I count thirteen and that doesn’t include the outpost colony of orange marmalade and apricot preserves that live in the back of my refrigerator. Earlier posts in the series, going back to 2008, may be found at Poems and Poetics.This is a picture of the jam jars in my pantry. The index below is organized chronoloigally, starting with a post from May 20, 2012, when Poems and Poetics first appeared in Jacket2. I take this to be in the tradition of autonomous publication by poets, going back to Blake and Whitman and Dickinson, among numerous others.īooks available from the University of California PressĪmish Trivedi (amishdtrivedi gmail com) I will therefore be posting work of my own, both new & old, that may otherwise be difficult or impossible to access, and I will also, from time to time, post work by others who have been close to me, in the manner of a freewheeling on-line anthology or magazine.
#Poems about tidiness free
That despite all arguments to the contrary mutual aid, & to me a collaboration is nothing else but exactly this, is the dominant factor of life & not the crazy idea of an out of touch anarchist.”ĪBOUT POEMS AND POETICS: In this age of internet and blog the possibility opens of a free circulation of works (poems and poetics in the present instance) outside of any commercial or academic nexus. At the conclusion of his note he writes: “I do think that collaborations between people w/so-called different cultural backgrounds can show that human beings are very well able to coexist w/out the threat of violence & the display of power. The preceding, with an important note by Hyner selbst, was originally published in Sawako Nakayasu’s Factorial magazine in 2003. It is a collaboration, anyway, in which the two of us can work together & can co-exist as who we are. I remain interested, certainly, in how a common language or poetry breaks through in them, something with which I’m fully at ease, as I hope he is also. And the collaboration – the poems – went up to a certain point & never reached the scale that we had originally intended. At the time, if I remember correctly, the question of Israel & Palestine was in its Oslo phase, with Ariel Sharon & the second Intifada still in the shadows, so didn’t enter the poems as (for both of us) a deeply troubling issue. It was from those translations that the idea came to him for an exchange of poems that would allow us to carry our mutual concerns with issues of holocaust & human brutishness into the immediate present.
#Poems about tidiness series
He also took on the translation into German of some poems from my Holocaust-centered book, Khurbn, & its extension into a series of gematria-based poems, 14 Stations , published in 2000 by Ralf Zühlke’s Stadt Lichter Presse in Berlin. I was as much taken by his English poetry & his Buddhist practice & Chinese scholarship as by anything else I knew about him. Some of these concerns involved poets & friends we had in common, largely those around the poet & artist Franco Beltrametti, many of whom Stefan was then publishing in his largely English-language magazine Gate. I first met him sometime in the middle 1990s & felt an immediate friendship & a wide range of shared concerns. NOTE. Stefan Hyner is a poet of remarkable means, living where he grew up – in Brühl-Rohrhof, near Heidelberg – with connections & interconnections far beyond his original home. When we ask about the lesson of his death With his finger on the spring he brings them down It will be the way we saw him once & froze Until the other gauleiters come riding in Will leave the country bare without a trace Will still keep running as the rabbits will & the spray that cleans the flesh out of his teeth & no rabbit will escape the hunter’s trapīecause the murderers are there in every generation & such justice is the province of the powerful
The passion of this man to kill he reads as justice Until he drives his teeth into the other’s neckīut will say of him as it has always done
Of the dream….their motion thrusts them forward
#Poems about tidiness how to
How to keep the house clean, but at night In which a scream breaks forth at intervals Baldur von Schirach, Gauleiter of Vienna, at right, saluting
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