tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76644189647604101952024-03-24T03:11:15.585-04:00DAN GOOREVITCH COLLECTED POEMSDan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-14345843609650008472017-05-06T19:43:00.018-04:002024-03-23T16:41:33.218-04:00 In Częstochowa<p><span style="font-size: 11pt;">To
Grazinka</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Once upon a time<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">When the river <st1:place w:st="on">Warta</st1:place><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Ran through <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Częstochowa</st1:city></st1:place></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">a woman stood on her toes</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">alone in a big room<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">arranging medical
supplies.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">There are things we remember from childhood—</p><p class="MsoNormal">a picture of a Scotch Terrier</p><p class="MsoNormal">a yellow-haired girl, sweeping</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">or a photograph: a
toddler pulling a violin</p><p class="MsoNormal">from of a tin can—more real than what “actually happened.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">So,
reaching above the machine,</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">silence was her piano. She,
rising, falling</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">between moon and undertow, turning<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">in her banks, over rocks—</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Listen you—</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">You in the powder blue—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Cinderella, laughing,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">bringing the waters of the Warta</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">here intact from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Częstochowa</st1:city></st1:place>:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It's you! It's you! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dei gratia nova!<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2003, 2017 Dan
Goorevitch<o:p></o:p></span></p>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-15608722425763295032012-05-15T22:58:00.003-04:002012-05-15T22:58:54.494-04:00Status Quo<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Split</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> mine dim age </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">is Dis' hymn? bow-tied?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Big sirs frame d a glass t in loo k anigh t wrap</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">b'tween us cull and a whirl <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>d war fed s kills unfulfillèd longings</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">looking long in and out of wind</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">oh</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">eye-soul broken bodies</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">bits 'n bytes off hiss</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the man a man again? is</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the mannequin a man?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One dollar</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">eight</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">for all those</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">chemicals</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">in a body</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Whose?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bloody</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">wish</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">is hiss</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NO SHUNS NAY SHUN’S state of</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">mind less man and his dawg God o- ffensive LIES</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">along time N E U T E R E D !</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Terirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr's
retired</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(carier's re-tarded!)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A FRAMIT! BE, DAMMIT,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">See? I'll</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Split</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the wave s an d
rift would pit dis t'ing against the other</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">and in the sound that crashes, crushing thought,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">time as tide would (sand as sun would)</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">send, transcend, would stop </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the rocky slide in space.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">To pull the chord that arcs the moon,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">To stretch a skin across a forest's good</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">divining wood—what rod could tell what water would</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">well regulate the wynde and bonde of heart's inner
pace</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">to set a space where crystals could form ice in air
and split</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the eye with star shine<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>blitz.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "AR JULIAN"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "AR JULIAN"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">©</span><span style="font-family: "MS Shell Dlg 2"; font-size: 8.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: "MS Shell Dlg 2"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> 1985, 1990, 2012 Dan
Goorevitch</span>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-62981899000004204362012-03-19T19:29:00.002-04:002012-03-19T19:32:48.236-04:00Delusions of Grandeur<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]-->My uncle's hung a print:<br />Sacho Panza rides his ass—er<br />Downwind from Daumier's Quixote of course!<br /><br />Ass follows steed,<br />Meek follows brave<br />To Glory! (or the grave)<br /> <br />Panza mounted precisely fits<br />That banged-out-copper ink-wash which<br />Is the key-hole of Don Quixote's horse!<br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br />© 2002, 2012 Dan Goorevitch</span>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-59231321461937563722008-08-09T14:08:00.005-04:002008-08-09T23:44:12.933-04:00The You You Think You AreThe you she thinks you are<br />The she you think she is<br /><br />Is not the you you think you are<br />Is not the she she thinks she is<br /><br />So she's the world<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">___</span>to you<br />And you're the world<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">___</span>to her<br /><br />And you can't afford to throw the world away<br />For the you you think you are<br /><br />The she she thinks she is<br />Without the world is just a dream.<br /><br />And it's sad I know for you, but for her, a tragedy—<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She's thrown the world and who she is away!</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;">© Dan Goorevitch</span>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-64802856368377809382007-05-06T13:44:00.002-04:002008-08-09T23:44:31.581-04:00The New SpartoíMay I eat this tender chop,<br />carved from the lamb by the butcher<br />who follows at only a step?<br /><br />May I eat this ear of corn, these teeth<br />sown in the furrow that follows the plough—this<br />crop that springs point first<br />disturbing the crumbling ground?<br /><br />Confused though we are by this crushing stone, which<br /><em>must </em>have been thrown by <em>one</em> of us<br />—hollow clanging armour gleaming—hot butter<br />smiles along the long rows,<br />salted. we meet. here. teeth to teeth.<br /><br /> Finally,<br /> may I<br /> eat—May I<br /> breathe—this<br /> Dust—your<br /> philosophy?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">© Dan Goorevitch 1999, 2004</span>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-62821454524460361222007-04-08T16:33:00.004-04:002008-08-09T23:43:15.846-04:00SHEEP SHEARING<span style="font-size:85%;"><em>And there was a man in Maon... shearing his sheep in Carmel....</em></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>the name of the man was Nabal; ...his wife [,] Abigail;....</em></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>And David heard...[and] sent out ten young men,... (1 Samuel 25:1-5)</em></span><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">NABAL</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Who </em>is <em>David? Who </em>is <em>the son of Jesse? (1 Samuel) 25:10</em><br /></span><br />Naked they skit as the shears quit their clack.<br />Heads tack, haunches bound, seeking open turf.<br />Quake, shake, wash their faces in wind.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >———</span>Kick, jump, come ground.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >———</span>Strip by strip, fleeces mount.<br /><br />Women card—discard the skimpy strands,<br />Draw the long to loom (short to soften straw)—<br />And cook: we wolves get our lamb. Wine<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >——</span>to wash down the dust, the fleece, the grease. Just then,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >——</span>ten come on, dripping respect.<br />Their master, they call him, begs mutton.<br /><br />Mutton I have. Master none.<br />He has no master—no mutton but messengers<br />(Messengers mean, and like,<br />whether fed or unfed, to grow muttonous)<br /><br />I like 'em lean—keep what they can<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >—————</span>eat what they shear<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >——————————</span>shear what they keep<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >———————————————</span>keep what I let<br />(mutton on mutton's monotonous.)<br /><br />Though ravenous, they bear unbloodied paws,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >000</span>profess friendship and... protection. "Peace<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >000</span>"be with you," they say and: Peace attend you," and<br />"May peace follow peace into peace and<br /><br />"May we please have a piece of your piece please?"<br /><br /><br />I set my goblet down.<br />My shearers' faces rose—<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>a touch of mauve<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>from the sandstone—crimson bits<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>from accidental nicks<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />(Wooly black hair with straight white teeth)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>"Protection?" I ask, turning back to the ten,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>"From what?" "From who?"<br />"Well... from-from bears, from... lions, from"<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>"My shepherds?"<br /><br />When faces flush, men start to sink, but<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>pink back to white it's a hell of a stink!<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >0000000000</span>Laughter, like water, it tempers the tip.<br /><br /><br />Eyes open shut,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>the last thing that happens is<br />What happens—I wake, head heavy, a stone chest. Her eyes<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>open and narrow in turns,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>glint as they tug invisible strings<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>tied to the corners of her half open mouth, which jerk<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>their confessions in concert.<br /><br /><br />I grow wool on my chest; on my back<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>straw<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>pricks the ball,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>Homespun:<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>Home.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>Unspun.<br />A long yarn's a short tale!<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>(unwoven)<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >00000</span>A shawl,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >0000000000</span>lighter than fleece,<br />floats to my face—I can't breathe—it smells of<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" >0000000000</span>Abigail<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>ABIGAIL</strong><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">...now let thine enemies, and they that seek evil to my lord be as Nabal. (1 Samuel 25: 26)</span></em><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">My husband owned all this<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>three thousand head of sheep, a thousand goats<br />All that 'til he showed up,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>wanting to be fed—him and his men.<br /><br /><br />Protected them, my servant said,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>while they remained 'conversant'<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000000000</span>whatever that means<br /><br />Well, my husband-the name means fool, not stupid<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>Did his shepherds go hungry?<br />"Every budding blade a renegade!" he muttered,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>"Every master his whetstone!"<br /><br /><br />But these were no lamblings.<br />Five hundred. At least. Unarmed.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>For the present.<br />So I saddled, sent fare and followed.<br /><br /><br />In good time. They were striding.<br />But he that strode in front—I<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>caught something in his face—it<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>burned like a wisp too close to the sun. <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0</span>Decisive<br />That impressed me-the quickness of his change of mood,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>the sharpness of his perception.<br /><br /><br />I approached as one befitting my station.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000000000000000000000</span>He lifted me.<br />How wrong it is to shed blood he said and I<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000000000000</span>had spared him the deed—I<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000000000000000</span>was clever, he said<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0</span>as his lower eye scanned my lower lids<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000000</span>where wetness was the stone<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000</span>he honed his lids upon which rose<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000000000</span>and in the upper chamber saw<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000000000000</span>my husband stagger, fall,<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000000000000000000000</span>ask as I rose, floating<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>my eyes gleaming my heart gloating<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000000</span>for the love of an uncrowned king.<br /><br /><br />It took ten days or so it felt for the fool to die and then<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>as our eyes promised<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000000000</span>came the proposal I expected.<br /><br /><br />Modesty demanded a modest answer:<br />"I?" I asked: "I, the wife of David?"<br />I think I said<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>something like<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>I wasn't fit to wash his feet as I grabbed my<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000000000000000</span>cloak. My shawl<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000000000000000</span>caught a splinter at the door frame.<br /><br />I looked back.<br /><br /><br />A farm's a son's—a kingdom<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000000000000000</span>belongs to an heir<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000000000000000</span>(he who draws the deepest breath)<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>A wife's the one who holds it best.<br /><br /><br /><br />The day was close—I played the wind:<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000</span>caught and held the folds of the fabric<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00000000000000000000</span>and let it hang<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><strong>DAVID</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">..., Go up in peace to thine own house; see, I have harkened<br />to thy voice and I have accepted thy person. (1 Samuel 25:35)</span></em></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br />Abram and Adam were my fathers<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00</span>Before that dust<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00</span>Before that nothing:<br />the deep: endless descent.<br /><br /><br />Light, a day<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00</span>Night, we count,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000</span>recount the gain.<br /><br /><br />The slingshot, the sword:<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00</span>a giant's head on a pike—<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000</span>that got me the weal<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">00</span>of men—spokes afire<br />spanning a still small voice<br /><br /><br />Steppe and rise, pitch and plain:<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000</span>land the people possess<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000</span>—creases in the palm—<br />possess these people.<br /><br /><br />She came as I pressed up the path<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000</span>armed with providence, the eyes providing.<br />She was loam, fertile,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000set in the circle for ploughing.</span><br /><br />In her master's house<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000</span>a field unsown, untilled.<br />She knew it<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">000</span>and knew that I knew.<br /><br />Ten days later she was mine.<br /><br /><br />I<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000</span>never<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000000000</span>ask<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">0000000000000000</span>how</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="right"><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" >Stars hone themselves on the strop of a scent.<br /><br />Kerchief floats<br />catching the tip of a crescent moon<br /><br /><br />I count:<br /><br /><br /><br />Adam<br />dust<br />nothing<br /><br />to the deep,<br /><br />floating on the surface of a scent.</span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">——</span>A new wife!<br />(my little joke) is<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">——</span>a new life.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">————————————————</span>Day gains.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">————————————————————</span>Night gains.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">———————————</span>Dust I will soon enough.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">———————————</span>Today, God willing,<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">——————</span>the clay:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">——————</span>The palm, its finger,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">———————————</span>the wheel, its spoke,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">——————————————</span>Burning branch, root<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">—————————————————</span>and trunk entwined.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">———————————————</span>And now to rest.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">———————————</span>And dream.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;">© Dan Goorevitch</span><br /></div>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-28849687142986289802007-03-18T13:40:00.001-04:002008-08-09T23:43:46.542-04:00De DutzmenIn the blind poet's closet,<br />turning <em>"de Bodum"</em><br />round in the mouth.<br /><br />Cafe tables, lightly waxed<br />pine edges; the upright nipple<br />of the maiden-mother.<br /><br />"Many hands buffed the stone"<br />spoke ivory, the tongue's <em>lustra</em><br />(the gold-walled city.)<br /><br />"Hollandt Mars and its canals":<br />Loam, asphalt-black, <em>de bodum:<br />a Dutz cricket-pitz.</em><br /><br />On <em>de beetz,</em> an escarpment:<br />An inch and a half of sand,<br />wave-curled, <em>polissed</em><br /><br />pearl, silver<br />sweeps<br /><em>de pidzen-tails on de Kobblstonss.</em><br /><br />And Spartan Marinas mused,<br />restoring, almost,<br />a sort of<br /><br />Norsemanly sense of normalcy:<br />"The first smoke of the day's the toughest—<br />But you've <em>got</em> to get through it!"<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">© Dan Goorevitch</span>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-55355874922999623682007-03-01T11:54:00.004-05:002024-03-23T16:26:10.979-04:00SWEENEY’S BARRELSI<br /><br />Aye! Free Enterprise<br />AND SWEENEY’S BARRELS?<br /><br />Pearl clouded bridge<br />Descended on Sweeney’s cooperage.<br /><br />Tin roof a-shambles, (within a fire)<br />Piled beside it mounds of oaken casks.<br /><br />Pole Star and North Star, a man and his craft;<br />A thing with two names, divided, destroyed.<br /><br />Tourists unmindful of government pickpockets<br />With holes in their pockets and minds on vacation<br /><br />Never saw the antique bridge<br />And underneath it Sweeney’s cooperage!<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />AND the great white potlatch is on or will be soon<br />Will soon be over, again approach<br />And swamp the boat with waves of presents<br /><br />Used, abused, returned exchanged and forgotten.<br />And in their minds the cry of “cheapness!”<br />The morning after Christ was born.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />One ear warmed is for spite, the other’s<br />For compliment, the Scots girl warned, emptying bedpans.<br />She, lifting patients made heavy at The Mansion<br />(flesh spilling over waistbands, complaining of high prices)<br />unDid the inner corset and<br />wore the brace withOUT complaint!<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And the cold, the cold, the<br />Cold behind the snow-job smile,<br />‘round fat fingers rings the gold, the gold<br />blooms planted for the dead or neighbor nose<br />and So the gift and garden BOTH are starved with SHow!<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And Underhill asked that man at the gate<br />(Charon, who looked at his watch)<br />if hell is always a private party<br />Or is there some other time when all who seek<br />Might gain admittance?<br /><br />The dark-eyed houri there<br />Searched for the golden bough Twisted round the finger<br />And Heart enCaged by someone Else’s drEAm!<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />In Acapulco Towers<br />(800 a month, EXcluding utilities)<br />your life will be ONE summer’s holiday<br />And Æternal youth would be yours, they say<br />IF you’d be their guest in Villa Shangri-La!<br /><br />Ah, bright Apollo, as Venus rose from the sea,<br />HE made LIGHT<br />HIS golden bough for entry!<br /><br /><br /><br />II<br /><br />Contempt is the same en français ou en anglais:<br />S’il n y a pas l’amour au coeur<br />Il n y a pas l’amour d’la langue.<br /><br />Bud Powell’s crushed skull in his sixteenth spring<br />Came back to haunt him in his forty-third.<br />On crystal piano from out of the murk<br />A nightingale sang then fluttered away.<br /><br />III<br /><br />And that globe hanging over the ark, within a candle<br />A little light, a little flame, subsisting in the dark<br /> is Judaic<br /><br />“Who will copy this palimpsest?”<br /><br />…Image graven on the ark<br />Not the form, the globe<br />Subsisting in the dark<br /><br />that the proper image to be held. Created<br />apprehended, maintained is<br />MENTAL, within its proper FORM!<br /><br />Who will copy this palimpsest?<br />ABRAHAM, DAMMIT,<br />who loved Powell, Pound and Sweeney too!<br /><br />. . .<br /><br />(today when Adonis leaves the bus depot<br />he throws his litter on the sidewalk<br />and glances at the crowd in contempt…<br /><br />And that dirty dirty pig got nuthin’ for his troubles,<br />Got nuthin’ from that old lady’s purse when he knocked her down<br />and she canna pitch nor putt n’more wi’ a pin in ‘er hip!)<br /><br />. . .<br /><br />Ah, Blessed are the weak in spirit<br />for they inherit all the money:<br />Hate filled and love filled hearts<br />Means, the springs, the measure…<br /><br />How dare ye insult Mulroney!<br />Hay’s no worse than the rest of ‘is countrymen<br /><br />We’re all a bunch<br />a thumb suckin’<br />arse kissin’<br />EUNUCHS!<br /><br />(this pimple’s not ripe. leave it on the vine)<br /><br />IN spite of it, I can’t help likin’ those<br />Cheap, GRReedy, Tightwad friends of mine!<br /><br />And the forst ones killed shd be the ones what say<br />Oh, everyone’s crippled one way or another<br />cause it’s not true-<br /><br />Makin’ gods out of garbage<br />and lots of used Carrz<br /><br /><br />…that the fund of love’s underlyin’ the hate<br />Suppressed, put down, with no way out<br />Breedeth anger<br />and<br /><br />“breedeth” because<br />it does not breathe anger:<br />Anger breathes love<br /><br />And there’s only one thing better than findin’ a new friend<br />and that’s losin’ an old one<br />FEEL, DAMMIT, FEEL-it<br />separates one!<br /><br />We who are alone<br />need You to be alone<br />so that together we can crush the bones<br />of our dead and clutching parents!<br /><br /><br />IV<br /><br /><br /><br />& little limpoleum stept into the bar<br />where slept the ooze of blues<br />wi’ a taxi light fer ‘is trey cornered hat<br />& sparklers & lights of all kinds<br />& pumped, jacked himself up<br />on corrugated legs, metal, like chain link enlarged<br />to a grand height of six foot.<br /><br />and if hey was to shout out what hay’s there fer<br />No one wd hair nor lusten<br />what wi’ ‘e blues & the rhuthym & the smoke<br />and the booze of ‘em snoozin’<br /><br />and when he gets back to ‘is car<br />‘e takes of ‘m lights as uf ‘t were nuthin’,<br />lays ‘em on the seat beside ‘imself<br />& never smiles.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />But she’s come down<br />from a whirlwind measure<br />that conquers space<br /><br />She’s the standard<br />by which all good is measured<br /><br />Skip to m’loo<br />Skip to m’ lee<br />Skip to m’loo, my darlin’<br /><br />-Nay-toil not<br />at thy marriage bed!<br />toil neither nor slumber!<br /><br />know thyselves and happy be-<br />there’s the work, and a life-time of it<br />to remember virtues every day for which this love’s a sweet reward:<br /><br />It, this bliss, remindeth me<br />Of all in mind that ever was good<br /><br />like the scantling light<br />in a long forgotten wood<br />that breaks cover: thrust,<br />thrush, and glide<br />and comes up growing.<br /><br />(tips to the best post haste<br />never maketh waste)<br /><br />and the early light of the thrush<br />makes bird wing bend<br />to stoop. to slumber<br />ever maketh lumber clean and well split<br />oozin’ still wi’ a sweet an’ saplin’ colour.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />How far this is from Sweeney<br />and what they done to him!<br />AND that nurse!<br /><br />DORTY BASSTURDS!<br /><br />Love life expecting camera inversions-<br />Sock that has a sole for a shoe!<br /><br />The lights on the Cambie Street bridge<br />in antique style, is Hollywood, a lie<br /><br />To cover up that they asked the citizens<br />“Wadayawaa nanoo bridge or a OLD one?”<br /><br />like that. and presented their figures.<br />and did NOT include Sweeney in those figures<br /><br />Though the laws concerning<br />(reprehension<br />that evil form of circumcision<br />that goes by name<br />EXPROPRIATION demanded it!<br /><br />NOR will they include YOU!<br /><br />And where’s the room for love in that wasteland?<br />Work.<br /><br />At home?<br />In bed?<br />To eat?<br /><br />Which is to say that<br />whores are the ultimate extension of convention<br />To jail ‘em’s hypocity where money’s the measure<br />and Sweeney’s left out of accounting<br />and Pound sleeps in a hoarfrost tent<br />and Powell his asylum,<br />pounding his fingers on the soundless chart.<br /><br /><br /><br />V<br /><br /><br /><br />Like a horse standing for the first time<br />-a little quaky<br /><br />or as Stonier said<br /><br />a deer<br />standing on a hill<br />trembling with life.<br /><br />And they took his job for that<br />for being warm and loving his students.<br /><br />and put a beer drinkin’ chump in’is place<br />who worshiped motorcars<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And Vandermay wdnt give Stonier a receipt,<br />went away angry: “Doan ya trust me?”<br /><br />and his show? it was CANcelled.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And in the gall’y of the dyin’ ferrets<br />the dealer, owner, proprietor said<br />while talkin’ to high school students<br />“When I saw the BIG SPLASH<br />that the GERmans were makin’<br />in the Ahhrt mahrket/ with big sloppy pitchers<br />I went to the art skool<br />& w(h)ipped up some students<br />to make BIG PAINTINGS<br />and they come through like tr-<br />rrrrrrrrrooooooooooooooopers!<br /><br />and the newspapers called her a HEro!<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />…and there was Vandermay, hand outstretched,<br />askin’ for a breath mint.<br />An’ I gave ‘im one & he said to me “I’ve<br />“got a bad taste in my mouth” and<br />I told him I wasn’t the least bit surprised…<br /><br /><br /><br />And the Sun printed Newman was led by Molinari<br />though Newman found his Onement when Guido still a boy<br /><br />and the Sun wouldn’t print a retraction<br />and the columnist switched to another department<br /><br />But the column it hung on the gallery wall<br />where lurid colors and Bonny Fatso<br /><br />with German Shepherds on guard for thee-Quick!-<br /><br />Dig up the four hundred sharpshooters<br />who put the twenty-two bullets in Benevenuto Mussolini!<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And on the CBC<br />A nonsense figure<br />named Doctor Bondoli<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And Bruno Gerusi’s neither here nor there<br />But the smartest wop hat ever I knew<br />Was Ambrosini, no Turk, no Jew<br /><br />Who wasted his time takin’ telephone calls<br />F’ra black topped yellow bellied taxi company.<br /><br />And thus the blood rains, thus pours more than sunshine.<br /><br /><br /><br />And Pollock was always a better reporter<br />than anyone stationed at the Christian Science Mmmonister,<br /><br />and unlike them, those nobosons<br />Never made money by buggering corpses!<br /><br /><br /><br />And Stonier came to me door one day<br />Wi’a pile of wood stacked up to ‘is ears<br />and more down below in ‘is wagon<br /><br />And ev’ry mitre was cut glass smooth<br />an’ takin’ the glue wi’out nail nor screw<br />and was stronger that way both within and without<br /><br />Than disjointed piles of abandoned WOOD<br />Collected by press-gang and bolted together<br />by tortuous twists of ALLEN wrenches.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And Stonier said, “Dan,<br />“ideas are like vegetables.”<br /><br />and I said, “D’ya mean<br />“ya gotta cook ’em first?”<br /><br />and he said: “Cook ‘em, hell!<br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">You’ve</span> gotta <span style="font-style: italic;">wash </span>‘em!”<br /><br /><br /><br />Stonier who drew a map through hell<br />and stood at the vistas admirin’ the view<br /><br />& Norris wished the teachers…<br /><br />In spite of the dollar signs<br /><br />…trembling<br /><br /><br /><br />…an’ I was that deer<br />wi’ all me fathers passin’<br /><br />And they would dare to make the claim?<br /><br />What? In the nyooozpapers?<br />Printing lies and slime,<br />perversions on a two-bit screen?<br /><br />Ha! I’d rather be fathered by a goat or a wolf<br />or BULL<br />and come out roamin’<br />the catacombs and eatin’ virgins.<br /><br /><br /><br />VI<br /><br /><br /><br />& When the stranger went up to the little boy<br />enthralled in his orange and asked him<br />“What are you eating?”<br />the boy replied “A Appo!”<br /><br />And when his father attempted<br />to correct him by saying, “No,<br />“You’re eating an orange.”<br /><br />The boy to his dad defiantly said:<br />I’m eating a appo AND a orange!”<br />and he was right<br /><br />for the first fruits of the mynd are enthralled<br />with one another and know<br />an intimacy beyond anything<br />the grocer counts in his weekly receipts.<br /><br /><br /><br />and that neighbour of mine has a happy face<br /> but a miserable soul.<br /><br /><br /><br />Aye, as this half-eaten pear<br />satisfies the senses<br />but not the heart.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />Standing by the garbage can-the big blue one,<br />wondering where to get a match<br />for my burnt out cigarette<br />I sang Noel to my absent neighbors<br />and added as a codicil<br />“No grove of Eucalyptus”<br /> and burst out crying<br /><br />thinking<br /><br />“What’s the point without Jerusalem?”<br /><br />and turned to the wall to hide my tears,<br />Homeless as I am, as I’ve ever been, and<br />though pained<br />laughed at myself, thinking<br /><br />Oh no, you’re no Jew<br />Standing there with your half eaten pear<br />wondering there<br />to get a match for your burnt-out cigarette<br />and cryin’ for Yerushalaim! and<br /><br />after returning to my pear with relish<br />I walked to the store, thinking<br />I’d like to see my mother again, but can’t<br />for the first time conscious of the fact<br />after twenty-five years…<br /><br /><br /><br />and Jerusalem is not<br />as Disney said (insipid mind<br />“Disney against the metaphysicals”<br />“A dot on the map, a place<br />om the middle of nowhere”<br /><br />Being here it is everywhere within the heart.<br />And the Moslems call it Mecca<br />And the Christians call it Christ<br />And it is all the same place within the heart.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And the candy canes they give in stores<br /> come broken<br />And when we were children we handled ‘em gently<br /> so’s not to break ‘em<br />but now they give ‘em out that way<br /> a crook without a cane<br /><br />And he has come to you a broken man<br />All men are broken who take to wife<br />Your career’s established: you’re a doctor<br /><br />because the horse is saddled before it runs free<br />because the brain is addled by twelve years of schooling<br />whose many subjects have only one object: acquiescence<br />followed by five days of mind-numbing work<br />followed by two days of mind-numbing fun<br />and never a moment to seek heaven<br /><br />Never a moment in the garden<br />invaded by thump<br />of the fact’ry’s demand.<br />But where’s their factum within,<br />humming, glowing,<br />burning with ‘lectricity?<br /><br /><br /><br />VII<br /><br /><br /><br />Like a brilliant shower of roses<br />on the grand piano of thought<br />thou movest me<br />From plant to plant, pollen,<br />From image to image, thought.<br /><br />Knowledge of other and knowledge of self<br />are absolutely<br />interdependent.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />Thou little spark<br />Separate by glass<br />from larger compartments<br />of combustible experience<br /><br />take thou this candle in the dark<br />and open thy mynde.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />The heart’s model’s concentric<br />The brain’s synaptic<br />The world is thy inverted mynde.<br /><br />Mon stylo petit<br />Ton chapeau est perdu<br />Maintenant tu est<br />bald,<br />standing on his head,<br />his thoughts pour out.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And the beautiful wife of a snob once said<br />to the brother of a former lover<br />“You look like… “ Oh-I forget-some<br />swashbuckling Ozzie or another<br /><br />And he said to her “No, you look like her-<br />“You have her eyes”<br />(referrin’ to his perversions)<br /><br />And he used the lull to tell of her beauty<br />In front of her husband and former lover<br />And further took use of the silence to ask her<br />Why had she married such a schlemiel<br /><br />Which brought forth a protest that he cut short<br />By tellin’ the story how he, and he<br />Had turned up their noses at his hospitality.<br /><br />Admitted it was only wieners and beans but<br />There was a time he said, pointin’at his brother<br />When he’d roll his eyes heavenward eatin’ the stuff<br /><br />But now he likes what others praise<br />And he thinks what others think<br />And he, said he, pointin’ at her husband<br />‘s been spoiled from the cradle.<br /><br />But before they can protest his head’s in her lap<br />His eyes turned upward sayin’<br />“Come live with me and be my love”<br /><br />And he turned to her belly and blew<br />Like a parent will do to its offspring’s skin,<br />Naked, to make a rude sound, and she said<br />After he’d crossed ‘is eyes and beamed again: “Oh!<br /><br />Can’t we take ‘im home,” laughin’<br />“We can find room for him somwhere!”<br /><br />And her husband, not laughin’, said: “Oh, yes!<br />“I’m sure you’ll find room for him somewhere!”<br /><br />But by now the man at her feet is waggin’ ‘is tail<br />Tongue stickin’ out, eyes bright<br />An’ scratchin’ ‘is ears for fleas til she can’t stop laughin’<br /><br />An’ when she can laff n’more<br />He grabs at ‘er legs an’ ‘e plays at frottage,<br />Eyes fixed in space, an’ she doubles up,<br />Falls on the floor, holdin’ ‘er guts, laughin’.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And like Abraham destroying the idols to say God’s within,<br />Moses on the mountain,<br />Dashin’ the tablets as if to say<br />It’s not words but spirit.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And when the immigrant told me how the judge backed the cop<br />But wouldn’t show law when he challenged<br />I told him to call an M.P.<br />For which he thanked me, and shook my hand, unlike<br />The former Crown Prosec, who,<br />Responding to my allegation of extortion said:<br />Big deal!<br />Can ya PROOve it?<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />Snakes crawl between the words of our tablets<br />Lyin’ in bits in the garden<br />Obscured by moss and lichen.<br /><br /> . . .<br /><br />And that carpenter sits with a beer in his hand<br />And a tear in his eye, defeated,<br />Sits there all day in the sun by his camper<br />Brings out his tools, the crown jewels<br />Brings out his tools and unfolds ‘em,<br />Useless since winning the lotto<br />And they turned away from their craft<br />And says:<br />How can I take another’s job?<br />I don’t need the money.<br />And it rings in my ear…<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />X<br /><br /><br /><br />It’s as though a mansion were discovered<br />with rare jewels hid, the mynd is<br /><br />and in the corner of an empty pocket<br />is a precious nothing:<br />something within which to build<br /><br />Aye-“no wind is the kings”<br />nor work of art<br />“caught in gauze curtains”<br /><br />Spirit of nature,<br />product of mind<br />except to possess it.<br /><br />So saith Supreme Court of Ontarion<br />Michael Snow versus Eatons<br /><br />But after he beat ’em<br />They still took that sculpture by Norris to Surrey<br />Using the place for a goddamned gazebo<br /><br />and that after they knew the law,<br />had no respect for a man or his product<br /><br />And the first product was grain<br />& the market was raised to distribute<br />not to produce its own<br /><br />and the banks still sell shares<br />& take out the profits<br />to pay the investors<br /><br />AND WHAT THE HELL’S A DEPOSIT<br />IF NOT AN INVESTMENT?<br /><br />(Let’s see… how can I sell him<br />a share of… your money?)<br /><br />Hey meester?<br />You wanna buy your seester?<br /><br /><br /><br />…and they paid him enough (Norris, that is)<br />only just<br />to finish his sculpture<br />but not mirror-smooth as he’d wanted,<br />and not a penny in profit for him or his wife<br />not even crusts for his children.<br /><br />And after all that they just moved it to Surrey<br />to erect a gazebo for tourist instruction<br />(Let the natives wear pants with bugger flaps)<br />after they’d lost their court case to Portia.<br /><br />No one may own a work of art<br />but only possess it:<br />The law made clear viz-a-viz<br />intellectual property.<br /><br />NOT to subvert, distort, pervert the work<br />owned by the artist alone….<br /><br />God Dammit, doesn’t anyone else understand<br />that these are the works of the spirit?<br />That the corn grows from a single kernel<br />within which an ear listens for its call to spring<br />Which srings an ear containing a multitude of kernels?<br />God Dammit, doesn’t anyone understand INCREASE anymore?<br /><br />Or as a girl I knew once said to me:<br />“Eat, eat, eat: Doesn’t anyone FUCK anymore?”<br /><br />and she was my lonely oasis.<br />I’d only to gaze at her back and she’d come<br />to me-Aye-Free Enterprise-<br />There never was an enterprise so free<br />If it were eyes<br />and if it were black-<br />thousands of eyes in each pore<br />and the sense of it like madness but not-<br /><br />…in the streets the cattle prod<br />day after day, the cattle prod… but not<br />Vision. A crystal. Oh, How can I say it?<br />“Do you see the Magnolia?”<br />“Lavender chasing the timeless moon?”<br />“A bed of petals from every pore?”<br />“Organs not only of sight but of infinite compassion?”<br /><br />The pendulous breasts, swinging…<br />The pendulum of history…<br />Heaven and hell but means to measure,<br />Guard thee well my only treasure!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 78%;">© Dan Goorevitch, 1986</span>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-1921857338606836802007-02-28T16:06:00.001-05:002008-08-09T23:46:30.654-04:00Grew a little branch from a treeGrew a little branch from a tree<br />you was there and so was me<br /><br />you me and the tree maked three<br />then comed our tiny bay-be<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br />© Dan Goorevitch, 1993</span>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-41124834071415935862007-02-28T16:01:00.000-05:002008-02-29T16:05:43.603-05:00The LibraryShe kneels<br />And the black pleats float.<br /><br />She sits—<br />My heart a sinking boat.<br /><br />She stands<br />And stretches—oh—the flirt!<br /><br />Walks on<br />—tugging at the corner of her skirt!Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-40068105220132543872007-02-06T16:17:00.000-05:002007-05-08T22:25:49.854-04:00Ramblin' RoseThough<br />Ramblin' Rose<br />played twice<br /><br />as dust<br />behind car<br />and sun<br /><br />and sand's ribs<br />under lake<br />and bubbles rose<br /><br />dragging up<br />my father's hair<br />a whitened body, it<br /><br />seems<br />now that<br />all<br /><br />the way<br />to the beach<br />that day<br /><br />the rhapsody was<br />so<br />that<br /><br />even now<br />it<br />goes:<br /><br />"How I love you"<br />(so it goes)<br />"How I want you<br /><br />"heaven knows—<br />"who can cling to<br />"a ramblin' rose?"<br /><br /><br />© Dan Goorevitch, 1988, 2007<br />Rambin' Rose © Noel & Joe Sherman, 1962Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-25680179551155855322006-09-28T00:56:00.001-04:002008-08-09T23:47:24.813-04:0019841994<center><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;">I<br />me<br />we<br />us<br />Ms<br />bi<br />PhD<br />gay<br />CIA<br />FBI<br />men<br />Her<br />She<br />hiV<br />s/he<br />blak<br />CSIS<br />nazi<br />AIDS<br />race<br />junta<br />queer<br />greed<br />dogma<br />class<br />canon<br />racist<br />fatist<br />wimmin<br />queens<br />gender<br />agenda<br />smoker<br />victim<br />fascist<br />lesbian<br />bulimic<br />context<br />studies<br />new-age<br />subtext<br />demonize<br />freudian<br />red meat<br />wellness<br />heteroxy<br />anorexic<br />paradigm<br />didactic<br />bisexual<br />feminist<br />herstory<br />same-sex<br />safe-sex<br />misogyny<br />workshop<br />polemics<br />patronize<br />safer-sex<br />pride day<br />date-rape<br />aggressor<br />he or she<br />semiotics<br />subverted<br />she or he<br />empowered<br />genocidal<br />caregiver<br />privilege<br />vegetarian<br />fruitarian<br />pro-active<br />inner-city<br />pro-choice<br />gay rights<br />sex worker<br />victimized<br />monolithic<br />white males<br />homeopathic<br />green space<br />self-esteem<br />objectified<br />materialist<br />gender bias<br />discredited<br />progressive<br />paternalist<br />transsexual<br />maternalist<br />hermeneutic<br />share-power<br />bureaucrats<br />the disabled<br />middle class<br />heterosexual<br />human rights<br />sociological<br />transvestite<br />video artist<br />racist group<br />marginalized<br />the gun lobby<br />the fur trade<br />deconstructed<br />handy-capable<br />gay & lesbian<br />spousal abuse<br />power sharing<br />the genocidal<br />illness model<br />vegetarianism<br />fruitarianism<br />animal rights<br />the gay games<br />gay pride day<br />gay pride week<br />gender-neutral<br />breast implant<br />the gender gap<br />post-modernist<br />race relations<br />proceduralized<br />bio-degradable<br />wellness model<br />the privileged<br />women's issues<br />sexual assault<br />animal testing<br />multinationals<br />age-appropriate<br />Judeo-Christian<br />animal products<br />the male agenda<br />socio/political<br />substance abuse<br />cultural worker<br />fundamentalists<br />the power elite<br />status of women<br />corporate greed<br />women's studies<br />new-age medicine<br />the revisionists<br />the inner cities<br />abortion clinics<br />power structures<br />dead white males<br />private property<br />the profit motive<br />same-sex benefits<br />employment equity<br />sexual harassment<br />deconstructionist<br />second-hand smoke<br />corporate America<br />sexual orientation<br />endangered species<br />the black majority<br />the white majority<br />the black minority<br />the white minority<br />holistic medicines<br />indoor air quality<br />affirmative action<br />spiritual identity<br />the new world order<br />human rights groups<br />non-western culture<br />conservation issues<br />the disenfranchised<br />mentally challenged<br />performance artists<br />renewable resources<br />the military regime<br />the tobacco industry<br />eurocentric thinking<br />high-risk activities<br />the corporate agenda<br />unsubstantiated fact<br />advocacy advertising<br />new-age philosophies<br />homeopathic medicine<br />has been discredited<br />wheel-chair athletes<br />animal rights groups<br />deeply coded message<br />conceptually invalid<br />politically incorrect<br />alternative sexuality<br />self-representational<br />autobiographical text<br />old-guard politicians<br />high-minded principle<br />refreshing scepticism<br />violence against women<br />gender differentiation<br />the cosmetics industry<br />heterosexual orthodoxy<br />animal experimentation<br />negotiating difference<br />iconically interesting<br />cultural appropriation<br />the difference disabled<br />gay & lesbian bookstore<br />gender-neutral language<br />women's study programme<br />the white establishment<br />substance abuse problem<br />the wilderness committee<br />age-appropriate behavior<br />reproductive technologies<br />institutional co-optation<br />the politics of inclusion<br />the politics of exclusion<br />Christian fundamentalists<br />water conservation issues<br />male spousal abuse studies<br />the crassest commercialism<br />gender-neutral terminology<br />human rights infringements<br />energy consumption & waste<br />green community designation<br />fresh fruits and vegetables<br />the ruling military leaders<br />the market-driven economies<br />military/industrial complex<br />cross-cultural fertilization<br />the post-colonial experience<br />buddies in bad times theatre<br />the violence of monocultures<br />shifting multiple identities<br />mutually-assured destruction<br />politically-correct language<br />environment education officer<br />department of women's studies<br />privileged institutional hand<br />French structuralist critique<br />trademark cosmetic indicators<br />present-day political concerns<br />free-standing abortion clinics<br />the marginalized nexus of power<br />reticent to negotiate difference<br />art-historical deconstructionist<br />post-modernist art & architecture<br />self-declared military government<br />the multinational corporate agenda<br />the multinational corporate empire<br />French post-Structuralist critique<br />CONSUMERS of MENTAL HEALTH PRODUCTS<br /><br />© nineteen-ninety-four dan goorevitch</span></center>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-15435074147293319752001-04-12T08:00:00.000-04:002020-03-04T23:06:30.010-05:00CrushingWith a crushing weight on my chest<br />
I enter the crematorium.<br />
<br />
Faint moans and screams,<br />
Gaunt women in threadbare cotton shifts,<br />
<br />
Long diaphanous hair streaming behind<br />
And a young blond man in full Nazi regalia giving chase.<br />
<br />
Mouth open, drooling, his cold blue eyes sparkle.<br />
Entranced! Bewitched! In love!<br />
<br />
How do I even know you're here?<br />
Here is a door but no other side<br />
<br />
No grass, no birds<br />
No kind or comforting words<br />
<br />
Just cell phones and a mean-looking mother’—<br />
His long legs privatizing the aisle.<br />
<br />
A girl, about twenty-six months<br />
Looks from face to face<br />
<br />
Picking up the world they see--lonely--<br />
On a bus full of people!<br />
<br />
She looks; he won't return her gaze.<br />
She pleads<br />
<br />
and in her eyes now grows<br />
His look of utter hate returned to him.<br />
<br />
He looks for the door<br />
But finds no other side.<br />
<br />
To whom it may concern<br />
Her mother laughs and says<br />
<br />
"She's so intense!"<br />
Hoping he isn't offended.<br />
He isn't.<br />
He=s broken.<br />
<br />
He wobbles to the exit<br />
his heart, like her heart<br />
<br />
a chamber<br />
with a door<br />
<br />
and a world<br />
inside it struggling<br />
<br />
unprepared<br />
as the rest of us.<br />
<br />
<br />
© 2001, 2017 Dan GoorevitchDan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-55568059258403109772001-03-04T22:58:00.000-05:002020-03-04T22:59:10.196-05:00Bubbles & Butterflies<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">You caress the bubble but it doesn't burst.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">You squeeze it. It cannot burst. So you eat it</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">And as it passes out there's a world in there</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Not some New York skyline with snowflakes</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">But a man, yourself, as you should have been.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">He is taller than you, stronger than you,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">He is warmer, kinder, more generous,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">He has a keener intellect, a finer humor</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">He laughs at himself and accepts his foibles</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">He is the you you should've been but aren't</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">So you flush him. But he finds his way out</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Of the pipes and into the river where he bubbles up</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">With millions of other bubbles he heads for the falls.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">He falls and stays intact. He wanders up and down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">And through all the earth, this homunculus who will outlast you,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Capable of every thing but one:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">He cannot free himself from the bubble.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">You stand in your living room and a butterfly</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Puts his wings between your fingertips</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">And your feet leave the ground.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">At first you laugh but, as your head passes through the ceiling</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">And you wonder if you're air or plaster, awake or asleep</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">You fear to let go but you're curious to go on.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">You rise up above the clouds, above the stars even</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">To the untouched waters over heaven</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">And you find yourself in a pink spiral,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">A tunnel. How strange. Above the space, you thought,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">There would be more and more space, ever more freedom</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">But it's a tunnel, and it's narrowing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">The tunnel gets dark and you're afraid to let go</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">So many miles from home and then you smell the stink.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">The stench is appalling but you think it will pass.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">It gets worse. You can't let go now. You can only hope</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Things will get better. But it gets worse. And it gets hot.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Surely it can't last and if I let go I'll die here</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">In this heat and this stink, alone. At least I have</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Someone with me, the butterfly. But who is this butterfly?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">It puts its wings between my fingers. It wanted to take me here!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">But I have nothing else and fear to die alone.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">So you hold on. The heat gets more intense. It is searing</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">And then it gets twice as hot. You can't breathe.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Now it's so hot it's beyond heat. You feel ice cold.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">The butterfly is letting you down into a burning lake.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">The lake is silver, like mercury. Like a volcano</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">It bubbles. Perfectly round solid bubbles and you see</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Either reflected on the outside or inside it (you cannot tell)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">A man resting peacefully, each under his own fig tree.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">He drops you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">You feel your feet hit something solid, your knees buckle</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">And instinct makes you reach with both hands to break the fall.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">You let go of the butterfly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">You are on your feet, crouching, in the centre of</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">Your living room. You know, for the first time</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18.33px;">The fear and love of God.</span>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7664418964760410195.post-67354826746866431232000-01-04T09:15:00.000-05:002012-01-04T18:19:29.895-05:00Goodbye Pork-Pie Hat<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults ext="edit" spidmax="1026"> </xml><![endif]-->The torture of an oyster is the making of a pearl.<br />The wailing of an infant is the gospel of the world.<br />The world that spun around us<br />and the stars that still surround us used to be<br />plenty, the harvest, the horn—we were so tiny:<br />filled our world all tightly curled and growing<br />bigger before we were born…<br /><br /><br />SOLO<br /><br /><br />The torture of an oyster is the making of a pearl.<br />The wailing of a widow is the gospel of the world.<br />The sand grain's ultimatum, like a last note<br />held by Tatum, stands in the door-way,<br />half-turning—he's gone now—well, so long now:<br />Goodbye Mister Pork-Pie Hat: a song now—<br />grave to the cradle:<br /><br /><br />The torture of an oyster is the making of a pearl.<br />The wailing of an orphan is the gospel of the world.<br />The naked soul's unveiling, mostly labour,<br />seldom sailing seems to be sowing, then reaping<br />a blessing—yes, a blessing—<br />Though we're torn and sheared and shorn, we're rising:<br />dawn's gilded chalice, the horn.<br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-language:EN-US; layout-grid-mode:line" lang="EN-US">© Dan Goorevitch 1990, 2007</span></p>Dan Goorevitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12299775235564806246noreply@blogger.com0