cold heart.
There is of stars.
In the hazel more.
the sun bake All to boil Margaritaville Searching for my lost claim that all season Nothin' to tattoo But it's a real for Some people claim that there's I think Hell, cruise on back the blender And soon it that that there's a woman to my own damn fault a warm bound for nowhere I met were both us and he began I've made a life out you can see you're out of your whiskey, I'll bummed a cigarette light And the night got lost got to know when to fold 'em Know when There'll be the dealin's done Every gambler survive is loser And the best is that I end asleep And gambler he broke even But found an ace brown, stands lonely which haunts deserted huts---
How sad gentle the heavenly bridegroom.
Shepherds found bramble bush.
A shade I for my fails in my mouth.
At night heath,
Thick with have sounded once
Posted by Jonathan at 2:44 AM