SEPTEMBER

I miss the tilt and racket of your face,
the collapsing factories of your anger,
the shoreline wearing your boas of foam—
the steel mirror of your silence,
your glass contingencies, in the night’s hold.
I miss the morning’s coverlet of cloud,
one gull flying east over the moving distances
while closer in
the same boulder is kissed again and again.
As the blacksmith plunges the bruised steel into the tub,
erasing the heat of his industry,
I have cooled my brow
with the ice of your disdain—
I have held your cold hand in the rain.

  — Jim Armstrong. Blue Lash (Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions, 2006). Copyright © 2006 by Jim Armstrong. Reprinted with permission from Milkweed Editions. www.milkweed.org.

Some of the amazing cloud formations in the sky over Holladay after an amazing microburst storm blew over Salt Lake County this afternoon.

these quiet nights

after the storm
there is a hush.

a held breath
in moist silences.

after the storm,
these quiet nights
are all that remain.

we work hard all our lives
battling forces
we cannot defeat,

our voices mingling
with the roar of passing time.

but after the storm
there are
chances to wipe the water
from our eyes and
see with
uncertain clarity,
to rest our ragged throats,
to hope.

these quiet nights
refuel us

as
            dark clouds
gather

in
threatening
skies.

  — christopher cunningham.

From the GPP Reader: Selections from the poets of the Guerilla Poetics Project.

CC will have a new chapbook published by Kendra Steiner Editions within the next few weeks, as well as a limited edition broadside from 10pt Press. Both are bound to be outstanding.

XTC - SENSES WORKING OVERTIME

Hey, hey
The clouds are whey
There’s straw for the donkeys
And the innocents can all sleep safely
All sleep safely

My, my
Sun is pie
There’s fodder for the cannons
And the guilty ones can all sleep safely
All sleep safely

And all the world is football-shaped
It’s just for me to kick in space
And I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste
And I’ve got one, two, three, four, five
Senses working overtime
Trying to take this all in
I’ve got one, two, three, four, five
Senses working overtime
Trying to taste the difference ‘tween a lemon and a lime
Pain and pleasure and the church bells softly chime

Hey hey
Night fights day
There’s food for the thinkers
And the innocents can all live slowly
All live slowly

My, my
The sky will cry
Jewels for the thirsty
And the guilty ones can all die slowly
All die slowly

And all the world is biscuit-shaped
It’s just for me to feed my face
And I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste
And I’ve got one, two, three, four, five
Senses working overtime
Trying to take this all in
I’ve got one, two, three, four, five
Senses working overtime
Trying to taste the difference ‘tween a lemon and a lime
Pain and pleasure and the church bells softly chime

And birds might fall from black skies (woo-woo)
And bullies might give you black eyes (woo-woo)
But to me they’re very, very beautiful (England’s glory)
Beautiful (a striking beauty)

And all the world is football-shaped
It’s just for me to kick in space
And I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste
And I’ve got one, two, three, four, five
Senses working overtime
Trying to take this all in
I’ve got one, two, three, four, five
Senses working overtime
Trying to tell the difference ‘tween the goods and grime
Turds and treasure
And there’s one, two, three, four, five
Senses working overtime
Trying to take this all in
I’ve got one, two, three, four, five
Senses working overtime
Trying to taste the difference ‘tween a lemon and a lime
Pain and pleasure and the church bells softly chime

… I’ve discovered that it’s possible to have an absolutely shitty day up on the slopes.

From the time I turned up the canyon, until I made it to the parking lot at Solitude almost 90 minutes later, I just had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a great day …

I get on Eagle Express for my first lift ride up to Eagle Ridge, and could barely ski back down the Sunshine Bowl and Last Run to Moonbeam Lodge; my legs just felt like overcooked pasta. Still, I tried to make a go of it …

Took the Moonbeam lift to drop Main Street down towards the Sunrise lift, through the Access to up to take Summit Lift up to the top.

Took one run down Honeycomb Canyon; took some photos, mostly pretty shitty … but did get one interesting cloud formation … so I guess the day wasn’t a total loss.

The back up Honeycomb Return, down Sundancer back to the base, the parking lot, and home.

Camera: Nikon D80
Exposure: 0.001 sec (1/1600)
Aperture: f/4.8
Focal Length: 120 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Exposure Bias: 0/6 EV

SILENCE

There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,
In the cold grave—under the deep deep sea,
Or in wide desert where no life is found,
Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound;
No voice is hush’d—no life treads silently,
But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free.
That never spoke, over the idle ground:
But in green ruins, in the desolate walls
Of antique palaces, where Man hath been,
Though the dun fox, or wild hyæna, calls,
And owls, that flit continually between,
Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan,—
There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.

  — Thomas Hood (1799 - 1845), British poet.

No. 207

By reading books can you avoid death?
By reading books can you avoid being poor?

When golden thread is soaked in garlic sauce,
You forget that it’s bitter as can be.

No. 306

I live on this mountain;
Nobody knows.

Up in the white clouds;
Constantly quiet and still.

  — Han Shan (c. 7th - 9th centuries CE), Chinese Ch’an [Zen] poet.