Archive for January, 2011

January 20, 2011

I didn’t mean to take a nap yesterday

by jhon baker

It’s god damned cold outside – or rather, in my garage where I am writing this at a little after one in the morning.  I can often be found out here in the wee hours of the morning when I can’t sleep, simply, I can smoke out here. I suppose I could in the house but I detest the smell over everything and care about the lungs of the members of my family.

I took two showers today for no other reason than it was the right thing to do.

I keep tinkering with a few lines and haven’t been able to decide what I want to do with them, maybe they are no good but I am attached to them these past few days.

there always is the undertow of violins, violas
played by the fingers of air

even around the smoothest of lakes
in the quietuses of night.

(hoc scripsi, unfinished)

It pleads for more but I can’t think of it. I like it enough that I don’t wish to regard it to the pile of unfinished and stuck poetry which is getting large. Going through today to organize last years efforts I couldn’t find my original typewritten copies of nearly everything I wrote last year – such distress! Nearly in a panic I located it filed about three files away from where it should have been – such relief!

BTW, now all of my past posts have been labeled and can be found in groups (where that applies) at the bottom of the page, at least until Rabbit redesigns everything and I no longer know where shit is around here, like when K cleans everything without my being around; I get lost.

I think I have decided to break up last years efforts into a few (read two) different chap books. So I am going to start the deal of submission and rejection and hopefully acceptance eventually. I like the idea of something smaller and cheaper that may be easier to digest. For the paper impaired (I’m looking at you Patrick) I will insist that they also be available in an e-reader format or just do it myself and split the proceeds with whoever publishes. Any Suggestions? I don’t expect that they’ll be available this year as I am still trying to place many of them in journals and online and they will need tinkering and such, but this is now in the thought process.

okay I am a bit scattered tonight and it’s taken me about an hour to write this and fuck around on the internet a bit (no porn though, don’t worry my love).

January 19, 2011

too early in the morning and I’ve yet to finish a poem this week

by jhon baker

It’s about two in the morning, I’ve a terrible headache and find myself gravitating to yet another mad writer. I had to put down my William Carlos Williams volume II because his imagery is enough to stagger my further ability to parse more poetry. Some poets I can sit and read through masses of their work, enjoying quite a bit of it, while others (like WCW) I have to ingest more slowly; make a complete study of his form and ability. But WIlliams was not mad and I’ve alluded to the insanity of another poet I’ve decided to start a study of now. Anne Sexton.
While being quite familiar with her works already and her death, there was scan familiarity with her and her somewhat unique dedication to her work. I’ve started with a perusal of her letters (what has been published) for now as I am not sure I can intake the severity of her work tonight. After all, I do want to sleep.
My writing method and Anne’s seems similar in its obsessive rewriting and need to solidify the line and word structure. So this might be a positive influence on my poem but an ill advised influence on my mental state. Time will tell. I don’t think I’ve found a better influence than WCW in that I don’t write much like him and most certainly do not share his method or ability. WCW was much more prolific than I have ever been, Like Anne, I cannot leave a poem alone until it is it’s own and I can no longer own it. Leonard Cohen is also like this in writing – I envy those that can write a completed poem nearly daily.

on that which has been plaguing my sleep…
Over the past few nights I keep dreaming that I am being pursued into hell by an enthusiastic and stunningly wretched demon or the devil himself – trapped in a wasting forest, mired ankle deep in mud and telephoning for a savior that can only quote useless scripture, my leg is grasped tightly by a minion looking for a replacement limb, a leg I think – where mine is already damaged, its is worse, its whole self is distorted and seems to be linking itself back together through the bodies of others, in its basement is kept the most vicious of animals and the floors are bathed in blood and alcohol. These dreams are not tempered by visions of former life or current joys, impenetrable in terror and my sleep is abating in restfulness.

so I don’t leave this post on that note…
I’ve missed a magpie- I had no ideas for an image that is so familiar to me – well, there were ideas but they weren’t good verse, at least in my view. I am not sure that the photo of old friends bundled in winter conversations in sepia tone is going to be much easier for me either.
I’ll come up with something. This day, after I sleep is going to have to involve a letter to my aunt and some time with the typer. No matter what comes out.

January 18, 2011

just over 100 words

by jhon baker
2am – corner diner and closing the joint.

Mark sat up slowly, eyes closed, to sip off his coffee. Once erect he opens his eyes, parted slightly, and sips while breathing through his nose and mouth, for the cooling effect.
“Is there anything on your mind, darling?” he asks
Janie shrugs her shoulders and looks off to her left. Her right hand firmly gripping her mug, a cigarette burning, ignored, in the ashtray.
Mark slides back down to prone in the booth seat. Breathing a heavy sigh as he mentally notes,
‘well, then it’s nothing’.
It’s been a long day and tomorrow is going to start with a hell of a hangover.
 – Hoc Scripsi
January 17, 2011

American Balls

by jhon baker

American Balls debuts today with an article written by yours truly. It is an expansion of my Huck Finn commentary. The site is not intended for an audience of the sensitive or under 18 – so be warned.
To go directly to my article click this.
The original commentary may be found here.

As the future progresses there will be more articles on freedom, second amendment, fifth amendment and other constitutional forays – including the occasional fiction piece. Currently I am working on a second amendment article, should be interesting.

Other contributors on the site are…

Brent Allard
Jack Dollar (editor as well)
Mr. C.C.
Rebecca Fitkin-Jones
Mick Parsons
F.N. Wright

January 16, 2011

while in a diner some months ago

by jhon baker

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late or early

 

some people are indifferent

to the early morning hours

classifications.

 

but, we’re singing.

singing!

serenading the stars,

wooing the moon;

without sleep or

the song

            of song birds.

only the chatter of

            nocturnal

               animals and

            feet

shuffling along the

            ground.

regardless of it being

early or late.

 – Hoc Scripsi 
recently there was a poem of mine in Madswirl and if you haven’t been there to check it out – Go Now! Second from the bottom –       
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