Harold Stanley-Oda, 2006-2008

RABBIT DIRT


Wakes me up to run
grassy fawning little dust
where he digs a hole
fig or gingko
it’s scaly on the back of my neck
the chewed corners of books
quietly in the grip
of a louder-type development
the head cocks and the eye
from the side of the head
implacable, as sea-green as dirt

equally biological
coffee spilt on the needlepoint birches
how is the being noble going?
It’s peopling questions.
The tomato horn worm;
when you cut it in half
it squirts green blood.
Our morning buzzards
between telephone and cypress
are the greased air;
the nose constantly
working a patched-together sense,
brokedown, of the scenario—
for once the mockingbird
is quieter than his wings.

To watch and watch and so
to turn and turn again
this desert view from all sides
more cool this year – I’m scared
it’s a form of respect I been working on
where twists the story
like his speed in leaping
could it be heard
the way we heard?
Respect’s not an easy hole to dig
to cancel a cancelling wind
timothy hay floats in the mug
the scene quivers foxtails
we were all having a sweat together
including the alley’s sumac
the heat left his ears
in food-destroying weather
full of slack translations
the weird creases bodies get
so much in my nose.

the best friends write the best books

the best people and the best poems,

jared's book will be on all our shelves! this is a suitable topic for venturing out on a blog promontory again.

jessica's book will be strewn atop our record collections! that could bring a person out.

in honor, and because i am reading bill luoma's works and days, i am thinking of some memory scraps of jessica and jared.

1. when i met jared, i thought he was a jerk because he was shouting and giving nicknames to bars. it turns out that he is kind (and spazzy) (and i am judgmental).

2. when i met jessica she was sitting on the floor surrounded by thousands of heaps of uncollated xeroxes she was putting in packets one by one by one.

3. when i met jessica and we became friends it was in the library and she was at the water fountain wearing tiny running shorts and a san antonio t-shirt with a ram's head.

4. jared would wear a t-shirt with a sheepdog head.

5. jessica, who used to not have a phone and used to not have the internet and eventually coped with it by having it be a game called the INTERNET (like OFFICE was a game for working) now has an ebay store.

6. jared has and has had a mega-domestic space like duncan and jess, fiestaware.

7. jessica showcases arrangements, like 70s moods distilled on dressers and tables, similar to her mix tapes, and reminiscent of her ebay store.

8. i asked jared if california was 'dusty' and 'golden'. jared said yes and steve said no.

9. jared's ongoing mark e. smith impression

10. jd savitz - asceticism, beer; buttered mac n cheese fervor.

12 - hey amorist, tune your radio to 84.6!

--lauren

Dream

In my dream last night, I came to a city in Northern England, which was intensely orderly, and was on a beach, and which I could see from above - the streest were grids of evergreen shrubbery. Anyway, Mer and I came to the place, and were hanging out with this British couple in T-Shirts. We were in a room with that sickly yellow flourescent interior lights, and we could see lots of blemishes. The British couple took us to a bookstore, and on the way to the bookstore, someone in a trench coat slipped a photocopied sheaf into my hand and kept walking in the other direction. The document consisted of photocopied pages from a book - it was an article from an academic journal, a review of Mrs. Maybe #1. The author's first name began with an M, which is all I can remember - I was mortified - the review had numbered points it wanted to make about Mrs. Maybe. But now I can't remember what the review said. It started out bad, and got much better, that's what I remember.

Later, we went to the beach. I rudely pushed some dowager over on the promenade because she wasn't making room for our beach chairs. I immediately felt guilty. We saw two dolphins swimming in the shallows - they were being chased by a mako and a hammerhead, which were in turn being chased by a golden eagle and a black hawk - (these last two were swimming). The water was clear.

-Jared

And This Skull, Reading on Friday, New Book Just Out

Um, Motherfuckin', yeah, Hell Yeah: Dear Jack is upon us

Scott Inguito & The Sonneteers (Ben & Sandra Doller)

Friday, December 5, 7:30 p.m.

Scott Inguito lives in San Francisco, teaches in San Jose, and paints in his garage. His most recent project is called PANDAFUCK, a suite of poems inspired by the pointless, the ill-tuned yet well-intentioned, the black and white of it all. Dear Jack (2008), a book of poems, is out on Momotombo Press. You can find his paintings at scottinguito.com

Sandra Doller (née Miller) has a new name. Her first book Oriflamme was published by Ahsahta Press in 2005, and her second collection Chora is forthcoming from Ahsahta in 2010. Sandra Doller is the founder & editrice of a fancy magazine & press, the curiously named 1913. She teaches at Cal State San Marcos and lives way out west with her man, Ben Doller (né Doyle) and their pup Ronald Johnson.

Ben Doller (né Doyle)’s first book of poems, Radio, Radio, was selected by Susan Howe as winner of the 2000 Walt Whitman Award. His second book, FAQ:, will be published by Ahsahta Press in 2009, and his third book, Dead Ahead, is forthcoming from Fence Books. He co-edits the Kuhl House Contemporary Poets series and teaches in Antioch’s Low-Res MFA program. Wherever he lives, he lives with his lady, Sandra Doller (née Miller) and their boxador, Ronald Johnson.