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Hyperzine 06... #18
Sent: Thursday, December 08, 2005 4:38 PM
Subject: Boosted up from the Cc line
Judy,
My post to you in MOAPG's digest is at the
bottom of this letter.
Well, your poem, ready for "feedback",
provided a rare opportunity to kick you up from the Cc line into To space
...even if only for a "post". In keeping with hyperzining, I kicked at the
static props of MOAPGers. The lesson isn't in the poetry, but in talking about
everyday things. You said you'd been through many "drafts". So, I stuck a
bracketed "ing" in there, creating "draft[ing]s". Think, and imagine, forward
from...
|
Thinking point: We c'n use all
sorts of sensemes to think with, whether it's a group of jazz
individualists on the raised platform in a club or ...well, a gang of
cartologists impressing the populace with their mapping prowess. Bucky
(Richard Buckminster) Fuller, in the forties, developed a map with no
distortions. A funny looking thing. But you could draw straight lines from
any set of point As to point Bs and no distortion. No perspective drawing.
Books much later than the forties on cartography didn't mention bucky. Not
a footnote. In the late nineties, somebody wrote a book, "Mapping the New
Millennium". Same thing. And he went into all kinds of mappings. If he
wrote his book in this century, he would have included Bucky, but not
Bucky's cartographic invention, which the damne Greeks should
have invented. Anybody with a sense of the globe. He'd have included
Bucky because a couple chemists (I think) working with Carbon-60 called
this basket, a "bucky ball". The substance, buckminsterfullerine. This had
little to do with cartogtraphy.
You know the hassle.
Projecting the globe onto a plane. Finally, the flat sheet was wrapped
around the globe as a kind of tube and we got a huge
Greenland.
What Bucky did was, as
soon as you hear it, obvious. He projected from the globe's surface onto a
closed polyhedron. First he used a cuboctahedron because it was his vector
equilibrium. That was prinred in Fortune Magazine. But soon he
used the obvious choice, the icosahedron. Twenty triangles. As you move
from a triangle's center to its edges, before the distortion becomes
detectable, you're in another triangle moving toward the center. You cut
along some seams and lay out a flat map with no distortion.
Ombidirectional projection. I don't know that Bucky ever called it that,
but he used omnidirectional and omni-other-things in other
context.
Soooo, we c'n think of
our projections into a poem as even more comprehensive omnidirectional
projections. Maybe, forgetting both phonemes and revelemes,
concentrating on the apprehended surfaces, we can speak of our sensmees in
an omnisensorial projection. This is just to shake loose from
habit. As a concept it's only a certificate to hang on the wall that cries
out about added degrees of freedom. We c'n project through all our dozens
of senses as dimensions, degrees of freedom. We c'n switch senses turning
our images into sensemes and changing the "angle of
perception".
In the letter (to Judy)
in which I embed this thinking point, I demostrate what I'm suggesting
here, but in the jazz playing metaphor. This is only another way to
think, and imagine, about
it. |
...saying draftings instead of
drafts. Drafts are, imagined, a sheaf of pages or screens with written
down poems on them. But, draftings are a sheaf of video clips. You've
seen on TV, programs like Entertainment Tonight, where a scene is on a thin TV
screen, and then that screen will angle and move off, the scene still visible in
it. And you may have a sheaf of these.... So, now that we're musicians, or
muse...icians, maybe, playing our instruments, you don't just have these pieces
of sheet music, these written poems, but you have the notated and evoked
draftings.... You don't have to just look at what you wrote, but you can, play
it again from the written down, and infusing it with recalled and remembered
prior playing.
Will many go from that "draft[ing]s" to such
imaginings, such sense of drafts as playings, "arrangements"? Unlikely. It's a
shaman's power object lying by the roadside, maybe among the barbed
thistles....
True, I tossed in a textual suggestion and
played a bit of mystery (with the right hand). You had "high // in Berkeley
hills" at the beginning and at the end. I c'n hear that musically. It's what I
played with up in my comment. But your title, "Berkeley hills" is locator
enough. Drop from there into "thistles". Your poem as I saw it cascaded down the
left margin, like the eucalyptus smell cascading down the hillside. Later, I saw
that other commenters had seen a print of it played pretty wild, like the
tangled brush, maybe, and the long sights. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter
where "thistles" is, relative to the margin, as a first word. You don't
have to move anything cutting out that little framing shot or epigraph.... So, I
wasn't fiddling with "formatting"....
My lightly played mystery, I just said, "I
sense your etchings". Key word is sense. I saw later that Dean, I
think, called you on "blood red". Didn't need "blood" he said. Actually, you
don't need "blood red", "blood", or "red" for decription. But maybe you do,
maybe you don't, for your poem. All sorts of things. If a sunset was coming in
later, you might want that color, tattoo'd, as a forevision of the sunset. Or
you just might want, like a wild little horn thing, the forced close, close-up.
BUT, if you don't, you just want the reality of that etching
done by thorns, then remember you're not locked into the visual, into images,
and you c'n work in sensemes, in all our dozens of human sensings. You've
got
grab
scratch
etch
blood
red
drawings
on arms
legs
You've got options like
grab
scratch
etch
drawings
stinging
on arms
legs
A smell rides down the hillside, and
etched drawings sting, again, more senses.... I've pulled "etch" into
the foreground by italics, here, but that's only pushing and pulling in
the delicate playing. Suppose you've got those other reasons for keeping
"blood red", or just musically you need that heartbeat beat.... Then to ward off
Dean, who's a great guy and sharp as a tack and doessn't really deserve warding
off, you gotta do something with, maybe, "drawings". They aren't, really,
drawings, and are as tangled, as the brush they came out of. So,
maybe,
grab
scratch
etch
blood
red
tangles
on arms
legs
...and you've got the weight in that "blood
red", that's the jazz-center of the stanza, and you've got earth's tangle
"etching itself" on your arms and legs. You'll look at 'em later,
coming out of the shower, and you'll see the etching
hillside....
And "tangles" has "tingles" in it for those
who commented that you'd pulled them onto that hillside, or one in New York
state, IF they hear language at all. You pulled 'em in with your main
images. Everything else is fine-tuning.
and see where your power was, to reclaim
what I c'n fine-tune in.
grab
scratch
etch
Follow the phonemes. Just pull out @/@/eh,
verbs. Hear your progression. that's why you WENT from there, and I
could, too. If you stay with "blood red" you get uh, eh, tying back into "etch"
while "tangles" ties clear back to "scratch" (and "grab"). And that's just
vowels. Y'see...?
Oh, you c'n use tangles with stinging,
too:
grab
scratch
etch
tangles
stinging
on arms
legs
Well, this is intrusive, maybe, but Dean
might pull you down to words as words,, usual feedback, and away from playing
...so I had to unfold my playing hidden in "I sense your etchings".
Gene
------ the post ------
Message: 10
Date: Wed, 7 Dec 2005 09:02:22 -0800
From: "Gene Fowler" <
acorioso@earthlink.net>
Subject:
Re: high ...in Berkeley Hills
April's (ret. @ddress) husband, gene,
writes...
Judy,
It's a sensemically merry
"high
in
Berkeley Hills",
Gene
A suggesture, an added "ing" and a
surgical cut, down in your preface.
Message: 12
Date:
Tue, 6 Dec 2005 23:22:27 -0600
From: Judy Brekke <
jbrekke@sigafoos.net>
Subject:
Berkeley Hills
I cannot tell you how many draft[ING]s* this poem has gone
through -
although maybe not a finished piece I am ready for some
feedback. I
hope the formatting stays intact.
* Must have
been live doings...! -g.f. ( you COULD drop from title
into thistles, leave
framing shot for end.... And for devilish readers
to softly play into punning
"little blues things for the right hand" as
Billy Evans might.... I sense
*your* etchings.)
Thank you.
Judy
Berkeley
Hills
high
in Berkeley Hills
thistles
scrub
brush
grab
scratch
etch
blood red
drawings
on
arms
legs
menthol scent
of eucalyptus
flows
down
hillside
mixed with
pungent smoke
from miniature
steam
train
filled with
gleeful children
burgundy
manzanita
reach
out
amidst rocky
terrain
rattlesnakes hiss
heat
simmers
breath quickens
a glimpse of
Golden Gate Bridge
SF
Bay
Alcatraz Island
Emeryville Mudflats
high
in Berkeley
Hills