If one cares to look here
http://www.armysecurityagency.org/asaballd.htm

you can begin to sense the difference draftees make.  No final difference,
of course, but see the Napalm Song.  No not great poesy as if that makes a
difference.   Horror, then forgetting...and people are surprised now?  To
repeat a line from the poem above  "This was back when wars were really
fucked up."


On 11/1/07, joe green <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
> Yep. I love that little guy.
>
> On 11/1/07, kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> >
> > it'd be a nice parallel
> >
> > KS
> >
> > On 02/11/2007, joe green <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> > > In fact if you view this
> > >
> > > http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuTuUAl66Rg
> > >
> > > and imagine Lugosi as the usual literary apprehension of war and the
> > skull
> > > and the guys behind it as the usual poesy of war this poem is the
> > dwarf --
> > > doing what the dwarf does -- or isn't it pretty to think so?
> > >
> > > On 11/1/07, joe green <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> > > >
> > > > Yeah -- the last two lines make it (for little old me).
> > > >
> > > > I ran across this in an interview with Mark Strand:
> > > >
> > > > "Strand began publishing poems in the 1960s, and says the status of
> > poetry
> > > > has changed since that time. "I think that poetry in the '60s and
> > the '70s
> > > > in America was a lot more popular, because they were writing a lot
> > against
> > > > the war in Vietnam and we had a huge audience of people who wanted
> > to hear
> > > > us. Today, you know, no one listens. People are writing poems
> > against the
> > > > war in Iraq and no one notices. Things have changed. I think that
> > the big
> > > > difference is that in the '60s and '70s, there was the draft. The
> > war hit
> > > > the middle class. Today there is no draft. And in addition, wars
> > have become
> > > > a lot more abstract than they were."
> > > >
> > > > Maybe -- or maybe always were.  The horses in my verse come right
> > out of
> > > > the Wright poem recently under such intense and numinous
> > scrutiny.  All the
> > > > tired, pretty horses.
> > > >
> > > >
> > > > On 11/1/07, kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> > > > >
> > > > > well that was quite a ride. I wanted to stop reading at one point,
> > and
> > > > > I thought I had, but turns out I was sucked in. this is sad, I
> > don't
> > > > > like it for its sadness, but for its sad poetry I guess. I like
> > it.
> > > > >
> > > > > KS
> > > > >
> > > > > On 01/11/2007, joe green <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> > > > > > A Short History
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I have been very good.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I have been very good for 8 years.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I told my wife that our children looked like tiny skeletons only
> > > > > >
> > > > > > three times.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > When I spat blood I did so discreetly into monogrammed hankies.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I told my wife that at last I had a single integrated action
> > plan
> > > > > (SIAP).
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > The time I went to Disneyland and blew the head off the hippo in
> > the
> > > > > >
> > > > > > jungle ride was an aberration.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > The time I spent 2 weeks in the Rocket Motel with a topless
> > dancer
> > > > > >
> > > > > > named Baby Madonna was truly unusual.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I no longer think I am a wolf.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > When I vomit on family holidays I do so with some grace and
> > never at
> > > > > >
> > > > > > table.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > It has been years since I insisted on going into the woods to
> > shit.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I have been interested in organizational development.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I no longer drink wine from bottles wrapped in paper bags
> > > > > >
> > > > > > with guys named Spider and Bullethead.  I especially avoid doing
> > > > > >
> > > > > > this in our driveway.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I am meek at work and participate with enthusiasm in group
> > activities.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > When I run in 10 kilometer races it is hard to tell that I itch
> > all
> > > > > >
> > > > > > over and am imagining that I am being chased by hearts with
> > mouths.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I only speak to the dog in my command voice.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I go dutifully to all the Vietnam movies to learn what I should
> > > > > >
> > > > > > think.  I explain to my son what a dustoff is.  I do not
> > > > > >
> > > > > > mention the fact that to me it looks like people in the audience
> > > > > >
> > > > > > have the heads of hyenas and jackals.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > My son looks like a tiny skeleton.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > When he was born I went down in the cellar and built him a
> > coffin.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I will send this with him when he goes into the army.  From Dad.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > If all dads did this it would save our government considerable
> > > > > expense.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Dads should also build coffins for the sons our sons will kill.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I have a complete set of plans for coffins for sons of many
> > > > > >
> > > > > > nationalities.  Spider told me that this was a waste of time.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Just send along some extra-strength garbage bags.  He said.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > And what about the mommas and babies.  He said.  And, anyway,
> > > > > >
> > > > > > you dumb shit.  He said.  There ain't nothing to bury most of
> > the
> > > > > >
> > > > > > time.  He said.  You dumb old fucker.  You think we're back in
> > > > > Vietnam.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I still think that it would demonstrate our compassion.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I often imagine my daughter on fire.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I was reading "Come Away, Joe" to her and she was curled up in
> > my arms
> > > > > and
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I imagined that she was hit with white phosphorus and burned
> > from the
> > > > > >
> > > > > > inside out.  The white phosphorus looked like a star in her
> > belly.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I imagined that she was also hit with napalm.  Have some jelly,
> > honey.
> > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > We called people burnt up by napalm "crispy critters."  This was
> >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > a popular breakfast cereal at the time.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Here is how I am telling you I make love to my wife.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I imagine that we are both dead and holding each other.  We are
> > under
> > > > > >
> > > > > > a hill.  The hill looks over a blue and peaceful town.  The town
> >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > is not a town.  It is the shadow of a tone.  The bank, the
> > church,
> > > > > >
> > > > > > the little stores and tiny houses tremble and dissolve in a soft
> > mist.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > No-one can see the town.  It is not in any government records or
> > on
> > > > > any
> > > > > >
> > > > > > maps.  Our children live there.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > For a long time I was unemployed.  I drove a car the color of a
> > cloud.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I would pick up our children from school.  Your father comes for
> > you
> > > > > >
> > > > > > in a car the color of a cloud.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > At night I imagine that our dead cat is walking in the garden.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I imagine I am in the garden and she treadles my chest.  She
> > licks
> > > > > >
> > > > > > my eyes thinking the moon's rays are milk.  Her eyes shine with
> > love.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Lay down with me lay down in the humility of death.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > You see that I am very sentimental.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > This morning we all sat at breakfast and I said "I am worried
> > > > > >
> > > > > > about Goethe."
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > "Why, Dad?" My son said.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > "Ok, dear."  My wife said.  "You have been good for eight years.
> >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > You can have that party."
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > This is a lie.  My wife left me 10 years ago.  She lives with
> > our
> > > > > >
> > > > > > children and her new husband in a very nice rambler on a
> > cul-de-sac
> > > > > >
> > > > > > in the very nice state of California.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I often imagine that my children are dream children.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I still live in the same house which is where I grew up.  My
> > father is
> > > > > dead.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > My mother is dead.  They are buried in Fairview cemetery.  Just
> > off
> > > > > Oak
> > > > > >
> > > > > > street.  Warrensville, Pa, 19380.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > They are on a very nice cul-de-sac.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Old joke.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I spoke to my mother the other night.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > "Do you have your gloves on?"  She asked.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > "Yes."  I asseverated.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I came home from Vietnam when my father died.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > "Your father died."  They said.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > "Complete this form." They said.  "Be back in two weeks."  They
> > said.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > When I got off the plane in Honolulu they hung flowers around my
> > neck.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Then they unloaded the bodies.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > This was back when wars were really fucked up.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > When I saw my father in the coffin I saw that they put glasses
> > on him.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > He only wore glasses to read.  They wanted a homey look.  I
> > vomited
> > > > > >
> > > > > > in the men's room.  I held my mother at the grave.  Her cloth
> > coat
> > > > > >
> > > > > > smelled the same as it did when I was little.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > We went home to the funeral meats which were Vienna sausages in
> > tomato
> > > > > >
> > > > > > sauce.  This is how a lot of people live.  My cousin turned on
> > the TV
> > > > > >
> > > > > > to watch a football game.  True.  He was down in the
> > basement.  True.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Other males were enjoying the game.  I threw my father's hammer
> > > > > >
> > > > > > through the screen.  Incoming.  I kicked my cousin in the face.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Everyone was embarrassed.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Here's who was dead when I came back.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Daniel Mitchinok
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Carlos Gonzalez
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > John Rollins
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > William Latoff
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Gross weight: about 710 lbs.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I bought a tape recorder to record my thoughts about war and
> > letters
> > > > > >
> > > > > > to my mother.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Here are my thoughts about war as recorded by me at Landing Zone
> > > > > >
> > > > > > X-Ray adjacent to the Chu Pong Range:
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Here is a continuation of those thoughts as recorded by me
> > trekking
> > > > > >
> > > > > > overland with the 5th Cav:
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Here are my thoughts as I surveyed the 800 dead of a famous
> > battle
> > > > > >
> > > > > > that you can read about in a coffee table book available at
> > > > > >
> > > > > > a discount rate from Barnes and Noble:
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > My letters to mother were equally eloquent.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Is this too easy?  Yes.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Do you want to know the truth?
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > My wife told me she was leaving.  I am tired of this shit.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Blah. Blah.  She said.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I asked her to wait.  "Don't pack yet."  I said.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I went to the mall and bought a camera.  Plenty of film.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > When I came home she was crying.  She was on the couch.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I took pictures of every room in the house.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I opened every closet and drawer and took pictures.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I took her picture.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > When the kids came home I took their pictures.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > They left.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Then her mother and her brothers came over and took everything.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > It took me two years to complete the reconstruction.  Now I have
> > > > > >
> > > > > > a lifesize wife weeping on the couch.  My son sits at his desk
> > > > > >
> > > > > > and plays Pac Man.  My daughter plays with her doll.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Some of that shit was hard to find.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > You understand.  You are also sentimental.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > One year I drove to California to see my children.  In the car
> > the
> > > > > >
> > > > > > color of a cloud.  In Oklahoma I woke up at dawn and went
> > outside
> > > > > >
> > > > > > the motel room.  It was next to a pasture.  There were horses in
> >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > the pasture.  I stood at the fence.  The horses were the color
> > of
> > > > > >
> > > > > > the dawn.  They came to me.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Then I kicked in the bedroom door.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Shot this picture.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Reader.  Rider.  Horses.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Slaked.  Plausive.  Ignorant.
> > > > > >
> > > > >
> > > >
> > > >
> > >
> >
>
>