Nov 28, 2005

A Man of Wealth (har!) and Taste



Sorry, I couldn't help it. This quiz seems to be well-researched. (Eileen is an angel!)

gry
You are Form 7, Gryphon: The Wyrm.

"And The Gryphon displaced the balance of
the world in his favor. With grace and
control, Gryphon deceived mankind and ruled
over civillization. But even he realized that
all good things must come to an end."


Some examples of the Gryphon Form are Satan
(Christian) and Baphomet (Assyrian).
The Gryphon is associated with the concept of
control, the number 7, and the element of wind.
His sign is the gibbous moon.

As a member of Form 7, you are a very in control
individual. You maintain your coolness in most
situations and always seem to be prepared.
Though some may say you are a bit of a control
freak, you know that you really do make the
best leader even if others can't see it.
Gryphons are the best friends to have because
they have a positive influence on people.


Which Mythological Form Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Nov 20, 2005

FOR FRANCESCA WOODMAN #9
Polka Dots #5

this was
as was
spotted
serpent

or of the eaves

I the corner
or rubble
pegs hands
if

half

of window wainscot

was me
I snake
thus

Nov 19, 2005

It has come to my attention that the Francesca Woodman poems' formatting does not display correctly in Internet Explorer on a PC. If you have a PC, please view the poems with a different browser--such as Mozilla Firefox, which is free to download and far and away superior to IE.
FOR FRANCESCA WOODMAN #8
Boulder, Colorado, 1972-1975


either other

ether


sister
shatter


lover


never

oro-
borous

Nov 17, 2005

Dear Francesca,

On some days, I can see myself, refected on a spot of chrome on some corner of the city. I can see it, how the body swells with age. On these days I am a disease the light has. I am like Charlie. I can go only as a heretic to your temple. I can walk up and fown 12th Street thinking I can teach myself to see you there. You dare me to catch you. You are a sea urchin. You would roll over me, like that. That is the way a body betrays you, you might say.

This was not your city, either. How loudly you said so. I can walk up and down 12th Street and think of what I am not. How I am not. You were smiling the day I put away the camera. The day my body died. There on 12th Street I am afraid you will see me being, as I am, a ghost. It is not your way to leave anything untouched, any angle unseen. Your song that peels the paint off the walls. But I am less than that.

There is no way to give this to you. Forget it on the floor and let it disintegrate. That is how you speak to me. You only speak. You cannot see me. I am just a body. The parcel is too large. I cannot fit through the little hole you tore in the eye, in the firmament.

Give my love to Gerard. Do not wait up for me, as I am late. I am always late.

Yours,
-M

Nov 14, 2005

FOR FRANCESCA WOODMAN #7
Self Portrait (Talking to Vince)

Leaning out although
of fire speech

the warm if is was breath
expelled ruffles
a curtain

not words only
frozen spit, swaddles
covers
all my mouths
O my mouths
of the open
of the dark wall
of the open I O
unshod
I

Nov 13, 2005

FOR FRANCESCA WOODMAN #6
Boulder Colorado, 1972-1975


To die
or to be
4.

Lateral mist
I a
cyclopean
clock
mouth

(Saturn vomits Artemis)

My pins of grass
ears a magician's saw

the mirror in corporeal
reflects only
gush

Arch of me spans the whole
blasted arc

warm to cold hand to foot

is bottom-heavy
foliage A beetle

crawls
what maybe

an edge, an epithet
blurred


It's Here


And should be appearing at your local bookstore soon. Lots of good stuff in this one, as usual.

Nov 12, 2005

FOR FRANCESCA WOODMAN #5
Roma, Italy, May 1977 - August 1978, 28cm x 36cm


So this one eats with death

This one is waiting
what lies

forsaken in walls
the cornerstones of buildings

Remember I was your dream

This is my light that
that teaches the plants
to hiss

This one is ready

Where nerves are
earth
worms

This one is going

Harvest the spaces in the net
for my dress

The air herds trees
This one
had

Nov 11, 2005

FOR FRANCESCA WOODMAN #4
Boulder, Colorado, 1972-1975

Upright Jack O'
Rabbit a cage of ribs,

each white like
a comma leaf apron

still sewn to the bad tree

knowledge of:

perpendicular brickwork
Our Lord
hovers the black

reaches under the house.
Maureen Thorson generously reviews Another Night here. I still have a couple of copies if anybody wants one.

Nov 10, 2005

Nov 9, 2005

While I was researching the right jellyfish name to use for the poem below, I discovered that this one is called "Aurelia." Moon jellies, along with Gerard de Nerval have always been my favorite. How fucking cool is that?
FOR FRANCESCA WOODMAN #2
Self Portrait at thirteen, Boulder, Colorado, 1972-1975

Emulsion a lock
scrapes, a damp
weight blanket.

Helix-braided wool, chrysaoran
mane: dilated aperture

a pew
I capsize
a door

hair a camera grows.
Hmm...just add some upside-down crosses and I'd say it's a good idea... Sorry, I've been reading Paradise Lost and have Satan on the brain.

Nov 8, 2005

I have begun work on a project based on the photographs of Francesca Woodman. Yes, I know, another ekphrastic project hot on the heels of Film Poems, but the relationship between word and image is something which seems to be becoming quite important to me. Ultimately I find I relate to the visual arts and visual artists oftentimes moreso than I do with poets. I think our contemporary understanding of poetry is not as developed as our understanding of the visual arts. It is as if art history embraced Abstract Expressionism, but its veracity is still a topic of debate among literary historians and practitioners of writing. One finds a preponderance of the old "my 4-year-old-could-make-a-better-painting" argument, which would get you laughed out of an art history department, but in literature becomes a somehow viable critical stance.

Anyway, that diatribe I guess stands as an introduction to the work. As with any ekphrastic endeavor, there is an important relationship between the poem and the "object." Therefore I guess I will link to the photographs when they are available online from the title of the poem.

FOR FRANCESCA WOODMAN #1
Easter Lillies, Boulder, Colorado, 1972-1975 11.1cm x 11.3cm


The 2 flutes
sprout out

the green axis the
labrys-axe

bilateral symmery:
spine bisects a

legs & arm
spine all alone

this headless
I spine alone

I me the navel pit
I the spine bud

hilt of mind

was never we
under middle grey

the 2 fingers

I always 2