[lit-ideas] Re: Sitted on tanite's pome - Jumping the gun

  • From: Andy <mimi.erva@xxxxxxxxx>
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sat, 31 May 2008 17:47:37 -0700 (PDT)

Your eye/I is fine.&nbsp; I don't wish to be a part of it.&nbsp; I'm in the 
'Western' tradition of the self, otherwise known as boundaries, not the 
'Eastern' relinquishing of self to the collective.&nbsp; Boundaries, or good 
fences make good neighbors...&nbsp;&nbsp;


--- On Sun, 6/1/08, David Wright &lt;wright@xxxxxxxx&gt; wrote:

From: David Wright &lt;wright@xxxxxxxx&gt;
Subject: [lit-ideas] Re: Sitted on tanite's pome - Jumping the gun
To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Date: Sunday, June 1, 2008, 12:35 AM


That whole thing about artist / audience contirbuting equally to a piece.&nbsp; 
There wass a whole , absurdly esoteric, Greek-Hebrew/Jewish-Freud vs. 
Behaviourist thang going on here when I wrote it.&nbsp; More intrigued 
intrigued ny the möbius thang...

wishing I could read the poem with your mind('s eye/I),
d.









At first I thought this was a bit experimental, a verbal equivalent of 
paintings hung in the Museum of Modern Art, but looking at it more closely it 
does&nbsp;seem to have a&nbsp;purposefulness and structure to it (as do the 
paintings in MOMA&nbsp;no doubt, even if their purpose is lost on me).&nbsp; 
This starts with the A's, winds&nbsp;up with the&nbsp;W's, yet wisdom is 
wrathful and&nbsp;the snake bites its tail as it cycles back to 
Wernicke's.&nbsp;&nbsp;There's quite a bit in this.&nbsp; It's quite 
interesting.


--- On Sat, 5/31/08, David Wright &lt;wright@xxxxxxxx&gt; wrote:

Crude apologies to the repeat reader, but the copywright has expired, so I'm 
looking to republish...

----------------

&nbsp;I&nbsp; ~ Wernicke

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; This ambrosia:

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; sweet&nbsp;&nbsp; end.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; soft-&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; en'd
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; for mortal tongues,

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; sounding, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; surrounding
&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; the idiot's tale,
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; full of&nbsp; f u r y ,&nbsp; &nbsp; yet,


&nbsp;II&nbsp; ~ Thalamus

F i l l e d&nbsp; with&nbsp; the&nbsp; sum&nbsp; of&nbsp; all&nbsp; suns,
&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;the I, that is my eyes,

&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;contains,&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;retains,
&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; s 
t&nbsp; r&nbsp;&nbsp; a&nbsp;&nbsp; i&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
e&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; d
&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; with the plenitude,

&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;[I 
n&nbsp;&nbsp; Sol itude]

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; 
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;( rub those bleeding 
orbs raw!;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;]
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
[&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Cast off those scales! )&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; ]
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; )
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; )
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; stunted and stained by the sanguineous
&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; sap of substance and, 
the gods-be-damned,&nbsp; t r u t h !

&nbsp;III&nbsp; ~ the {cerebral} cortex

Dear&nbsp; Lady&nbsp; of&nbsp; truth, 
&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
of&nbsp; all&nbsp; my&nbsp; love:

&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;You deceive!

&nbsp;Against civility, swearing fidelity,
&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; your cranberry hands turn
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; his story-book page,

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; writ full with the wrath of wisdom.


&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; affectionately your servant,


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