| dames rocket 4 part 2 - october 1976 | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
Early Sunday, the Byzantine church, a man with whiskers, does not look friendly, hasn't read my face, thinks from the [purple satin] jacket that I am a troublemaker. "... Is for religion pipple, church is for religion pipple." Asks where I live. A house? "Oh, you own?" (Social class). What's my name. What's his. "Oh is long name Wadi'mir." Asks my age. I tell him, since he isn't going to ask, that I am an artist. (They have lovely angels on the altar, three of them.) He is not polite. Ignores me, or is it he doesn't want his congregation to catch him with a bizarre female. - T learning how to stage beautifully, dark on the front steps, a person sitting, do I know who it is from the way it looks out of its dark shape? Because she's come I flood forward to her (it's better when we come called in this way), into her perfume field. Nellie drops away. Luke gets hurried to bed. She buys milk and I put things away, find my voice on Co op speaking (gently) the invocation to the cunt, in an undistinguished American voice. (The AAW! Is good though.) (That I should have written funny poems!) Record. Why? Just these things: sitting next, pulling the chair so its bars are between us, that means, distance symbolically expressed, we can be next to next and I - so new in this life - kiss, reach forward two inches and kiss, her mouth, and she kisses back and our mouths are always dry when we start. We talk easier after, work, maps, scale, little and big. With two, have to learn never to repeat and that means being richer. Evokes Tony Nesbit. "I was in love with you." What a spice to drop in. All done neatly, has me crying out quietly with every move and then she covers me, blows out the candle and leaves so that I end up fucking myself not only before I sleep but again, after, on and on. Orgasm, when the field buckles and turns itself inside out. Her grandmother, she says, crazy. "I can't imagine ever being at war with you, you just make me soft." "I'm free." - Ritter, Patrice, the house. C and T, a connection to be made. Daven, the Jewish New Year, at this serene time of year, give sins to the water at Yom Kippur, and be reborn. Roshoshanna. This serene time of year. A fine madness C says, and she means fine; nose to nose we exchange a little CO2 in the concentration of dancing - the stream of breath. "I'm new," said T, "you don't know because you didn't know me before." I'm new too. C is new in all your eyes. This is the year to celebrate newness. - Wain at the Half Moon Café, excited about working out a poem form, with guitar, that would be completely immediate - images, from time of reading. Is a poem a machine? I babbled about the strangeness of what is happening in Rhodesia. Wain's personnae the Expector, the Redeemer, the Accusor, the Mother, the Father. Cheryl's wonderful run at story. William, Summer, Alex, the Brotherhood, the Baby, the Old Person, the Women, the Little Brother. Smell of straw from the packing case where the Old Person has spent the winter. Not a word wrong. - [Trudy lends me an Oldenburg picture book] Oldenburg - formal rhyme - banana = fan, ice berg = fried egg. Making things rather than metaphors. Object into Monument, gravity=death, gravity=love. The drawings C likes, he says, "combine two kinds of scale." Made various scales of the same object. morphological index Hallucination monuments: Central Park hole 6x6x3 Chicago windshield wiper with pools, drips water Colossal rearview mirror - Like the fisheye mirrors at gas stations, to see more at once. London lipstick - rises and falls in sync with Thames tide
Yale lipstick - "first feasible monument." Feasible monument for city square - blown hats - dark interiors of hats for wind and rain shelter, concert space - space to show films in broad daylight. "I thought of the many unlit spaces that go walking at noon - inside our bodies for example." Imagined 10-story bowling balls running down Park Avenue, regularly - a part of the violence and danger there already - red, green and yellow, chromed to reflect the city like traffic lights. Those cockroaches are improving my reflexes - beautiful beasts, they stand like horses. "The balls are an attempt to make tangible my feeling that Park Avenue is a dangerous street where you can get run over and killed very easily. The balls intensify and monumentalize this danger. Imagine you're waiting at a cross street ..." The fried egg could be blown up to float - or rest in a meadow with sheep. He takes a thing and modulates it through the possibilities of matter - hard, soft, bent, packed away, transparent, big, small, floating, flying, moving. Sculpture in the form of a thrown can of paint. 3 moments in the bucket, paint too, a certain time selected, makes me think of a before and after. Metamorphosis - the 3-way plug in steel "seems siteable anywhere, as if it had fallen out of the sky like an acorn or an apple or a meteor." Theatre of Objects - for instance siting a monument, with spectators - Monumental typewriter eraser - a red marble disc with a little pool in the centre, the brushes standing tall above, tree-like undulating shafts of metal and rope. Memorials - a wire strung a certain distance to city limits or beyond, a blue light travels it in a split second, at 15 minute intervals - lights up when the city does. - Wind whales of Ishmael - sharks and whales which feed on clouds of matter, vegetable clouds - are light, with air bladders and dragonfly wings, v delicately structured with the bones, transparent membranes. By eating they make fuel to make gas which they release with a hissing sound, to descend. Earthtides - because of big moon - you can feel them. Philip Jose Farmer 1970 Wind whales of Ishmael Ace - On various ladders, finished the back of the house, a catwalk where I was on the roof and had to feel my way off it onto a narrow steeply sloping ledge, where I painted blue and brown - painting clothes soaked through - then ladder set on roof. - Rearing up at both, saying NO I will not go into that womanworld emotion fuss, seeing too often and too empty and plaintive and slighted and hurt feelings and doing things to make up for absences. You're free, remember? I'm imagining escapes, silent all day, poisoned, but mourning too. You're stopping me. You're making it ugly. - Understanding that this radiant life is more beautiful than any fiction. The awesome sense of being folded into the quickest heart of it, the hottest livest. Being inspired. Love war, yes it needs more than two to keep a live delight or grief. They were walking on 3rd toward home, Cheryl, betrayed she thought, threw Trudy to the ground, and I had things to do and kept walking as if I didn't see, but they were regarded by a woman in the nearest house who came and said "Stop that, you can't do that", appalled two women going for each other's throats, "I'll never let you go! I'll never let you go!" screams Cheryl. That woman, who'll never forget the sight. Beautiful Trudy, her furry glamour, a perfect animal, and Cheryl the same. Their tightness, furry, pelted, the presence in their eyes. Tonight C was so lost (was it coke?). The brilliance of addiction. And I am not. I crave their brilliance and I trade on the tenderness I have for them, on its account. Their weariness. How they can't rest. Trudy at the table, blasted. "You look so wrecked I want to back you up." Set my chair behind hers and held her head, her shoulders - transfused into her the harmonics I'd built out of their war and my permission to be there - spoke in her ear, in support of her. Trying to make her speak to Cheryl so that Cheryl wouldn't have to shriek. (Cheryl crying, sucking coke.) Cheryl's nipples and her broad crotch, it came to me, in peace, to touch them - the caressing voices of the colluders, eating well-earned but uneasy peace - the delight of the right war, how witty it is, faces breaking out in teeth, startled laughter, punches, only women could be so elegant in their violence? So comfortable. Women and children at war - Ritter and Patrice making Paul bloom, liking him. "Cheryl finally came through today." Their war animates me, after a while, animates a tenderness in me, makes me supple and smart, even quick, in the silence of right gesture. "I think you like me as much as I like you." Friday, Saturday and Sunday. "You and she are from the same tribe," on the stairs, after she's given me a look like a broken heart - oh sweetie! "Oh but you and I are out of the same womb." Then she startles, hears Cheryl sniffing, is she crying, no, it's coke. When we make our formation, I add my head to Trudy's and Cheryl looks at her only, I am the witness and I am the trusted, the retainer, the loving servant with a free and flying heart.
Your whole style is a lie (Cheryl do you doubt that I love Trudy?) but it is so obvious - you came through too - for the first time I told her how I love Roy. "He's a wastrel and a con-man but he's magnificent." His spirit so present in the quickness of pain and delight and play. Oh, these would have matched you, I think: but look, it is me, it is me, winning them. Winning my way to them. Not overlooked. Zoe lying across C with her head on my lap. I like to touch her, she's so bright. Luke is like me, a savage with beautiful metaphor. - The pleasure of detail that came in telling these to C, who laughed and exclaimed. - Dreamed going to a place I've been in before in dream, a sandstone place, water standing in rushes, buff cliffs around. This time there was an NFB crew made up entirely of young dyke women, one of them in a coverall soaked to the neck, the others in sarongs over bikini pants - they all had cropped hair, didn't want to film me - I went on to the ocean, which was at high tide, but sloped as if on a steep pitch - I walked in, to be carried back up to the beach on a high swell, as other children were - when at the top of the swell I could see far down, as from the side of a mountain, to a lake among trees - miles away. The ocean flattened. It was the EquiPoise. A small swell, I went in again, and once out, feared I couldn't get back, there was no wave to take me up the slope, although I couldn't sink either. Sleeping next to Trudy I dreamed swimming toward the centre of a lake with a group of women, a rain storm came, curving line of rain pocks sweeping toward us on the water, we turned back, I called to Trudy (Margaret/Sarah) to stay close to me because I didn't swim well and didn't know if I could make it. - Want to make a mural of my Amazons. Ritter, Patrice, T and C and me, Nellie, Martha, Po and Rhoda and Daphne. - She wears a scarf to hide a neck so beautiful my eyes refuse to see - at the door, the fall of the hair eyes mouth nose like monumental snow - stubborn, crazy, angry, playful, in pain. No such words apply. Existing for hearts and eyes to grow amazement in. Both grow large and small, nearly always together. I said no. Jealous, devouring; I'm taking Reason, as I said, and that leaves her as Passion, Cheryl today taking Gentleness - I looked for her, she went flouncing home and I stayed smiling triumph but implanted with such an admiration for what I saw, hands in her pockets, black jacket, a little red plaid, shoulder bag, and a pride out of legend. Legend, legend, how can I be used to loving on such a scale - saying no, and unbent (hungry to go to the mirror), exactly the right scale, found, in joy for that, but not the servant unless I choose. Oh, you impress me, and the more you do the more I must impress myself too. And we have witnesses. It's making me doggish in this writing. Some structures: T and Rhoda, lovers, unknown to anyone, but attracting C by their passion. They have learned to sharpen themselves on each other. And T helped C to get rid of, and then work on, Don. And C helped T to get rid of R.
- What are you doing. I'm talking to myself, also making a record, also playing with language and brain. Do you like it? Sometimes I like the inventions it makes. Other times I'm embarrassed to see it so literal minded. Why is it literal minded. When I talk to myself I say the obvious these are bored thoughts the brain asleep repeating motherly comforts. Motherly, what does it mean? Mother, as mind, is the mode of speaking without presence, out of distraction, in a way to sedate the family into giving her some privacy - leaving her alone, as nothing is possible anyway. Hopeless mode, also a survival. Go under and wait. Why embarrassed? Because it is me colluding in sedating myself, when I don't want to sleep but to fly. Don't slander sleep, it flies. Gurjieff. Revise. I mean automatism. The true automatic can be full of brilliance. This automatic, does it speak in code? Is that it? They sit opposite at a table and (watched it's true) they put into operation their social machine, flashing mirrors, flashing knives, word counterword pun antonym they play and then it falls away all of it falls past them and keeps falling they're at a card table in outer space, an array of instruments, flowers too, laughs, card table is solid they semitransparent with stars. The other side of underneath. Festival. Duras. Talk to the art gallery. This is because a big movie is brewing in these people wait and see. Sex, she said, just takes us to a certain point. I'm on. One, two, three, and then At the card table in outer space, Work! In this case - realize, advertise! Can they use more of anything? They know when they crave?
Anna [at the Greek Islands restaurant] says to Trudy and me: "Are you relatives?" At the Breadline, a waiter (not ours) made a face when T asked without please ("C'n we have some more coffee?"). When he brought it we thanked him so elaborately and consciously that he came back later, offering more, with a big smile. The music the big space, softness and collusion - a little street life - the bridge sun pushing heat on us like a wind, trains warning nobody off the tracks, the light, the light all day. On the bridge it came to that, she wanted, she said, to talk about it yesterday. I explained it in terms of caste and being sexually more comfortable with the next lower caste - "It was true, it really happened" I said. "It was given to you. By your father?" she said. I told her the story of the hotel. "And then he called me to come out to where they were, and he said 'Would you still want her?'" I saw how her face as I began the phrase felt the blow. She said when she saw me on the beach and I got up and walked away she knew she'd never forget me. I said C is sentimental about it. We made an intimacy pill of it, she taking credit for her restraint. We were doing a little murder. It was a beautiful day but there was that in it and now I don't like it. I need her to defend me from C, and she needs me for that too. "We aren't lovers any more." Why is it C who feels it most? At night - confusion, the pouting girl. What is there in her to heal, as she's healing my deep wound. 'Ellie' wounded in her one life and what would it mean to heal that wound, would she be a better instrument to live in, a trailer, a mobile home - body. Mobile home, do a video with a fixed camera to see it. (C the antithesis warming in me.) (The ship that sang) [Anne McAffrey 1976 The ship who sang Ballantine] "You're going to have to find it in me too." "I know." The presence of the hot light in that time. Paul, when I told him about the smell of the gym and the 1947 school pictures. The streets in their glaze of heat and light rare autumn's soft powdery air, but cool and hot; tonight the great pleasure of coming out of the school to see the city spread orange, a viewpoint found, a monument and institution for seeing the evening (or morning) light - even the cars had a glory on them, Luke in red socks and sweater running through the dark blue air with a red white and blue ball. A charmed time. All day today a day like before dying, it was let in. At Hal's house in spring: Wain, Hal and Paul leaving their dreams on the tape recorder for later risers. The access they are. T's beautiful drawing, like Borges, two upside-down countries. - It's true? Fatal? That they are not lovers any more and I have the --- stone to hold, the stone to hold. C who is the most brilliant and the most lonely for all her quick charm, because she is like Roy and needs, more than she gets, who gets so much. Her lies, is there a way to clear them without taking over the records, and without doing only battle. [film list for imagined festival:
- [Women's festival at the YWCA camp on Bowen Island, intervenes] How it was at the festival - leaves, faces raining past, legs, breasts, clothes, a crazy fair, music, battle (learning the basic blows of 'self defense' I felt a craving for real bloody combat - tear his eyes out - especially breaking holds and getting out from a bearhug - delighted us - me and Ann), the prairie women and their music, who said I should work on mine - and it rang out this weekend, Lorine, Gizelle, other people coming to say they wanted to hear - Lorine setting up a mic - Lorine growing a massive trooper's beauty, the faces, Nellie drunk and babyish with babyfat Barb who is the new passion - Bonny in solidity like a building - her dome - the wildness of the young women - Lynn, tall, round-limbed, little beard and luminous eyes of Pan - music - Jane "I wanted to say I liked it when you sang along" - "I liked it when you sang along too." The circle this morning, bare chests, songs, the enclosed OHM, cameras to make us feel our mythological dimension. Talents beginning to flash - Po lurking in her bearbody dungarees and green hat, Maggie singing - the two women last night who went to the mic and did a beautiful scat together - the women wild at the drums. Dirty, singing a good resonant Onward Christian Soldiers coming off the ferry - motley and herd and I had no single intelligent conversation, except with Lorine - making oneself felt as a wider community, I was ashamed and I was thrilled. The canoes, the bending water rolling underneath, brilliance of reflections. No sharp light at all, obscurity, blue masses losing their hump into white cloud. No work, missed that. The four asleep in the lodge, feet toward the fire. Lorine's thigh, the woman's wide shouldered body dancing brown and slithery. I woke and touched myself. They were still carousing in the firelight. There were babies asleep on mattresses. Like an old village dance - rafters. At the ferry terminal, men looked either like women or like strange aliens - the vacuity of one of the women - a lot of mindlessness, and my fury - and then hearing a man behind me monotoning his superior knowledge of everything he saw or thought about. Talking to Lorine about our bond with the next to last lover - Marilyn - her lit face still gave me a little shock - her lover [Betsy] was friendly and curious, as if a story had been told. Luke - "your great kid" - flashing foot red sock red sweater witty Luke - hugs for Nellie. - A screw - yellow as the table - says LE - picked up on the street, left at Rhoda's - she laughed. - Hinges. A panel on hinges, two photographs different scales split - perspective versions - what slides into the crack. Hinges: butterfly, book, screen, window, angel, cabinet, double door, clam shell, inner thighs, hands, sandwich. Two screen doors making moiré. Creeley: What Zukofsky has done is to take distinctions of both ear and intelligence to a fineness that is difficult. I don't have an audience ... Cummings is speaking for almost a class. Habits and attitudes toward the line were really not only blocking the particular emotional intensity that I was working for, the whole way of speech is not true to the way I was thinking. Olsen wanted something that could encompass a whole cultural reality. Williams was more interested in a projected impression, but defined with all possible intelligence of that perception. - [Thanksgiving was Monday October 11 in 1976] The belly pain after the Thanksgiving party [at Renee's house] - "It's there in beginnings" - defeat because I could make no true gestures, except to wrestle with the kids and make them scream - pierced by beauty, cut into, enmarveled, by the beauty of the dark heavy people - Rhoda, Cheryl, Trudy, Don - Rhoda in her rumpled face, jiggly dance, layers of clothes - most - Cheryl and Trudy looked like scattered young girls next to her - wear, tear and freedom. "You wanted Rhoda!" said Trudy on the telephone, and I couldn't say and she didn't believe it but I did want Rhoda and who knew? Sorceress herself? Don? Jam says (Jam the Tibetan) quarks have 4 names: up down strange and charm. [first meeting with Jam Ismail] Olson - he wanted to see the organization of the poem become something more than an ego system. Wanted something that could encompass and deal with all the variability of presence in a total social organism. Organizations of intelligence. - Dreamed paintings with raised areas, like the ringworm ring. Next day saw photograph of patched canvas like that. What you are thinking about is constantly to try to articulate that responsibility which what you see demands. It's like going into a spin in a car - a technical awareness. Sufism and arete You've got to be utterly awake to recognize what is happening and to be responsible for all the things you must do before you can even recognize what their full significance is. Visual spirit - muscular spirit - Distress - slips and forgettings, the brain softening. Cage "the whole attention is centred on what an act is." Embarrassed with its own hope. - Paul's pictures of womenfolk: sisters, mother, grandmother, Auntie Mamie. The texture of their skin in my light of his age. Scope she said. I didn't say much, weak very soft passive fasting. Have to:
- She was obfuscating - T says "I don't respect her anymore." "Do you respect Rhoda? Yes you respect Rhoda." "You've let me see her in a way so I can leave her." Then she came and sat down beside me and I turned her inside out. She gloated.
The video I trust you, you know Do I seem as strange to you as you do to me? She was doing a number on me as they say Work out which is which She's been sheared but she's back Faster. I've got to be Build up the power, it will be war and secret love if anything I have to be there to bring you and Cheryl together It's true she anchors it to a place I can reach for me Her own place is somewhere else But familiarity brings it too Who are you, what are you wanting, how can you be stopped "There might be a day when we could all sit around the table and just talk, say what we know" Avid How hungry to have Comfortable only in power and very comfortable there Work here Work outside, give nothing up Work to originate, not to give up the origination Learn from but new to Indirection, fear, in proportion Hunger for magnificence Voice - having, losing, refinding Social work "I would look in the mirror and see someone so alien. You could pass for a woman." "I put my arm around him and put my hand inside his shirt to feel his nipples. I said 'I'm being very macho today.' He said 'I quite like it.'" "A squashed intimacy that got spread too far." "There hasn't been a day in ten years where Rhoda and I haven't seen each other." Imagine how it must build her. - Creeley says: poetry is human attention paid to the possibilities of human life. Form is what happens. The letter writing process as a work of getting further. - Writing a score for a movie - bars - base rhythm - accents. The way a thing was said would intimately declare what was being said. Projective verse - attempt to find the intimate form of what's being stated as it is being stated. "The quality of the emotion" Pound says, lasts. Thinking with the poem. People are "the most insistent and most demanding and most complex presence offered to me." Attempt to articulate some complex of feelings that are gained through the writing, and otherwise not. Grace. We're in a period when we need each other - won't always be so. How to address oneself to the act of writing. T said, and I will say, because it gave me back some picture of myself worthy, "in your beautiful voice." Reading the story about the sailor boy and the hawk, they didn't want to hear, but heard, laughed and smiled when it was read.
Was it fasting made me so mean with people at the hanging today? [Interart Co-op studio show]. No it was hysteria. A dizziness, which is like an erotic fix or brain fever, but erotic fever felt differently. We want to be close, we want to sleep together and wake together, that's the form, but as fucking it can't work - why Trudy who loves Cheryl won't sleep with her any more? I'm stopped. Isak Dinesen The sailor-boy's tale in Winter's tales - In the future will I still know the voices? "Her hunger for being, for being seen in every place; the way it makes people feel they are not. I didn't see it before." At first I could match her passion for passion and still can curiously. She's hot, Cheryly is. Blasted if she doesn't come, an energy reverses and burns her out. Blows her out. The lovely precision of voice and speech when it's right Setting down words like a waitress sets a table, nothing not right and each rings. A phenomenon, a sexed being And like me, in that, but where is it? My white fire
These are notes for someday Spiritual ambition Simone Weil Time to bring out my treasures The incandescence is She runs on sex, but what is sex? She sat on the park bench and cried and cried and then she said [to T] "I'm just going to love you until I don't. Do you like it if I love you?" and got through it. They, the queen, loving more than ever because Trudy has removed herself. The next remove could be - The I-I exercise in which you is not allowed. Made us think of our projections. Imagine a land in which it is spoken. Yoga - to be attached to "Work alone is your privilege." (Never the fruits thereof.) Freedom from delusion. I want to be thin and tight and supple, breasts to both be nice. Skin to be more alive I want to learn to sing Make my sex more alive to generate in me To make Candy's place To make the angel movie To write out of childhood To make the Mafalda movie To sell Trapline to Cinemateque and National Gallery To go to England To have a country connection To finish this kitchen To bring something to Candy out of what I'm given To not be pressured by T, C, Luke, Co-op - Cockroaches - gallant horses, swift walk, bannered, when alone. Little white ones shaken out of the steamer, squash my palm on them. Hearing my shadow move on their crack they raise their feelers and they wait tentative. When I discover them under the cutlery, a nest, old and their young, in a panic, refugees flooding into a hole, I pity them, and wipe them out. Their hiding places, the scale they force me to acknowledge, they make a complex of my cubby holes, they stroll on the picture rail. They are not at ease as they were, nesting under sheets of wallpaper. They live as close to the food, now, as they can, they raid even in daylight, it is water they are after, a drop on a spoon. When I miss they drop, let go, throw themselves to the floor. Who are they, what alien people. Curiosity. The muses. A nomadic, dry people. Needing juice. Of my neighbours they interest me most. Beleaguered people. - Art is all a mnemonic device ie makes us conscious - memory=consciousness. Intimacy Can hardly see / their bodies, their faces not at all Mythology in unfamiliarity The creation story is always beautiful
When they fall on their back they can't turn. Nervousness, sudden movements everywhere, my eye makes them, its own movements. High stepping gallant horses, moving slowly. When they sense their danger, speed like fish, flash. Ethnology of cockroaches, a research work Make the culture by assuming it understands The show: the monument collages, the two-color xerox, Red snapper and notes The woman on the bus, who holds her head back, and an umbrella and a purse above her face. "She got a fright one day" says T, "and now she can't look any more." "And now she does it for the whole city" says E. T gives her a quick look: they are radiant together for a second. Other radiant moments We choose too small 'stopping' Trudy - harps - devours - nags - define limits. Whenever I've loved Trudy, Cheryl begins to grow in me, I heard her voice just now. I'm disappointed in my connection with them. - we've been here before we've been here a long time before we've cried out desultory we've cried out insincere complaints we've not known what else to speak we've sat on the floor talking throughout all of Easter vacation we've lived together in splendid distress we've left and cried now we're salted in our flesh we're cured believe it we don't have to do any of those things there are ways to meet as equally tanned incidentally fragrant warriors dismounting from ponies at crossroads on a clean plain with a reach like air clouds boiling where we want them smiles on our faces black anger splitting into white teeth suddenly laughing that's what I like naming cautiously haughtily traveling the city unpacking subtle valises of pictures falling open like files scraping picture over picture acerbic joy of the small means - techné I love the word that hinges both ways. Told Luke adults and children have trouble living together because they need different things. The job of adults in relation to children is to feed and shelter them (the job of children in relation to adults is to enter a dialogue with them reminding them of what is real, original, hopeful.) To feed movies. 'Music,' 'phonetic sounds,' 'dance,' 'gesture and event,' 'game,' 'dream,' all the unstated gestures and ideas, images, that rise out of the thing. "Each moment is charged: each is at a point at which meaning is coming to surface." The aboriginal Old Woman Ethnomusicologist Story of a group of people whose language excludes them, their subsequent marginal but critical relation to culture. I am but I'm not.
Mia Kalavinka - "The choir and minor hockey," "thanks for the football game." What we heard when someone broke into the line. Cheryl soft so silky I want to send her telegrams bring gifts, the reach and entertainment (she's an entertainer like Roy) of her: have to work at have to work have to work have to work: C's message that I like to hear. Father and mother. She doesn't pretend to love she brings a close attention running with her their two heads turned sideways looking. Speed. The truth is I'm dazzled there enchanted with the hard flesh the secret parts the restored balance rocks extremely. Her tears elsewhere, she loves, somewhere - I want her for me, and there are no paths but my old tricks and the sudden openings I am brought to - the will and the glamour - the quick quick now I want to see them together and study the way they generate. She was right but I thought - Well then what do I know Something more elaborate We don't have to be stuck in plaint Something beautifully self-regulated Yet she loves because she was found seen stopped hunted out "A bit reserved and meticulously shaped, like a Virgo." In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained. They are not brethren; they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time. Henri Beston The outermost house Graves puts this on her film about camels Nancy Graves dir 1971 Isy Boukir Zoology, 'precocious' means well developed body at birth. Breaching After a storm, "a great sea, two hundred feet from crest to crest, is running as slick and silent as oil." To range - sonar detection by echo Oscilloscope Cavitation - sound made by bubbles rising in a liquid Thermocline - a sharp change in water density. Whales have been found with legs up to a yard long. Bones. Shearwaters, name of a bird. Five fingertips can be seen in embryo, merge to flipper. Also olfactory lobes though they disappear. Clitoris is in a slit flanked by nipples. Sperm whale's head - dome with spermaceti, a labyrinth of walls valves passages some free and others blind. 10 or 15 tons - is it a breathing reservoir that holds oxygen during long periods of submergence, or is it a resonator for miles of sound transmission. Pipes. Baffleboards stops and mutes. A whale hears an endless sea of sound. Aleutian Islands - volcanic, white cones with puffs of smoke and flame from banked fires, cinder fields and snow, sharp clean treeless windswept the home of foxes and birds. Kitchen middens, bones and spines A great wave rose silently from a trench off Uumiak. It climbed the cliffs and swept away the light and all the men, ninety two feet above the sea. in life rafts, with a Buddhist prayer a cloud of luminescent squid tests him with a quiet humming of her inner voice Imagine sleeping just submerged with black, wind and little lights. Amchitka Island refuge - in Aleutians Leaning against the current in a watery blue vault. Suddenly the light changed ... no more than 10' from his mask a great grey form was passing in utter silence. Came to the edge of the soup pot and let strange things swim up with bottled messages. The girl rides the whale. The 'surgeon' on ships - the poet/observer/eye Cockroaches 225 million years, before flowering plants 30-40 eggs in a casing, carried on abdomen until it finds a hiding place. Babies are white. in a conspicuous place where the larva will be close to food Eyes always look at the floor. Has a smell of bitter almond - sweat glands Spittle trails to home There is a kind that eats wood Paleozoic before dinosaurs - fossils from Carboniferous Now live in TV sets and refrigerator motors and electric clocks Most susceptible to spray from 4 pm 3500 species outdoors - up to two and a half inches 5 mo - 1 yr for our kind Usually has a 12 and 12 circadian rhythm Blood has lower freezing temp than water Oëtheca - the egg case, various nymph molts, last molt is wings, unused in most species, white. Cleans itself carefully Estranged lovers can be reunited if one puts a dead cockroach under the pillow of the other British make traps - marmalade jar with beer, peeled bananas and an anise seed solution Usually hatch within a few hours of dropping Splits - 2 rows of roaches facing each other Some can live very long without food Some of them can metabolize water Medicine Tactile hairs on tail filaments - antennae sensitive to air movement, avoids light even when blind or decapitated -
|