November 29, 2010
by jhon baker
I never wanted to be a poets poet.
I strive to write for people, caring far more for the connection to a garbage handler.
tonight I feel the sting from the absence.
I am going to bed now and hoping to sleep and awaken in a different light.
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prize fighter
I am not a fighter;
never been.
writing poetry and
loving;
an unknown
contradiction
carrying notebooks,
pencils in back pockets
while looking so aggressive,
massive.
– hoc Scripsi
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November 27, 2010
by jhon baker
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she couldn’t read what it said
or whom it was for
the memory only contained the sudden
image
from an antique shop
or estate sale
it was forgotten now
where or when
but the unexpected frailty,
the image,
weak knee’d her
stalled staggering
at this moment held
helpless, sightless,
merely astonished at
the wetness of her cheek
falling into gardenias lain
on the bed,
her robe slipping open,
she turned her body
toward the open window.
– Hoc Scripsi
Image from Magpie #42
not my best effort – but there it is.
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November 27, 2010
by jhon baker
well fuck it, I’m staying awake tonight to see if I can pull this insomnia at night thing into the more normal ‘trouble falling asleep but doing so eventually anyway’ and away from the ‘I watch the sunrise and then get sleepy’ category.
I am currently digesting Paradise Lost by Milton and am going to go through the epics before I return to normal reading. As I am not a Christian or Catholic I get to read this from a pure poetical standpoint and dig deep into his word and line – which are beyond measure beautiful and striking. Interesting is how words have changed meaning over the years, i.e. reeking – now it refers to something with foul and unappealing odor and when he wrote it it meant more of vaporizing or disintegrating.
While not as cool as Beethoven being deaf or Monet being nearly blind – Milton was totally blind when he wrote all 12 books of Paradise Lost. being unable to see what needs to be worked and writing in iambic pentameter is astounding to me not to mention being able to keep the complicated narrative of Paradise Lost in mind while doing the aforementioned composition. oh, and he was also hated at that point in history by the powers that be so he did this in hiding and was jailed at some point around then as well, not for being a bad guy but for saying the wrong things about the powerful.
This is not to be taken for better perusal of his history and selected from my memory of a blurb I read somewhere – probably the preface to the tome I am reading.
I feel ashamed for waiting this long to read it and can only admit that I have skimmed the other epics (Odyssey, Iliad, Aeneid, Metamorphosis, Beowulf) some fairly heavy skimming but still. I am correcting this oversight presently.
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November 24, 2010
by jhon baker
I’m getting drunk off coffee (which, for the initiate, means that I am all jittery and my heart is palpating without there being someone naked in the room), outside it is raining and I believe that it is going to freeze tonight. For once I’ve opted to have order out delivery pizza instead of something that we could have had much cheaper by just opening the fridge and doing a little heating and no it wasn’t my turn to cook – just do the dishes which I’ll bet my wife is wondering why they still aren’t done at 6:30 pm.
Today I shelled out more than asked for to have someone do my fall cleanup (there are a lot of fucking trees in my yard as I’ve mentioned before) – this year I allowed them all to accumulate while I did nothing and was waiting for a stretch of really nice days to break out the tractor and mulch them all into oblivion. No nice days and I will still have to take out the tractor to remove the mowing deck and install the awesome two stage snow thrower so I can get through the winter without ever having to lift a shovel.
I did do something I’ve been trying to do for days though – spoke with my friend, Christopher, and was on the phone for about two hours. I’d feel like a girl if I saw him more often but as I don’t – I’m fine with it.
I think I am avoiding trying to read Paradise lost during the normal waking hours and working on my own longer poems as well.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving where we celebrate the raping and pillaging of the culture of those people who happened to discover America before we did – those bastards, how dare they find something first and colonize it.
We’ll be having chicken and pumpkin pie – without pumpkin pie I don’t think I could get behind this so called celebration of attempted total genocide. Add pumpkin pie though, and I would lead my own brother to the gallows.
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the platitudes of willful resemblance 