hi ho silver

chopping up the art
is called
staying alive
in this crappy greedy world

guess my handlers
chose the right medium
when they bought my clay
and wrapped it in
silver neither here nor there

Fresh '85

__________________

1985

The Last Suppercalifragilisticexpialidocious (1988)

under the spineless exoskeleton of umbrella
casting a magic three-poster bed
            ol'wifebeater with frank's incense
            bastard imp packing myrrh 
            nasty mooded spirit in a manger,
moicy squeezed out a picture perfect poppins
poptard of god

                    biting the dry crustmas cord
          she got to the blood filling
of the son, and exclaimed why he's 

super(glued to my boob
-kali(destroyer
-fra(brother bother
-gee(whillikers
-elitist(nabob
         -ex-pee
            -ally
                -dosaage!

up thru the chim chim chimknees
of the third world,
sparkly in robes of stainless stolens

it's the john travolta of birth la ham
it's the spitty image of a mobster pope 
it's the retailer of murky waters at lourdes oklahoma
no   no   no, a dozen saints no!

it's supercon
hiding his face like a capitalistic missiletoe
in mountains of naive faith




5-23-88
kansas
going strait to hell!

            

Ruth barefoot in the garden

Mom, home in Stillwater Ok
1977
_________

"Ruth (/ruːθ/; Hebrew: רוּת, Modern: Rut, Tiberian: Rūθ), is the title character of the Book of Ruth. In the narrative, she is not an Israelite but rather is from Moab; she marries an Israelite. Both her husband and her father-in-law die, and she helps her mother-in-law, Naomi, find protection. The two of them travel to Bethlehem together, where Ruth wins the love of Boaz through her kindness.

She is one of five women mentioned in the genealogy of Jesus found in the Gospel of Matthew, alongside Tamar, Rahab, the "wife of Uriah" (Bathsheba), and Mary."

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruth_(biblical_figure)

Mickey

Ho ho ho

FBK Navalny

"The Anti-Corruption Foundation (Russian: Фонд борьбы с коррупцией (Fond Borby s Korruptsiyey), abbr. ФБК, FBK) is a Russian nonprofit organization based in Moscow established in 2011 by activist and politician Alexei Navalny.

Its main goal is to investigate and to expose corruption cases among high-ranking Russian government officials. Its distinguishing feature is that it is funded by private donations from Russian citizens. Among other activities, the foundation publishes movies on YouTube about corruption of Russian officials, such as Chaika and He Is Not Dimon to You.

FBK carries out investigations into corruption by Russian authorities. They are taking measures to prevent stealing of budget money. FBK also helps people make sure that authorities work correctly to provide normal conditions in the field of utilities sector, transport, roadways, elections, etc."
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anti-Corruption_Foundation

"FBK has made the following films:

Chaika, 2015 film about corruption of Prosecutor General of Russia Yury Chaika;

He Is Not Dimon to You, 2017 film about umpteen properties used by Prime Minister of Russia Dmitry Medvedev.

Yachts, oligarchs, girls: a hunter for men exposes a bribe taker, 2018 film about informal relations between Russian businessman Oleg Deripaska and member of the Russian government Sergei Prikhodko, as well as possible sexual relations between Sergei Prikhodko and an employee of the escort agency Anastasia Vashukevich."


_____________

"Mr Navalny, Russia's most prominent unelected opposition figure, has waged a campaign for more than a decade against corruption and is a sharp critic of Mr Putin's rule.

The FBK was declared a "foreign agent" by the Russian justice ministry in October, making it subject to more checks by the authorities."

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-50912822


***Published 12/25/19 11:47 PST
_________


Dec. 26, 2019 at 8:46 a.m. PST

MOSCOW — In Russian authorities’ latest crackdown this week on Kremlin critics, opposition leader Alexei Navalny’s Anti-Corruption Foundation office was raided Thursday, just days after one of his top aides was suddenly conscripted and sent to a desolate base in the Arctic.

Navalny, who was barred from running in Russia’s 2018 presidential election, said on Twitter that he was dragged out of the office before eventually being allowed to return.

 In the moments before his brief detention, Navalny live-streamed the raid as police used power tools to saw through the door."


https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/europe/raids-and-conscription-how-russian-authorities-have-cracked-down-on-kremlin-critics-this-week/2019/12/26/206ed67a-27c6-11ea-9c21-2c2a4d2c2166_story.html

pre-MODERN FEMINIST CONCEPTS IN THE POETRY OF BROWNING AND YEATS

pre-MODERN FEMINIST CONCEPTS IN THE POETRY OF BROWNING AND YEATS


     Although Robert Browning and William Butler Yeats come from different time periods in British literature, they share similar insight into the relationships of men and women. Browning's ways of expressing his opinion in poetry were very modern, ushering in the 20th century. His method of speaking in the guise of an adopted voice must have confused many of his readers and peers. The combination of this different method with his progressive insight into the changing roles of women make for some very interesting poetry.

     Yeats must have known of Browning's poetry as a young poet and student. As a twentieth century poet, Yeats faced less pressure to write traditionally, both in style and subject matter. While his poetry tends to be more sexually open than Browning's, it is not necessarily as radical. They were, however, both writing in periods in which women were openly mentioned as inferior, both intellectually and morally. Both poets show women to be victims, as well as compelling figures.  In comparing Yeats's and Browning's poetry side by side, we can see a common interest in the ever-changing relationships between women and men, and their roles in society.

     Browning and Yeats each identify the beauty of women as being crucial in understanding their relationship with men and society. Beauty for women is seen as being both a valuable resource and a double-edged sword. Both poets see the power a beautiful woman possesses, and they identify the potential for self-destructiveness as well as its potential to be exploited by men.

     In Yeats's poem "When You are Old," we see these paradoxical elements of beauty. The opening stanza describes a woman in her later years, slowed to a pace of restfulness, and the narrator then asks her to remember her glorious past: men who "...loved your beauty with false love or true,/ But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you/ And loved the sorrows of your changing face(l.6-8)." The narrator implies that he loved her for reasons other than her beauty, and those that loved her only for her beauty left when she aged. In the poem, now, she must content herself to think on a true love of the past. The self destructive element is seen. Loved only for a beauty of youth, she is left lonely and betrayed by her own self-mage.

     In another of Yeats's poems, "For Anne Gregory," we see a young woman who is being warned by someone who has possibly learned a bitter lesson. An experienced person offers the flattering warning that "Never shall a young man/....Love you for yourself alone/ and not your yellow hair(l.5,6)." The young, inexperienced girl questions rather humorously whether she could dye her hair so "young men in despair" could accept her for whatever inner qualities and virtues she might possess. The final stanza uses Biblical support to "prove" that "...only God, my dear/ Could love you for yourself alone/ And not for your yellow hair(l.16-18)." In using the bible to support a sexist, antiquated notion, Yeats is summoning the responsibility of society to define its own precepts. If a good Christian cannot love a beautiful girl for reasons other than her beauty, then what kind of world do we live in? The young woman of this poem is destined to be a victim of her beauty, raised to cherish her appearance, and live a life based on a fallacy and illusion.

     In "Porphyria's Lover," written by Browning almost a hundred years prior to Yeats's sad tale of his yellow haired lass, we see another woman with yellow hair that seems to be a symbol of feminine beauty. The lunatic voice in "Porphyria's Lover" is that of a domineering, vain male, who kills his lover to capture her beauty for eternity. When she comes into his room, she is sopping wet from the rain. He livens up at her arrival, but it is merely the glow of pride at having his woman home. She is seductive and appealing but he shuns her to notice her love for him. She spreads her yellow hair over him and he tells us that she is too weak to "...set its struggling passion free/ From pride, and vainer ties dissever,/ And give herself to me forever(l.l.123-5)." She is judged as vain by the man, but it is is vanity. He continues, declaring that

                                    ...happy and proud; at last I knew
                                      Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
                                      Made my heart swell, and still it grew
                                      While I debated what to do.
                                      That moment she was mine, mine, fair, and perfectly pure...(l.32-37)

     How can she be "weak, vain, full of pride," yet be "perfectly pure?" It is here evident that he is crazy. He strangles her with with her symbolic hair, preserving her beauty forever, but kills her. In domination of the woman and what she represents, the man satisfies his vanity and nothing happens to him as a result: "...all night long we have not stirred,/And yet God has not said a word(l.59,60." As in "For Anne Gregory," Christianity serves as the symbol of a society which does nothing to change the hollow ideals of aesthetic worth.

     In Browning's poem, "My Last Duchess," we see further evidence of the vain, possessive male whose appreciation of art's beauty surpasses the appreciation of his wife's allure. As the title of the poem suggests, the aristocratic duke  considers  his wife to be a possession in a line of many. Drawing aside a curtain, he shows that all remains of his wife: a memory recorded. The duke immediately begins to interpret the painting as proof of her infidelity, pointing out a blush on her cheek. He describes her as being flirtatious by saying that "She had/ A heart---how shall I say?--- too soon made glad./ too easily impressed; she liked what'er/ She looked on, and her looks went everywhere(l.20-23)."As he goes on, her innocence and love of life is evident. The duke's unfounded jealousy taints all his perceptions of her until he is convinced of her being unfaithful. He explains to his visitor that he could have questioned her, but chose not to because "...E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose/Never to stoop(l.42,43)." So he brags that he had her killed.

     As with Porphyria, this Duchess is young, sensual, and seemingly innocent. Both men are vain to the point of saturation; their egos allow a dysfunctional reasoning and they commit violent acts. At the poem's conclusion, the Duke tells the Count's representative that "...his fair daughter's self, as I avowed,/ At starting, is my object(l.53)." Not only does this phrase reveal that she is considered "a thing," he also claims her inner totality. This poem, set in the sixteenth century, does well in showing the relationship of man and wife as a sort of "taming" based on social precepts of the times. In showing what was once overt, Browning is asking readers to examine our lives in the present.

     In the poem "Women and Roses," Browning shows the power of a woman's beauty and he pursues some questions in those regards. The opening stanza asks, "which of its roses three/ Is the dearest rose to me(L. 2,3)." In the next stanza it is clear what he is doing; he refers to "women faded for ages," "women fresh and gay," and finally "beauties left unborn." Browning identifies the past, present, and future women in his life and he is examining which is most appealing in beauty.

     The third stanza refers to the past women, the "women faded." Men, or perhaps even Beauty, is represented as a bee; this past woman is described as a rose whose "...term has been reached,/ Thy leaf hangs loose and bleached:/ Bees pass it unimpeached(l.13-15)." Women past their prime are ignored and shunned, passed over in favor of "fresher roses."

     The fourth stanza returns the reader to the alternating theme in the poem, that of knowing what "love" is, and it addresses the power of love. In trying to see how one may love the past as much as the future, the poet tells his memory of women that it must "stoop since I cannot climb." The next three lines express the potent feelings involved in loving and desiring:
                             
                               How shall I fix you, fire you, freeze you
                               Break my heart at your feet to please you?
                               Oh, to possess and be possessed!
                               Hearts that beat 'neath each pallid breast! (l.19-22)

In this stanza we see the first admission of the reciprocity involved in loving. The man not only possesses the woman, but she, he; and it seems this could be a definition of love. The first line in the passage quoted above deals with the attempt to preserve the memory; as an artist or taxidermist, the person must perform conscious acts to preserve, or "fix" the remembrance. The entreaty to be equitable, however, is premised on role playing and manipulating with shows of submission.

     The fifth stanza returns to the alternating image of women in the past, present, and future. The
women of the present are again represented as a rose, and described as having a "ruby-rimmed cup," and as having a heart which is "nectar-brimmed." Thus, the present is more attractive to the bees. Indeed, the appeal is so strong that in the next stanza, the "bee" is sucked in by "the hyacinth." This outcome is quite satisfactory for the man, who enveloped in sensual bliss, wishes to "...prison all my soul in eternities of pleasure/' Girdle me for once(133,134)." But once the immediate experience is past, the memory comes into play and these women are part of the past: "But no---the old measure,/ They circle their rose on my rose tree(134,5)."

     In the seventh stanza we see mention of the "future maidens," the "beauties to come." This is pure imagination and fantasy, and is thus a "rose without thorns." In the final stanza we see the value of dream and fantasy as the poet calls for wings to cross "the cold, the clear; " the drear of and abyss of time. In saying "what is far conquers what is near," Browning is embracing a value which transcends the physical, aesthetic joy of regarding beauty. He is embracing the ethereal, eternal power of imagination, an idealization. Since the artist has ultimate control, "I will make an Eve, be the artist that begat her,/ Shaped her to his mind! Alas! in like manner/ They circle their rose on my rose tree(p.46-8)."

     In Yeats's poem "Leda and the Swan," we see a similar focus on the immediate experience, a moment of intensity that is far more lascivious than the image of a bee pollinating a flower. This poem relies on knowledge of the myth of Leda who was raped by Zeus in the form of a huge swan. As with other poems discussed in this paper, "Leda and the Swan" deals with the relationship of woman and man, and it deals with woman as victim of male aggression and domination.

     It is no coincidence that "man" is represented as God, and vice-versa, in this poem and others. Man is master, the dominant over-bearing ruler, the animal who makes its own rules and breaks them. As the supreme god, Zeus rapes throughout Greek history, knowing that it is accepted as part of divine ancient privilege. Yeats's use of Zeus is as Browning's use of the Duke; they are figures of antiquity who live by social practices now taboo and abhorrent.

     The poem begins with a "sudden blow" and is followed by a horrific image of the swan's wings "beating over the staggering girl." With her gentle, frail nape in his all-powerful beak, "...he holds her helpless breast upon his breast(l.14) This reminds one immediately of Browning's lines from "Women and Roses:" "...to possess and be possessed! heart that beats 'neath each pallid breast(l.21-22)." The similar images suggest that Yeats, like Browning, is interested in the reciprocal exchange in love and lust; they are not just interested in the male point of view.

     In the second stanza of "Leda," the poet asks "...how can body laid in that white rush,/ But feel the strange heart beating where it lies(l.7,8)." Since it does not specifically refer to Leda as "the body", we must assume he is using her as a symbol for women, as a sentient vessel. The poem goes on to describe the raping experience as "being mastered by the brute blood of the air," and it questions whether Leda "...put on his knowledge with his power/ Before the indifferent beak could let her drop(l.13,14)." Did she get anything out of it?

     It is obvious that Browning and Yeats were not satisfied with traditional roles attributed to women in their times. Throughout their poetry, we see evidence of their disdain for the ways in which men have treated women. Porphyria, the Duchess, Anne Gregory, and Leda are all portrayed as innocent victims. All but Anne Gregory have violent acts committed against them, and Anne is victim of subtle conventions of society which will not recognize her beyond her hair. Throughout these poems, religion is on the side of man. In spiritual possession, or violent bodily possession in the story of Leda, religion is symbolic of the society it serves. They were commenting on the ambivalent virtue of beauty in women: how it is simultaneously noble, perfect, and destructive. Their representations of the male-female relationship are very modern in style, content, and tone, making them outliers in how feminist concerns are represented in male dominated poetry and culture.




F.Bloodgood
Brit Lit 2
Dr O'Donnell
Univ of Kansas
   
   _______________________________

My Last Duchess 
BY ROBERT BROWNING

FERRARA

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
“Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle laps
Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat.” Such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace—all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech—which I have not—to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse—
E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretense
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43768/my-last-duchess



When You Are Old 
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43283/when-you-are-old


For Anne Gregory

"NEVER shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.'
"But I can get a hair-dye
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair.'
"I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair."

https://allpoetry.com/For-Anne-Gregory



Porphyria's Lover
BY ROBERT BROWNING


The rain set early in to-night,
       The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
       And did its worst to vex the lake:
       I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
       She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
       Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
       Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
       And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
       And, last, she sat down by my side
       And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
       And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
       And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
       And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me — she
       Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
       From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
       And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
       Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
       For love of her, and all in vain:
       So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
       Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
       Made my heart swell, and still it grew
       While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
       Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
       In one long yellow string I wound
       Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
       I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
       I warily oped her lids: again
       Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
       About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
       I propped her head up as before,
       Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
       The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
       That all it scorned at once is fled,
       And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
       Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
       And all night long we have not stirred,
       And yet God has not said a word!





Women And Roses by Robert Browning
I.

I dream of a red-rose tree.
And which of its roses three
Is the dearest rose to me?

II.

Round and round, like a dance of snow
In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go
Floating the women faded for ages,
Sculptured in stone, on the poet's pages.
Then follow women fresh and gay,
Living and loving and loved to-day.
Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens,
Beauties yet unborn. And all, to one cadence,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.

III.

Dear rose, thy term is reached,
Thy leaf hangs loose and bleached:
Bees pass it unimpeached.

IV.

Stay then, stoop, since I cannot climb,
You, great shapes of the antique time!
How shall I fix you, fire you, freeze you,
Break my heart at your feet to please you?
Oh, to possess and be possessed!
Hearts that beat 'neath each pallid breast!
Once but of love, the poesy, the passion,
Drink but once and die!---In vain, the same fashion,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.

V.

Dear rose, thy joy's undimmed,
Thy cup is ruby-rimmed,
Thy cup's heart nectar-brimmed.

VI.

Deep, as drops from a statue's plinth
The bee sucked in by the hyacinth,
So will I bury me while burning,
Quench like him at a plunge my yearning,
Eyes in your eyes, lips on your lips!
Fold me fast where the cincture slips,
Prison all my soul in eternities of pleasure,
Girdle me for once! But no---the old measure,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.

VII.

Dear rose without a thorn,
Thy bud's the babe unborn:
First streak of a new morn.

VIII.

Wings, lend wings for the cold, the clear!
What is far conquers what is near.
Roses will bloom nor want beholders,
Sprung from the dust where our flesh moulders.
What shall arrive with the cycle's change?
A novel grace and a beauty strange.
I will make an Eve, be the artist that began her,
Shaped her to his mind!---Alas! in like manner

They circle their rose on my rose tree.


Leda and the Swan
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS


A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
                                  Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power

Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

THE INDIVIDUAL EXPERIENCE IN WORDSWORTH AND COLERIDGE

THE INDIVIDUAL EXPERIENCE IN WORDSWORTH AND COLERIDGE

   
William Wordsworth and Samuel Coleridge both recognize the transcendental qualities inherent in Nature. Throughout their poems we find their emphasis on common experiences of Nature such as storms, springtime, and celestial phenomenon. These facets of Nature can transcend traditional realities such as pain, loneliness, and despair, when filtered through our "inner forms," or inherent spirits. Even more important than the actual experiencing of Nature is the memory of the experience; Nature itself is hollow and without value if the individual does not incorporate his own meaning to it."Feeling" is given value over "thought;" interaction with elements of Nature being more important than the pursuit of a formal, temporal knowledge of "outward form." Wordsworth and Coleridge feel the power of Nature, and relate it to the reader as metaphor for the human spirit. As Wordsworth asserts, their poetry is itself "the image of man and nature (p.165)."

     In Coleridge's "Dejection: An Ode," we see that Nature can transcend earthly "afflictions" such as separation and loneliness by existing as a metaphor for the human spirit. The narrator of "Dejection" personifies elements of Nature in accordance with his state of mind. The wind is referred to as "...the dull sobbing draft that moans and rakes/ Upon the strings of this Aeolian lute(l. 6-7)." The wind is seen as a barometer for the spirit. Likewise, the moon becomes a symbol of the way he feels as he notices the shell of the Old Moon occupied by a mere sliver of the New Moon. His disenchantment with present isolation is heightened by the memory of a former love.

     At first the wind and moon only remind him of his loneliness, but the narrator of the poem begins to realize the importance of his inner spirit and his ability to define his own inner nature:

        I may not hope from outward forms to win

                      the passion and the life whose fountains are within.

O lady, we receive but what we give,

                                                    And in our life alone does Nature live (l.45-48)

Beginning in the fourth stanza, the narrator expresses his feelings, telling us that Nature is a way to  happiness: "Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power,/ Which wedding nature to us gives in dower(l. 67-68)." Realizing this, the wind becomes violent and he reaches spiritual catharsis. He recognizes the "viper thoughts" which have been separating him from pure feeling, which he searches for in "reality's dark dream.(l.94,95)" In turning from the "reality of dream," he turns to the reality of an inner nature which is interconnected with the Nature of Earth and the Universe.

     Wordsworth has similar views of the possible roles Nature can play in defining our existence. In"The Tables Turned," and "I wandered Lonely as a Cloud," he points out the importance of individual experience of Nature.

     Following Coleridge's assertion that "we receive but what we give," Wordsworth tells us to "bring with you a heart/ That watches and receives(l. 31)" In "The Tables Turned," Wordsworth enforces on us a feeling of immediacy; he tells his friend to "quit his books" and "let nature be your teacher(l. 16)." The emphasis in this poem is on personal experience; the reader feels the anxious energy of the narrator and can relate his own disposition to Nature. In this poem, formal knowledge takes second place to immediate experience. The emphasis is on "feeling" rather than stale thought, which plagued the narrator of "Dejection." The most biting passage in "The Tables Turned" involves the formal, systematic process of logical thought, a notion at which Romanticists shuddered to think:

Our meddling instinct

Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:-----

We murder to dissect (l. 26-28)

     For Wordsworth, Nature has a wealth of wisdom to offer.Immediate interaction and spontaneity results in limitless knowledge; limitless as far as the individual's mind will allow. A single "impulse from a vernal wood/ May teach you of man/ ....Than all the sages can (l.21-24)." The idea of receiving an "impulse" from a tree implies a oneness with Nature, a state of interaction in which human thought is synonymous with feeling.

     "Dejection's" narrator laments that "I see, not feel, how beautiful they are(l.38)." In "The Tables Turned" the emphasis is on the memory of the feeling; the personal experience has greater meaning when felt and retained.

     The speaker in "I Wandered" relates to us an experience he had in the past. The title hints at his loneliness which is lessened as he feels himself in "the company" of Nature. Being a wanderer, he identifies with the Romantic tradition of isolation with humanity and oneness with Nature. He sees "a crowd" of daffodils "fluttering and dancing in the breeze." This vision transforms his mood and he tells us that "a poet could not but be gay/ In such a a jocund company(l. 3,5, 15-16)." He experiences the scene and notices that he really did not "think" about "what wealth the show to me had brought (l.18)." 

     The speaker's experience in the field was one outside of formal, systematic thought; he felt aesthetic joy through a sensual osmosis. It is the memory of his experience which has value to him:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills (l.19-23)

The wealth of this experience is in the silent reflection; the "inward eye" is the inner form of the individual, and this eye feels rather than sees. 

     It is an escape from earthly afflictions which plague all humanity that Coleridge and Wordsworth offer in their poetry. Personal experience has revealed to them that immersion in Nature can provide a cathartic release. In their respective "Odes," these poets both mention the Platonian thought that we lose a bond with Nature at birth and try to regain it throughout our lives. Coleridge tells us in "Dejection" that "....each visitation/Suspends what nature gave me at birth,/ My shaping spirit of imagination./ For not to think of what I needs must feel....{I} steal/ From my own nature all the natural man( l. 85-87, 90)." In imposing an isolation from fellow humans, the Romantics often turned to Nature to provide them with "company."

     Nature is seen as a transcendental tool of the individual which mirrors the silent form within. Wordsworth and Coleridge were pioneers in Western consciousness and their influences upon American poets such as Emerson and Thoreau are evident.

F.Bloodgood

BRIT Lit 2 

paper 1

Univ of Kansas

Berryman's Vision of Life in "The Ball Poem" and "Henry's Understanding"

Berryman's Vision of Life in "The Ball Poem" and "Henry's Understanding"


     John Berryman's preoccupation with suicide is evident throughout the course of his work.
From "The Ball Poem," written early in his career as a poet, to "Henry's Understanding," one
of his last poems, we see his self-fulfilling prophecy of suicide come full circle. Though 
written twenty years apart, these poems are remarkably similar and lead one to believe
that Berryman felt destined to die by his own hand, (or foot, rather.) The resentment he
felt toward his father manifested itself in his life through continual self-destructive action.
Alcoholism was a symptom of this nature, and his suicide was proof. The power of these 
poems is intense; their strength comes from Berryman's sense of tragic loss: loss of youth,
of childhood joy. The horrible beauty of his poetry mirrors his vision of life, an implication
that there is "something" beyond our our vision, our precarious existence.

     Published in 1950, "The Ball Poem" concerns the poet's sense of aging and maturing. 
Berryman uses traditional symbols to convey his message: ball equals youth, water equals
death, and harbour equates to the mystery of afterlife, eternity. The speaker in the poem
watches a boy lose his ball, which bounces away into the water. We know that the ball
represents the transiency of youth, as we are told "...he stands rigid, trembling, staring 
down/ All his young days into the harbour where his ball went(l.7-9)." This identifies the
harbour with eternity, which finally captures "youth."

     The boy losing his ball is seen in a process of maturation. We know this because the 
speaker tells us "No use to say 'O there are other balls' (l.5)." The boy is learning of the 
injustice of life which dictates "Balls will always be lost, little boy...(l.13)." The speaker
removes himself from the scene, having learned the lesson already. He knows the physical,
external aspect of "life" is transitory, mutable. The ball is a ball due to its vibrant property
of motion and change. The boy learns that "in a world of possessions" there is the necessity
of loss. Aging takes the game of life and bounces it away with great energy into the "water"
of mystery, and death.

     Once the ball has bounced "merrily over," the boy has begun the maturing process. His 
world, "the street" gradually becomes light again and he goes on; life doesn't end with the
loss of youth. While the boy is the focus of much of the poem, the ending speaks from the
poet's own voice in contemplation of mortality: "Soon part of me will explore the deep and 
dark/ Floor of the harbour...(l.21-22)." While the boy's world lightens after his experience,
the speaker anticipates the "dark" water. Herein we see symbolism of knowledge and 
mystery.

     The speaker in the poem, Berryman, tells us that "...I am everywhere,/ I suffer and move, 
my mind and heart move/ With all that moves me...(l.22-24)." His re-experiencing of the 
boy's lesson brings him to think of his own mortality, and he hints of suicide. The symbolism
of the whistle signifies the energy of life, the physical experience of being, while the water
signifies death and mystery: "...under the water/ Or whistling, I am not a little boy (l.24-25)."
His realization of the act of maturation and aging shows his bitter attitude toward the 
ironies of life. Berryman establishes similar themes throughout his poetry, especially 
through Henry, his literary stand-in persona of himself.

     In "Henry's understanding," written by Berryman in the final year of his life, we see what
amounts to the renunciation of hope and expression of contempt for life's comforts. Written
in the first and third person perspective, Berryman recalls the night he first imagines suicide.
The experience is interesting, as the poet-speaker is surrounded by much that life has to
offer: friends, a "good" wife, a warm bed, books, and the promise of a "hot breakfast." He is
not driven to despair by any evident forces such as physical pain or emotional upheaval; he
simply feels, "aged 32," " ....a chill at four o'clock.(l.9)."

     Henry's understanding comes as a satori flash: "It only takes a few minutes to make a man/
A concentration upon now & here (l.10-11)." If the speaker is concentrating on the "now and 
here" then there must be something within his comfortable existence that plagues him. In
"Dream Song 14" and "#149," the speaker finds life boring, and tells us he is unhappy with 
"the world." Going back to "The Ball Poem," we see the powerful effect realization has upon
the poet. He is unable to accept the ironies of life, and even surrounded by beauty and 
comfort, is unable to shake a sense of earthly injustice.

     Henry likens himself to a pained genius by contrasting himself with Bach, telling us "...it
occurred to me/ that one night, instead of warm pajamas,/ I'd take off all my warm clothes/
& cross the damp lawn..../into terrible water & walk forever/ under it out toward the island
(L.13-18)." This envisioning is nearly identical to the passage in "The Ball Poem" in which the
speaker explores eternity through death by drowning. His rejection of "warm pajamas" leads
one to notice his contempt for the external comforts. In this poem we sense the finality of 
Berryman's decision to die. He literally "strips" down past all the clothing of poetic games and
announces his intention of exploring "the island" beyond the waters.

     John Berryman's vision of life as irreconcilably ambivalent is well expressed in these 
poems. That he built his life and made his living from this bitter attitude adds irony to the 
notion that while we change, grow,  and mature, we are also losing the comfortable pillow of
childlike ignorance.



Forest Bloodgood
Dr Gridley, Univ of Kansas
10-1-1989

guru gone

"Baba Ram Dass, who in the 1960s joined Timothy Leary in promoting psychedelic drugs as the path to inner enlightenment before undergoing a spiritual rebirth he spelled out in the influential book Be Here Now, died at home on Sunday. He was 88 years old."

“With tender hearts we share that Ram Dass (born Richard Alpert) died peacefully at home in Maui on December 22, 2019 surrounded by loved ones,” according to his official Instagram account."

"As the hippie movement grew, Ram Dass and Leary were among the counterculture luminaries at the Human Be-in, a 1967 gathering of some 25,000 people in San Francisco where Leary spread his “turn on, tune in, drop out” credo. 

Poets such as Ginsberg and Michael McClure, anti-war activists Dick Gregory and Jerry Rubin and rock acts Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane also took part."

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/dec/23/baba-ram-dass-dies-age-88-lsd-new-age-spirituality

____________


I never understood exactly what my Dad meant when he told me in college that he wanted me to "be a guru."

What exactly does a guru do? 

Is this a stable occupation?

Cannibalism and the Cyclical Nature of Life in Moby Dick

CANNIBALISM AND THE CYCLICAL NATURE OF LIFE



     Throughout Moby Dick the imagery of circles convey's Melville's belief in the cyclical

nature of "life." This cycle depends equally upon life and death, and Melville recognizes

their interweavings, their "loomings" as he calls them. The images of circles in Moby Dick

all relate to the mysterious connections between physical life and death, and the question

of the soul. Following in the footsteps of Pip, Ishmael eventually finds himself in the vortex

of enlightenment and attempts to share with us his acquired wisdom.



     In the chapter "The Shark Massacre," we find an image of cyclical life-death that coincides

with an image later introduced.  As the whalers on the Pequod stab at the sharks to protect

their killed whale, they cut open the sharks, which leads them into an even wilder frenzy:

"They viciously snapped, not only at each other's disembowelments, but like flexible bows,

bent round, and bit their own; till those entrails seemed swallowed over and over again by 

the same mouth..."(p.395) This vicious scene of bloody death is likened to another scene,

this one of birth, by the similar image of a bent bow: "....tail to head, and all ready for the 

final spring, the unborn whale lies bent like a Tartar's bow(p.498)."  This circular image of a

bent bow conveys life and death and shows their interconnection.



     The birthing scene mentioned above takes place within the calm center of the concentric

rings of whales in "The Grand Armada." The Pequod, seeing a literal goldmine of wealth,

finds itself the prey of another breed of hunters; pirates. The Pequod "...both chasing and

being chased...(p.491)" finds itself in the cycle of life: both hunter and hunted. Escaping from

pirates, the whaling boat of Starbuck, Queequeg, and Ishamael glide into a dead calm,

in the center of the midst of countless whales. From this central point radiates life; as one

moves out from the center, one encounters the young bull males, and finally the oldest

and the injured whales at the furthest perimeters. The females exist at the heart of the

circle, supplying new life and continuing the cycle of birth.



     As a castaway, Pip experiences a frightening enlightenment that leaves him incompre

-hensible to all. The opposite of monomaniac Ahab, Pip begins to see all: "...Pip's ringed

horizon began to expand around him miserably (p.530)." This image of an infinite, ringed

horizon is indeed terrifying; Pip sees too much at once and loses touch with mortal reality.

Ishael experiences a like abandonment in the conclusion of the novel and is himself a

castaway, doomed to wander earth with unpeakable visions.



     Melville mentions a philosophy of circular rebirth, metempsychosis, and later in "The

Glider" chapter, elaborates on his personal beliefs:  "Once gone through, we trace the round

again; and are infants, boys, men, and Ifs eternally (p.624)." This is reminiscent of the

of the outward progression in age in "The Grand Armada" chapter. The oldest whales, those

too mysterious to put a finger on, are the "Ifs:" the ungraspable phantoms.  Later in this

narrative passage, Ishmael seemingly wraps up the question of the soul and its connections

with life-death: "Our souls are like those orphans whose unwed mothers die in bearing

them. The secret of our paternity lies in their grave and we must there to learn it (p. 624)."

This passage likens Pip and Ishmael, who through abandonment find Truth,  to "the soul."



    Ahab's mercenary, Fedallah, is killed by a sort of noose, the closing of a circle, and is

doomed to continually follow the whale. The Pequod and its remaining crew also die in the

power of a circle: "...concentric circles seized the lone boat itself, and all its crew...and 

spinning, animate and inanimate, all round and round in one vortex, carried the smallest chip

of the Pequod out of sight (p.722)." The suction of the sunken ship draws Ishmael into the

center of the disaster area, where he seems doomed himself. Instead, he is saved by

the coffin life-buoy, and is later picked up by the Rachel, who "...in her retracing search after

her missing children, only found another orphan (p.724)." Ishmael, identified here as an

orphan, is a symbol of the soul, as related in "The Gilder" chapter. The very vortex of death

springs forth life, and he seems the final piece in the puzzle of life, death, and the soul.



     The novel itself acts as a circle; Ishamel jumps back and forth in time as he relates his

story to us. The end of the novel feeds the beginning, like the shark feeding on its own

entrails. The image of circles effectively conveys infinity and the endless cycle of birth

feeding on death.



     The theme of cannibalism gives the novel a sociological message, in addition to its

philosophical messages. Melville views cannibalism as excessive greed and largely condemns

modern Western history as being more savage than any literal cannibalistic acts. The

Pequod serves as a symbol for Western injustices and greed, and as seen in the conclusion

of the book, inevitably devours itself in its monomaniac lust for wealth and power.



     Melville questions the sincerity of Christian doctrine by identifying some of the hypo

-crises. The pious Bildad is seen as a hypocrite when it comes to money: "Don't whale it 

too much a'lord's days, men; but don't miss a fair chance either, that's rejecting Heaven's

good gifts (p. 147)." Ahab allows the Pequod to hunt other whales along the way in the

search for Moby Dick, for as Ishmael points out "...even the high lifted, and chivalric 

Crusaders of old times were not content to traverse two thousand miles of land for their

hold sepulchre, without committing burglaries, picking pockets, and gaining other pious

perquisites along the way (p.285)." So even Ahab, in his monomaniac greed for the White

Whale, will allow the plunder of other whales to gain the crew's favor.



     Not only does he allow the regular hunting of whales, he attaches a prize for the spotting

of his own goal. In nailing the gold coin to the mast, he acts on everyone else's greed; for

all but Starbuck, gold is the ultimate reward. Even the danger of ordinary hunts of whales

seems unreasonably risky to Ishamel, yet he also lets it go: "Oh! My friends, but this is man

killing! Yet this is life (p.547)." Ishmael shows himself to be part of the crowd of humanity,

risking everything for gold and "...the horrible vulturism of earth (p.402)."



     The Pequod, as well as its captain, is identified as being cannibalistic. The ship is inlaid

with whale ivory, and Ahab stalks the whale while walking using a whalebone peg leg. The

Pequod's name is from an Indian tribe destroyed by white settlers, and the ship owners set

up a wigwam on board. These examples show how killed things are used to kill more of

their own kind, "adding insult to injury." The crew of the Pequod even light their way with

the whale's oil, and they canibalistically oil the boat's hull, increasing speed and killing

capacity.



     To Melville, cannibalism is present in all walks of life. He sees it in civilized man: "Long

exile from christendom and civilization inevitably restores man to that condition in which

God placed him, i.e. what is called savagery (p. 358)." The cannibalistic greed of Western man

is seen all over the world, from slave ships, to the Pacific Islands. The lower class of people

are nothing more than the property of the wealthy and powerful: "What are the sinews and

souls of Russian serfs and Republican slaves but Fast-Fish wherof possession is the whole of

the law (p.509) In the violent and inherently dangerous profession of whaling, man feeds on

other men and their labors and suffering, and feeds on himself: "Cannibals? Who is not a 

cannibal (p.393)."



     Like the sharks, who in their greed eat at each other's entrails, the crew and captain of the

Pequod destroy and devour themselves.  Mankind will only recognize its monomaniac greed

"...when they come to fish up this old mast and find a doubloon lodged in it...(p.556)." The

value in the tale is history repeating itself, fulfilling human nature in our self destruction,

and circling the past from a future time, to consume and absorb what can be learned.







F. Bloodgood

10-27-1987

Univ of Kansas

Prof. Schultz

blink fronds

back then, our first insects were busy
evolving, trying to be the first insect, as
the trees and fish flourished, spoiled in disparate
realms, until lands submerge or oceans subsume.
same difference what lasts
mineralized in fossil shadow,
a forest preserved in a locket of stone
as history was pulverized into gravel for
sundry human whims
three hundred eighty five million years ago
under that spot in the quarry
where public officials have to place large
square impediments to keep
the fourwheelers
from ripping up what hasn't already been
reduced to footnotes in infinity

gilboa cairo

under the slough's miasma's fen
her diadem reindeer pronged
aboard a longship planted keel north,
sunk in the world tree's keep.

seepage of glaciers one eyed jewel
weeping lightning bursts, hail that kill fish
out in nets made of her hair
ten thousand tongues thick

full of unwooded peace, her roots older
than spiders, gesticulating in radial questions
laser inscribed by kronos into concrete sundials
quarried, half a mile above sea's current crown



12-22-19
portland or
(returned a copy of the movie Labyrinth to the library,
came home and wrote this after reading News
of the oldest fossil forest 385 million years old
in Cairo-----Jennifer Connelly, of Labyrinth.)

summer pool

girls and kittens

Freeman, Ophelia Bloodgood, New Mexico

"Monitor readers will remember the report was once circulated of the destruction of the family of the Freeman Bloodgood, by Indians, in New Mexico. But we learn that though some of the neighboring ranchmen and their families were destroyed, he learned of the approach of the Indians in time to escape from the ranch with his family; but nearly all of his cattle were taken.
     Though as ranchmen brand their stock, he afterwards found about a hundred head that had strayed from the rest. Mr Bloodgood occasionally visits the ranch, but does not yet consider it safe to endeavor to make it his permanent dwelling place. He also has a share in two mines."----(1884-1885)

"Word has been received by relatives of Mr. Freeman Bloodgood of his death, at State College, New Mexico, on June 30th, at the age of 92. Mr. Bloodgood and wife before leaving for the west lived at Conesville. With his family they arrived in New Mexico in 1881, before there were any railroads and entered the teaming business, hauling freight between Las Vegas and White Oaks. 

He also hauled the first load of ore out of Kingston when that was a boom mining camp. The ore was hauled to Nut Station, which was the big railroad point at that time before Dealing was founded. At Kingston he was a crony of Doheny, the big oil man who was a miner at that time, and many others of the old timers. He later went to ranching in the Mogollones, but was run out by the Indians and then went into the cattle business near Kingston.

 He was born in New York state. About four years ago he fell and since that time had been in poor health and had been making his home with his son. Dean Bloodgood, at State College. He leaves besides his wife, Ophelia A., two sons, Dean, of State College and Ellsworth, of Kingston, New Mexico.

 Interment was made in the Masonic cemetery at Las Cruces. He was a brother-in-law of Weidman Shoemaker, of Middleburgh; his wife, Ophelia, being eldest daughter of Abram Shoemaker, at one time a resident of Conesvllle, at that time called Stone Bridge. Dr. G. B. Shoemaker of Cobleskill is a nephew."

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/66970277/freeman-bloodgood

every tree is an xmas tree

Up and down those cedar trees
out the bedroom window

on xmas eve we'd go up on top of the roof
if the weather wasn't bad

should have kept
that truck

++++++++++++

some years the ridgeline
done up
in bulbs, visible for a ways
               down highway 51
en route from tulsa
or god knows where.

poem

that which sprung from soil, we turn to our bodies
made of oceans mad, which flung earth
out of star spit, drinking candles yes we are
tallow and the mortal wick, clocking illusion,
that which blooms of silence, we keep in jars
lidless and in search of a time, which seals the seventh
and becomes an octave, or sweet dissonance,
wicking up the brine of prehistory.
that which has no presence, we wrap in re-gifted
martyrs, eggs of ideas hard chiseled, 
unable to make anything as beautiful as a child
or a seedling, or a stupid poem.





solstice 12-21-19
oregon