notes from juliana spahr's response and a poem

in our last workshop, rob mclennan had us go to http://www.ubu.com/ubu/ (a great site for post avant stuff) and choose a collection to read and respond to by means of a poem. i chose juliana spahr's response (i've read and felt affected by spahr's writing already):

in her poems, spahr describes a series of scenarios where someone's truth is questioned: the torture of military prisoners, the self stalking of a woman with disassociative personality disorder, the abduction of people by aliens.

in her introduction, she discusses the difficulties of representing what's real and what's not through patterns, through art, through history. my poem was triggered by her use of abstract language, her method of including everyone by not being specific in naming, her occasional use of very complicated sentence structure, her simple language and the following excerpts:

"some co-opt this language and paint a series of meticulous and beautifully colored (sic)
monumental images of people imprisoned alone and at the edge of a
tedious despair."

"some [refigure [refuse] respond] call out for an end "

"rewritten the goal of the artist is to present reality in a true and concrete manner"

"another [generic human figure] says passionately we express ourselves in a lan-
guage of regulations. Symbols and numbers best convey our ideas."

"a voice stutters in the background of our waking mind"

"in the narrative she finds herself floating up and out of the bed"

"i can't say this happened to me and expect to be treated in the same way again"

"you keep shaking the secrecy tree
hopefully something drops out"

"as we try to look with eyes better than what we've had before"

"when terrible things happen they must be witnessed"

"how much of self can be removed and the self remain?"

and all of this VIII from page 79

"an attempt to speak to the human moment will occur
in these moments someone touches someone
someone claims to love someone
someone moves closer to someone in prelude to a proposition
someone waits outside for someone to come by
someone becomes unable to live his/her life and succumbs

this is information that might be left out of witness
yet it has a bearing that is all the more strong
it speaks to the safety of immunity that does not exist
to the various kinds of immunity that do exist
such as an emotional immunity to the world
a quarantine of engagement
a feeling of safety

which do you believe?"

untitled poem by me (amanda)

these pages are intentionally left blank

any attempt to find meaning

here is fruitless

abstract does not equal concrete does not produce sound does

not translate

into utterances decoded by ear

there is no evidence to suggest that saying no does not eliminate occurrence

or re o cur rence

to engage in hypothetics is incorrect

muscle memory is a myth

to obey / respect conspires against

solve this problem

where x is father

and y is mother

and z is child

x + y = z

x + z =

there is no answer

solve for why

winter

angels

2007 is the year of living red

[still counting]

[more]

chapbook (another)

published in Ottawa Arts Review, Volume 1, Issue 1
http://heat.artsuottawa.ca/main.html

love poems - more

love poems - three

Red...Variations

http://www.unlikelystories.org/earl0107.shtml

twenty nine and thirty

rain drudge sickness drudge
tv white noise nothing but
you forget how to dream
how to make plans
how to move
forward
fever and liquids
everything flushes out
leaves nothing behind
worry a dull refrain
and wire hum
background constant helpless
flutter you can do
dishes you can do
no cure no space for silence
every instant filled
water down windows vertical
prison bars
body you could be
are likely
next

twenty eighth

cold bus ride up somerset to bank
toques woollen mitts
the seniors have taken over
the grocery store
this is not the day to rush
seven varieties of apples
but no russets
more than enough chocolate
take a deep breath, close eyes
roll cart on
winter’s urge for beef
steaks burgers meatpies roasts
around childhood dining table
youve forgotten the recipe
for yorkshire handed down handed down
nanan’s treacle pudding and bakewell
tart the season custard and spirits
not liquid kind

pics to go with twenty four to twenty seven

twenty four to twenty seven

eastward sleeps an hours sunlight
the last time your feet won’t be sore
in three days
coasting in to central station
bland where train riders
arrive
in montreal
you wish for something
grand like arrival
plush red carpeted sound
like the champagne you keep cold
in an ice bag in your suitcase
with the broken wheel and the zines
a change of clothes
that afternoons wander thru the parc
la fontaine and on saints laurent
and dominique
portuguese chicken
the highway a lumberyard complete with totem pole
this is how you arrive
in outrement straight into the sun
a mirror against the wall
every angle refracts an ache
for something

you are distant here from you
and others thats a given
yield to traffic and jaywalk with the rest
rachel bakery and velorestaurant
coffee supposedly stronger than
this
an old couple having breakfast
he brings a large mug to the table
eggs benedict a days breakfast

the church basement
dogs running around
hip sayings on pins and slogans
you gawked at more than thirty
years ago
maybe you time traveled on the train
someone slips pyschodelia in your water
because this is a throwback
to something you never were part of
and all this time you thought
you were moving forward

old montreal champ de mars
stained glass rainbow sixties
a guy sings at the harp sign
off key
homeless in the tunnel covered
in white threadbare blankets and
garbage bags
down the street from chateau ramzay
where the history is preserved better

boutique hotels where old banks used
to be film crews where boutique
hotels used to be
theyre tearing down this old city
theres a good view of the port
with no ships waiting to dock

venetian slats slip light over you
sleep early sound of sitcoms blues
effective tonic more than gin
there are no cats on this street
just dogs and old men who hear
voices on mont-royal and shoe stores
and accents like bedding not language
you accessorize

twenty three

vacant unremembered
many things could have
happened
you woke up at some point
oh yes, there was laundry
and staying home
weatherered nothing
sometimes you want it simple
as washing, drying
the spin cycle
no leaks, no hanging
clothes outside for that fresh air
smell
just loonies and quarters
slipped in slots
a button pushed
the timer, a buzz
and folding

pictures that go with twenty two

twenty two

centennial public recess bell
first frost in snapshot sky
last winters fall thin sheet of snow on ice
on gloucester
laurier cardboard nest for the homeless
once you saw yourself there
severity of escape the last

fibreoptic for holes
to drop into
to float through connect
streets papered with reuters ho hum
christmas wreaths wrap wellington
how many shopping daze before
how many winds and snow storms before
this year ends on a sunday
eleventh hour is now
is to lie at the bottom of the deep end
will you ever dive again