Sunday, July 31, 2016

OTI:three poems and notes:7/31/16

Open To Interpretation

Men Of Science

Among them, (women of science too)
It happens all the time.
I could go on about what
Audubon did to Eagle.
I'm not 'the' David
Anymore than Nature is 'the' Nature.
And what Audubon did
To 'the' Eagle
Is unforgivable.
Men of Science have their article.
Purple Orb was like trying
To hide in the crevice
From approaching Crab.
As if on a theater stage,
Lights from the submersible
Shown on the deep ocean canyon bottom off Los Angeles.
And a live feed permits us all to watch--
An undersea moonscape with lovely alien in peril.
They didn't know what it was
And slurped it up
Dissected it
DNA'd it
And will take months
To compare with knowns
To see if the purple orb
Had been known before.
If not, they'll write article
Scientifically probing it,
Giving name to it.


Your shrugs are a terror
The first was the worst
When I brought my most
Treasured treasure
Displayed it to see
And you
Recovered, I persisted,
I had others,
And in their successive order
Of measure
It was always your pleasure
To shrug.
I dwindled down to
Little or nothing
And then,
Then you brought me your
Most treasured treasure.
You showed me each page,
And I didn't look away,
I couldn't think what to say!

Black Dragon Nests

"No one has returned from Nevermore
So it is only rumor what goes on there." said Melville.
Ishmael and the crew gathered about and listened.
"Having been to the Southern Reaches, I have a notion,
From the tales of the adventurers thereabout.
One has it the Southern Black Dragons take their captives to their nests,
And feed their young.
Another, they make prisoners of them, and trade them for treasure,
But not with Humankind,
They trade only among themselves. 
You see, Dragons build nests, each mated pair its own. 
The nests are elaborate affairs, meticulously constructed,
And interleaved between
Each twig and branch and log
Gathered from the driftwood along Nevermore shores,
They carefully set their stolen treasures,
Like jewels in their settings,
For all the other Dragons to admire and see. 
These nests are as tall as a mast,
And having been passed down from generation to generation,
Many are older than Humankind. 
Before Humankind, for their nests the Dragons gathered
Seashells, and pretty stones,
Baubles and geegaws from the natural world. 
But then,
Flotsam and jetsam from Humankind began to
Wash up on the shores of Nevermore,
And too on occasion, castaways from ship wrecks. 
The Dragons were much curious. 
Having found these new treasures, and wanting more, they began exploring.
And from then on we all know about Dragons,
As no Humankind Town is without its tales of Black Dragons."


Notes:...fractal own term I've used before in posts...brb...


In physical cosmology, fractal cosmology is a set of minority cosmological theories which state .... share the same direction in time is an essential part of the 'recipe.' Both approaches suggest that the fabric of space itself is fractal, however.


That is google's lead in to this wiki page about fractals, Fractal Cosmology to that wading through all the fabrics one can buy decorated with fractal designs...brb...thought to try another search: fractal poetry...and got diverted...


Fulton first proposed her ideas for a new poetics based on the concepts of fractals and emergent patterns in her 1986 essay, "Of Formal, Free, and Fractal Verse: Singing the Body Eclectic,"[52] in which she uses the term "fractal" to suggest "a way to think about the hidden structures of free verse."[1] Tigerlily states that Fulton “coined the phrase ‘fractal poetry’ as a method of revisioning the value of both formal and free verse, calling the ‘poetry of irregular form fractal verse.’”


...I need to dig out my old Sea Star poem, written around 1977, so I can reference it whenever I go on about Fractal Fabric...a poet's poems are 'all of a piece' a fabric unique...and yet similar to other poets' poems...up there in the quote,  my 'free rhyme poems' look to be named 'irregular form fractal verse'...hmmph...anyway, where was I?...Notes: Men of Science...reference is the current science news story of the Purple Orb...the word 'the' is an article, I think, grammatically speaking, and I'm punning on that...formal personal nouns aren't preceded by 'the', and the names of animals and plants aren't regarded as personal nouns, so, get preceded by 'the'...I think I have that, anyway, there is a diminishing aspect to using 'the' in the case of names...consider, the tiger, as opposed to Tiger!...Tyger, Tyger, burning bright!...early on in Tree In The Door Fauna And Flora, I started dropping 'the' and capitalizing animals' names, along with giving some of them personal names...a foible...unforgiveable to some!...Shrugs...some of the same sentiments in earlier OTI poems, Shorts, 70s, and such...a refrain...Black Dragon Nests...reference how Bower Birds make their Bowers (I thought it was nests they decorated, but instead the bowers)...



Friday, July 29, 2016

OTI:one poem and notes:7/29/16

Open To Interpretation


A wonderful fact to reflect upon,
That every living creature is constituted
To be that profound secret and mystery to every other.
A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city's zoo by night,
That every one of those darkly clustered cages
Encloses its own secret;
That every niche in every one of them encloses its own secret;
That every beating heart
In the (hundreds of) thousands of beasts there,
Is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!
Something of the awfulness,
Even of Death itself,
Is referable to this.
No more can I turn the leaves
Of these dear books that I love,
And vainly hope in time to read them all.
No more can I look into the depths of  unfathomable water,
Wherein, as momentary lights glanced into it,
I have had glimpses of buried treasure and other things submerged.
It was appointed that the Book Of Life should shut with a spring,
For ever and for ever, when I had read but a page.
It was appointed that the water should be locked in an eternal frost,
When the light was playing on its surface,
And I stood in ignorance on the shore.
My dog is dead,
My neighbour is dead,
My love, the darling of my soul, is dead;
It is the inexorable consolidation and perpetuation
Of the secret that was always in that individuality,
And which I shall carry in mine to my life's end.
In (any (of the (burial-places) of) this zoo through which I pass,
Is there a sleeper more inscrutable
Than the sleeping city inhabitants are,
In their innermost personality,
To me,
Or than I am to them?


After a prose passage by Charles Dickens in A Tale Of Two Cities...word changes are in italics...words to be left out are in parenthesis...the side to side format of the prose has been made into free verse poem line lengths...for origin on web for text I'm using see wikiquote here...

Notes: I thought all day about doing it...just unabashedly changing Dickens' prose bit I quoted a couple posts back, stealing not only the sentiment, as it is one I've been working on, but most all the words too!...It is still Dickens'!...sometimes folk do this with things like the Declaration of fact, I have...'We hold these truths to be self evident, all living creatures are created equal, and are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, and that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness'...few know that 'happiness' at the time had a whole philosophy associated with took awhile to free the'll take a much longer while to free Nature, sadly...Sumatra Rhino's are gone in the wild...and Giraffes are getting scarce...pic of baby rhino being rescued from somewhere during's cull...should I apologize to Dickens?, Dickens was all about the poor and downtrodden...Curiously, Dickens doesn't alliterate, or rhyme, at all...very un-Melville like!



Wednesday, July 27, 2016

OTI:one poem and notes:7/27/16

Open To Interpretation

A Waking Dragon

"A waking dragon makes his nest
Hoping for no rest
And with family to be blessed."

"A sleeping dragon dreams
Of nightmares teams
Pulling carriages of treasure
Beyond all measure."

"The stolen dream treasures
She critically measures
Offering her pleasures
To her dragon not rested,
Awake, not dreaming,
In duty, not seeming,
And completed, nested."

"Humankind quests
To steal back stolen
Dragons' bequests
Treasures all golden."

"One above all
Among the Dragon mates,
To Humankind's gall,
The hero that takes
To Nevermore."

"Stop already!"  Ishmael protested
To Pip, Watteau, Ned, and Madeline,
Gathered in a circle,
Trying to compose rhymes and lyrics,
Playing out of tune
Experimental melody strains.
And the Ravens with Ishmael agreed,
Croaking from their austere aerie
High in the rigging and yard arms,
And the Gulls chimed in.
Ishmael jumped up,
And threw from his scrub bucket
Soapy water across the Black Deck.
The crew sat back on their haunches and laughed, 
Then continued their effort,
The Black Deck doesn't clean and polish itself.

"Oh!" said Ishmael, "Nemo's daughter."
"How's that?" asked Shaw,
Bent over scrubbing.
Ishmael sat on his bucket
Beside Pip, Watteau, Ned and Madeline,
Listening to their rhymes and tunes.
Ishmael twirled around to Shaw.
"Nemo made a deal with a Black Dragon for Dulcinea
Knowing we'd follow to Nevermore,
Rescue Dulcinea,
And his daughter." he said.
Shaw smiled,
"We'll need more ships."


Notes: I came away from reading Horatio Hornblower stories, Two Years Before The Mast, Moby Dick, and such, with a kind of take on holy stoning old wooden ship decks...brb...


The US Navy has it the term may have come from the fact that 'holystoning the deck' was originally done on one's knees, as in prayer.


And all along in the Black Ship tale the crew polishing the Black Deck is a take off on holy stoning...and a reference to some religion's philosophy of  'mirror polishing'...forget which...brb...well, I'll credit the Sufis with the conceit of the heart being like a mirror, and the effort is to polish it...but that could well be a sentiment reached in many religions...I was just reading a NY Times take on religion in Saudi Arabia, and there was a pic of women and men gathered at a business product exhibition...the women dressed in black from head to toe, only a slit for their eyes, and the men all in white gowns with the checkered red headpieces...they could be my Ravens and Gulls!...but that's a reach...and the Islam devout on hands and knees praying five times a day may be the picture the Navy had in mind!...Saudi Arabia is an example of what great wealth ritualizes everything...example: life for China's emperors in the Forbidden City...somewhere just saw a story of how the upper class is self segregating itself by living in planned communities, with the gates and guards and such--like Pebble Beach...home owner associations are only a bit up the road from extremely wealthy elite will go to all lengths to keep its wealth...dragons with their hoards...the web is being kept 'clean' all the time, by never seen servants who have a daunting task...story I read about this said they get paid well, but the stress of dealing with the awful day to day, drives them crazy...and then there's the whole mess of computer viruses, hackers, wiki leakers and such...and aboard ship discipline on a military vessel is beyond beyond...they're not on their knees, but carrier crewmen will walk the deck before flight take off, meticulously picking up from those black decks any debris, least it get sucked up into the jet's engines...

the republican convention was a white wash...
the democrats', just a wash...

Update 7/29: had 'Shaw' talking charateristically from Jaws, and realized I was intuiting Shaw from Person of Interest, and a typical for that show plot exhibition...ah...keep them both aboard...:)




Monday, July 25, 2016

OTI:eight poems and notes:7/25/16

Open To Interpretation


The old and dormant volcano
Stood risen up from the Southern Sea.
Perforated with black lava caverns,
It stands off shore of Nevermore,
Winter bound with broken pack ice
And drifting ice bergs.
The sky grey over the wave heaving ice flows.
Fledgling Black Dragons
Soaring, hovering, dove into the sea,
Pursuing panicked seals.

Conversations End

The conversation will end
You'll find another trend
I know it will be so
From those times I go
Back from a mountain peak
Leaving behind what I seek
And can only visit
And revisit
Because mountains don't move
Like you do.

Dragon Dreams

The Southern Black Dragon Flight
Dreamed dragon dreams.
The fledglings returned to their
Respective nests,
Spread their wings
And shook their feathers dry,
And nestled into sleep.
And the old volcano,
And the dragons' caverns within,
Were quiet like a cathedral ruin.

My Poor Brain

My poor brain.
I touch my skull
And it's like the dashboard
Beneath the windshield.
Bone can withstand a bump or two,
But transparent to radiation from you.


In Winter,
Ishi's family foraged the shores
Of Nevermore
Like all the families
Of all the tribes
Of all the Lost Peoples.
Never was far far in the distance,
The Black Dragons in their hibernation.
Ishi speared a fish,
And retrieved fish and spear
From the wave slosh among the
Barnacle covered rocks,
And was happy.


Every month
Funds drain down
To the very drain.
I play the fourth
Wednesday game
Well so far
With a few others.
We have no hall of fame.

Petra And Pet

The Black Dragon reached
Nevermore's shoreline
And followed it along,
The volcano head of Never
In the distance nearing.
Dulcinea, weary of days
Seated on the Dragon's scaly claws
'Enough of this,
Huggins, Munnins, take
The Dragon's other eye!'
And the two Ravens happily did so.
The Dragon roared
And spouted flames in pain,
Terrified of blindness.
Ishi looked up
To see the Dragon twisting and turning,
Descending to the seashore,
And hurried his family into
The conifer forest.
The soft sand softened the Dragon's crash,
And Dulcinea hopped free,
And trotted to opposite the Dragon's writhing head.
Arms akimbo,
She soothed the Dragon's pain,
'I'll be your'
The Dragon roared,
Belched flame and black smoke,
'Deal...what is your name?' the Dragon asked.
'I have many, you can know me as Petra.' Dulcinea thought, and stepped forward to scratch the Dragon's chin.  'And you I will call Pet.'


With the window open
I'm always hoping
It will be somewhat cooler.
My imagination seeks to help,
Takes me back
To September 1915 Bridge,
Cathedral, Unicorn,
Hawk atop the Lodgepole Pine,
Feathers ruffled
By Tuolumne's cold wind.
Heck, the traffic light changes
And I'm honked forward.


Notes: well, this time by design, I interleaved the Black Ship Tale with the usual's an effort to get at what happens as we watch an entertainment with the usual clutter different when making an entertainment, and clutter!'s going to be hard to get Never across as the name of a volcano/mountain...I don't think Never has ever been used to name a mountain...might be a good name for one in the Himalaya's that no one has climbed successfully yet!...brb...Never Summer Mountains ...hmmph...and images...oh, these mountains must be known to me!...Conversations End...and will find some solace daydreaming of going to them, confident they stay put...:)....Dragon Dreams...I didn't want to use 'cathedral'...too many overtones and connotations, but it becomes a fit with Petra and Pet, and a kind of serendipity...the wild scene in part from previous early morning quote from Grave's poem, The White Goddess...My Poor Brain...a goof...Ishi...reference Ishi...:)...Funds...a goof...Petra And Pet...last evening at the movies I took note in preview that Pete's Dragon has feathers (and is green)...the Black Dragons in their winter settings need feathers too to keep warm...and kind of a goof to give Dulcinea the female name for Peter, and the Black Dragon 'Pet'...but realized it not goofy at all when noted Petra is old Greek for rock or stone...the inspiration for St. Peter's name...and the whole doggone scene, with Never as a cathedral ruin, and many named Dulcinea, has become 'massive'...all I need do is throw in the 'seven sleepers'...but enough...for now...wanted to fly Dulcinea into Never, as captive, but couldn't imagine it, so dropped her off on the beach!...and Ishi appearing spearing a fish worth the diversion!...Cold...another goof...



OTI:two poems and notes:7/25/16

Open To Interpretation


I walked away
Then came back
Okay tell me
I'll stand and listen.
Oh, I have it noted
The community avoids me,
And that is my fault? you say.
I should have kept walking
And you keep talking
Explaining me to me,
I don't see it
Just don't
Just stop
I don't want it.


Notes:  Publicity...from a dream...I was being upbraided for being shy, I think, and didn't take it, woke up in fact when the dream got too pushy!...and I titled the poem 'publicity', but not sure that was the sentiment of the was more like some high school thing when a shy fellow hasn't asked a girl to a dance, and one steps up and 'Sadie Hawkins' him!...shyness has that vulnerability...went on about that in post about Hitchcock movie Suspicion...I'm not sure just what shyness is...brb...


People who are not shy may be up-front, aggressive, or critical towards shy people in an attempt "to get them out of their shell." This can actually make a shy person feel worse, as it draws attention to them, making them more self-conscious and uncomfortable.

unquote of the remarkable things about the web is that wiki just sprung up like out of nowhere...and all the self similar sites...some more...


Physical symptoms of social phobia can include shortness of breath, trembling, increased heart rate, and sweating; in some cases, these symptoms are intense enough and numerous enough to constitute a panic attack. Shyness, on the other hand, may incorporate many of these symptoms, but at a lower intensity, infrequently, and does not interfere tremendously with normal living.

same wiki


my whole family is shy...see it in my relatives a family trait...some more than others...I could tell tales!...shyness is of course a defense everyone has...approach any animal as a stranger, and you'll usually see their shyness...I say usually, Maya, my dog, isn't shy at all...I've read it's the Husky trait to be sociable...she's part Husky and Shepard...Huskies don't make good watchdogs, I read, they greet's a secret joy of mine to take her for walks, and see her greet everyone we meet...something I'd like to do hiking friend in the mountains was like that...she'd start up conversations with everyone we came across...alone, hiking, I smile, say hello, and continue past...oh, and that gets me where I wanted to shyness...encased in our cars of course we don't greet and meet at all!...but at Malls and such, we walkabout with our own group, and it's not like we're going to invite anyone to bench sit and share tales!...and where I wanted to go with this is this quote from yesterday's link to quotes from Tale of Two Cities...I've been trying to gather this sentiment into a poem, and here early on Dickens has it...a long quote, but, hey, this isn't paper...


A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it! Something of the awfulness, even of Death itself, is referable to this. No more can I turn the leaves of this dear book that I loved, and vainly hope in time to read it all. No more can I look into the depths of this unfathomable water, wherein, as momentary lights glanced into it, I have had glimpses of buried treasure and other things submerged. It was appointed that the book should shut with a spring, for ever and for ever, when I had read but a page. It was appointed that the water should be locked in an eternal frost, when the light was playing on its surface, and I stood in ignorance on the shore. My friend is dead, my neighbour is dead, my love, the darling of my soul, is dead; it is the inexorable consolidation and perpetuation of the secret that was always in that individuality, and which I shall carry in mine to my life's end. In any of the burial-places of this city through which I pass, is there a sleeper more inscrutable than its busy inhabitants are, in their innermost personality, to me, or than I am to them?

Chapter 3 A Tale Of Two Cities
Charles Dickens

so, so, in the evening I went over to the $3 movie theater in the Orange Mall...Now You See Me 2 playing, and the theater filled up...I didn't see Now You See Me, the first one, but everyone else seemed to have...a fine tale of magicians as x men like heroes...and I think a film having the most gentle rating of any I've seen in a long while...a fine thing to hear the audience laugh...


Thomas Benton claims that because shy people "have a tendency toward self-criticism, they are often high achievers, and not just in solitary activities like research and writing. Perhaps even more than the drive toward independent achievement, shy people long to make connections to others often through altruistic behavior."

from same wiki



Was Dickens shy?...
nope, not a bit...
He managed Publicity just fine.



Sunday, July 24, 2016

OTI:two poems and notes:7/24/16

Open To Interpretation


Maybe some will notice
The fault is in our star:
Too warm the sea
Moistens the heated air
And surrounding coolness
Begins hurricanes' spins.


Oh, you stole your sister
Echo's daffodils,
Narcissus another name...

Notes:  Fault...arrived at this poem after doing a bunch that don't quite make it to 'poem''s very hard to write poems about current events, things in the news, and such...Fault was the last one I did in this group, and it has a telling pun in 'fault'...familiar is earthquake 'faults'...what these are gets explained every time there is an earthquake!...but it's not like the earth is at 'fault', being a motorist running a red light is at 'fault'...Nature is all about faults...we just deal with them, endure them, call them 'acts of nature' human affairs, fault begins to take on connotations of irresponsibility, and a whole philosophy of crime and punishment...hmmph...let me continue with listing the group!...and afterwards some notes on the notes!...


They have no sense
So we are left with their nonsense
Swabbing blood stained cement decks.


And grabbed by the collars
They twirl and spin
Every which way
Snapping at the hands that feed them.


There's no room for a populace gone crazy,
And our graveyards fill with the 
Fatalitied innocent trying to sustain peace.

A Rose Is A Rose

In France it was called "The Terror"
In Germany "The Holocaust"
Elsewhere more names
For this same weather
Like "Hurricane" and "Cyclone".


Insects have it worked out
Which of them begins
And ends
The recycling of corpses
If they can get to one
Before the war loosed dogs.


Our soldier's battles and deaths
Can be reported alongside
The stock markets' daily
Report of losses and gains.
Why not?
It's where wars begin, and sustain.
But instead it is for buffs
That delve into such history stuff
And sad soldiers' duties
To report to families.


Lincoln wore all black
And kept the Black Book nearby
A funerary attire
The citizenry adopted.


Notenotes: Nonsense...nonsense is one of Nature's faults, for people nonsense is a fault...having established a pun/play on the word fault, maybe that makes sense!...Collared...revolutionaries are like that...reference my wrestling with Maya, my dog!...I'm not adverse to using a hackneyed phrase like 'hand that feeds them' if I can put it in a setting that breaths life back into it...Robert Graves goes on somewhere, about the word 'haywire'...used so often to describe things gone awry, it lost it's original freshness, which he explains as the frustration a farmer had when bailing a bale of hay, the wire snaps, and scatters the hay all over...Fatalitied...I made up a way of getting 'freshness'!...I was thinking here of events in Turkey...what in the world are they going to do with the rounded up!...which brought to mind the French Terror, which in my study of the Romantic poets I keep coming across...and that led to A Rose Is A Rose...

quote from wiki

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" is a frequently referenced part of William Shakespeare's play Romeo and Juliet, in which Juliet seems to argue that it does not matter that Romeo is from her rival's house of Montague, that is, that he is named "Montague." The reference is often used to imply that the names of things do not affect what they really are.


...different names can be a disguise of the same thing...I did search: Wordsworth French Terror...and found myself studying the self same thing that is happening in Turkey...Robespierre's justification of 'terror' is chilling...clearly modern terrorists have a model to follow, as did Hitler, Stalin, Mao Tse Tung, and their ilk...and of course to counter such terrorists, there is counter terrorists, witness the growing chorus of Guglianis!...I's the best of times, it's the worst of of my toon personalities is made by the movie Tale of Two the book too...'a far far better thing than I ever did before'...


  • It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.
  • Note: These closing lines bring Dickens' motif of doubles...


    Oh, it was Dicken's tale, thought it was Hugo's...forgot...we guillotined insects mercilessly as kids...Insects...and insects is a pun on those mechanical sorts who just respond like keys to a player piano's scroll...Bodie's Black Piano...dogs go feral let loose...people too...Reports...just trying to get at freedom of press suppression in a terror/counter terror milieu...I'm out of my depth in this stuff, and with a word like milieu, which must be French...remarkably, many poets try to swim in it, politics and such...seeking grand faction in the Terror thought to eradicate Christianity, sending monks and nuns to's take gives the breakdown of what segments of society were executed...25 per cent were from the aristocracy (8%), the clergy, and the middle class...the rest were commoners slaughtered by commoners...which is ironic, insomuch as the effort of the terror was to voice the common people's will...what happened seems to be the establishment of martial law with the goal of straightening things out, and then normal governance restored...a Terror would have happened with America's revolution too I think, but with our frontier there was room for everyone to kind of spread out and not get on one another's nerves!, with every Nation so crowded, there's just no room, for a 'populace gone crazy' the Terror, the prisons of Paris became overcrowded, and the 'nation's razor' trimmed...Reports is kind of generic...I don't know if seeing by everyone everyday battle reports helps any...WW2 was fought with hardly anyone knowing what was going on...which is curious, as I have some history stuff that seems to show that the politically savvy knew exactly how that war would progress from beginning to end...see Claire Booth Luce, Life Magazine, General Stillwell piece, 1942 issue...sometime I want to work this up, as it has Captain Frank Robert's in it...'Black Book' has become a pun for IslamChristianityJudaism's text book...I think Durrell wrote a novel, The Black Book...brb...I read it, and forget what it was about...was that the murder as a game story!?...anyway, it's a different Black Book!...Black Books goes along with my Black Decks and such! times, people weary of their poverty, and just life's travails in general, lending support to the nefarious ambitious...Wordsworth...the second poem up there at top...I didn't know that Daffodils and the flower named after Narcissus are one and the same...studied this out, and learned the flower lore of Daffodils...sacred to Persephone...and maybe the flower of the Elysian Fields...and his sister was his Echo, literally transcribing his day to day for years and years...maybe Google's mine...ral...reference Wordsworth poem I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud, and his sister's letter describing daffodils on one of their walks...'their' being Coleridge, Wordsworth and Dororthy...oh, I shouldn't use 'gyre' references, for the scholarly!, Yeats, I think...brb...yep, and gosh I just don't like 'gyre' at the end of Fault is now 'spin'...oh, got rid of 'the' too...'the hurricane's gyre' before...much better now!



    Saturday, July 23, 2016

    OTI:sixteen poems and notes:7/23/16

    Open To Interpretation

    Lost Song From A Dream

    I cried beat beat
    I tried beat beat
    Our love was so complete
    Beat beat

    Da da beat beat
    Da da beat beat
    Dada da da da da da
    Beat beat

    And a kind of woodblock telegraph key tapping for drum beats

    Oh it's gone,
    I had the whole song...

    Oh, No Doubt

    Oh, no doubt
    Your redoubt
    Is impervious
    To all my flirts
    And so obvious
    If one succeeds
    It will be genius.


    That computer rehearsed
    Its chess move how many billion times?
    Nothing, nothing at all
    To the stars' reiterations
    That brought you here.
    No wonder I fear
    From some stupid impulse
    I'm repulsed
    And wander another eternity.


    Flowers are in attendance
    At funerals and weddings,
    And more attentive than I,
    So easily I drift off subject
    Unless it's mine.

    Beauty And Proportion

    So, you too love
    Beauty and Proportion,
    Even your own.
    My flatteries never meet
    Your humble look,
    Rather your questing look,
    "Tis so?"
    "Yes, you're beautiful."  I say,
    Grateful to speak what most pleases you,
    And greet your embrace.


    Tease my ass
    Oh you do you do
    An expression of affection
    They say
    Pleases me too.


    Would that I would
    Have you don sackcloth with me?
    Like Francis his Claire?
    Just getting naked together
    Would be a start,
    From there
    We can go anywhere.

    Rich And Poor

    Oh, we could be really really rich
    Or really really poor
    From fickle Fortune's door.
    Most likely some middle niche
    Our own efforts marry...
    Anyway, those shopping carts
    Look really really heavy.

    Your Castle

    Oh, your castle from the outside
    Seems spacious
    But inside it's kind of tiny
    And nightly crowded with unknightly knights.
    Weapons aside, we'd hardly make a phalanx against the kittens.
    But we pay the rent,
    And may as well be heaven sent.

    What Am I Saying?

    I can look dour,
    I can look serious,
    What am I saying?
    I am.
    I could be your bodyguard,
    I could be your
    Knight in shining armor.
    What am I saying?
    I've got no armor,
    Or much polish.


    My musings for you
    Are now everywhere
    Under the leaf litter
    Of this new forest.
    Reach down,
    And brush any leaf aside,
    You may find one,
    But more likely
    Some pesky insects
    I with must needs share this floor.

    The Cacophony

    Too muted my musings?
    Blame the cacophony.
    I'd need sirens to drive through all that,
    And even still they won't pull over.
    Maybe in the dead of night
    When traffic's light
    While awaiting sleep
    You'll hear my tunes
    With the Mockingbird's.

    A Second Stanza For The Lost Song

    You sighed,
    "My heart doesn't yours entreat."

    Mine, like a metronome
    Set to double time,
    Went still.


    Oh, I am perverse,
    But it's just too hot
    To do much else
    Than layabout
    And write verses for you.


    Some anticipation this,
    I have no idea what to expect
    So always prepare
    For never.


    You're my conversation now...
    When I left the mountains
    I lost my conversation...
    Conversations actually.
    Now, there's you.
    It can be fatal not to have someone
    To talk to, they say.
    What do they know,
    It can be Death himself
    Waiting behind your Black Glass Doors.


    Notes:  Lost Song...I tried to retrieve it from my dream, where it was playing perfectly...and I could still hear it as I key padded, but it faded, and faded, and was gone...the second Lost Song is an effort to make a verse from the night I had a whole lot of poems dreamed...all I had to do was awake and transcribe, but couldn't manage even one word, so illusive they were!...Oh, No Doubt...flirts are always a fail, and silly, until one works!...Rehearsal...reference the final episode of Person of Interest...a goof...Flowers...another goof...Beauty and Proportion...maybe lose 'proportion', but it was part of the conversation...a memento...Tease...if people tease you, I've heard, it's actually a sign of affection...that's a stretch, I guess, but I've gone with it...Would...reference St. Francis and St. Claire...'I and You' between different classes is the stuff of fairytales...Rich And Poor...a kind of generic sentiment...but I really wanted the 'shopping carts' pun...Your Castle...this started off grand...imagining Arthur and his Knights with the Green Knight barging in...less grand, it's truer...fond of 'phalanx against the kittens'...What Am I Saying?...a self deprecating carry over from 'unknightly knights' some point all these postings may bite one in the butt...old paper authors are full of such tales...and the clutter on their forest floor the same...The Cacophony...a revisit of the longing for quiet just to often refrain!...A Second Stanza...trying to make another stanza to the lost song...the sound of a metronome came to me as being similar to the woodblock like rhythm beats in the dream song...double time as it was a quick beat...and that to heart beats, and a poem!...Perverse...last night's Milton study uncovered that he had a long stretch of leisure through wealthy patronage...there isn't much to be said for writing, exertion wise, though Hemingway said it took an athletes does take quiet...sitting on top of Cuyamaca Peak alone silence quiet, with just that one conversation in your head...Never...I haven't got enough of contemplating 'never' yet...likely never will!'s true, I think, not talking to anyone days on end, weeks, months, is against our natures...and not having a Muse, a'd Picasso put it?...'without a girl, I'm not Picasso!'...Muses seem to reside in scary inaccessible places...


    It was a virtue not to stay,
    To go our headstrong and heroic way
    Seeking her out at the volcano's head,
    Among pack ice, or where the track had faded
    Beyond the cavern of the seven sleepers
    from The White Goddess
    by Robert Graves

    Friday, July 22, 2016

    OTI:one poem and notes:7/22/16

    Open To Interpretation


    'O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. '
    That's some thought, Milton, for your
    Sister friend, Lycidas nicknamed,
    But what lament could you fashion
    For a beheaded Syrian boy
    And a rubble field with shredded children?
    I hold my cup under the soda machine's ice dispenser,
    And one cube falls apart,
    And rests between my thumb and forefinger's grip,
    That webbed platform of skin there.
    A dull pain a sudden,
    Out of proportion to one ice cube,
    But it hurts, and I switch my grip and shake my hand.
    Warmth gently returns,
    'Wafted' another term.


    Notes: I don't know how I got to reading Milton, not Milton, but Poetry's biography take...oh, I did see a bit in passing where he goes on about Narcissus in a couple of his poems, in one, Eve replaces they hold up mirrors to Dolphins and the Dolphins recognize themselves...dilemma is when we look into one another's eyes, we don't see, recognize, ourselves...might say humanity is in a state of pre-recognition of our own odd thought, but if you can't see yourself in others...Milton distinguished between Shakespeare and Ben Johnson as two different sorts of with a scholarly education, Johnson, and Shakespeare had a self taught, limited schooling one...and Shakespeare the better for his, as he was unhindered by scholarship...something Milton recognized himself as being hampered by...but Milton soldiered on, and wrote up a lot, poems and prose, to the delight of scholars, who write about him only second to Shakespeare!...or so I have it from Poetry's take...I can't sit on a bench in a Cathedral...seems a massive diversion...Milton is another of my poems about other's 'I and You'...'Sister friend'...I have it that in gay community parlance, a 'sister' is a lover who is chaste...a gay couple not engaged in sex are called 'sisters'...a civilization not engaged in sex?...seems a few going on about that, which is likely why Gauguin fled to Tahiti!...reference Milton's poem Lycidas, the only one I read in school about...I really envy how these old poets go on about flowers, and grottoes, and brooks, and such...they wanted much to capture the feel of the old Greeks and Romans, and I suspect they'd all been a happier lot just chucking the Black Book and its heaven sent gloom...



    Thursday, July 21, 2016

    OTI:two poems and notes:7/21/16

    Open To Interpretation


    Geraldine undressed,
    And Christabel
    Saw Christina,
    And caught her breath.


    Ah, you thought to escape
    But took a few things with.
    I thought I'd seen that
    In your 'Nevemore'.
    Her pose is classic
    And fantastic,
    A language to supplant
    All that went before.


    Notes: Well, I suppose my 'I and You' poems can include observing others' 'I's and You's"...I've done a few such already, here's a couple more...Coleridge...reference Samuel Taylor Coleridge and his fragmentary poem Christabel...I was thinking of putting Christabel and Geraldine aboard the Black Ship, as co captains, or one or the other as captain, while Dulcinea is away in the clutches of the Black Dragon...Coleridge really throws a screw ball with really doesn't know what affliction affects her side and bosom that so shocks Christabel, and one's imagination takes off...likely a ploy by Coleridge!...he could be very calculating...considering, I thought of Christina, the famous painting by Andrew Wyeth (the viewer does a double take when noticing Christina is crippled)...Gauguin...I was checking Nevermore references...Nevermore being the refrain in Edgar Allen Poe's poem The Raven...and now the far away destination of the Black Dragon with Dulicinea in its claws!...and I happened on Gauguin's painting O Taiti, which has Nevemore painted in the upper left corner...Gauguin had just heard a recital of The Raven...the Raven being recited, in English I imagine, before Gauguin with his entourage, in Tahiti, another screwball!...(a screwball is a baseball pitch that is very slow and has no spin whatsoever, and so air pressure pushes it any old way on the way to the plate--a dancing pitch)...Gauguin in wiki's take is said to have said that it is not a Raven standing near the top of the painting...Gauguin could be even more calculating...but he had his own method of printing that introduced randomness into the final print--screwiness!...oh, the bird is Gauguin...that beak, his I have screwball wrong...a screwball goes the opposite of a curve ball...which I think is like for a right handed pitcher a curve ball curves from the pitcher's right to left, and a screwball would be very hard to throw, as one would have to torque one's forearm and hand to left and down to impart the backward sort of spin to make the ball go left to right from pitcher's perspective...brb...sort of got it...what I was thinking of, above, was the sort of suspends the ball on one's knuckles, just your fingernails grab it, and it releases with no spin...'no spin' is the pun I'm trying to sustain!...knuckleballs often are uncontrollable, missing everything and going to the screen, or hitting the batter...



    Tuesday, July 19, 2016

    OTI:one poem and notes:7/19/16

    Open To Interpretation


    "Lenore" said Poe, Edgar Allen,
    Aside the Black Ship's railing beside Ishmael,
    Looking out over the black waves.
    "Dulcinea to us." said Ishmael.
    Poe gave Ishmael a wry look,
    And listened to the Raven on his shoulder croaking in his ear.
    The Ravens and Gulls were back in the rigging,
    And the crew returned to their knees
    Cleaning and polishing the Black Deck.
    "The one Black Dragon captured Lenore...
    From Nemo and the Nautilus..." said Poe.
    "Nemo!?"  What of Ichi and his craft?" asked Ishmael.
    Poe lent his ear to the Raven.
    "Ichi traded Lenore to Nemo for treasure, and a new crew for his craft. 
    They rode the waves westward, with Lenore's Dolphins, and blessings."
    "And where to the Black Dragon with Dulcinea?" asked Ishmael
    Poe paused to listen to the Raven.
    "To the South, to the Land of Lost Loves, Nevermore... 
    Wait...there's more..." Poe continued,
    "Ravens Huginn and Muninn have eyes on the Dragon, and pursue..."
    "And so we have, and so we will!" Ishmael called to the gathered crew.


    Notes: Huginn and Muninn are Odin's mythological Ravens, noted for their spy craft!..."Lenore" references The Raven poem by Edgar Allen a kid I had a complete works of Edgar Allen Poe, a squat book with tiny tiny print and thin paper of course the famous stories Vincent Price made famous in the movies!

    Sunday, July 17, 2016

    OTI:one poem and notes:7/17/16

    Open To Interpretation


    So, Narcissus, were you surprised
    When Ophelia floated by,
    Echo of a future time?


    Notes:  Hamlet is Narcissus, and Ophelia, Echo...a wonder if the scholar critics picked this up...brb...lots see the jumps out when Ophelia is looking into the river...having myself been considering Ovid's tale of Narcissus and Echo, it just makes sense...instead of being fixated on his own beauty, like Narcissus, Hamlet becomes fixated on revenge for the murder of his father, King Hamlet...and Ophelia's lament is the same as Echo's...they express their love, but are rebuffed by Narcissus' and Hamlet's preoccupations!...the whole tragic play of Hamlet tumbles out from this 'deafness'...ral...I just returned from watching Hamlet performed in the little out door theater in the old town park next to the old Gem theater...the old part of Garden Grove, the main street, has been kept as it was when I knew it as a kid...oddly, it's not very popular, as many town's old restored centers are, probably because there are no swinging night spots...anyway, I'd  been back and forth to Home Depot getting materials and parts, fixing up the porch for Maya, my dog, and me!...I always pass Main Street when I return, and this evening took note of folk filing into the outdoor theater...oh!, my thought, Hamlet is about to start! I parked by the Gem, and went over to buy a ticket...I was hardly dressed for the occasion, t-shirt and levis, all dusty from working about the house, but I had my long sleeve plaid shirt in Silver, my jeep, so went back for that, and my Valley hoodie, which I didn't need, evening very is really cool...big old time pine trees above the stage's ceiling with its lighting fixtures, and a three quarter moon...and, and I was much bemused by the stage set...maybe I can find pic...brb...okay, here's link to Summerfest Orange County facebook Hamlet...scroll down a bit and there's a pic of the stage the very center it was a double deck stage...a kind of small balcony...when the ghost appears, he comes out of the lower part, and above on the balcony patio part King Claudius and Queen Gertrude were carrying on in was just like I imagined in my Two Hamlets poem!...ral...and there's more! either side there were dark doorways, and stairs going up to second level doorways, everything black, of course...but to indicate snow having fallen, I guess, the upper edges of the walls and's supposed to be a castle interior and exterior...were splattered with white wash...and it actually looked like 'white wash', poop from birds...from Ravens and Gulls!...the whole dammed set up looked like the Black Ship!...and with morose Hamlet sitting stage, my left, by a simulated grave, his father's, later to be Ophelia's, dressed all in black, of course, it was perfect!...below Decks too! the end of the performance, I stood right up, giving my standing ovation!...and after a bit, sat down, chagrined...I was the only one standing...what can I say, I had a beer at intermission...I was so sleepy from old house tasks that I needed something to stay awake! was all very nicely down, I thought...the players within the play did a Vietnamese dance number, which was touching, as Town now has many Vietnamese...didn't see any in audience, which had that wine and cheese old hippies ambience!...hmmph...anyway...I haven't seen a live stage play in play in the summer series is the Pirates of Penzance!...I might go to each one to hark back to when I was a stage hand for that play at Melodyland, 1966 or so!...oh, when Hamlet sends a falsified letter to the King of England in secret, disparaging R&G as traitors, insuring their execution, that's right out of Bellerophon...Shakespeare knew his old Greek tales, and his audience too!



    Friday, July 15, 2016

    MidnightMovies: High Noon

    MidnightMovies: High Noon

    There's no getting around it, I'm a movie 'toon' World of Warcraft when one makes a game character to play, it's nicknamed a 'toon'...brb...well, I googled 'world of war craft toon' and a forum discussion came's one's character, or characters (I think one can have up to fifty!), and there's a related nickname, 'alt' for has a main character, 'my main', and then the other characters are alternates, or alts, and they usually aren't as high a level as a main, or have some subsidiary tasks to perform, or were made just to explore a different character's gets very complicated quickly!, where was I...oh, I'm a movie toon...which is to say, movies have made me, the way I make toons in wow...I come to this because of how I've been thinking about Dr. Zhivago, how poetry and being a poet is depicted in the movie...(recall reading the book, but that was much later)...I picked up on that...and became a poet toon character!...did the same thing after seeing Titanic...always wanted to draw and paint, and seeing DiCaprio draw Winslet (was that a body double?), pushed me back to community college where I took all the classes I could, 'gearing' my art toon!...this happened in Yosemite too, where I was double wammied by John Muir and Ansel Adams...not Adams so much, but I used to get teased walking about with my tripod on my shoulder, 'Hey Ansel!'...but for those ten years in the Valley I did a 'grind' gearing up my Muir toon, and Adams toon...I might have a multiple personality disorder!...I noted that I'm a the basketball camp the instructors were impressed how quickly I picked up on three ref mechanics...I'm a good mimic!...I'd be a good ref toon, but my age is handicap...anyway, recognizing I have these characters, these alts, these toons,  maybe fifty!, I was curious, casting back on all the movies I've seen, what might be my ur toon, ur being the archeological term referring to the earliest town level in a tell, a hill of piled up eras of towns...and it came real, I just came away from a discussion of how I look...we were video recorded at the camp, self recognition being a big part of actors we need to know what we look like when we ref!...well, needless to say, after seeing my video, how I look isn't how I seem to me's a rare person I suspect that has an interior vision of themselves that is matched up with how they look in a mirror, or to others...I just studied out the myth of Narcissus, trying to get a take on this...Ovid's version being the most well known...a poem is in the works about how Narcissus looks in the pool, and how that is a side by side with how we all are looking 'in' the we look, and how we look...oh, there, I got a start!...will save that...needs to gestate some more!...anyway, so I came quick to my ur  movie toon, the movie character I'm most inside, my 'main'...I went to see this particular movie with my grandmother when I was four years old or so, and town has a little theater called The Gem, which still stands, and occasionally now does stage's a classic little town balcony...Santa Ana's had a balcony, and a kids' Saturday matinee...much noise!...anyway, anyway, I'm Gary Cooper in High Noon...that was the first movie I ever saw, and my mimicry latched onto it, big time!...of late, I've noted my fondness for the Ichi Samurai movies that I discovered on youtube...thought to watch one tonight, but was disappointed to see them gone because of copyright problems!...but there was a segment still up, and, ral, it's a replica of High Noon!...many of the stories in the Samurai movies are borrowed from our Westerns, and visa versa...Ichi is beset by the arrival of bad guys, and all the town folk are hold up behind closed doors...his girl, Ichi always has a girl!, told to stay inside by him, runs about while he's fighting and tries to rouse the town folk to help Ichi...this is the motif in High Noon...Cooper tries to get the town folk to help, but they all stay indoors, and at the end, after his girl saves him by shooting one of the bad guys, he walks off with his girl, and throws his sheriff's badge down on the dusty street, disgusted with the whole was a controversial western to make, and as I've mentioned before, I have this precociousness when it comes to movies...I understood it perfectly, and now, after reading wiki's take, understand why John Wayne hated it and made Rio Bravo as a counter weight!...High Noon is old enough that it might be on youtube, no copyright's, it's been a life of consternation...trying to face down bad guys, while the town folk are oblivious! MidnightMovie, I'll go on about the second movie I saw, two actually, a double bill, and the toons they made of me!...toon might be from Roger Rabbit and Toon Town...toon of course coming from cartoon characters...I have a whole bunch of those!

    Forget it, Jake, it's Toon Town...
    Oh, it was Winslet, not a body double...and still a talkshow talkabout!...and it's another poem in the works...oh! ties in with Narcissus!

    and, and, to add emphasis to being tooned by High Noon, our family vacations thenabout were to my Great Uncle's ten acres in Stockton...cows, chickens, and such, and visits to the old west towns, fish along the American River coming from the Sierra, the Calaveras Big Trees and such...Great Uncle Harold was great...I have photo of him sitting on haystack with a bag of manure beside him that he is pointedly pointing too!...some of High Noon was filmed at Jamestown, nearby Stockton... 

    Tuesday, July 12, 2016

    OTI:one poem and notes:7/12/16

    Open To Interpretation


    The Homeridae were gathered
    Under the Dodona Oak,
    A motley crew,
    Some blind,
    Some cripples,
    Some weaklings,
    Some runaways from wars,
    And so possessing acuities
    Suiting them to tell the tales
    And be singing troubadours.
    It was Winter, and rain and snow
    Had paused their itineraries,
    Going from town to town
    Trading storied lore
    For their livelihoods.
    And trading stories now they were about,
    Competing, challenging,
    Exercising their imaginations,
    Just as they would practice tunes on their lyres.
    "Does the Black Ship have a name?"
    Asked Melville.
    "Pastiche!" suggested Poe.
    "That's a description, not a name!"
    Countered Dana.
    "I'll lend you Argo."
    Offered Rhodius.
    "Oh, Argonauts goes well with my Aquanauts."
    Commented Verne.
    Silence, as they considered.
    "Emily, what do you think a suitable name
    For Pirate Queen Dulcinea's Black Ship?"
    Asked Twain.
    "Elizabeth," said Emily simply.
    And a gust of wind blew snow
    In all their faces beneath the Oak.


    Notes: Artistic types usually have a handicap of some sort, and they gravitate to being the guardians of lore and performers of the arts...childhood friend was absolutely desperate to be a professional baseball player...failed at that, he became an excellent sports journalist...little is known about the ancient Greek least, I can't find much googling!, and so have embellished...and here a study site of Ancient Greek lore...Elizabeth is Emily Dickinson's middle name...oh..I had Homer where Rhodius is, having mistaken that Homer wrote the story of Jason and the Argonauts...uncertain just who did it first, but Apollonius of Rhodes, had the best...and what a good fit!...see link to wiki's take...



    Monday, July 11, 2016

    OTI:one poem and notes:7/11/16

    Open To Interpretation


    The coach is going nuts
    And the referees huddled at center court,
    Going over the particulars--
    'The devil is in the details'.
    On the screen, the red laser pointer
    Points to each players' gesture
    As the play is replayed
    On the giant led screen
    For us in our study class.
    What could we have done
    To prevent the damage we see done?
    'Damage happens on the Basketball Floor'.
    Bemused, I think to raise my hand,
    "The devil is in the minute particulars
    Or some such, you know,
    But refrain,
    Class is doing fine, and will get


    Notes: Matter...there's puns in the title...reference 'black lives matter' in the current news stories...and the poem has what I call 'side by sides'...each 'side'  a connotation that can be interpreted...unlike prose, poems need to be 'open to interpretation'...that's how one sees the side by sides, the pun, one side, in the title 'Matter' reaches all the way to Democritus and the Old Greeks concept of atoms...William Blake, 'Blake', picked up on this and came up with his own atoms, 'minute particulars'...I just finished a two day weekend basketball referee camp, time in class room, time on floor, much review, much discussion, and one refrain instructors have, is to prevent trouble from happening by attending to details, from the clothes we wear, the way we walk, gesture, everything we do on the floor, so many things to consider!...coaches have a counterpart effort, another side, in teaching their is a game, but it is a common place to draw from it lessons about the day to day...I just wanted to write up a poem about the weekend, which was much fun, for a memento, and first titled it 'There', but in considering the essays on Blake's 'minute particulars', and how they go on about Blake's notions of 'Newton's Sleep' (I'll not attempt an essay!), the word 'matter' came, and of course its popularity in the slogans, 'black lives matter', 'white cops matter' 'everyone matters'...the facebook black scroll is cluttered up with slogans!...I link the blog, and this post as usual, to my facebook, and facebook just has a text blurb alongside my thought to post the poem up to facebooks, so reader can see it complete without link clicking...but refrain...oh, one pun in 'matter' is to matter, as in make a helpful effort...oh, I can't explain everything, Blake tried too!...and my classmates are smart...smarter than me by far!...really like to use my 'Black Deck' for 'giant led screen', but if the poem travels, good poems do that, and one never knows if one's poems will 'travel', it would need an elaborate note with it!...'damage happens' references slang slogan, 'shit happens'...which is a catch all for things 'going south'...



    Friday, July 8, 2016

    OTI:five poems and notes:7/8/16

    Open To Interpretation

    Black Cat

    Do you think I'm groping?
    You are a feline of darkness
    Among these black tombstones
    That I stumble around bumping into.
    Is it my touch,
    That makes you arch your back,
    And caterwaul?


    The Black Deck scattered,
    Some cards up,
    Some cards down,
    A broken mirror,
    Blacked and silvered
    Futures' sharp edges
    I fear to handle
    Deal out
    In one reflection.

    Mocking Bird

    Turdos polyglottos
    Many tongued mimic
    Singing at 5 am
    Outside my open window
    While I sing to you far away
    With this black window opened.
    If I just had wings!


    And Moses,
    You came up behind us,
    And from them you delivered us,
    And from them and them and them,
    Even them again,
    And so even now Moses,
    Surrounded by a bloody sea of 'thems',
    You stand behind us...
    Maybe you could try standing
    In front.

    Mandarin Orange

    Beside the driveway
    In front of the garage, the small
    Mandarin orange tree is blooming
    And full of honey bees!
    No crisis here,
    "Tree is organic."
    There's hope for bees
    And there's hope for trees.


    Notes: Black Cat...I couldn't think of one word for Cats' howling, my first notion, so went to 'purring', which is an alternate poem!...unhappy with that, I thought of caterwaul, and looked to see if there was a synonym for caterwaul...caterwaul is kind of a mouthful!...but no synonym, so caterwaul it is, and the original sentiment of the poem stays intact!...Thought...I didn't want to use 'reflection', seemed to obvious/plain, so looked for synonyms of reflection, 'thought' being one I liked...but it doesn't fit well, but used it in the title!...and that works...the Black Deck is the fortune telling card deck...Mocking Bird...there was an alternate ending, 'with this hand held tool', which, well...fiddled, and got that black window conceit in, so have gone with that!...Moses...I had the first line, 'Moses, you stood beside us...', and one finger key padded it so I wouldn't lose it...this how things often go...and it sat awhile...and then I fiddled to see where it was going...I'm on a streak of resurrecting characters, and baleful eyeballing them!...Mandarin Orange...just as it happened...'hope for bees' mine, 'hope for trees' Robert Graves'...Graves in the White Goddess develops this elaborate conceit that letters, the alphabet, alphabets, to the ancients, all had a corresponding Tree...a Tree Alphabet...and these Trees are all infused with the moon magic of the White Goddess...and hence everything we are and do...I suppose these Tree Alphabets could be stand ins, in another conceit, for DNA, the genetic code, or as in my conceits of Black this, and Black that...everyone now is becoming familiar with the nature of algorithms...consider, when light is shined through a prism, we can see the rainbow colors...the prism is like an algorithm...a rhyme/meter scheme in a poem is like an algorithm, and like the prism, it shows what's hidden to normal sight...'colors' of feeling...I keep working these 'Black' conceits and notions, and eventually, hopefully, I'll have a circumstance that 'black' will be like a prism/algorithm...'Black' of course is on everyone's minds from the news...I'm not referencing 'white' or 'black' skin color race things, anymore than Graves was with 'White' Goddess...but the connotation is there, I know, inevitably...words often have that...a black friend of mine, with her Jamaican lilt, couldn't get enough of calling me 'King'...'David The King'...oh, no sooner than I poked in 'caterwaul' than one of the neighborhood cats howled!...


    When the beech prospers
    Through spells and litanies
    The oak tops entangle,
    There is hope for the trees.

    from Cad Goddeu




    Wednesday, July 6, 2016

    OTI:one poem and notes:7/6/16

    Open To Interpretation

    Two Hamlets

    Before the audience, there is a double deck stage arrangement: on top, Shakespears' play Hamlet is being performed in pantomime, beneath, below the live stage as it were, a gathering is in discussion...

    King Hamlet
    Oh, it's you, after all that, Old Mole!...I'd forgotten, and should have realized your very presence belied all my be or not to be...hmmmph...such I am, with you Father!
    King Hamlet
    By the way, where are we?...
    Beneath the stage, you fool...
    Dust comes through the floor boards, as the actors above perform...
    And what might they be performing?
    My funeral, over and over and over, six times a week, twice on Saturday...
    And mine...
    And mine...
    And mine...
    And mine...
    Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
    And ours...
    Father, what have I done!
    King Hamlet

    to be, or not to be, continued...


    Notes:...taking characters from their original setting, and putting them in another story is common...Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein and the Wolfman,...and there was a movie of late, something something Extraordinary Men that gathered up Nemo and others, much as I have...It is what the Ancient Greek poets and playwrights did all the time...everyone knew the tales of the gods and goddesses, and they could add variations atop variations endlessly...a serious playwright could, I think, really do something with this notion of the cast of Hamlet under the stage going on about stuff, while another cast of Hamlet does the play above in pantomime...I'll keep it in mind my own self!'s a goof, but come by reading Boris Pasternak poem about Hamlet...brb...eeshh...a lot of translations, all bad...apparently, that New York Times obit quote I quoted yesterday is taken from this poem, Hamlet by Boris Pasternak...



    The rumbling has grown quiet. I walk out on the stage.
    Leaning against a door jamb,
    I try to catch in a distant echo
    What will happen in my lifetime.



    see link for whole poem, and discussion, one of them...a tangle!...



    Tuesday, July 5, 2016

    OTI:one poem and notes:7/5/16

    Open To Interpretation

    I Would Like The Ocean To Be Green

    'I would like the Ocean to be green
    Not just one green
    But many shades of green
    And I would like the Ocean to be blue
    Not just one blue
    But many shades of blue
    And the shades of blue and green
    Mixed together into every possible tint
    And I would like the surface of the Ocean to be like silk
    Smooth, gently disturbed by soft breezes now and then
    Making tints, hints, of violets and purples in with the greens with blues.'
    The Ocean seemed to hear Dulcinea's thought,
    And was just so beneath the morning rising sun,
    And the Ebony Dolphins listened to her singing to them,
    Bobbing, and smiling upwards beside Ichi's long slender craft
    Adrift at the moment,
    As Ichi waved his arms at the Ravens and Gulls
    Perched all along the rails and fluttering about.
    "Go away,'re making a mess!'
    They wouldn't listen,  and with a cloth Ichi wiped his forehead...
    Dulcinea sang beneath the paper and bamboo umbrella unconcerned.
    "Oh, what is this!" Ichi said, and became rock still, head lowered listening,
    Ignoring the Ravens and the Gulls fluttering wings....
    "oh...a Black Dragon's wings..."
    The Black Dragon that had broke from the Black Dragon Flight approached,
    Low, like a black shadow on the sea.
    Ichi hurried to the stern, and from storage, found his bow,
    Grabbing an Arrow, which no sooner had he had it nocked,
    He let fly.
    The Dragon loomed large, clawed feet about to snatch Dulcinea,
    But the arrow found it's right eye, and the Dragon with a roar of pain, Plunged into the sea.
    The Ravens and Gulls had retreated high into the sky,
    The Ebony Dolphins gone too, Dulcinea quiet.
    She rose up, dressed in her black pantaloons,
    Black blouse, with maroon vest,
    Her wide dark eyes enquired while she tousled her short black hair,
    "What are you about, Ichi?"
    Ichi listened to the waves, trying to hear the submerged Dragon...
    "I made a deal."...still listening...
    "Deal?" Dulcinea asked, curious...
    "For you, and...with...oh!...they're here!"
    The slender craft rocked back and forth as the Nautilus
    Surfaced with a wave foam filled explosion beside.
    Nemo poked his head up from the opening deck hatch.
    "Quickly, a Dragon's about!" said Ichi.
    Nemo's crew scrambled, loading the slender craft with jewels, gold, Treasures of supreme value, all only ballast aboard the Nautilus,
    Taken from ship wrecks of all the Seven Seas. 
    The treasures secured in the slender craft,
    A dozen crew from the Nautilus took their seats
    With long oars newly fashioned, to replace those lost. 
    Dulcinea needed no further explanation,
    And hopped up on the Nautilus deck,
    "My Dolphins will see you home Ichi.  So long..." she said.
    Ichi waved, and the powers of the waves joined the long slender craft,
    And Ichi and his new crew rode swiftly towards the Western horizon,
    The Ebony Dolphins riding along side.
    Dulcinea turned to Nemo, hands on hips,
    "And you Nemo, what are you about, kidnapping me?"
    Nemo was aghast, his open mouth silenced,
    As the Black Dragon, submerged, reached the air, and in one quick Movement captured Dulcinea in its claws
    And ascended high into the sky, scattering the Ravens and Gulls.
    Two Ravens followed the Black Dragon as it flew South,
    All the other Ravens and Gulls returned to the Black Ship.


    Notes: a midnightmovie note...I went yesterday in the afternoon to see Independence Day...the second one, twenty years later...I sat beside a stranger, but we high fived at the funny's fun, and funny, go see...I Would Like...I could fiddle here, edit some more, and will, though off in a moment to the dungeon/gym, a routine nowabout, but I'm inclined to leave it be, and so not overwork it and find it turned to mud as in a painting effort!...reference Ichi the Japanese Samurai television/movie warrior...ronin actually...I guess...Hokusai's craft in the Great Wave...Verne's Nautilus...update: bk from the dungeon and a snack...cleaned things up...there's something to be said for arranging prose like a, if it is to be read aloud, one can cue how to read it with the line lengths (Ginsberg made a big deal out of this, claiming innovation with his 'long breath' lines), and two, see ee cummings, there's a concrete poetry effect...pauses and leaps and stretched outs things, from how the letters and words are on the page...Hemmingway famously ended one of his novels without a just leaves off in mid air when the hero dies...that's using the look of words on the page to hark to the meaning of the words on the page...and it's kind of nice to do...that bit Melville did about Ismael being in the crows nest on the Pequod...chapter 35...that I quoted back a ways, is obviously a poem, but because of being in a prose book, Melville was trapped into it being side to side full text! takes up more space to string out prose like this, in standard free verse like poetry, capitals beginning each line...and with a paper book,
    space is a cost
    but here on the web...
    hmmph...the line breaks I have here in the edit window, aren't going through to the view window...that window is smaller...I think if one can somehow widen the view window, the lines will arrange properly...most times my lines are short enough anyway not to be a problem...but with the longer lines here it's a problem, and a lot of the eye movement messed up...words on a page are both a seeing and a hearing, rhythms of sight and sound...and should add the imaginations expectations, as when a dragon leaps out of the sea...hmmph...and too, the view window doesn't always get all the editing from the edit window...a missing space, or carriage return, something always...and what's happening in the view window, I often cant see in the edit, so must remember where the problems are...I go back and forth a lot!...often for days, like a compulsion...self editing is just is too close to the trees!



    Monday, July 4, 2016

    OTI:five poems and notes:7/4/16

    Open To Interpretation


    What can I say,
    OTI is like
    'The Pride and the Passion'
    There's Cary Grant
    There's Sophia Loren
    There's a Wall
    There's a Cannon.

    Well, here I arrive, Aphrodite,
    To endure your ways
    As History proves
    They have a propagating purpose.
    Enjoy them in time I will?
    I'm no hairless child
    But what does my strength of arms
    Have to do with flower arrangements
    And flowing silk?
    My retinue and I would
    Rather endure a long days march
    Beneath a scorching sun
    To end eating dust
    Than dally with your playful lust.
    But to be just,
    However you pose
    Brings a disarming smile,
    Such is Beauty's wild wile.

    What circumstance I was in,
    Happy home,
    Loyal providing husband,
    Out and about,
    And this hunk comes across my threshold.
    I was trapped and bothered
    Losing all in choosing all.
    It was a 'hot mess'
    Brought on by you,
    For that god forsaken purpose,
    Your sibling disdaining jealousy
    Of Artemis' chastity!

    Phaedra, now
    We are alone as alone can be
    Best make the best of it
    While school classes now take serious
    That gossip Euripides,
    Our reputations in tears,
    Come here.


    What can I say
    There's cannons
    There's aliens
    It's Independence Day!


    Notes: Cannon Cannons...goofs, reference the movies...Hippolytus Phaedra Hippolytus...a dialog...reference the Ancient Greek play Hippolytus by Euripides...Hippolytus, Euripides actually, these plays all have the look of philosophical dialogs, the two of them, remind me of Nathaniel Hawthorne's Reverend Dimmesdale, the two of them! sympathies with Phaedra, Hester, and Julie Christie in Doctor Zhivago...the two of her!...ral...maybe I am an old Greek!...oh...I'm a mimic of sorts, I take away from movies things to wear...on seeing Titanic, I took up drawing...needles to say, I saw the movie Doctor was my first date...check was later on...oh, I should have kept a journal!


    Pasternak died a disillusioned and disgraced man on May 30, 1960. As cited in his obituary in the New York Times, one of the poems from Doctor Zhivago provides for the author an appropriate epitaph: “The stir is over.... / I strain to make the far-off echo yield / A cue to the events that may come in my day. / The order of the acts has been schemed and plotted, / And nothing can avert the final curtain’s fall. / I stand alone.... / To live life to the end is not a childish task.”

    end quote



    Sunday, July 3, 2016

    OTI:six poems and notes:7/3/16

    Open To Interpretation


    There's no shrine to you in Town
    I know of,
    Maybe the Sycamore Tree
    Growing wide spread
    From the Boulevard median
    Outside the tall windows
    From where I sit with
    Contemplative coffee
    Watching traffic
    Will do.
    Then again,
    Hardly a requested location,
    And like mine I pressed in her hand,
    Easily overlooked.


    Have I read too many romances,
    Made myself a fool filled
    With the usual
    Repetitive expectations
    Repeated in congregated chants
    About one or another theology of Love?
    By the Sycamore Tree
    The vagabonds
    With their white buckets of flowers
    Have been absent.
    While they're away
    I wonder
    What flowers you like
    And where in the world
    I can hand them to you.


    A more graceful offering
    I must learn
    As clearly my approach
    Has been that of an oaf
    Judging from the results!

    Pan's School

    Pan's school is just down the Boulevard,
    A bit South from the Sycamore.
    During the day
    Parking's not a problem.


    There's an old Greek word
    To make my coffee cup empty.
    And Hippolytus behind his chariot?
    "More coffee?"
    "Yes, thank you."


    Notes: Aphrodite...and shrines in Town...though something of the sort way up in Oakland, where I snagged a bit from Euripides...


    “Do you not see what a great goddess Aphrodite is?

    She whom you can neither name nor measure, how great she is by nature from how great a thing she comes through. She nourishes you and me and all the mortals. And as proof, so that you might not only comprehend this in words, I will show you by deed, the strength of the goddess. On the one hand earth desires rain when the dry barren ground is in need of moisture on account of drought; and on the other hand, the revered sky, when it is filled with rain by Aphrodite, desires that it fall on the earth; and when the two mingle into the same thing, they beget everything for us, and at the same time, they nurture everything through which the mortal race lives and grows.”
    — Euripides frag. 898


    Romances...thought of the Sycamore as a roadside shrine, rather than a temple...thinking on temples and the periodic formulated rituals...I go all syllabilic just thinking such...Learn...a goof...Pan's School, another goof...Sophrosyne...:


    In Greek literature sophrosyne is considered an important quality, and is expressed in opposition to the concept of "hubris". A noted example of this occurs in Homer's The Iliad: When Agamemnon decides to take the queen, Briseis, away from Achilles, it is seen as Agamemnon behaving with hubris and lacking sophrosyne.[1] Sophrosyne also appears as a major theme in Hippolytus by Euripides, as Hippolytus acts in self-control and purity when abstaining from all sexual relations, but holds a distinct lack of moderation.



    Do I forget even your birthday,
    Like from the whole Nation
    Taking away the Fourth of July
    And making it just another fourth of July?
    It's like that everywhere else, you know,
    Happy Fourth!



    Saturday, July 2, 2016

    OTI:eight poems and notes:7/2/16

    Open To Interpretation


    I could fold my arms
    And meditate,
    Which would be out of place,
    Unlike my disgrace,
    The usual pirate's rate.

    What To Do

    Your sibling has me alone
    What to do
    What to do
    That part of me
    Knows just what to do
    Without regard for
    My heart's longing for you
    Who are over there,
    Arms around someone else.
    What to do,
    Now, am I no one to you?
    I'll not entertain that
    And make
    I'm no one to you
    Then you're no one to me...
    That's just not true!

    Truth Be Told

    Truth be told
    I came through your
    Black Glass Doors
    Just to shake myself loose
    From masochistically
    Enduring too much
    For much too long--
    Nothing's changed.


    I hadn't thought
    Melancholia was on your menu
    That calls it Love.
    I recognized the taste,
    My favorite dish--
    I'll be here regular.


    I usually have a tune in my head,
    "you didn't have to be that way' current.
    Then there's you,
    Then there's this...
    I multitask.


    Sense has rhyme
    Rhyme has sense
    Is now our time,
    All in past, tense?

    It Would Seem

    Yes, it would seem
    When I am
    Where you are
    The gods and goddesses
    "It's like old times!"


    So so
    I stepped on your toes,
    That I counted so sweetly,
    Among many other things.
    I have big feet
    That got in the way of your
    If that's what it was,
    Breaking furniture,
    Tweaking management's concerns.


    Notes: 'you didn't have to be that way' from 'Somebody I Used To Know by Gotye, again, I think...and maybe else ware...brb...oh...just that particular lyric no where to be googled!...many near...I'll claim it!...Kimbra does like a perfect part with her crescendo!