FF55 Formations of Poetry

Stop listening to outer coming in,
watch your own consciousness!

"Language is not where we start thinking"
: Imagination.

We have fundamental thought processes
that are 'prelinguistic.'

It is biological to learn language,
master complex syntax

From : cultural shaping and 'wild systems'.
Cannot be intellectually mastered.

 Language is self managing and self shaping,   
descriptive comes after...


  
                                  
  Between meditation and writing,              
he fishes and hunts up some very interesting elements.
Well worth reading!
A poet and zazen Buddhist-Gary Snyder.      
  Concepts from a portion of an Interview with the Paris Review .                                                         
       The Gary Snyder Reader, The Art of Poetry . pgs.328-9.
( paperback )c.2000, Counterpoint, member of the Perseus Books Group.

Mag 156 Without Exception

                                                                    Wind of History by Jacek Yerka           




                                                The white house road came along from the otherside!
                                           I sit now, writing from the morning room on the south
                                          end of my Grand parents home.
                                                The old white car has sunk into its inevitable,
                                          deepening rut. The house helpers had been told
                                          " No matter what- come in from the main gate side!"
                                          Springtime, ice, wind, snow, rain- " Do not use
                                          the common road!" My Grand father had built his own
                                          approach .To enhance the view. To show off the property
                                          to its best advantage!  With the lovely fan of trees.
                                               Even though the gate has now fallen over
                                          and the stone wall with its urns and original decor
                                          are tumbled and crumbled - you can still hear his
                                          edict- as if on the wind " Come to the circle driveway,
                                          we shall meet you at the door !"

FF55, 2/15/13, Daily bread

       A handful of beautiful clear colored chips
held out as a fan of playing cards.
Fiery hell to enlightenment                  
and everything in between!
We may pass dark hunger,
anger to rapture. A day interwoven
white tranquility, toned into laziness at times.              
heat from animality to hell,
purple learning into violet realization.
Overlapping kaleidoscope of galaxies
 to inner worlds.



                I cannot say I am attached to this set of
beliefs over another- however I am reading a book called
 "The Buddha in your rear view mirror" Quite appealing
 in the sense this school does not ask you to change your
stripes- or spots- as many Spiritual paths often do- No pretzels!  

Mag 155, 2/10/13, One Morning.

                                                                        artwork by Joseph Lorusso        



    'Good idea!' She hadn't done a painting around colors in a while.The
last one had been reds and ended up as flowers in a swamp scene.
    Here she was out for a cup of java at her local diner. A young couple
decided to relinquish their hold on privacy across from her, just after she
 sat down. Maybe they are making up after a few days of conflict.
She flipped over a piece of paper and began to sketch. 'Yes, yellow, cream 
and tans with hints of reflection ought to be enough challenge- She got the
major elements in place. 'Ok- maybe I can snap a photo for color purposes-
before she opens her eyes! She checked to make sure the flash wouldn't go
off alerting the couple to her plans. After all this is not gay Paris-'...


                                                 



                                           

FF55, 2/8/13, Under bright blue skies .

A broad road, bordered by scruffy poplars

and pines.Nestled between trees, I find

a large round speckled boulder that I lean

against.A tremor rises violently

behind me and I leap away.

It splits and I face a glossy nose

and huge eyes of a baby dragon .

"What"- I gasp, "Shall I feed you?"



                                    

2/6/13, Poets United, Simply

Love it
love it energetically
love it energetically colorful
love it energetically colorful shapely
love it energetically colorful shapely flowers
love it energetically colorful shapely flowers springtime!

FF55, 2/1/13, Sleuthing

They found his car.
After, two sister's comb
their brothers apartment.

Almost by magnifying
and dusting for fingerprints.
No strong box of papers.

Cleaned out his place in three hours
left food and furniture
for the next person .

A book and life twist
with dreams for me.
Leaving dry, hollow
corn husks, of deer and human.

               
                                               
   
                   Truth, my friends don't know why he died
              at his friends house. They don't know why
              someone made off with his papers...No money to take.
              ...Autopsy will tell most, Police can't do much more.