Just When

I did my annual look in the mirror (to see what is behind me-literal and metaphor) it seems I woke up with another grey hair!

We Are All One!



Phew! “That’s Tommy Little…the lad there he had a kidney transplant…This fella is a referee, a footballer and he trains during the season by running backwards down the road…now, here is the mooddy pahtch….Watch him throw his bike!…He’s the driver for the brewery, and I think he might need a pint….there’s Tommy Little….This here isn’t the proper crossing, someone moved it earlier, um, your’s truly…” Good stuff!

y y tu

Performed by Kwan Sahn Sunim:

mun jong-song
bon-ne dan
ji-hye jang
bo-ri saeng
ni-ji ok
chul sam-gye
won song-bul
do jung-saeng
pa ji-ok jin-on

om ga-ra ji-ya sa-ba-ha
om ga-ra ji-ya sa-ba-ha
om ga-ra ji-ya sa-ba-ha

Hearing the sound of the bell,
all thinking is cut off.
Wisdom grows, enlightenment appears;
hell is left behind.
The three worlds are transcended.
Vowing to become Buddha
and save all people.

The mantra of shattering hell:
om ga-ra ji-ya sa-ba-ha
om ga-ra ji-ya sa-ba-ha
om ga-ra ji-ya sa-ba-ha

Now it’s Chlorine

Searching for a way to access some tears that have been in my brain and distracting me this tsunami week, I even wince(d) while
reading Langston Hughes’ “Let America Be America Again”.
There’s got to be a way at those tears.
Finally, my eyes float in their socket- more than from their muscles, more like from a haunting.
Moving water and still water:
There is a saying of the Tao: “One can never
step in the same river twice.”
Laying in a bath of Epsom salts and glycerin, I can still find no way to those tears.

I can smell sulfur. This is from its’ percolation and dissolution into the water table through the winter- down- then into the pipes
that run water into the houses.
Instead, I find a group of words from Mary Oliver that make them no longer necessary:
“Each form sets a tone, enables a destiny, strikes a note in the universe unlike any other…I have made for myself, out of work and
love, a handsome life…And I did not give to anyone the responsibility for my life…And can do whatever I want to with it. Live it. Give it back, someday, without bitterness, to the wild and weedy dunes.”
pgs. 69 and 70-
And unfortunately not excerpted in Google Books, but you can read a good protion of the book there:

Pound & Worth

Lyn Ciampa

English 2030



“”Boy with Down’s syndrome on Subway with Women” after Walker Evans” (2011)

Sketch By Christopher Worth


 “In a Station of the Metro” (1913)

  Poem by Ezra Pound

           ” The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
             petals on a wet, black bough.”

How we see can determine, or at least can be a big part of, what we see.

These 2 pieces were chosen for their asceticism and because the black lines of the sketch are absolutely reflected in the black lines of the poem. Both convey an emotion. Which emotion? That is not obvious and that is the creative part of what is offered. In effect, that is what the muse does to an artist. A thought, a feeling, a sound, a smell, an image is offered and then translated. And these 2 artists did that very effectively with these 2 pieces.

Again-The emotion?  Maybe, several emotions simultaneously. Worth’s sketch brings in graphite a scene being expressed (as expressed?) by the subjects, drawn by the artist, and then offered to the viewer which leads us directly to emotion.

 Pound’s poem only implied a scene, drawn though with words, and then offered to the viewer. That an emotion was there somewhere.  But only for the Pound hisself? Then why did he publish it? What is he hoping we see? What does he wish to offer us?

In Worth’s sketch we see 2 people- very different people- with an implication of place in the lines behind them. These lines extrapolate that the people are in a physical place. That they exist and this place is part of their being there. Compositionally, the lines give a spatial and corporeal reference: The place (the lines) is of the scene as well. And that is all we are told and all we need to know. Our focus can be on the reality of the 2 people.  And there is a harmony between them expressed as an unspoken dialogue. We do not worry or fret about what they are looking at. We are not excited or curious about what they are looking at. It may not be the case, they might be on their way to the dentist office or waiting on their way to sit on the defendant’s bench at a courthouse, they might be anxious or worried, and if they are, then they are anxious or worried together and that is emotion, and that emotion is contentment (What simply “is”) or simply awareness (vigilance and strength).

     Ezra pound’s poem is also about being in a subway (The metro in Paris). And about people’s faces in that station. He offers us petals (colorless) on a branch darkened with moisture. Wet from rain? The people’s tears? Wet from the freshly watered flower petals of a bouquet the people are carrying? This emotion is discontent. He calls the human subjects of the poem “apparitions’ and “faces in a crowd” the poem itself is a miniature, it is only 2 lines. (Same as the two lines behind the human subjects in Worth’s sketch.) What Pound does with those 2 lines is present us with a large ambiguous subject: The viewer. And we are left still, as a viewer with only implications of what was there, what the author saw.

      What Worth does is take that large ambiguous subject and presents it to us as slice in case we missed it. They are still faces in the crowd, but the faces in Worth’s sketch are living- they have a past, present and a future. Pound’s piece presents us only with the present. The faces disappear then reappear as metaphor as quickly as the poem, in one single breath; Apparitions-, ghost-like, transient and only the author of the poem remains in the place. And only the author remembers the faces. Or does he? What the author remembers is the metaphor and remembers seeing flower petals on a wet branch in his mind’s eye.  Worth shows us what he saw and offers it to the viewer’s mind’s eye. Both Worth and Pound offer their sketches of people on a subway train in black and white then step back and allow us to consider exactly how they saw that day.

Good Stuff: Daniel Lanois’s Black Dub Band

Open up your transmission
I’m sitting on the outside of evolution
No need to feel sad
I got to be glad
I got to know the price of the path I chose
The way the nomad knows

Shaking and rattling these chains
I got so much hard work to sustain
I got to burn to feel the heat
I got to walk to know my street
I got to move to what goes
The way the nomad knows
The way the nomad knows

I put on my old coat
I wear my broken arrow
Something’s got to flow
Through this death and sorrow
I may fall from the trapeze
But I will land down on my knees
I got to sing with praise, and roll the daily blows
The way the nomad knows
The way the nomad knows

Spirit rising from the ground
It never lets me sleep
I’ve got to go down there
It’s going to be deep
I got to learn to love my sender
My job is here as a receiver
Till my bones come to some repose
The way the nomad knows
The way the nomad knows

Skin is feeling, feeling the ghost
I got to move to some other coast
I feel I want to dance, tear away my clothes
The way the nomad knows
The way the nomad knows
The way the nomad knows

Well, I feel good, yeah, just like I knew I would

It was this song I first heard  two days ago and thought,  “Whoa, I like this!”

*No lyrics required- Enjoy simply:)