One can increase the amount of ‘sleeps till Christmas’ by taking naps. This is recommended behavior.
December 7, 2010
in their own voice also Sylvia Plath
I’ve come into contact with a lot of live poetry via “The Academy of American Poets” archive Compact Discs. John Berryman, David Ignatow (a personal favorite), George Oppen, Robert Lowell, and three more collections with too many poets to list. I truly enjoy hearing the poet’s voice reading from their works and I’ve managed a large collection of them – some pretty available and some not so much. All Digital now after many hours trying to remaster off of old cassette tapes. My proudest is my Sylvia Plath Collection which has become exceedingly hard to find. In all I have about 2 gigs of recordings not including some of my own which I’ve just begun to do.
My Sylvia Plath Collection is as follows…
Daddy
Ariel
Lady Lazarus
The Ghost’s Leavetaking
November Graveyard
On the Plethora of Dryads
The Thin People
Hardcastle Crags
Child’s Park Stones
The Lady and the Earthenware Head
On the Difficulty of conjuring up a dryad
Green Rock, Winthrop Bay
On the Decline of Oracles
The Goring
Ouija
The Beggars
Sculptor
The Disquieting Muse
Spinster
Parliament Hill Fields
The Stones
Leaving Early
Candies
Mushrooms
Breck-plague
The Surgeon 2 AM
Nick and the Candlestick (not a good copy)
Poppies in October
Fever 103
short list of some reasons I prefer to listen to poetry:
1. In the Poet’s Voice how can you go wrong?
2. Sometimes the pains intensity makes it hard to focus my eyes.
3. I can enjoy poetry in a darkened room.
4. a good read can make me weep, gladly
5. hearing a poem in the authors voice is like experiencing it again for the first time.
If anyone has any obscure or hard to locate recordings I would love to wrench them from your tight grip. Also trade or even purchase. I hunger for more.
Sylvia part 1
I listen to your voice,
late November,
reliving a moment long
worn away by times
passing
and memory.
did you mean to see it out,
taste of poison
fruits? or come
back.
all questions lingering
and a scar,
a very real scar,
traces round our heart,
I’ll show you if you come to see.
no charge,
no heart beats like ours
out of the ash, we sift
and sift, but find
no more
no phoenix burning
the midnight air.
…
– Hoc Scripsi
EDIT: poem submitted for the Jingle Poetry Theme of Dreams Visions and Reveries because I’ve visions of Sylvia at times when writing and feel that connection (especially this last one) and at times I dream of her. Is it cheating?
December 6, 2010
Magpie #43
this door is an affront to my sensesimagine Adam, seeing in vision, that which would befall man
brought by disobedience,
how his heart must have ached.
– Hoc Scripsi
December 3, 2010
December, snow, ice and the general good time with whiskey
Apparently the 44″ snow thrower attached to the front of my John Deer is going to come in handy tonight and through the weekend. Also of use will be the seed spreader that pulls behind filled with ice melter.
December already and it’s going to be a white my birthday.
This is for Troy
1. the bending of steel
poetry.
coffee.
a love of hard liquor.
rifles, shotguns, pistols
revolvers.
men were bound by
thinner threads then these.
2. hammering to form
poetry.
coffee.
a love of hard liquor.
rifles, shotguns, pistols
revolvers.
man’s bind was broken by
thinner threads than these.
3. the fine blade
beauty.
art.
love.
the eyes and body move
of a naked dancing muse.
man’s mind was broken by
thinner threads than these
– Hoc Scripsi
I am looking at the Magpie image and thinking now; I am looking at my own door, painted red with window, and thinking casually.
I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately and seeing some quality writing and some not so much. I comment on about 1/3rd of what I am reading as time does not allow for expression and reciprocation on everyone’s thoughts. On need to get back to Rabbit on his poetry as I said I would and am still pounding through the fall of man.
This blog needs more energy – needs more poetry while it is looking like I will finish the year slightly ahead of where I was last year. A good thing but I can see where I didn’t use all of my time wisely.
Almost nap time.
This above poem was written for Troy, because without him it would not have been written. Although it has been turned down by two publishers I believe it to be a solid poem and have high hope for it over the next few months.
Any publisher that reads me and wants it may use it with notification.
ad a good breakfast with a friend this morning with coffee that rivals the best of normal coffee houses – she only need a better coffee maker to bring it to the next level. Good range of topics covered and I left before I may have gotten boring immediately following saying some profound things. To include, on the subject of the impossibility of perfection or an impossible definition of perfection as to human achievement – If I am the sum of my life’s experiences, then I am perfect as I am. Some may say that leaves no room for improvement, but I counter that with I am only talking about now, not what is possible with the possibility of tomorrow.
Putting Sparklehorse’s last album to play I am now going to close my eyes and pull the night mask on. The safety word is “revenge”
– J.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 