A beautiful poem while dreaming in the dream you dreamt.
On Nov 13, 2007 1:32 PM, kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Pierre,
> such a perfect fairytale (pun intended). this was truly gripping, this
> is a technical marvel for the way the enjambement keeps the reader
> wanting more. such ease of language & thought. lovely narration.
>
> KS
>
> On 13/11/2007, Pierre Joris <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> > Smoked "Africaines" in Luxembourg, "Gitanes" in France, Camels in New
> > York, Players in the UK until Allen Fisher introduced me to the
> > "yellow devils", and old Brit blend I can't remember the actual name
> > of, but they tasted something like Sweet Aftons, later in the US, and
> > even today, indulge in the odd American Spirit.
> > Was fascinated by the sailor on the Players pack and wrote an early
> > poem featuring him, way back in the 70ies. Here it is, with some loss
> > of layout, for your post-smoking pleasure – Pierre
> >
> > MATROSEN LIED
> >
> > (Infamous Baines,
> > that early supergrass, testified
> > that Christopher Marlowe held "That all they that loue
> > not Tobacco & Boies were Fooles...")
> >
> >
> > How
> > the rising sun
> > thru these curtains
> > goes at me
> > again & again
> > mid-mornings
> > falls across my desk
> > how it sprawls
> > over the notebook how
> > it gains heat from
> > my coffee growing cold.
> >
> > How
> > leaning back I light a cigarette
> > admiring the four-colored
> > sailor on the blue-white pack.
> > HERO it says on his cap
> > a bearded hero's head
> > between sail & steam
> > surrounded not by sea
> > but by a life buoy.
> > Look alive boy,
> > your cheeks are pink
> > your lips are red
> > your beard the color
> > of tobacco
> > & you look serious
> > sternly boyish
> > in your light blue sailor shirt
> > Was it he
> > helped Thomas Harriot
> > carry his cases ashore?
> > His 19C look does not deceive
> > he's immeasurably older
> > it is he who as a old man
> > taught young Ralegh how to use
> > the astrolabe, & he
> > knows the spot
> > where Drake lies buried.
> > He lashed Ulysses to the mast
> > & did the same for Turner
> > shaking his head, wondering
> > at the foolishness of men:
> > it's not the kind of thing
> > he'd do, he knows better
> > has lived longer & is
> > satisfied with his quart of rum
> > a day.
> >
> > Below deck
> > while the storm rages
> > & the sirens sing
> > he sips his drink
> > reflecting on how
> > doing the necessary
> > should be enough
> > for any man
> > immensely man
> > he sits among his mates
> > satisfied that he is immortal
> > because of the casual accuracy
> > with which he fulfills
> > the necessary confronting him.
> > For him no need for siren song
> > though it will be a tall tale to tell
> > in the taverns between now & then.
> > If I were a man
> > who still fell in love with sailors
> > I would surely fall in love with him.
> > I'd love him in all the narrow beds
> > from Brest to Valparaiso
> > we would armwrestle in Hamburg's Kneipen
> > down copas of sangre de toro
> > in the bodegas in Barcelona
> > one hand caressing his sleeping head
> > resting on my knees one hand
> > drawing love-tattoos in the wine-spill
> > on the wooden tables older
> > than age. O how I'd worship
> > his arched cock
> > his perfect balls!
> >
> > Unsung hero
> > let me sing you
> > suck you
> > off this packet of cigarettes
> > the smoke I exhale
> > curls in the air
> > folds in sunlight
> > tornado, typhoon
> > or simple tempest
> > I peer deeply into
> > your left glass eye
> > (you left the good one
> > in a brothel in Shanghai
> > as payment for the favors
> > of a mongolian princess)
> > I see a storm
> > & a shipwreck
> > off the Scillies
> > I watch you swim ashore
> > clutching the black Aztec mirror
> > between your teeth
> > it's all you're left with
> > you owe it your life
> > or that's what you think
> > & two weeks later
> > you barter it in a tavern
> > near Deptford for the charms
> > of a boy once laid
> > with Marlowe.
> >
> > The sun
> > is higher now
> > we dream in time
> > the time it took
> > to write this down
> > or the time it takes
> > the sun to dry
> > this ink.
> > The coffee's
> > quite cold now
> > sweet & gold now
> > as cold as last night's dream
> > when I threw down the bedside lamp.
> > I forgot the dream
> > & now wonder
> > did I dream of the sun
> > falling or of
> > a ship going down
> > of a face heated & reddened
> > by the sun at sea?
> > How come this morning -
> > what was it this morning -
> > made me look at the daily
> > packet of Players
> > was it what the dream
> > wanted or was it
> > what made me
> > dream?
> >
> > On Nov 13, 2007, at 3:27 AM, Patrick McManus wrote:
> >
> > > I had a cigarette once it was foul and my last (I was 11 at the
> > > time)I do
> > > make up with plonk on the indulgence side!!!!
> > > Cheers P
> > >
> > > -----Original Message-----
> > > From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics
> > > [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
> > > Behalf Of Roger Day
> > > Sent: 13 November 2007 06:36
> > > To: [log in to unmask]
> > > Subject: Re: Cigarettes
> > >
> > > My father used to smoke Capstan Full Strength smelt bloody horrible,
> > > picture of a Victorian sailor on the front. He still smokes when he
> > > thinks mother isn't looking.
> > >
> > > His legs now have furred arteries.
> > >
> > > Roger
> > >
> > > On Nov 13, 2007 12:17 AM, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> > >> I recall my father's cigarette packets from the 1940s -
> > >> de Reschke (sp?), named after an opera singer...
> > >>
> > >> Max
> > >>
> > >>
> > >>
> > >> On 13/11/07 11:03 AM, "Kenneth Wolman" <[log in to unmask]>
> > >> wrote:
> > >>
> > >>> M. Borges Accardi wrote:
> > >>>> Worst/best was a brand called Spartus, strong tobacco, blue box, no
> > > filter.?
> > >>>> Sold in Prague.? There were only two brands when I smoked--I
> > >>>> forget the
> > >>>> other. Miserable, wonderful habit.? I quit when I could not smoke
> > >>>> on
> > > the
> > >>>> plane. I saw the end was near. . .and could not face those long
> > >>>> flights
> > >>>> "jonesing" a cigarette.
> > >>>>
> > >>>
> > >>>
> > >>> Before 6th Avenue in Manhattan upscaled into Avenue of the Americas,
> > >>> there were lots of tobacco shops that also hid the condoms behind
> > >>> the
> > >>> counter, hawked straight and gay porn both, and those
> > >>> cigarettes...oy...an Austrian brand called Amneris after the mezzo
> > >>> character in Verdi's *Aida*: just awful. I picked up some Russian
> > >>> brand
> > >>> for a play I was in; like the ones Frederick described, they came
> > >>> with a
> > >>> long cardboard tube and tobacco that could knock the wind out of
> > >>> you.
> > >>>
> > >>> Smoking was my really great guilty pleasure because I didn't feel
> > >>> guilty
> > >>> about it back when everyone smoked. Even as late as the late '90s
> > >>> I'd
> > >>> stand outside Morgan Stanley with other smokers. One of them, a
> > >>> statuesque brunette at whom I was making occhi di pesce, said "I
> > >>> really
> > >>> should NOT be doing this." "None of us should," I said. "So what's
> > >>> your excuse?" "I'm an opera singer," she replied, "dramatic
> > >>> soprano. I
> > >>> sing at the Met." I checked a program. She really did. And
> > >>> smoked.
> > >>> Then again...so did Caruso, Vickers, several others not as well
> > >>> known.
> > >>>
> > >>> Filthy smelly habit. Miss it!
> > >>>
> > >>> Ken
> > >>>
> > >>> ------------------
> > >>> Kenneth Wolman rainermaria.typepad.com
> > >>>
> > >>> "I agree with the Chekhov character who, when in a crisis, he is
> > >>> reminded that 'this, too, shall pass,' responds 'Nothing
> > >>> passes.'"--Philip Roth
> > >>
> > >> --
> > >>
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > --
> > > My Stuff: http://www.badstep.net/
> > > "In peace, sons bury their fathers. In war, fathers bury their sons."
> > > Roman Proverb
> > >
> > >
> > > --
> > > No virus found in this incoming message.
> > > Checked by AVG Free Edition.
> > > Version: 7.5.503 / Virus Database: 269.15.24/1115 - Release Date:
> > > 07/11/2007
> > > 09:21
> >
> > ___________________________________________________________
> >
> > The poet: always in partibus infidelium -- Paul Celan
> > ___________________________________________________________
> > Pierre Joris
> > 244 Elm Street
> > Albany NY 12202
> > h: 518 426 0433
> > c: 518 225 7123
> > o: 518 442 40 71
> > Euro cell: (011 33) 6 75 43 57 10
> > email: [log in to unmask]
> > http://pierrejoris.com
> > Nomadics blog: http://pjoris.blogspot.com
> > ____________________________________________________________
> >
>
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