(26th March 2010)
Bilkent Center REAL
I’m writing to you in this weather
among buckets of bumble bees
it is better to know my people
these leopard skins
are not my people
tumbling out warm
with the cosmic absurdists
a prophet’s ten minutes of satire
when will you cool your heels?
there’s a bird on your shoulder
that whispers goodbye
donkey eyes
plum eyes
olive eyes
violin eyebrows
strawberry hips
apple tongue
hazelnut nose
I’m heading to the roaring Bosphorous
pockets full of mercurial evidence
a metal tray of endless love
Venus rising in the hood of my penis
a wind puffs up for 24 hour shopping
on account of the frame
there is loose hair in my thickets
have fingers and know how to use them
I’m kissing the lipless
31 March 2010
Primitive Pianos (revised draft)
my Irish pores are breaking
into the cold green waters
the cold muddy froth
father father I hear
the turnips preparing
in their ground
by the pale muddy
waters waters
we sink like any
old stone
into the cold green waters
the cold muddy froth
father father I hear
the turnips preparing
in their ground
by the pale muddy
waters waters
we sink like any
old stone
Olympos (second draft)
Olympos
(1 March 2010)
on the wet floors
of the rocks
of the rocks
on the wet floors
grayed steps
lighting sheets
stone steps
stone steps
boulders
stone steps
heat and oil
a place of
eternal torches
we were cold
we were cold
it was raining
we were cold
a place of stones
and rocks
and rain
loud slaps from the dark sky
loud slaps over the Mediterranean
and these torches
these torches
among the rocks
these eternal torches
among the rocks
a place of ruins
a place of Roman ruins
decayed columns
fallen columns
crumbling columns
the beginning of the end
of a new relationship
amid thorns
amid forking paths
amid frogs
amid one chilled out
sunbathing turtle
splayed legs
leathery head
shell slightly cracked
softer softer softer
than i had imagined
waded in
waded in
the Mediterranean
the Mediterranean
the Mediterranean
watched others
wade
further
(1 March 2010)
on the wet floors
of the rocks
of the rocks
on the wet floors
grayed steps
lighting sheets
stone steps
stone steps
boulders
stone steps
heat and oil
a place of
eternal torches
we were cold
we were cold
it was raining
we were cold
a place of stones
and rocks
and rain
loud slaps from the dark sky
loud slaps over the Mediterranean
and these torches
these torches
among the rocks
these eternal torches
among the rocks
a place of ruins
a place of Roman ruins
decayed columns
fallen columns
crumbling columns
the beginning of the end
of a new relationship
amid thorns
amid forking paths
amid frogs
amid one chilled out
sunbathing turtle
splayed legs
leathery head
shell slightly cracked
softer softer softer
than i had imagined
waded in
waded in
the Mediterranean
the Mediterranean
the Mediterranean
watched others
wade
further
more rough drafts from Ankara
(24th March 2010)
Kizilay
gule gule gule
evet evet evet
I’m glued
I’m glued to your
curly wurly
yr gay
dancing
late night in Kizilay
the _______ is a body
of a lover we have
never loved
there is space
there are cells
there is space
there are patterns
there are many birds
oh my freckled arms
oh my nerve fibres
how spring comes
charming and funny
the Nikes are golden green
Kizilay
gule gule gule
evet evet evet
I’m glued
I’m glued to your
curly wurly
yr gay
dancing
late night in Kizilay
the _______ is a body
of a lover we have
never loved
there is space
there are cells
there is space
there are patterns
there are many birds
oh my freckled arms
oh my nerve fibres
how spring comes
charming and funny
the Nikes are golden green
24 March 2010
18 March 2010
Primitive Pianos
I dream this city
this city this city
of primitive
pianos
icy millions tell me so
tell me tell me oh
pulled tooth
pulled tooth
that left a hole a hole
my my my
uncooked trial
a jig with Roman wrestlers
a jig with Irish diplomats
my Irish pores are breaking
into the cold green waters
the cold muddy froth
father father I hear
the turnips preparing
in their ground
by the pale muddy
waters waters
we sink like any
old stone
21 March 2010
rough drafts
17 March 2010
Monday I drifted away
Tuesday I hung from a tree
my tooth was pulled
there is a hole
I dreamt that I was real
Monday I drifted away
Tuesday I hung from a tree
my tooth was pulled
there is a hole
I dreamt that I was real
19 March 2010
live from Ankara
19 March 2010
hot hot hot underlings
i love you flashy ways
I love your punting cycles
and riddles in the wings
and the whiffs of yonder phallus
I’m yanking out your daffy dills
imagine this: imagine this
I’ve opened up my lids
and this is what I see
pawns and pawns and pawns
yawning in their faculties
hot hot hot underlings
i love you flashy ways
I love your punting cycles
and riddles in the wings
and the whiffs of yonder phallus
I’m yanking out your daffy dills
imagine this: imagine this
I’ve opened up my lids
and this is what I see
pawns and pawns and pawns
yawning in their faculties
16 March 2010
ahhhh sometimes I wish I were still in North Carolina
This Thursday (3/18), the Duke Poetry Working Group will reconvene to discuss the work of J. H. Prynne, a poet whose influences and influence position him at the crux of poetry's avant-garde milieu. Please join us as we set out to register the immensity of his utterance.
You can access the readings we will be discussing here: http://english.duke.edu/research/poetry-working-group
Duke Poetry Working Group: J. H. Prynne
Thurs. 3/18 5:45
Continuing our discussion of textualized sound, our second meeting this semester will focus on the sonic and phonic concerns of renowned British poet and critic J.H. Prynne. Conversant with Romantic, late Modernist and Chinese poetic traditions, Prynne occupies a singular space in contemporary literature. Helping us find our way into that space will be Erik Ulman’s recent essay “Composing with Prynne” in which Ulman, a classically trained musician, interprets the poet’s work through the practice of musical translation. After listening to Ulman’s arrangements of Prynne’s “L'Extase de M. Poher” and “Thoughts on the Esterházy Court Uniform,” we will turn our attention to Prynne’s own essay, “Mental Ears and Poetic Work,” which elaborates on the function of sound and signification in poetic comprehension. Please join us for what we hope will be a rousing conversation.
Readings:
Select poems of J.H. Prynne
Erik Ulman’s “Composing with Prynne” essay from Search: Journal for New Music and Culture.
J.H. Prynne’s “Mental Ears and Poetic Work” essay from Chicago Review.
Supplemental Reading:
J.H. Prynne’s “Stars, Tigers and the Shape of Words” essay (an especially hard to find work)
Please RSVP if you plan to attend, so we don't under or over shoot on the food. Folks from all fields and disciplines are welcome.
You can access the readings we will be discussing here: http://english.duke.edu/research/poetry-working-group
Duke Poetry Working Group: J. H. Prynne
Thurs. 3/18 5:45
Continuing our discussion of textualized sound, our second meeting this semester will focus on the sonic and phonic concerns of renowned British poet and critic J.H. Prynne. Conversant with Romantic, late Modernist and Chinese poetic traditions, Prynne occupies a singular space in contemporary literature. Helping us find our way into that space will be Erik Ulman’s recent essay “Composing with Prynne” in which Ulman, a classically trained musician, interprets the poet’s work through the practice of musical translation. After listening to Ulman’s arrangements of Prynne’s “L'Extase de M. Poher” and “Thoughts on the Esterházy Court Uniform,” we will turn our attention to Prynne’s own essay, “Mental Ears and Poetic Work,” which elaborates on the function of sound and signification in poetic comprehension. Please join us for what we hope will be a rousing conversation.
Readings:
Select poems of J.H. Prynne
Erik Ulman’s “Composing with Prynne” essay from Search: Journal for New Music and Culture.
J.H. Prynne’s “Mental Ears and Poetic Work” essay from Chicago Review.
Supplemental Reading:
J.H. Prynne’s “Stars, Tigers and the Shape of Words” essay (an especially hard to find work)
Please RSVP if you plan to attend, so we don't under or over shoot on the food. Folks from all fields and disciplines are welcome.
13 March 2010
12 March 2010
as IF!!!
How are you? i hope all is well with you, i hope you may not know me, and i don't know who you are, My Name is Miss T, i am just broswing now i just saw your profile it seams like some thing touches me all over my body, i started having some feelings in me which i have never experience in me before, so i became interested in you, l will also like to know you the more,and l want you to send an email
10 March 2010
quote of the day
If Margaret Thatcher wins on Thursday–
- I warn you not to be ordinary
- I warn you not to be young
- I warn you not to fall ill
- I warn you not to get old.
- I warn you not to be ordinary
- I warn you not to be young
- I warn you not to fall ill
- I warn you not to get old.
blood in the hole . . . .
coming up
only to show your own
my boat has resurfaced
I am not a careerist
I am not your bunion
the radiant dark is my new
rehearsal
oh
honey turns to stone
don't flee
from being
whacked upside
the head
i've set out tonight
to some new place
only to show your own
my boat has resurfaced
I am not a careerist
I am not your bunion
the radiant dark is my new
rehearsal
oh
honey turns to stone
don't flee
from being
whacked upside
the head
i've set out tonight
to some new place
9 March 2010
blackbox manifold
some terrific poems in the new Blackbox Manifold. Including poems from Jim Goar's new ms The Dustbowl:
Blackbox Manifold
Blackbox Manifold
8 March 2010
Journey to Olympos
1 March 2010
we reached the campsites at Olympos with modern hippies in this place of treehouses and roosters and backpackers MGMT playing on a mobile phone it rained and rained and lightning sheeted over the Med over the Roman ruins on the other side of the river we walked toward the rocks of eternal fire crossed the flowing stream crossing through villages and headscarfed houses in bare feet my feet dangling down away from my own private exodus my own private Egypt on the wet floors of the rocks of the rocks the rocks were grayed out steps with occasional lighting sheets and monsoon like rains as we climbed the stone steps the stones and boulders arranged around the fire heat and oil a place of eternal torches a place of stones and rocks and rain
we were cold
we were cold
it was raining and there were sheets and sheets
of lightning over the Mediterranean
loud slaps from the dark sky
and these torches these torches
among the rocks
these eternal torches among the rocks
we reached the place of ruins
the place of Roman ruins
decayed columns
fallen columns
sinking Roman baths
what conversations did they have among these rocks?
What inner chatter told me of my own forking path
the beginning of the end of a new relationship
amid thorns and forking paths amid frogs amid one chilled out
sunbathing turtle splayed legs leathery head shell slightly cracked
softer softer softer than i had imagined
and the following day after we walked back to the Mediterranean
the Mediterranean
waded in watched others wade further
lost money ate Turkish delight
and we took the bus back up
the winding road up and around and
up and around
and then a nice fresh OJ
and another bus into Antalya
into the clean city full of life
full of life and the sea and the sea
continued its rhythm behind
us as we gunned around looking
for our kamel coach for a midnight
ride back to Ankara and found a
bar with closed curtains and mafia types
and one washed up
Russian prostitute and suited men
watching the room
loud Turkish music almost a tavern without
the friendly
shadows struts and suits and mock turtlenecks
so we bumbled out
a tad more serious in our conversations
and plans
with our strong gin and tonics
wagging our tongues
into the night
shaking our heads at cafes and restaurant owners
saying “Guten Abend
mein friend” and “come come
come for another”
we reached the campsites at Olympos with modern hippies in this place of treehouses and roosters and backpackers MGMT playing on a mobile phone it rained and rained and lightning sheeted over the Med over the Roman ruins on the other side of the river we walked toward the rocks of eternal fire crossed the flowing stream crossing through villages and headscarfed houses in bare feet my feet dangling down away from my own private exodus my own private Egypt on the wet floors of the rocks of the rocks the rocks were grayed out steps with occasional lighting sheets and monsoon like rains as we climbed the stone steps the stones and boulders arranged around the fire heat and oil a place of eternal torches a place of stones and rocks and rain
we were cold
we were cold
it was raining and there were sheets and sheets
of lightning over the Mediterranean
loud slaps from the dark sky
and these torches these torches
among the rocks
these eternal torches among the rocks
we reached the place of ruins
the place of Roman ruins
decayed columns
fallen columns
sinking Roman baths
what conversations did they have among these rocks?
What inner chatter told me of my own forking path
the beginning of the end of a new relationship
amid thorns and forking paths amid frogs amid one chilled out
sunbathing turtle splayed legs leathery head shell slightly cracked
softer softer softer than i had imagined
and the following day after we walked back to the Mediterranean
the Mediterranean
waded in watched others wade further
lost money ate Turkish delight
and we took the bus back up
the winding road up and around and
up and around
and then a nice fresh OJ
and another bus into Antalya
into the clean city full of life
full of life and the sea and the sea
continued its rhythm behind
us as we gunned around looking
for our kamel coach for a midnight
ride back to Ankara and found a
bar with closed curtains and mafia types
and one washed up
Russian prostitute and suited men
watching the room
loud Turkish music almost a tavern without
the friendly
shadows struts and suits and mock turtlenecks
so we bumbled out
a tad more serious in our conversations
and plans
with our strong gin and tonics
wagging our tongues
into the night
shaking our heads at cafes and restaurant owners
saying “Guten Abend
mein friend” and “come come
come for another”
6 March 2010
hm . . . .
Excellence vs. Perfection
_____________________________
Perfection is being right.
Excellence is being willing to be wrong.
_____________________________
Perfection is fear.
Excellence is taking a risk
_____________________________
Perfection is anger and frustration.
Excellence is powerful
_____________________________
Perfection is control
Excellence is spontaneous
_____________________________
Perfection is judgement
Excellence is accepting
_____________________________
Perfection is taking
Excellence is giving
_____________________________
Perfection is doubt
Excellence is confidence
_____________________________
Perfection is pressure
Excellence is natural
_____________________________
Perfection is the destination
Excellence is the journey
_____________________________
-author unknown
_____________________________
Perfection is being right.
Excellence is being willing to be wrong.
_____________________________
Perfection is fear.
Excellence is taking a risk
_____________________________
Perfection is anger and frustration.
Excellence is powerful
_____________________________
Perfection is control
Excellence is spontaneous
_____________________________
Perfection is judgement
Excellence is accepting
_____________________________
Perfection is taking
Excellence is giving
_____________________________
Perfection is doubt
Excellence is confidence
_____________________________
Perfection is pressure
Excellence is natural
_____________________________
Perfection is the destination
Excellence is the journey
_____________________________
-author unknown
4 March 2010
more rough drafts from Ankara
25th Feb 2010
in my family bones
are many mansions
a reek of vows
my mind is a
would be keeper
set adrift
in a wonky boat
I see this Edenic
dark this
close chill
on the horizon
in fact in facto
i’m gorged out
on white cheese and constantly
looking for the molten god
of freedom
femdom referendum
do you have
your Duende pack?
I have a positive
thinking rash
in my family bones
are many mansions
a reek of vows
my mind is a
would be keeper
set adrift
in a wonky boat
I see this Edenic
dark this
close chill
on the horizon
in fact in facto
i’m gorged out
on white cheese and constantly
looking for the molten god
of freedom
femdom referendum
do you have
your Duende pack?
I have a positive
thinking rash
politics and photography in Ankara, Egypt etc.
Made a new friend from Egypt in Ankara last night. Some good photography and blogging on the political situation(s) in Ankara. Check it:
Photography
Boraie's Blog
Photography
Boraie's Blog
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