Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Tender Buttons :: Rooms



Act so that there is no use in a centre. A wide action is not a width. A preparation is given to the ones preparing. They do not eat who mention silver and sweet. There was an occupation.

A whole centre and a border make hanging a way of dressing. This which is not why there is a voice is the remains of an offering. There was no rental.

So the tune which is there has a little piece to play. And the exercise is all there is of a fast. The tender and true that makes no width to hew is the time that there is question to adopt.

To begin the placing there is no wagon. There is no change lighter. It was done. And then the spreading, that was not accomplishing that needed standing and yet the time was not so difficult as they were not all in place. They had no change. They were not respected. They were that, they did it so much in the matter and this showed that that settlement was not condensed. It was spread there. Any change was in the ends of the centre. A heap was heavy. There was no change.

Burnt and behind and lifting a temporary stone and lifting more than a drawer.

The instance of there being more is an instance of more. The shadow is not shining in the way there is a black line. The truth has come. There is a disturbance. Trusting to a baker's boy meant that there would be very much exchanging and anyway what is the use of a covering to a door. There is a use, they are double.

If the centre has the place then there is distribution. That is natural. There is a contradiction and naturally returning there comes to be both sides and the centre. That can be seen from the description.

The author of all that is in there behind the door and that is entering in the morning. Explaining darkening and expecting relating is all of a piece. The stove is bigger. It was of a shape that made no audience bigger if the opening is assumed why should there not be kneeling. Any force which is bestowed on a floor shows rubbing. This is so nice and sweet and yet there comes the change, there comes the time to press more air. This does not mean the same as disappearance.

A little lingering lion and a Chinese chair, all the handsome cheese which is stone, all of it and a choice, a choice of a blotter. If it is difficult to do it one way there is no place of similar trouble. None. The whole arrangement is established. The end of which is that there is a suggestion, a suggestion that there can be a different whiteness to a wall. This was thought.

A page to a corner means that the shame is no greater when the table is longer. A glass is of any height, it is higher, it is simpler and if it were placed there would not be any doubt.

Something that is an erection is that which stands and feeds and silences a tin which is swelling. This makes no diversion that is to say what can please exaltation, that which is cooking.

A shine is that which when covered changes permission. An enclosure blends with the same that is to say there is blending. A blend is that which holds no mice and this is not because of a floor it is because of nothing, it is not in a vision.

A fact is that when the place was replaced all was left that was stored and all was retained that would not satisfy more than another. The question is this, is it possible to suggest more to replace that thing. This question and this perfect denial does make the time change all the time.

The sister was not a mister. Was this a surprise. It was. The conclusion came when there was no arrangement. All the time that there was a question there was a decision. Replacing a casual acquaintance with an ordinary daughter does not make a son.

It happened in a way that the time was perfect and there was a growth of a whole dividing time so that where formerly there was no mistake there was no mistake now. For instance before when there was a separation there was waiting, now when there is separation there is the division between intending and departing. This made no more mixture than there would be if there had been no change.

A little sign of an entrance is the one that made it alike. If it were smaller it was not alike and it was so much smaller that a table was bigger. A table was much bigger, very much bigger. Changing that made nothing bigger, it did not make anything bigger littler, it did not hinder wood from not being used as leather. And this was so charming. Harmony is so essential. Is there pleasure when there is a passage, there is when every room is open. Every room is open when there are not four, there were there and surely there were four, there were two together. There is no resemblance.

A single speed, the reception of table linen, all the wonder of six little spoons, there is no exercise.

The time came when there was a birthday. Every day was no excitement and a birthday was added, it was added on Monday, this made the memory clear, this which was a speech showed the chair in the middle where there was copper.

Alike and a snail, this means Chinamen, it does there is no doubt that to be right is more than perfect there is no doubt and glass is confusing it confuses the substance which was of a color. Then came the time for discrimination, it came then and it was never mentioned it was so triumphant, it showed the whole head than had a hole and should have a hole it showed the resemblance between silver.

Startling a starving husband is not disagreeable. The reason that nothing is hidden is that there is no suggestion of silence. No song is sad. A lesson is of consequence.

Blind and weak and organised and worried and betrothed and resumed and also asked to a fast and always asked to consider and never startled and not at all bloated, this which is no rarer than frequently is not so astonishing when hair brushing is added. There is quiet, there certainly is.

No eye-glasses are rotten, no window is useless and yet if air will not come in there is a speech ready, there always is and there is no dimness, not a bit of it.

All along the tendency to deplore the absence of more has not been authorised. It comes to mean that with burning there is that pleasant state of stupefication. Then there is a way of earning a living. Who is a man.

A silence is not indicated by any motion, less is indicated by a motion, more is not indicated it is enthralled. So sullen and so low, so much resignation, so much refusal and so much place for a lower and an upper, so much and yet more silence, why is not sleeping a feat why is it not and when is there some discharge when. There never is.

If comparing a piece that is a size that is recognised as not a size but a piece, comparing a piece with what is not recognised but what is used as it is held by holding, comparing these two comes to be repeated. Suppose they are put together, suppose that there is an interruption, supposing that beginning again they are not changed as to position, suppose all this and suppose that any five two of whom are not separating suppose that the five are not consumed. Is there an exchange, is there a resemblance to the sky which is admitted to be there and the stars which can be seen. Is there. That was a question. There was no certainty. Fitting a failing meant that any two were indifferent and yet they were all connecting that, they were all connecting that consideration. This did not determine rejoining a letter. This did not make letters smaller. It did.

The stamp that is not only torn but also fitting is not any symbol. It suggests nothing. A sack that has no opening suggests more and the loss is not commensurate. The season gliding and the torn hangings receiving mending all this shows an example, it shows the force of sacrifice and likeness and disaster and a reason.

The time when there is not the question is only seen when there is a shower. Any little thing is water.

There was a whole collection made. A damp cloth, an oyster, a single mirror, a manikin, a student, a silent star, a single spark, a little movement and the bed is made. This shows the disorder, it does, it shows more likeness than anything else, it shows the single mind that directs an apple. All the coats have a different shape, that does not mean that they differ in color, it means a union between use and exercise and a horse.

A plain hill, one is not that which is not white and red and green, a plain hill makes no sunshine, it shows that without a disturber. So the shape is there and the color and the outline and the miserable centre. It is not very likely that there is a centre, a hill is a hill and no hill is contained in a pink tender descender.

A can containing a curtain is a solid sentimental usage. The trouble in both eyes does not come from the same symmetrical carpet, it comes from there being no more disturbance than in little paper. This does show the teeth, it shows color.

A measure is that which put up so that it shows the length has a steel construction. Tidiness is not delicacy, it does not destroy the whole piece, certainly not it has been measured and nothing has been cut off and even if that has been lost there is a name, no name is signed and left over, not any space is fitted so that moving about is plentiful. Why is there so much resignation in a package, why is there rain, all the same the chance has come, there is no bell to ring.

A package and a filter and even a funnel, all this together makes a scene and supposing the question arises is hair curly, is it dark and dusty, supposing that question arises, is brushing necessary, is it, the whole special suddenness commences then, there is no delusion.

A cape is a cover, a cape is not a cover in summer, a cape is a cover and the regulation is that there is no such weather. A cape is not always a cover, a cape is not a cover when there is another, there is always something in that thing in establishing a disposition to put wetting where it will not do more harm. There is always that disposition and in a way there is some use in not mentioning changing and in establishing the temperature, there is some use in it as establishing all that lives dimmer freer and there is no dinner in the middle of anything. There is no such thing.

Why is a pale white not paler than blue, why is a connection made by a stove, why is the example which is mentioned not shown to be the same, why is there no adjustment between the place and the separate attention. Why is there a choice in gamboling. Why is there no necessary dull stable, why is there a single piece of any color, why is there that sensible silence. Why is there the resistance in a mixture, why is there no poster, why is there that in the window, why is there no suggester, why is there no window, why is there no oyster closer. Why is there a circular diminisher, why is there a bather, why is there no scraper, why is there a dinner, why is there a bell ringer, why is there a duster, why is there a section of a similar resemblance, why is there that scissor.

South, south which is a wind is not rain, does silence choke speech or does it not.

Lying in a conundrum, lying so makes the springs restless, lying so is a reduction, not lying so is arrangeable.

Releasing the oldest auction that is the pleasing some still renewing.

Giving it away, not giving it away, is there any difference. Giving it away. Not giving it away.

Almost very likely there is no seduction, almost very likely there is no stream, certainly very likely the height is penetrated, certainly certainly the target is cleaned. Come to sit, come to refuse, come to surround, come slowly and age is not lessening. The time which showed that was when there was no eclipse. All the time that resenting was removal all that time there was breadth. No breath is shadowed, no breath is painstaking and yet certainly what could be the use of paper, paper shows no disorder, it shows no desertion.

Why is there a difference between one window and another, why is there a difference, because the curtain is shorter. There is no distaste in beefsteak or in plums or in gallons of milk water, there is no defiance in original piling up over a roof, there is no daylight in the evening, there is none there empty.

A tribune, a tribune does not mean paper, it means nothing more than cake, it means more sugar, it shows the state of lengthening any nose. The last spice is that which shows the whole evening spent in that sleep, it shows so that walking is an alleviation, and yet this astonishes everybody the distance is so sprightly. In all the time there are three days, those are not passed uselessly. Any little thing is a change that is if nothing is wasted in that cellar. All the rest of the chairs are established.

A success, a success is alright when there are there rooms and no vacancies, a success is alright when there is a package, success is alright anyway and any curtain is wholesale. A curtain diminishes and an ample space shows varnish.

One taste one tack, one taste one bottle, one taste one fish, one taste one barometer. This shows no distinguishing sign when there is a store.

Any smile is stern and any coat is a sample. Is there any use in changing more doors than there are committees. This question is so often asked that squares show that they are blotters. It is so very agreeable to hear a voice and to see all the signs of that expression.

Cadences, real cadences, real cadences and a quiet color. Careful and curved, cake and sober, all accounts and mixture, a guess at anything is righteous, should there be a call there would be a voice.

A line in life, a single line and a stairway, a rigid cook, no cook and no equator, all the same there is higher than that another evasion. Did that mean shame, it meant memory. Looking into a place that was hanging and was visible looking into this place and seeing a chair did that mean relief, it did, it certainly did not cause constipation and yet there is a melody that has white for a tune when there is straw color. This shows no face.

Star-light, what is star-light, star-light is a little light that is not always mentioned with the sun, it is mentioned with the moon and the sun, it is mixed up with the rest of the time.

Why is the name changed. The name is changed because in the little space there is a tree, in some space there are no trees, in every space there is a hint of more, all this causes the decision.

Why is there education, there is education because the two tables which are folding are not tied together with a ribbon, string is used and string being used there is a necessity for another one and another one not being used to hearing shows no ordinary use of any evening and yet there is no disgrace in looking, none at all. This came to separate when there was simple selection of an entire pre-occupation.

A curtain, a curtain which is fastened discloses mourning, this does not mean sparrows or elocution or even a whole preparation, it means that there are ears and very often much more altogether.

Climate, climate is not southern, a little glass, a bright winter, a strange supper an elastic tumbler, all this shows that the back is furnished and red which is red is a dark color. An example of this is fifteen years and a separation of regret.

China is not down when there are plates, lights are not ponderous and incalculable.

Currents, currents are not in the air and on the floor and in the door and behind it first. Currents do not show it plainer. This which is mastered has so thin a space to build it all that there is plenty of room and yet is it quarreling, it is not and the insistence is marked. A change is in a current and there is no habitable exercise.

A religion, almost a religion, any religion, a quintal in religion, a relying and a surface and a service in indecision and a creature and a question and a syllable in answer and more counting and no quarrel and a single scientific statement and no darkness and no question and an earned administration and a single set of sisters and an outline and no blisters and the section seeing yellow and the centre having spelling and no solitude and no quaintness and yet solid quite so solid and the single surface centred and the question in the placard and the singularity, is there a singularity, and the singularity, why is there a question and the singularity why is the surface outrageous, why is it beautiful why is it not when there is no doubt, why is anything vacant, why is not disturbing a centre no virtue, why is it when it is and why is it when it is and there is no doubt, there is no doubt that the singularity shows.

A climate, a single climate, all the time there is a single climate, any time there is a doubt, any time there is music that is to question more and more and there is no politeness, there is hardly any ordeal and certainly there is no tablecloth.

This is a sound and obligingness more obligingness leads to a harmony in hesitation.

A lake a single lake which is a pond and a little water any water which is an ant and no burning, not any burning, all this is sudden.

A canister that is the remains of furniture and a looking-glass and a bed-room and a larger size, all the stand is shouted and what is ancient is practical. Should the resemblance be so that any little cover is copied, should it be so that yards are measured, should it be so and there be a sin, should it be so then certainly a room is big enough when it is so empty and the corners are gathered together.

The change is mercenary that settles whitening the coloring and serving dishes where there is metal and making yellow any yellow every color in a shade which is expressed in a tray. This is a monster and awkward quite awkward and the little design which is flowered which is not strange and yet has visible writing, this is not shown all the time but at once, after that it rests where it is and where it is in place. No change is not needed. That does show design.

Excellent, more excellence is borrowing and slanting very slanting is light and secret and a recitation and emigration. Certainly shoals are shallow and nonsense more nonsense is sullen. Very little cake is water, very little cake has that escape.

Sugar any sugar, anger every anger, lover sermon lover, centre no distractor, all order is in a measure.

Left over to be a lamp light, left over in victory, left over in saving, all this and negligence and bent wood and more even much more is not so exact as a pen and a turtle and even, certainly, and even a piece of the same experience as more.

To consider a lecture, to consider it well is so anxious and so much a charity and really supposing there is grain and if a stubble every stubble is urgent, will there not be a chance of legality. The sound is sickened and the price is purchased and golden what is golden, a clergyman, a single tax, a currency and an inner chamber.

Checking an emigration, checking it by smiling and certainly by the same satisfactory stretch of hands that have more use for it than nothing, and mildly not mildly a correction, not mildly even a circumstance and a sweetness and a serenity. Powder, that has no color, if it did have would it be white.

A whole soldier any whole soldier has no more detail than any case of measles.

A bridge a very small bridge in a location and thunder, any thunder, this is the capture of reversible sizing and more indeed more can be cautious. This which makes monotony careless makes it likely that there is an exchange in principle and more than that, change in organization.

This cloud does change with the movements of the moon and the narrow the quite narrow suggestion of the building. It does and then when it is settled and no sounds differ then comes the moment when cheerfulness is so assured that there is an occasion.

A plain lap, any plain lap shows that sign, it shows that there is not so much extension as there would be if there were more choice in everything. And why complain of more, why complain of very much more. Why complain at all when it is all arranged that as there is no more opportunity and no more appeal and not even any more clinching that certainly now some time has come.

A window has another spelling, it has "f" all together, it lacks no more then and this is rain, this may even be something else, at any rate there is no dedication in splendor. There is a turn of the stranger.

Catholic to be turned is to venture on youth and a section of debate, it even means that no class where each one over fifty is regular is so stationary that there are invitations.

A curving example makes righteous finger-nails. This is the only object in secretion and speech.

To being the same four are no more than were taller. The rest had a big chair and a surveyance a cold accumulation of nausea, and even more than that, they had a disappointment.

Nothing aiming is a flower, if flowers are abundant then they are lilac, if they are not they are white in the centre.

Dance a clean dream and an extravagant turn up, secure the steady rights and translate more than translate the authority, show the choice and make no more mistakes than yesterday.

This means clearness, it means a regular notion of exercise, it means more than that, it means liking counting, it means more than that, it does not mean exchanging a line.

Why is there more craving than there is in a mountain. This does not seem strange to one, it does not seem strange to an echo and more surely is in there not being a habit. Why is there so much useless suffering. Why is there.

Any wet weather means an open window, what is attaching eating, anything that is violent and cooking and shows weather is the same in the end and why is there more use in something than in all that.

The cases are made and books, back books are used to secure tears and church. They are even used to exchange black slippers. They can not be mended with wax. They show no need of any such occasion.

A willow and no window, a wide place stranger, a wideness makes an active center.

The sight of no pussy cat is so different that a tobacco zone is white and cream.

A lilac, all a lilac and no mention of butter, not even bread and butter, no butter and no occasion, not even a silent resemblance, not more care than just enough haughty.

A safe weight is that which when it pleases is hanging. A safer weight is one more naughty in a spectacle. The best game is that which is shiny and scratching. Please a pease and a cracker and a wretched use of summer.

Surprise, the only surprise has no occasion. It is an ingredient and the section the whole section is one season.

A pecking which is petting and no worse than in the same morning is not the only way to be continuous often.

A light in the moon the only light is on Sunday. What was the sensible decision. The sensible decision was that notwithstanding many declarations and more music, not even notwithstanding the choice and a torch and a collection, notwithstanding the celebrating hat and a vacation and even more noise than cutting, notwithstanding Europe and Asia and being overbearing, not even notwithstanding an elephant and a strict occasion, not even withstanding more cultivation and some seasoning, not even with drowning and with the ocean being encircling, not even with more likeness and any cloud, not even with terrific sacrifice of pedestrianism and a special resolution, not even more likely to be pleasing. The care with which the rain is wrong and the green is wrong and the white is wrong, the care with which there is a chair and plenty of breathing. The care with which there is incredible justice and likeness, all this makes a magnificent asparagus, and also a fountain.

-- Gertrude Stein

Beaver Moon



beaver moon full juice --
it didn't fool him, of course,
but did make him mad

lemme smell your breath --
you have to step on bunions
to wake a zombie

don't think I'm kidding --
look outside at the full moon
no, I'm not kidding

some of them "got it"
and started writing haiku --
from gut responses

some of the others
just went up in flames and quit --
sunset upon them

he paid for the right
to write about moon phases
by staying awake

stop playing to the crowd --
give it a new name, call it
Django, Django Moon

.

Oiseaux des Iles

.


Rhythm Futur
.



Nuages
.


Two

full big banger moonlight lookin good this evening.
in your face rubbing noses with Ananda: penetrating --
it's been twenty minutes how long does it take you to put on jeans?
overhanging bulbous fawning peach turning to pumpkin
the old man haiku writer walks around with a cane bloated w/moonlight
lonesome housewife in the suburb somewhere USA writes a haiku about:
moonlight: my daughter twiddles her thumbs -- cut the onion
a bewildered Serbian can't re-write the haiku of the ages fast enough
snails link up in a long chain during transference of sexual energy
like a daisy chain of on-line haiku writers weekend writers
bangles babbles baubles butt-kissing praises prizes awards & what
does it matter they melt in the morning sun; they were just vampires
after the immortally fresh blood of basho issa buson shiki anyway.

-- Jeff Wietor

8 Haiku



Standing in the snow,
a horse shifts his heavy haunch
slowly to the right.
-------------------------------------

Just enough of snow
To make you look carefully
At familiar streets.
-------------------------------------

A slow creeping snail;
Moments later I could not
See it anywhere.
-------------------------------------

The caw of a crow:
On a distant summer field
Goes a silent train.
-------------------------------------

Droning autumn rain:
A boy lines up toy soldiers
For a big battle.
-------------------------------------

Across the table cloth,
Ants are dragging a dead fly
In the evening sun.
-------------------------------------

The sport stadium:
Every seat is taken
By whirling snowflakes.
-------------------------------------

On my trouser leg
Are still a few strands of fur
From my long dead cat.

_________________

-- Richard Wright

Monday, November 14, 2005

I Do Not See a Sonnet on the Ceiling



I do not see a sonnet on the ceiling.
Turns out no one can.
The rhythms become most exuberant in the afternoon.
Will I see you again sentences.

The sadness

turn the page of the newspaper; imbibe imbalance:
mugged winningly during a brightly sung "Lament of the Roast Swan"
sang with forthright athleticism
baritone

of this passing autumn --

the #1 Movie in America: Chicken Little
Dare to See it: Saw II
Spellbinding, gripping, suspenseful: Derailed
two thumbs up: Zathura
Hilarious: Prime
two thumbs up: Jarhead

who to talk it out with?

A 15-year-old asked how a young kid can break into the music industry.
"It's who you know."

(Baritone)

Oh, oh, oh,
totus floreo,
iam amore virginali
totus ardeo,
novus, novus amor
est, quo pereo.

A Masterwork. Breathtaking.

Gregory Popovich from the Moscow Circus
performs with animals
at the Napa Opera House

Researchers from the University of Zurich have named a newly discovered species of lemur after the British comedian, John Cleese, in honor of his work with the animal.

A demon can't handle human emotions.

a basket of wild spinach picked

An aquarium was the television set of the 19th century

Pesky or pretty?
Pigeons, parrots have their devotees.
Puzzles appear on page 62.

A baritone lives in the apartment down the hall.
I imagine a baritone singing shaving lathered before his mirror.
It's not about money, it's about singing.

(Baritone)

Oh! Oh! Oh!
I am bursting out all over!
I am burning all over with first love!
New, new love is what I am dying of!

heading home at twilight.

Oil's skid pumps stocks up.
In 1997 I owned 1,500 shares of PIXAR.

Why David doesn't know enough to return the Bogomolov is unknown to me.
Why doesn't David know he should take the trouble to return the Bogomolov.
Irksome to me knowing David doesn't concern himself and return the Bogomolov.
Why I don't call David about returning the Bogomolov gnaws at me. I know that.

One is often bewitched by a word. For example, by the word "know".
There is something universal here; not just something personal.

Whippersnappers & jackanapes & other rapscallions looking for relief.
Dove chocolate & Ivory soap & Cal's swim team create silky smooth moments.

While working as a secretary for Botsford Ketchum advertising I met Lord Lichfield in 1977; he died Friday. Peter Drucker, died of natural causes at his home in Los Angeles. Moustapha Akkad, the Syrian-born filmmaker and producer of the "Halloween" horror movie franchise, died Friday from wounds sustained in the triple hotel bombings in Jordan.

Lynda: Now when we get inside, Annie will distract Lindsey and we go upstairs to the first bedroom on the right. Got it?
Bob: First I rip your clothes off...
Lynda: Don't rip my blouse, it's expensive you idiot!
Bob: Then I rip my clothes off, then I rip Lindsey's clothes off, yeah I think I got it.

Hi. I was just calling you.
Are you still mad at me?
Each of us is here for but a brief sojourn, for what purpose he knows not, though sometimes thinks he senses it -- particularly in a strong economic growth.

TV:
Sitting on a sandy beach looking out at a plethora of pines.
The conifers come right down to the shore.
The lake is home to smallmouth bass.
It's a great spot.
How often do you see a bald eagle?
I see one about once a week.
A bald eagle fly-by is a beautiful sight.


Grooming Ananda in the heat of the day.

There is something universal here; not just something personal.

One is often bewitched by a word. For example, by the word "know".

-- Jeff Wietor

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Propositional Prepositions with Guy Pearce



people with less money are less heard from
a film you can do your ironing to
but a profound sense of

like trying to capture lightning in a bottle
reveries on the poetic ebb and flow of life
across time and memory without a break

a system of moments: guest curator
I saw more clearly than I have ever seen before
I am a graphic designer at a top snowboard company

it's too warm for Christmas shopping
hard to believe Christmas is around the corner
November cut from a different cloth

the false embers of remembering that moment
the thing du jour in indie rock; black clad sycophants;
attacked again with the threat of holidays

if you loved yesterday you'll love today
no rain in the foreseeable future: high and dry
into next week: unseasonably dry: Design DJ

he believes it but it isn't so
he knows it but it isn't so
what is expressed by tone of voice

did you have fun. yes. did you learn something. yes.
what did you learn. silence. he was just beaming
with pride; you know you had a good time. tell me.

forget this transcendent certainty, which is connected
with your concept of spirit. you know your name
what could a mistake here be like.

wicked weather whipped up on football fans
no one discovers the clues like he does
it's a nice day to do just about anything

I am convinced the sun is not a hole in the vault of heaven
you may have some gusty winds keeping the rain away
there's a much different story in the nation's heartland

where did you come from
I wonder how
I will lift up these words

at the core of the sinking numbers: the war in Iraq
five shootings were reported in Oakland over night
when was it you figured out something was wrong

there's a misconception that celebrities don't have problems
brittany murphy is definitely not clueless anymore
luis alfaro was born and raised in downtown Los Angeles

how many times have you gone to church and left the same as you came
I stole your magazine from a woman in Florida: I heard a buzzing sound.
plenty of fast track doppler sunshine high clouds no moisture

imminent commitment; little pinch; melted butter; not an artist?
it doesn't matter anymore; you can be taught everything you need
to get a job; call now; you probably have questions.


Two

she knew how sick she was. absolutely. she died three years later.
modern medicine develops drugs. she lived life to the fullest.
she did charity work. of course no one knows. how did you know we were lost.

cult kudos accolades just say the script was great
so he decided to take love and make it music a penny for your thoughts
I played drums in every dive up and down the coast

spank the movie back in line sexy barbie-perfect boyish lens
his other love walking the line with Reese Witherspoon coffee
house grins eyebrows meaningfully: gesture we say differently

can you help me with my sleeping trouble? I am sure I have not
been to the moon but I cannot, of course, prove it to you.
I never thought you'd play with the big boys as a critic's darling.

she all but steals from the star; his voice comes from that skinny frame;
sassy assurance, for example, playful sex monsters from Venus rub you down;
not an artist? it doesn't matter anymore; you can be trained.

suppose you could not remember whether you always had five fingers;
does anyone ever test whether Andy Warhol remains in existence
when no one is paying attention to him?


Three

sit there. don't blink. the truth of a proposition is certain.
complete conviction; total absence of doubt; it gives me
something to do; it is written; I went undercover; Underground.

Memento whirlpool of postpubescent emotion churning guitars tearful
thrill rock melodies pained vocal styling I mean this is music at 16
some guitars save the day we love that Roy Orbison sound dancing in the dark

he was just a skinny kid; imagine a world without you; are you in it?
these are exciting times but not much longer for you hanging on
despite a certain something sugar spun electric piano alluring undercurrent

I have been asked to star in a Nike commercial. of American audiences;
of British dance; of their choice; of "Lump," "Runaway Train," and yes,
"Breakfast at Tiffany's"; sort of cool; have you used of yet today?

-- Jeff Wietor

Friday, November 11, 2005

Adam & Whit Clearwater: : Conjunctio Twins



I cannot seriously suppose that I am at this moment dreaming. Someone who, dreaming, says “I am dreaming", even if he speaks audibly in doing so, is no more right than if he said in his dream “it is raining", while it was in fact raining. Even if his dream were actually connected with the noise of the rain.

I wonder when the rains will begin. A gathering grayness of evening. Half hour before sundown. Gray obscures sunset. Humidly thick the air. Warm humid home clammy humane drizzly down-to-earth humdrum muggy. When the rains begin in earnest. The rains of winter fat and meticulous. When the autumn becomes winter. I wonder waiting when the meticulous drops of water needle the cement and pierce the remaining leaves. When the winter explains itself to itself in thickening darkness. When the darkness comes earlier and earlier each day during the rain. When the rain succeeds at intoxicating the evergreens and lawns and fist-sized ivy in the hidden areas of San Francisco's closely kept secret: the backyards. The city backyards hidden from view by facades of houses. Remote and private. The rains. Banana slugs languid on the sidewalks in Buena Vista Park. When the ants come indoors. Baptize the newcomers. Drown the residents. Banter on buses urgently concerns the rain, "it's raining It's dreary I'm sick of it I'm weary When will it ever stop raining I'm cold It's cold I have a cold I had that cold everyone is having I'm tired of it It's raining again. It's wet I'm cold. He has the flu Did you have the flu She has the flu He's out She's out They've been out for most of the week." Pluvial and pluvious drizzle comes stormy. Rain on the window. Waking to rain. Sleeping through rain. Walking in the rain. Running through rain blossomed green. He was a friend of mine. May your sweet dreams come true. Just a minute wait for the never grow old silence. dancing with nouns; various writers style of dancing with nouns: chandler alchemy, ashbery mysticism, basho conjunctio et al. Poem title or titles: I am that word the Japanese have a word for. he says: "my goldrush gainst her silvernetss" lamenting the interpretive trend. when rain turns to words she turns toward silver. rain in her womb he rains in her version of reproduction. rain falls from the sky. sun in fermentation full. twins. such as they were they will be: body bound. eye to eye tooth and nail I must defend the Universe. ya ya ya but first let's have some fun. as God has decreed in essential way. here the water sinks into the soil. into the lawn. into the roots of the plane tree. birth occurs in the steams of the still head. he says: "the he and the she and the is of it"


Sie erreichen Conjunctio als Antwort zu einer Verhältnis-Frage: Sie verwirklichen bald einen Anschluß des sacred Buchstabens, magisch und tief wandeln um. Conjunctio verkündet die Verbindung der kosmischen soulmates, also tief und wesentlich ist es fast symbiotisch. Ihr Liebeleben könnte ein Gipfel erreichen, wenn Sie den Mut ließen gehen, sich zur Stärke Ihrer eigenen Gefühle zu verlassen und dieser unwiderstehlichen, Anziehung zu widerstehen zu stoppen haben. Es ist nicht über wütende, illusorische Neigung, eher eine fast mystical Komplementarität consecrated durch Verbindung, dieser Sozialstempel der Zustimmung, die der wenige wichtige Aspekt des Verhältnisses ist. Wenn Sie Conjunctio als Antwort zu einem professionellem erreichen, fragen Sie: sie erklärt Ihnen, daß es eine gute Zeit ist, ergänzende Teilhaberschaften, ursprüngliche Verbindungen, Fusionen oder das Arbeiten in den Paaren herzustellen. Zögern Sie nicht, an einem Gemeinschaftsprojekt teilzunehmen, oder Ihre Tätigkeiten aufzuladen, indem Sie in neues Blut oder in neue Ideen holen. Sie konnten Hilfe von den unterschiedlichen Leuten auch empfangen oder werden in einer strategischen Crossroadsposition zwischen unterschiedliche Felder gesetzt. Wenn Sie Conjunctio als Antwort zu einem geistigem erreichen, fragen Sie: sie führt Sie in Richtung zu einer divine Liebegeschichte. Sie werden mit kosmischen Flächen, Gott oder Natur vereinigt. Sie werden fielen angeschlossen an den Cosmos über den Grenzen der Raum-Zeit und der Versuche und der tribulations des Ego hinaus. Sie werden durch die Sterne und fühlen ernährt, die und durchzuführen verwirklicht werden. Conjunctio verkündet Momente von Anmut, also ließ ihn Sie berühren.

one must fix one unite. soul and spirit why is the body weak sold to dissolution. his sharp tooth. awareness of being is delight do not undervalue attention the beginningless begins forever the second half can end at any time play hard have fun short radius what makes the difference everything happens by itself it's a matter of wanting Who is Adam; who Whit: time will and will not tell: living is life's only purpose. I am not the doer.

Reality can not be expressed.

The pileated woodpecker is about 15 inches in length and is one of the largest woodpeckers found in North America. (Only the possibly extinct Ivory-billed Woodpecker in the southeastern United States and Cuba and the Imperial Woodpecker of western Mexico are larger.) It has a black body, a red crest, white stripes on its neck and black and white stripes on its face. It has yellow bristly feathers over its nostrils that keep out wood chips. It has a long, sticky tongue; a long, sharp pointed bill and yellow eyes. Males and females are similar, but males have a red forehead, and females have a gray to yellowish brown forehead.

Gene Krupa was born in Chicago, Illinois on January 15, 1909 and was the the youngest of Bartley and Ann Krupa's nine children. His father died when Gene was very young and his mother worked as a milliner to support the family. All of the children had to start working while young, Gene at age eleven. His brother Pete worked at "Brown Music Company", and got Gene a job as chore boy. Gene started out playing sax in grade school but took up drums at age 11 since they were the cheapest item in the music store where he and his brother worked. "I used to look in their wholesale catalog for a musical instrument - piano, trombone, cornet - I didn't care what it was as long as it was an instrument. The cheapest item was the drums, 16 beans, I think, for a set of Japanese drums; a great high, wide bass drum, with a brass cymbal on it, a wood block and a snare drum." The pileated woodpecker eats insects, fruits and nuts. A large part of its diet is made up of carpenter ants and beetle larvae. It uses its sharp bill to pull bark off a tree to expose ant colonies. It uses its long, sticky tongue to poke into holes and drag out the ants. It also digs out large rectangular holes in trees to create roosting and nesting spots and to expose insects. His parents were very religious and had groomed Gene for the priesthood. He spent his grammar school days at various parochial schools and upon graduation went to St. Joseph's College for a brief year. Gene's drive to drum was too strong and he gave up the idea of becoming a priest. In 1921, while still in grammar school, Gene joined his first band "The Frivolians." He obtained the drumming seat as a fluke when the regular drummer was sick. The band played during summers in Madison, Wisconsin. Upon entering high school in 1923, Gene became buddies with the "Austin High Gang", which included many musicians which would be on Gene's first recording session; Jimmy McPartland, Jimmy Lannigan, Bud Freeman and Frank Teschemacher. In 1925, Gene began his percussion studies with Roy Knapp, Al Silverman & Ed Straight. Under advice from others, he decided to join the musicians union. "The guy said, 'Make a roll. That's it. Give us 50 bucks. You're In.'" Krupa started his first "legit" playing with Joe Kayser, Thelma Terry and the Benson Orchestra among other commercial bands. A popular hangout for musicians was "The Three Deuces." All of the guys playing in mickey mouse bands would gravitate here afterhours and jam till early in the morning. Gene was able to hone and develop his style playing with other jazz players such as Mezz Mezzrow, Tommy Dorsey, Bix Beiderbecke and Benny Goodman in these local dives. Krupa's big influences during this time were Tubby Hall and Zutty Singleton. The drummer who probably had the greatest influence on Gene in this period was the great Baby Dodds. Dodds' use of press rolls was highly reflected in Gene's playing, especially during his tenure with Benny Goodman.



-- Jeff Wietor

Thursday, November 10, 2005

The Moose



For Grace Bulmer Bowers


From narrow provinces
of fish and bread and tea,
home of the long tides
where the bay leaves the sea
twice a day and takes
the herrings long rides,

where if the river
enters or retreats
in a wall of brown foam
depends on if it meets
the bay coming in,
the bay not at home;

where, silted red,
sometimes the sun sets
facing a red sea,
and others, veins the flats'
lavender, rich mud
in burning rivulets;

on red, gravelly roads,
down rows of sugar maples,
past clapboard farmhouses
and neat, clapboard churches,
bleached, ridged as clamshells,
past twin silver birches,

through late afternoon
a bus journeys west,
the windshield flashing pink,
pink glancing off of metal,
brushing the dented flank
of blue, beat-up enamel;

down hollows, up rises,
and waits, patient, while
a lone traveller gives
kisses and embraces
to seven relatives
and a collie supervises.

Goodbye to the elms,
to the farm, to the dog.
The bus starts. The light
grows richer; the fog,
shifting, salty, thin,
comes closing in.

Its cold, round crystals
form and slide and settle
in the white hens' feathers,
in gray glazed cabbages,
on the cabbage roses
and lupins like apostles;

the sweet peas cling
to their wet white string
on the whitewashed fences;
bumblebees creep
inside the foxgloves,
and evening commences.

One stop at Bass River.
Then the Economies
Lower, Middle, Upper;
Five Islands, Five Houses,
where a woman shakes a tablecloth
out after supper.

A pale flickering. Gone.
The Tantramar marshes
and the smell of salt hay.
An iron bridge trembles
and a loose plank rattles
but doesn't give way.

On the left, a red light
swims through the dark:
a ship's port lantern.
Two rubber boots show,
illuminated, solemn.
A dog gives one bark.

A woman climbs in
with two market bags,
brisk, freckled, elderly.
"A grand night. Yes, sir,
all the way to Boston."
She regards us amicably.

Moonlight as we enter
the New Brunswick woods,
hairy, scratchy, splintery;
moonlight and mist
caught in them like lamb's wool
on bushes in a pasture.

The passengers lie back.
Snores. Some long sighs.
A dreamy divagation
begins in the night,
a gentle, auditory,
slow hallucination. . . .

In the creakings and noises,
an old conversation
--not concerning us,
but recognizable, somewhere,
back in the bus:
Grandparents' voices

uninterruptedly
talking, in Eternity:
names being mentioned,
things cleared up finally;
what he said, what she said,
who got pensioned;

deaths, deaths and sicknesses;
the year he remarried;
the year (something) happened.
She died in childbirth.
That was the son lost
when the schooner foundered.

He took to drink. Yes.
She went to the bad.
When Amos began to pray
even in the store and
finally the family had
to put him away.

"Yes . . ." that peculiar
affirmative. "Yes . . ."
A sharp, indrawn breath,
half groan, half acceptance,
that means "Life's like that.
We know it (also death)."

Talking the way they talked
in the old featherbed,
peacefully, on and on,
dim lamplight in the hall,
down in the kitchen, the dog
tucked in her shawl.

Now, it's all right now
even to fall asleep
just as on all those nights.
--Suddenly the bus driver
stops with a jolt,
turns off his lights.

A moose has come out of
the impenetrable wood
and stands there, looms, rather,
in the middle of the road.
It approaches; it sniffs at
the bus's hot hood.

Towering, antlerless,
high as a church,
homely as a house
(or, safe as houses).
A man's voice assures us
"Perfectly harmless. . . ."

Some of the passengers
exclaim in whispers,
childishly, softly,
"Sure are big creatures."
"It's awful plain."
"Look! It's a she!"

Taking her time,
she looks the bus over,
grand, otherworldly.
Why, why do we feel
(we all feel) this sweet
sensation of joy?

"Curious creatures,"
says our quiet driver,
rolling his r's.
"Look at that, would you."
Then he shifts gears.
For a moment longer,

by craning backward,
the moose can be seen
on the moonlit macadam;
then there's a dim
smell of moose, an acrid
smell of gasoline.

-- Elizabeth Bishop

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

To My Greek



Dear nut
Uncrackable by nuance or debate,
Eat with your fingers, wear your bloomers to bed,

Under my skin stay nude. Let past and future

Perish upon our lips, ocean inherit
Those paper millions. Let there be no word
For justice, grief, convention; you be convention—
Goods, bads, kaló-kakó, cockatoo-raucous

Coastline of white printless coves

Already strewn with offbeat echolalia.
Forbidden Salt Kiss Wardrobe Foot Cloud Peach
—Name it, my chin drips sugar. Radiant dumbbell, each

Noon's menus and small talk leave you

Likelier, each sunset yawned away,
Hair in eyes, head bent a bove the strummed
Lexicon, gets by heart about to fail
This or that novel mode of being together

Without conjunctions. Still

I fear for us. Nights fall
We toss through blindly, drenched in her appraising
Glare, the sibyl I turn to

When all else fails me, when you do—

The mother tongue!
Her least slip a mirror triptych glosses,
Her automation and my mind are one.
Ancient in fishscale silver-blue,
What can she make of you? Her cocktail sweats

With reason: speech will rise from it,
Quite beyond your comprehension rise
Like blood to a slapped face, stingingly apt


If unrepeatable, tones one forgets

Even as one is changed for life by them,
Veins branching a cold coral,
Common sense veering into common scenes,
Tears, incoherent artifice,

Altar upset, cut glass and opaline

Schools ricocheting through the loud cave
Where lie my Latin's rusted treasure,
The bones, picked clean, of my Italian,

Where some blue morning also she may damn

Well find her windpipe slit with that same rainbow
Edge a mere weekend with you gives
To books, to living (anything to forego
That final drunken prophecy whereby,

Lacking her blessing, you my siren grow

Stout, serviceable, gray.
A fishwife shawled in fourth-hand idiom
Spouting my views to earth and heaven)—Oh,

Having chosen the way of little knowledge,

Trusted each to use the other
Kindly except in moments of gross need,
Come put the verb-wheel down
And kiss my mouth despite the foot in it.

Let schoolboys brave her shallows. Sheer

Lilting azure float them well above
Those depths the surfacer
Lives, when he does, alone to sound and sound.

The barest word be what I say in you.

-- James Merrill

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Brokeback Mountain Soundtrack



Bob Glaub (Performer), Gary Tallent (Performer), Jeffrey Hill (Performer), Bob Dylan (Composer), Steve Earle (Composer), Buddy / Petty, Norman Holly (Composer), Roger Miller (Composer), Gustavo Santaolalla (Composer), Gustavo / Spillman, Jeremy Santaolalla (Composer), Gustavo / Taupin, Bernie Santaolalla (Composer), Rufus Wainwright (Composer), George Recile (Performer), Greg Morrow (Performer), Matthew Johnson (Performer), Mike Clarke (Performer), The Gas Band (Performer), Bob Bernstein (Performer), Dan Dougmore (Performer), Dean Parks (Performer), Gustavo Santaolalla (Performer), Mike Turner (Performer), Ray Kennedy (Performer), Mickey Raphael (Performer), David Mansfield (Performer), Anibal Kerpel (Performer), Richard Ruttenberg (Performer), Emmylou Harris (Performer), Jackie Greene (Performer), Linda Ronstadt (Performer), Mary McBride (Performer), Randy Crenshaw (Performer), Rufus Wainwright (Performer), Steve Earle (Performer), Teddy Thompson (Performer), Willie Nelson (Performer)

Soundtrack

Monday, November 07, 2005

Daffy Duck in Hollywood



Something strange is creeping across me.
La Celestina has only to warble the first few bars
Of "I Thought about You" or something mellow from
Amadigi di Gaula for everything--a mint-condition can
Of Rumford's Baking Powder, a celluloid earring, Speedy
Gonzales, the latest from Helen Topping Miller's fertile
Escritoire, a sheaf of suggestive pix on greige, deckle-edged
Stock--to come clattering through the rainbow trellis
Where Pistachio Avenue rams the 2300 block of Highland
Fling Terrace. He promised he'd get me out of this one,
That mean old cartoonist, but just look what he's
Done to me now! I scarce dare approach me mug's attenuated
Reflection in yon hubcap, so jaundiced, so déconfit
Are its lineaments--fun, no doubt, for some quack phrenologist's
Fern-clogged waiting room, but hardly what you'd call
Companionable. But everything is getting choked to the point of
Silence. Just now a magnetic storm hung in the swatch of sky
Over the Fudds' garage, reducing it--drastically--
To the aura of a plumbago-blue log cabin on
A Gadsden Purchase commemorative cover. Suddenly all is
Loathing. I don't want to go back inside any more. You meet
Enough vague people on this emerald traffic-island--no,
Not people, comings and goings, more: mutterings, splatterings,
The bizarrely but effectively equipped infantries of
happy-go-nutty
Vegetal jacqueries, plumed, pointed at the little
White cardboard castle over the mill run. "Up
The lazy river, how happy we could be?"
How will it end? That geranium glow
Over Anaheim's had the riot act read to it by the
Etna-size firecracker that exploded last minute into
A carte du Tendre in whose lower right-hand corner
(Hard by the jock-itch sand-trap that skirts
The asparagus patch of algolagnic nuits blanches) Amadis
Is cozening the Princesse de Cleves into a midnight
micturition spree
On the Tamigi with the Wallets (Walt, Blossom, and little
Sleezix) on a lamé barge "borrowed" from Ollie
Of the Movies' dread mistress of the robes. Wait!
I have an announcement! This wide, tepidly meandering,
Civilized Lethe (one can barely make out the maypoles
And châlets de nécessitê on its sedgy shore)
leads to Tophet, that
Landfill-haunted, not-so-residential resort from which
Some travellers return! This whole moment is the groin
Of a borborygmic giant who even now
Is rolling over on us in his sleep. Farewell bocages,
Tanneries, water-meadows. The allegory comes unsnarled
Too soon; a shower of pecky acajou harpoons is
About all there is to be noted between tornadoes. I have
Only my intermittent life in your thoughts to live
Which is like thinking in another language. Everything
Depends on whether somebody reminds you of me.
That this is a fabulation, and that those "other times"
Are in fact the silences of the soul, picked out in
Diamonds on stygian velvet, matters less than it should.
Prodigies of timing may be arranged to convince them
We live in one dimension, they in ours. While I
Abroad through all the coasts of dark destruction seek
Deliverance for us all, think in that language: its
Grammar, though tortured, offers pavillions
At each new parting of the ways. Pastel
Ambulances scoop up the quick and hie them to hospitals.
"It's all bits and pieces, spangles, patches, really; nothing
Stands alone. What happened to creative evolution?"
Sighed Aglavaine. Then to her Sélysette: "If his
Achievement is only to end up less boring than the others,
What's keeping us here? Why not leave at once?
I have to stay here while they sit in there,
Laugh, drink, have fine time. In my day
One lay under the tough green leaves,
Pretending not to notice how they bled into
The sky's aqua, the wafted-away no-color of regions supposed
Not to concern us. And so we too
Came where the others came: nights of physical endurance,
Or if, by day, our behavior was anarchically
Correct, at least by New Brutalism standards, all then
Grew taciturn by previous agreement. We were spirited
Away en bateau, under cover of fudge dark.
It's not the incomplete importunes, but the spookiness
Of the finished product. True, to ask less were folly, yet
If he is the result of himself, how much the better
For him we ought to be! And how little, finally,
We take this into account! Is the puckered garance satin
Of a case that once held a brace of dueling pistols our
Only acknowledging of that color? I like not this,
Methinks, yet this disappointing sequel to ourselves
Has been applauded in London and St. Petersburg. Somewhere
Ravens pray for us." The storm finished brewing. And thus
She questioned all who came in at the great gate, but none
She found who ever heard of Amadis,
Nor of stern Aureng-Zebe, his first love. Some
They were to whom this mattered not a jot: since all
By definition is completeness (so
In utter darkness they reasoned), why not
Accept it as it pleases to reveal itself? As when
Low skyscrapers from lower-hanging clouds reveal
A turret there, an art-deco escarpment here, and last perhaps
The pattern that may carry the sense, but
Stays hidden in the mysteries of pagination.
Not what we see but how we see it matters; all's
Alike, the same, and we greet him who announces
The change as we would greet the change itself.
All life is but a figment; conversely, the tiny
Tome that slips from your hand is not perhaps the
Missing link in this invisible picnic whose leverage
Shrouds our sense of it. Therefore bivouac we
On this great, blond highway, unimpeded by
Veiled scruples, worn conundrums. Morning is
Impermanent. Grab sex things, swing up
Over the horizon like a boy
On a fishing expedition. No one really knows
Or cares whether this is the whole of which parts
Were vouchsafed--once--but to be ambling on's
The tradition more than the safekeeping of it. This mulch for
Play keeps them interested and busy while the big,
Vaguer stuff can decide what it wants--what maps, what
Model cities, how much waste space. Life, our
Life anyway, is between. We don't mind
Or notice any more that the sky is green, a parrot
One, but have our earnest where it chances on us,
Disingenuous, intrigued, inviting more,
Always invoking the echo, a summer's day.

-- John Ashbery

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Angels and the Bars of Manhattan



What I miss most about the city are the angels
and the bars of Manhattan: faithful Cannon’s and the Night Cafe;
the Corner Bistro and the infamous White Horse;
McKenna’s maniacal hockey fans; the waitresses at Live Bait;
lounges and taverns, taps and pubs;
joints, dives, spots, clubs; all the Blarney
Stones and Roses full of Irish boozers eating brisket
stacked on kaiser rolls with frothing mugs of Ballantine.
How many nights we marked the stations of that cross,
axial or transverse, uptown or down to the East Village
where there’s two in every block we’d stop to check,
hoisting McSorleys, shooting tequila and eight-ball
with hipsters and bikers and crazy Ukrainians,
all the black-clad chicks lined up like vodka bottles on Avenue B,
because we liked to drink and talk and argue,
and then at four or five when the whiskey soured
we’d walk the streets for breakfast at some diner,
Daisy’s, the Olympia, La Perla del Sur,
deciphering the avenues’ hazy lexicon over coffee and eggs,
snow beginning to fall, steam on the windows blurring the film
until the trussed-up sidewalk Christmas trees
resembled something out of Mandelstam,
Russian soldiers bundled in their greatcoats,
honor guard for the republic of salt. Those were the days
of revolutionary zeal. Haughty as dictators, we railed
against the formal elite, certain as Moses or Roger Williams
of our errand into the wilderness. Truly,
there was something almost noble
in the depth of our self-satisfaction, young poets in New York,
how cool. Possessors of absolute knowledge,
we willingly shared it in unmetered verse,

scavenging inspiration from Whitman and history and Husker Du,

from the very bums and benches of Broadway,
precisely the way that the homeless
who lived in the Parks Department garage at 79th Street
jacked in to the fixtures to run their appliances
off the city’s live current. Volt pirates;
electrical vampires. But what I can’t fully fathom
is the nature of the muse that drew us to begin with,
bound us over to those tenements of rage
as surely as the fractured words scrawled across the stoops
and shuttered windows. Whatever compelled us
to suspend the body of our dreams from poetry’s slender reed
when any electric guitar would do? Who did we think was

listening?
Who, as we cried out, as we shook, rattled, and rolled.
would ever hear us among the blue multitudes of Christmas

lights
strung as celestial hierarchies from the ceiling? Who
among the analphabetical ranks and orders
of warped records and secondhand books on our shelves,
the quarterlies and Silver Surfer comics,velvet Elvises,
candles burned in homage to Las Siete Potencias Africanas
as we sat basking in the half-blue glimmer,
tossing the torn foam basketball nigh the invisible hoop,
listening in our pitiless way to two kinds of music,
loud and louder, anarchy and roar, rock and roll
buckling the fundament with pure, delirious noise.
It welled up in us, huge as snowflakes, as manifold,
the way ice devours the reservoir in Central Park.
Like angels or the Silver Surfer we thought we could
kick free of the stars to steer by dead reckoning.
But whose stars are they? And whose angels
if not Rilke’s, or Milton’s, even Abraham Lincoln’s,
“the better angels of our nature” he hoped would emerge,
air-swimmers descending in apple-green light.
We worshipped the anonymous neon apostles of the city,
cuchifrito cherubs, polystyrene seraphim,
thrones and dominions of linoleum and asphalt:
abandoned barges on the Hudson mud flats;
Bowery jukes oozing sepia and plum-colored light;
headless dolls and eviscerated teddy bears
chained to the grills of a thousand garbage trucks; the elms
that bear the wailing skins of plastic bags in their arms all winter,
throttled and grotesque, so that we sometimes wondered
walking Riverside Drive in February or March
why not just put up cement trees with plastic leaves
and get it over with? There was no limit to our capacity for awe
at the city’s miraculous icons and instances,
the frenzied cacophony, the democratic whirlwind.
Drunk on thunder, we believed in vision
and the convocation of heavenly presences summoned
to the chorus. Are they with us still? Are they
listening? Spirit of the tiny lights, ghost beneath the words,
numinous and blue, inhaler of bourbon fumes and errant shots,
are you there? I don’t know. Somehow I doubt we’ll ever know
which song was ours and which the siren
call of the city. More and more, it seems our errand
is to face the music, bring the noise, scour the rocks
to salvage grace notes and fragmented harmonies,
diving for pearls in the beautiful ruins,
walking all night through the pigeon-haunted streets
as fresh snow softly fills the imprint of our steps.
O.K., I’m repeating myself, forgive me, I’m sure brevity
is a virtue. It’s just this melody keeps begging to be hummed:
McCarthy’s, on 14th Street, where the regulars drink
beer on the rocks and the TV shows Police Woman
twenty-four hours a day; the quiet, almost tender way
they let the local derelicts in to sleep it off
in the back booths of the Blue & Gold after closing;
and that sign behind the bar at the Marlin, you know
the one, hand-lettered, scribbled with slogans of love and abuse,
shop-worn but still bearing its indomitable message
to the thirsty, smoke-fingered, mood-enhanced masses—
“Ice Cold Six Packs To Go.” Now that’s a poem.

-- Campbell McGrath

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Geology



From behind a stand of Utah yucca, jackrabbits
scattering at her feet like minnows
from a rock dropped in creek, enter
The Geologist. Jeans stained with every kind
of dirt the world provides, tousled sandstone
hair tied back, she scans the mountains
which bound this basin two hundred miles
to the west and reads them
like a gambler walking the shed-row
before placing his bets. The plates in this basin
move fast, she says, about an inch
per century. Where they meet head on
they rear up like horn-locked rams
and form ranges. But the summits erode
as fast as the planes buckle up, so these mountains
are always the same height but never
the same mountains. If we made a movie
where a million years elapsed
every second, that range would look like a fountain.

It's The Geologist's job to think like this.
In the trade they call it Deep Time: a place
where the eons pass like clocks tick.
The Geologist stands on Cape Cod facing east
and imagines herself aft
on the ship North America, full speed ahead,
the harbor of Europe growing hazy as she waves
from the railing. The Grand Canyon
is a crease in a hand, Vesuvius a nostril.

Tired, I put down my book, study
our bodies in lamplight. My pale feet
are awkward, scrawny. You're deep
under sleep, between your lips
an infinitesimal crevasse. We are less
than gasps, my sweet, crumbs in the pocket
of a flea. I kiss your eyelids. How tender they are,
thin as moth wings. All night the whole earth
heaves like an ocean beneath them.

-- Joel Brouwer

Friday, November 04, 2005

From the "Lake Superior" Notes: (300 pages of notes Niedecker made in preparation for her poem "Lake Superior")


* * * * *

Doty: Mackinaw country ? Island: Many of the rocks are crusted over with calcareous spar, particularly at Robinson's Folly.

St. Mary's R. Here are whitefish of superior quality

white, red and grey sandstone in river at Soo

Grand Marais, 21 miles from the Two Hearted River (Michigan)

"as the season shifts"

S: "no ardent spirits shall be hereafter introduced under any pretence, into the Indian country"

Schoolcraft River

a lake, Plantagenette (The Rest in the Path) water fowl shot ? the mallard, wood-duck, sawbill

Towards Rainy R. from North Shore ? ospreys dive for fish and eagles swoop down to rid them of their catch. Timber wolves, bear, beaver. Frenchmen came there early 18th century to look for the Sea of the West. Scene 20 years ago now much the same as then

The peace pipe the war chief smoked with his heart

Indians ? S: "a life of want and vicissitude"

"lakes of a pondy character, redolent with nymphae odorata, thru which we successfully passed."

"the naked solitudes of Red River"

32 ft. long canoe

"a portage of four pauses"

lake ? its outlet of a spreading, sandy shelly character ? no Indian nor French name so as Mr. Johnston shot a deer here we named the lake after him. Sibly Lake (other notes)

un chanson du voyageur

He presented a pipe
Miss. R. Valley ? the great carboniferous limestone formation which fills it.

At home we're in the drowned lands ? trees standing permanently in the water.

"We slept on a kind of bog which the men call Tetes des femmes.

treaty of limits between the tribes

Pike (of Pike's Peak) when he went up the Miss. R. ? north of the St. Croix R. he said the river (Miss. I take it) became "black in the depths and clear in sandy shallows."

calcite ? a native calcium carbonate also called calc spar, occurring in many crystalline forms, such as chalk, marble, etc . . .

The face of the earth is a graveyard and so it has always been.

My inner midwest

I was in a St. Ignace fog

Why this fascination with rock terms, name, probably because we like to think the first geologists took their finds and created them ? name to thing ? out of the nature of things ? plus sometimes their sound or reflection of colour that delighted their senses.

-- Lorine Niedecker

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Adam Clearwater's Uncanny Abilities




Adam: Right emphasis. drums. counting time. beating time. keeping time. blonde. surf. no bum though he. essentially expressible. means what he says understands what he means. psychological process: Aries. green. blue. flecks of silver shine. light side: flip-side: brighter still. his only shadow is a brighter light. standing before him. makes you want to talk. his listening abilities. his functionality. ableness. miss him

-- Jeff Wietor

2 Light Poems



36TH LIGHT POEM: IN MEMORIAM BUSTER KEATON --
4:50-6:18 A.M. SAT 1 JAN. 1972

1

As a mad scientist
Buster lights a Bunsen-burner flame
that starts a series of processes
that eventually releases The Monster

As an Undertaker
Buster lights a Bunsen-burner flame
that starts a series of processes
that awakens a drunk who was about to be buried as a corpse

As a Muscovite
Buster lights a sisal wick in a sesame-seed-oil lamp
that suddenly lights a mystical orgy
officiated over by Rasputin

As a boater
Buster beats a cascade by floating out beyond its edge
borne by a balloon
lit by a wintry sun

As an Unwilling Passenger on a Drifting Liner
Buster the Millionaire & his rich Girl Friend
learn to cope Alone Without Servants
when forced to rely on the light of their Upper-Class Intellects

As a Worker
Buster arouses the Compassion of the Nation
in whose light the Corporations
sell themselves to their Workers

As a Key Man
Buster carries around with him
an enormous bunch of keys
lighting the way with a Keats lamp

As a Beatnik
Buster meditates in a Redwood forest
seated where the Selenic light
first falls at Moonrise

As a Leaf-&-Feather Gatherer
Buster Means Well but bugs everyone in the Park
spearing the ladies' hats & the picnickers' salads
in featureless Hollywood Light of the century's first quarter

As William Butler Yeats
Buster addresses an irate Irish crowd
that thinks that Poetry makes Nothing Happen
but lets itself be bathed by its Truthful Light

As a Cannoneer
Buster explodes his own ship's magazine
treads water in Gunpowder Light at a safe distance
& blushes in embarrassment at his Clumsiness

As a Violinist
Buster surpasses Paganini
until Boston-Concert-Hall Light
Poisons him with Love for a Proper Bostonian Maiden

2

Spirit of Buster Keaton
if you survive as yourself
receive Please our honor & praise
you conscientious Workman

Hard-working Buster Keaton
when you arouse the laughter of children
as you live in Projector Light
Your Karmic Residue dissolves in Joyous Shouts




58TH LIGHT POEM: FOR ANNE TARDOS -- 19 MARCH 1979

I know when I've fallen in love I start to write love songs
Love's actinism turns nineteens to words & thoughts in love songs
as your "A" & the date made "actinism" enter this love song

Also I seem to start dropping punctuation
My need for punctuation lessens like some people's need for sleep
My need for sleep lessens too but later I fall on my face
Lack of punctuation doesn't catch up with me like lack of sleep
It doesn't make me fall on my face

So bright the near noon light the toy photometer twirls in
the sunlight slanting in from southeast thru the southwest window
the stronger the light the faster the light motor turns
diamond vanes' black sides absorb white sides radiate photons
See it go

A "42" draws the northern lights into the song
as yesterday into the Taggart Light Poem twice they were drawn
as "aurora borealis" & "aurora" by "A"'s & by numbers
There they seemed eery & threatening Here they seem hopeful
as they seemed when last I saw them over the Gulf of St. Lawrence
cold euphoric after making love wondering
at swirling curtains & sudden billows lighting the sky northwest

I remember their evanescent light as neutral or bluish white
I remember the possibility of yellow the improbability of red
not like Bearsville's rose & blood sky twenty-five years before
Now these memories mingled with pictures' descriptions'
project on inward skies idiosyncratic northern lights
that only exist while I'm writing these lines for Anne
Even the next time I read them the lights they arouse will be different

Nineteen sheds a tranquil light on our love song thru your "T"
Our love's tranquil light revealed by 19 & by T
is turned by 15 to an aureole tipping an "A"
The "A" becomes your face The aureole grows

Reducence from my face glows back on yours

A telephone bell can deflect & dissipate my light
The deflected light is lost to poem & person
I turn my telephone off these days to help ordinary light breed poems

The sun is so bright on my desk now except on the typewriter keys
that there's no need for the light of the student lamp placed to
shine on the paper

But now five hours later the lamp's the only light
& I begin the poem's "astrological" section

II

Acetylene light may be what Virgo needs to see the "pattern
except that for him this is something" he will
only acknowledge if it can be seen in natural light

Can we gain new light from astrology that ubiquitous superstition
You Sagittarius Woman Me Virgo Man
What "can happen between them is a" mazing
a dizzying a stupefying or dazing a crazing
a great perplexing bewildering amazing
forming a maze of something or making it intricate
being bewildered wandering as in a maze
What has happened between them is amazing

What is happening between us is amazing
more intense & vivid than electric arc light tremendous light
brighter than acetylene light friendly as reading lamp light

"But a young Sagit-
tarian need have no qualms about taking on a
man considerably her senior if he is a "Virgo"
Rand's random digits underline our case
in this lovely silly optimistic sentence

We've been living I think in a kind of drowning light

"He reaches the age of forty At anything less than that age
he is not even a possible for a Sagittarius"
Me Virgo Man You Sagittarius Woman
Orgone radiation flimmers between us
our curious safety light

"What can happen between them is superb
Something he has spent half his life dreaming about
At last it has come true" O ingratiating
astrological light may you never prove false
even to one who has often decried you as no light
but superstitious darkness natural light would dispel
or the electric arc light of empirical science

The way I'm writing this poem's like using
trichromatic artificial radiance
not as decorative light in place of
ordinary solar radiation as you photographers do

Before I was forty "not even a possible for a Sagittarius"
now I'm sixteen over the line & safe with you

"Her but a young Sagittarian need have" none
"qualms" have no basis
Are we dreaming Is this Virgo Man still dreaming
as "he has spent half his life" they say "dreaming"
"Sagittarian & Virgo"
"The pattern is perfect"
The poem is over

19-20 March 1979
New York

-- Jackson Mac Low

He Cannot Have Been Pleased Today to Hear That (Stein 55)



He cannot have been pleased today to hear her accidentally mention that.

Although she is little Carrie is forty. Ask for rubber in your prayers. They are doubles but are they brothers.

Whoever hears plaster dry listens best. It was said that the country might have had better kinds of fire if it hadn’t won that prize. Their hundred offspring were promised a whole new arrangement. Another disappointed rebellion.

Of all who were there yesterday who will be exclaiming in that place today. I heard the door. It has been shown that we men make dirt. Are we willing to hear it stopped. England and age loaned decision a train. Gradually he comes to believe no one. She does either nothing or little.

He said he’d undergone the same decrease of conscience after considering their stammering thinking. Please harness another one. He had a hundred. Did the designer understand. Weren’t you satisfactorily kind. Under an obligation to get the shapes into certain places what place did you mention as higher. He meant the knives entailed reparations. It has been found that women hear best. Can a man wait now. Julian mentioned the separate introductions. Weren’t you yourselves surprised.

Little ones believe me. This cannot be going on. Had you wanted to you couldn’t have chosen to carry the unavoidable but you did so accidentally. Are the brothers there. Whether they went there or not they doubled the plaster. Those who hear best are hopefully pleasant. That was the end but I prefer the beginning. Why should that other one stammer. They’re ordinarily together. When another drafts the recipe for bread there please tell me whether this furthers still another. What was the purpose of that resumption of bribery. A hundred offspring sprang from closets in another disappointed rebellion. Their higher exclamations were meant to call the wealthy to resemble them by doing what they did. These times principally carry with them undertakings hastening decisions. In the beginning everybody overflowed. There were fifty opportunities for the English to disappoint the rebellion. Exclaiming that higher meant wealthier the callers resembled doers. Undertakings in these times are principally fastened to decisions.

Whether near or far the rest rest. Anybody may accidentally become necessary. We believe bread becomes thinking. Does this sound like an accident. He accidentally changes. He went were the front lamps do little. Though he looked he had need of intuition to choose among the women. They made believe their faces looked that way. Please can’t we hurry to see what causes that resemblance. When we have seen whether they carry things faster will we have wanted to listen. I know I am mud. He’s gentle to fish. Hot or cool she would deny that. Promise you’ll leave out the introductions. Separate when this changes. He did the tired thing. Had any other needed harnessing. The designer did. Am I to understand you made her leave instead. Woody the baker was in an unexpected bed. He never said that we said either that he was displeased or that he was pleased. Credit another horse’s straps’ goodness. Whether reparation is everything or not this was harnessing. When we have met will we remember the rest of this. Such splendid running. Would everybody believe there was any chance that they wanted her to leave. Never revise her accidentally. They were annoyed when they saw what higher winning meant. Do it by widening it.

She was not lonesome despite the expenses of emigration. When they got the maps together they didn’t try to notice what he’d said they’d have to remember. All my toys were wonderful. Carving the splendid coal the bribed one exclaimed that Henner’s picture would be worth a hundred of his offspring. He was a designer and he did understand. He said you’ve not been satisfactorily careful. That very neglect was forgotten. Away with what you mean to say. Don’t only use cement. Why would emigration stand as the better measure. He recommended that he be a minister. The decision to loan away the fork was greeted with language such as no one would have believed. They rendered it accidentally. Had another believed in another there’s a chance that still another would have been displeased. It disappointed forty that Carrie was so little although many prayers were said for her. The number of rubber wheels was lessening in that place. Are those brothers the reason. He stopped his gentle plastering.

Ordinarily they would try everything. Pray that this harnessing be an introduction to toys. So far toys may be for anybody. He means that morning is the time to express emotion. Hundreds asked her age and what would become of her. He was trained to make decisions about loans and doesn’t believe anyone. Gradually they came to be doing very little. He said they’d undergo the same decrease of conscience. She considered thinking about it after stammering Please. To you harnessing another hundred was not at all satisfactory. The designer understood that.

-- Jackson Mac Low

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

5 Haiku



Winter bee, crawls out from the dust in the corner.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spring neighbor, even ill in bed, I polish my nails.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wishing and wanting to see you, I step on the thin ice.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Love oracle, reading in the light of the spring snow.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

now the trip is over -- my summer holidays start their B-side

________________________________________________

-- Mayuzumi Madoka

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Miu Miu's Saturday Night Function & Clarinet Lament



o ya aubade aubade o boy o ya so many o's all in a row feeling of course's important today for Miu Miu (opened mouth) (that's Barney Bigard playing in the background, delicious) a feeling not unlike dragging dried red roses brittle and black over the smooth, albeit distressed in the corners, hardwood parquet floors of Mason's heart the blackguard consumes her even as he's gone. Taste: acidic steely firm taut. Where: in the back-bar crevice of her normally stoney emotions. Ultra close-up: inside of Miu Miu's open mouth breath glistening the lingering taste of Mason: steely wine. Miu Miu's feeling as she lip licks her memory: he eats green apples in the starlight. with salt. touching the pad of her index finger with the pad of her thumb smooth she came to him with a proposition: Saturday Night Function strut New Orleans funeral march walkin'-to-the-cemetery tempo clarinet leads the way, somber piano solo somber low impassioned cries. He's plenty good-looking enough why does he have to want to look like Marcus Schenkenberg. Smoothly smoothly urbane courteous debonair smoothly shyly his hair combed back expediting his sweat drench & dulcet mellow lyrically raucous hand fingering o that Mason does do well liquidly calling out lavishly not saying a word languidly fingers shoulder tickle lovely lovingly mmmmm hard pressed to forget last nights lasting Mood Indigo night long night long dark night a few stars round midnight lasting melodies Miu Miu harmonizes now with considerate adulation and considerable memory for Mason envisions him a clarinet solo he came to me (she relishes) with a proposition like spilled music tasting like lilac wine snazzy keen where my fingers play through his sweat drenched hair having had having him then having him again: time propulsive, agile improvisation, engaging bracing joie de vivre that keeps you coming back for more 5 stars - top rating, that Mason that Saturday Night Function that tap root that Am I Blue soft and plaintive that plaintive soft cry that solo that hot white jazz convulsion. yum: hmmm Miu Miu mulls: Mason as a Clarinet. she considers painting. Miu Miu ever the hungry ghost:


The clarinet has a distinctive liquid tone, resulting from the shape of the bore, whose characteristics vary between its three registers: the chalumeau (low), clarion or clarino (middle), and altissimo (high). Of all the wind instruments the clarinet has the widest compass, which is showcased in much wind band and orchestral writing. Additionally, improvements made to the fingering systems of the clarinet over time have enabled the instrument to be very agile; there are few restrictions to what it is able to play.



The bass clarinet has a characteristically deep mellow tone. It is often only used in large bands and contemporary orchestral pieces. The alto clarinet is rare to be found in other than a concert band. Its range is slightly higher than that of a bass clarinet, yet still much lower than the common B flat clarinet. The B flat clarinet is a very common band, orchestra, chamber music, and solo instrument. The tone quality varies greatly with the musician, the music, the style of clarinet, the reed, and humidity. The German clarinet generally has a dark, greenish tone quality. In contrast, the French clarinet, because of impressionable french composers, is more bright and lively -- some might even say shrill. In between, the modern American clarinet has tone qualities borrowed from both the French and the German clarinets.

Only a semitone below the B flat clarinet is the A clarinet. Much of orchestral and chamber repetoire is composed originally for A clarinet. Some people find the sound of the A clarinet to be just a little more rich and mysterious than a B flat, though the difference is small. Today, the chief use of an A clarinet is to make the key signature of a piece simpler. An E flat clarinet, about eighteen inches (45cm) long, is hardly as warm as the A clarinet. Many contemporary musicians write band music using the E flat clarinet. It is looked upon as the piccolo of clarinets, with its high and very bright tone.



Beginning clarinetists often choose soft reeds - 2 to 2 1/2. Jazz clarinetists often remain on softer reeds, as the soft reeds are easy for bending pitch. However, most classical musicians work their way up the reed size as their embouchures strengthen. The benefit of a harder reed is a sturdy, round tone. It takes many years of practice to strengthen your embouchure, but your tone depends on it. Within a few years of playing, the corners of your mouth will be strong enough to keep the air flowing in a very narrow, cylindrical form.

To practice controlling your air, light a candle, and hold it far from your face. Then, open your mouth only slightly, keep the corners of your mouth in, to make a very tight O shape. Then, take a deep breath from your diaphragm and blow at the candle. See how far away you can hold it and still blow it out. This gain of control will concentrate your air flow and round your tone in the most beautiful way possible.



Range

All clarinets, except for the C clarinet, are transposing instruments, meaning that the sounding and written pitches differ. For a standard B♭ clarinet, the range stretches from the D below middle C, to around the F two and half octaves above middle C, although the top of the range is not well defined. Being a B♭ insturment, the written range is a tone higher. An A clarinet has the same written range, and consequently can get a semitone lower. All clarinets have nominally the same written range, so a bass clarinet operates an octave lower, and an E♭ clarinet operates a fifth higher than a B♭ clarinet. Generally, the lower clarinets are able to produce higher 'fingered' pitches than the small clarinets. This gives the bass clarinet a useable range of almost five octaves (beginning at low Bb two octaves and one tone below middle C) and the contra-alto and contra-bass clarinets perhaps more, but again these upper limits are subject to many variables.

The range of a clarinet can be divided into three main sections, known as 'registers'. The bottom octave and a half (from written E below middle C to the B♭ above middle C) is known as the 'chalumeau register', of which the top fourth contains what are known as the 'throat notes'. Good tone in the 'throat notes' takes great skill. The middle section is called the 'clarion register', which spans just over an octave (from written B above middle C, to the C two octaves above middle C). The top section is called the 'altissimo register', which starts with the (written) C# two octaves above middle C and upwards without a definite upper limit, though anything beyond the C above this can be considered quite extreme. The highest notes in the altissimo register are generally used only rarely, to achieve particular dramatic or showy effects, as in Dixieland performance. Beginners often discover these notes quite by accident; playing them deliberately and well requires many years of practice.


Construction and acoustics

Professional clarinets are usually made from African hardwood, often grenadilla or (rarely) Honduran rosewood. One major manufacturer makes professional clarinets from a composite mixture of plastic resin and wood chips — such instruments are less affected by humidity, but are heavier than the equivalent wood instrument. Student instruments are usually composite or plastic resin, commonly "resonite", an ABS resin. Some parts are sometimes made of ebonite. The instrument uses a single wooden (sometimes "fiber" or plastic) reed which is held in the mouth by the player. Vibrating the reed produces the instrument's sound.



The body is equipped with a complicated set of seven tone holes (six front, one back) and 17 keys which allow the full musical scale to be produced. The most common system of keys was named the Boehm System by its designer Hyacinthe Klosé in honour of the flute designer Theobald Boehm, but it is not the same as the Boehm System used on flutes. The other main system of keys is called the Oehler system and is used only in Germany and Austria (see History).

The hollow bore inside the instrument has a basically cylindrical shape, being roughly the same diameter for most of the length of the tube. There is a subtle hourglass shape, with its thinnest part at the junction between the upper and lower joint. This hourglass figure is not visible to the naked eye, but helps in the resonance of the sound. The diameter of the bore affects characteristics such as the stability of the pitch of a given note, or, conversely, the ability with which a note can be 'bent' in the manner required in jazz and other styles of music. The bell is at the bottom of the instrument and flares out to spread the tone evenly.

A clarinetist moves between registers through use of the register key, or speaker key. The fixed reed and fairly uniform diameter of the clarinet give the instrument the configuration of a stopped pipe in which the register key, when pressed, causes the clarinet to produce the note a twelfth higher. This interval corresponds to the third harmonic, whereas most other woodwinds go up to the second harmonic, an octave higher, when the register key is pressed. The fifth and seventh harmonics are also available to skilled players, sounding a further sixth and fourth higher respectively.

The highest notes on a clarinet can have a piercing quality and can be difficult to tune precisely. Different individual instruments can be expected to play differently in this respect. This becomes critical if a number of instruments are required to play a high part in unison. Fortunately for audiences, disciplined players can use a variety of fingerings to introduce slight variations into the pitch of these higher notes. It is also common for high melody parts to be split into close harmony to avoid this issue.

The parts that make up a clarinet are as follows (description follows the illustration from left to right):

The reed is attached to the mouthpiece by the ligature, and the whole assembly is held in the player’s mouth, with the reed on the underside of the mouthpiece, pressing against the player's bottom lip. The formation of the mouth around the mouthpiece and reed is called the embouchure.



Next is the short barrel; this part of the instrument may be extended in order to fine-tune the clarinet. As the pitch of the clarinet is fairly temperature sensitive some instruments have interchangeable barrels whose lengths vary very slightly. Some performers employ a single barrel with a thumbwheel that enables the barrel length to be altered on the fly.

The main body of the clarinet is divided (except in the case of the E♭ soprano clarinet) into the upper joint whose holes and most keys are operated by the left hand, and the lower joint with holes and most keys operated by the right hand. The left thumb operates both a sound hole and the register key. The cluster of keys in the middle of the illustration are known as the trill keys and are operated by the right hand. These give the player alternative fingerings which make it easy to play ornaments and trills that would otherwise be awkward. The entire weight of the instrument is supported by the right thumb behind the lower joint on what is misleadingly called the thumb-rest.

Finally, the flared end is known as the bell, which amplifies the sound. When playing to a microphone, it is often found that the sound produced from the bell is relatively coarse, and that a better tone can be recorded by placing the microphone a little way from the finger-holes of the instrument. This relates to the position of the instrument when playing to an audience: pointing down at the floor, except in the most vibrant parts of certain styles of music.

-- Jeff Wietor

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