Dali’s Venus (and the Sailor) – “I can too paint sweet” (Upping the Ante on Picasso)

Posted September 17, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry
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Salvador Dali, “Venus and the Sailor,” 1926

Dali’s Venus (and the Sailor)

Forget the melting clock, encrypted koan–
I can too paint sweet as any know-n–
Picasso thinks he’s cornered beauty, truth,
with thighs so round and faces full of ruth–
(‘Ruth?’ you think, odd word for man of Spain–
Tal vez que “ruthless” is my middle name.)
I’ll show you, Pablo dear, and all the world
that ‘pretty,’ like my mustache deftly curled,
is well within my grasp.  You gasp!
And aim competing curses at my head!
But already this dame’s earned my daily bread.

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Here’s a rather silly one for Tess Kincaid’s The Mag 135, intended to a be an internal monologue of Salvador Dali.  I confess that Dali, a surrealist known for his message-filled paintings, clever bravado, and extremely waxed mustache, is not one of my favorite painters.  I find the Venus painting quite beautiful though, and (to me) very reminiscent of some of Picasso’s work with similar “voluminous” and luminous figures. 

Check out Tess’s site, and also my books!  Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel that is perfect for a pool or beachside escape.  Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!

Comments: 28 Comments

“Firefly Jar” Fragment(ed)

Posted September 16, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

Drawing of Firefly Jar by Diana Barco

Firefly (Fragmented)

As a child, I was told that I was a star,
whose brilliance would light up the world like a jar
filled with fireflies.  In the place I grew up,
we’d crouch in dark grass, catching them in the cup
of a hand that quickly transformed into heart,
a roseate, luminescent, star part.
From palm, we would pour them into our glass,
so we could catch more, faster than fast….

Now, when I think back to that life as a star,
I see less of the firefly, more of the jar,
the air holes on top we made with a pick
used to pry nuts from shells, a sharp metal stick.
It tore holes that were cutting, jagged beneath,
and could easily pierce an insect’s bright sheath.
I think of those holes, the sharp underside
that ceilinged that glow, that unreasoning pride.

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I am posting above which is a fragment of another poem for Kerry O’Connor’s With Real Toads Challenge, to post a poetic fragment – the type of language one might save in a firefly jar.  I’m not sure this fits the bill as it really is part of an already written poem – on the other hand, it deals very directly with firefly jars! 

The full poem can be found here, and is in my book, Going on Somewhere, by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by the incomparable Diana Barco.  I actually think the shortened version, posted today is better than the full poem.  (I’ve never felt completely happy with the full version as it seemed awfully bathic and more than a little self-pitying.)  Another great firefly jar drawing by Diana Barco can be seen here.

I urge you to check out all the wonderful poetry at With Real Toads.

Comments: 21 Comments

“Missives” (And First Time Light Sculpture Film)

Posted September 15, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: LIght Sculpture, poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Missives

The first time I communicated with the dead
was through the “D” volume of
my Junior Britannica.
My letter was addressed
to my lost dog, though her name, which even today
is too embarrassing for me to repeat, began
with a C.

The next time was in the shadow
of my grandmother’s casket
as I watched my aunt rub out
the lipstick she felt
too bright
for the corpse
of someone so
modest.
“I’m sorry,” I thought to my
grandmother, “but you know
how she is.”

Since then, I haven’t lost count–
communications with the dead
are not something
one loses track of – I just can’t bear
to recite the coordinates – the place, the time, the
circumstances
of sobs (interior
or wracking), the wait
for blessing.

My missive
is almost always the same – “I’m sorry” in all
its permutations – for your death, for
my life, for what I did–more often, for what
I didn’t do–

You’d think that I would learn by now.
You’d think that I’d be different,
but the dead, you see,
at least the ones I talk and write to,
are so forgiving–their stroking hush
holds me, allows me to go on
even as I am.

**********************************

The above poem was written for dVerse Poets Pub’s Poetics Challenge on “First Times,” hosted by Fred Rutherford (of Poetical Psyche).  The video was made of a light sculpture by Jason Martin. 

Check out dVerse for lovely poetry, and, if you have time, check out my books!  Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel that is perfect for a pool or beachside escape.  Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!

Comments: 33 Comments

Flash Friday 55 – Mitt Lets Us Know Exactly What We Need To Do Next

Posted September 14, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: news, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , ,

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We must be strong…. (Yes.)

And use our influence with our allies. (Sure.)

And be strong.… (Absolutely…)

Because the world is a dangerous place. (You bet. )

And use our influence. (Never would have thought of that.)

And be strong. (Yesss…..)

Because HE’s wrong. (Huh?—)

No matter what– (Well….)

Because he’s HIM… (Aha.)

No matter what.

******************************************

The dialogue above has – you guessed it – 55 words so please tell it to the G-Man.

I do not want to seem flippant, but I also want to take this opportunity to send condolences and prayers to the families of the four Americans slain in Libya, J. Christopher Stevens (Ambassador), Sean Smith (Foreign Service Information Office), Tyrone S. Woods (former Navy Seal providing security), and Glenn A. Doherty (former Navy Seal providing secruity). I also extend condolences to Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, who seems to have particularly felt the loss of these fine Americans who served under her, and who has spoken with such eloquence about their lives and deaths.

Comments: 17 Comments

“When Violence Flash Flares” (Petrarchan Style)

Posted September 14, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

When Violence Flash Flares

When violence flash flares with red-black spark
and men can only see through teeth and blur,
their skin bit-bristling like claw-sharpened fur
that seeks the carve of scar as truest mark,
that bites the curve from every moment’s arc,
as if time’s belly something to regur–
gitate and spit again–again–a lure
to not make lush, but tear instead to stark–

Then, oh, what can be done to stop the woe?
Reconstitute the mob as one and one?
That he, who likes to brush, with rueful care,
his child’s hair from the cowlick that will grow
upon her crown, and that lost mother’s son
who hums remembered songs in twilit air.

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Agh!  I am posting the above would-be Petrarchan sonnet for dVerse Poets Pub sonnets prompt, hosted by Gay Cannon.  I’ve written lots of sonnets – usually of the Shakespearean or Spenserian rhyme schemes (wonderfully explained by Gay.)  This is my first serious try with the Petrarchan.  I’ll say it again – agh!   I’m not sure I like the rhyme scheme which in this case is abba abba cde cde–it feels like the rhymes are a bit diffused.  But there it is.   Check out dVerse for Gay’s article and what I’m sure will be wonderful examples.  Also, if you’ve a chance, check out my books!  Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (for slightly more polished sonnets);  1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel that is perfect for a pool or beachside escape.  Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!

Comments: 25 Comments

More Views From NYC (9/11/12 Evening Downtown)

Posted September 12, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: New York City, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

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Comments: 16 Comments

A View From Downtown (NYC – 9/11)

Posted September 11, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

A big part of me would really like to store 9/ll in a plastic bag and not think about it any more.

Another part of me thinks that would not be such a great idea (even if I could do it in downtown NYC where I live.)

First, because we still have young men and women actively serving in Afghanistan, as a direct response to the event.  Secondly, because the day provides such important cautionary tales.   Third, well, because I swore not to forget it.

So here’s an older poem, and above and below are photos I took in downtown NYC this a.m.  I’ve also included a (rather fraught) reading of the poem.

9/11

The burning buildings woke me from a sleep
of what I thought important, nothing now.
I ran hard down the smoking, crumbling street,

praying that my child was mine to keep,
dear God oh please dear god I whispered loud;
the burning buildings woke me from a sleep.

Some stopped to stare, all of us to weep
as eyes replayed the towers’ brutal bow.
I ran hard down the smoking, crumbling street–

North sky a startling blue, the south a heap
of man-wrought cloud; I pushed against the crowd;
the burning buildings woke me from a sleep.

I’d never complain again, never treat
with trivial despair–or so I vowed.
I ran hard down the smoking, crumbling street.

I’d change, give thanks—I saw them leap—
and begged for all the grace God would allow.
The burning buildings woke me from a sleep;
I ran hard down the smoking, crumbling street.

I’m linking this to dVerse Poets Pub’s Open Link Night, hosted by the wonderful  Brian Miller.

Comments: 57 Comments

Holding On Through The Storm (Monarch)

Posted September 10, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Country weekend, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , ,

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Above is a photograph of a Monarch Butterfly right after an intense storm   The butterfly clung to this stem through the rain and actually late into the night.  (I checked.)

The next morning he’d dropped to a lower place on the stem, and then to the ground, slowly flapping his wings dry.  (As shown on the video below.)  Later, I saw him flying around a field, stopping for long breaks.  (The videos I have in the field appear to be the long breaks, so won’t bore you with those.)

His doggedness was amazing.

Comments: 4 Comments

“Clothing Statues”

Posted September 9, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

Leger, Fernand- 1921

Clothing Statues

It’s not so much the copper fig leaves
as the red velvet sleeves
I wonder at–the belled robe on the
enamel-faced Madonna, the trim of
seed pearls edged by rough
stitching, while wedged
below the carved curls
of a wooden Christ the drape
of sateen cape, doubling some
seasons for the Babe’s bright
swaddling.

Further East (or West), Buddha’s
bronze chest is vested
winters in knitted wool; while Vishnu
sports an orange bib; silk
scarfs, marigold
necklaces,
collect blessings.

Cozy icons, divine
mufflers – when heaven’s chill
descends, we rub our arms
with cupped palms.

******************************************

I am posting the above for The Mag (134), which features a pictorial prompt hosted by Tess Kincaid.  The poem was inspired by the Fernand Leger painting above – which felt to me like a sculpture with a black muffler.  The poem itself concerns the practice of clothing religious statues – pretty common both in Christian churches (especially Catholic) and in Buddhist and Hindu shrines. 

Comments: 23 Comments

“Election Day, November 1968” (Poem)

Posted September 8, 2012 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

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Election Day, November 1968

The wind blew hard
that blow-hard day.

My own school straw-polled
for Wallace–famed for
blocking schoolhouse doors in
Alabama; his
running mate–Bomb-
Them-Back-To-The-Stone-Age Curtis
LeMay –

Then there was Nixon (Tricky
Dick) whose secret plan to win
the war sounded just a tad
too secret.

So, at the requisite
sidewalk distance, I pleaded
(sweetly), smiled (winningly),
for the guy I hoped meant
peace (Humphrey), justice (maybe),
hoping, if I were just nice enough, voters
might be swayed last
minute.

But people proved harder
than trees, and the next noon,
my smile-taut face
wept in the narrow of locker
while, behind me,
greasers grinned; I remember
one boy particularly–
the low belt of his Dickies’ pants thrust ahead–

The war went on for seven
more years.

Seven more years.

I’m not saying I was so smart – in fact
I was so not-smart that I never thought
of how many of those same
slicked-hair-back boys
may have ended up on blade-whipped
ladders, copters leaving
Saigon.

So not-smart that I never
even thought about how much I’d
like to see them again, even just that
one boy, his forehead wan
below the Vitalis, his
surly-curled lips, slim jut
of hip, bare
chin–

how much I’d like to just sit
with him, both of us sagging
into firm but comfy chairs, side by side,
not opposite–it still might
be hard to look each other in the
eye–till we’d spent some while
in talk, swaying too
now and again to our
old songs–he
was shy of dancing, I
remember, for all
the swagger.

****************************

I am, in fact, so not-smart that although I knew that Saigon fell in 1975, I did the math wrong and said that the war went on for eight more years instead of seven. (Agh- I somehow subtracting 68 from 75 and got 8!  Yes, I am thinking of Bill Clinton and arithmetic in this moment.)  

At any rate, I’ve corrected now and extend my apologies to those reading the original version.

The above draft poem is posted for the dVerse Poets Pub Poetics prompt hosted by Mary Kling on the subject of Autumn.   Check out dVerse for wonderful poetry and, if you have extra time, check out my books!  Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel that is perfect for a pool or beachside escape.  Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!

Comments: 46 Comments

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