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Snapshots
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BIRTHDAY he was sort of suddenly feeling his age found himself hankering after mammoth stew or a big bit of spicey beherbed sabre tooth tiger. pmcmanus 9am raynes park uk. Old Romeo Tybalt didn't harm Mercutio, and wasn't hurt by Romeo him, the son-in-law, old Capulet soon learned to tolerate. They settled down into a long marriage. In time she saw his limitation, mentioned it. Desire, now as then, (which she'd outgrown, called it 'possessive' 'why marry?') would wake him after midnight. The whole long night's moonlit silence was punctuated by a quiet night-bird stirring twice on the roof, by the sleeping dog touching a claw on the wall, by the rare slight snore of Juliet beside him, by the pulsing vein near his ear on the pillow, by the first traffic on the hill, then a whisper of a breeze by the window briefly lifting leaves; day now silently resumed. The bird of dawning had eluded him again. He must have dozed. They were together still. 10.30pm, Wednesday 17 March 2004 Max Richards North Balwyn, Melbourne Sun and sun rotating rotulating rebussing rekrreeAting since this morning with its temperate flow robust fragmenting all beneficial triangled Run gems here and there and up high over there again listen, viewed in-between the fragmented glittering dots they're slowly chewing absorbing deeply singing digesting stretching themselves further up to reach for warmth and light a satisfying most appeasing peaceful continuous brunch trees have almost become fluid inside their rigid trunk as if gracefully dancing under the protective hand of our most beloved benevolent Apollinian god whose embroidered designs keep us all upturned to his awesome Beauty unequaled by living man Anny Ballardini, Bozen, Italy As usual: propping open my eyes with windows, holding up my body with my mind, bearing my particular cross. Saw "Passion of the Christ" today. All red slashed flesh and drippy stuff, and Mary crying, crying. But it won't give me nightmares - I've dealt with it. And besides, he should've been naked. In a documentary he'd have been naked, I reckon. 'Cos you can't bear your cross with your loincloth on. Janet Jackson Wed Mar 17 23:51:58 WST 2004 Perth, Western Australia what goes so far around but a year but a revision of 'the news' the fact is that one thing is another that this is always that or that this story is history is memory's distortion abstractions bless their misty fadeouts slip easily across those lines drawn unclearly of definitions now confined what comes so far around Douglas Barbour Edmonton 09:50 Wednesday March 17 2004 Macho Man Carries His Cross Gibson is not the Jesus they taught me in RCIA: even in blue-collar America Jesus was forgiveness, unconditional love, Milton's One Greater Man who died for us so we could live for each other. It sounded great until I met some priests who I don't think forgave their mothers for birthing them. Go to the movie anyway. Mel gets a lot right: the Jesus-actor sweating blood in Gesthemane, the fear eating into him even before the nail-studded whips make him look like he'd been stuffed into a meatgrinder. "Febrile terror": this guy was me before I went to divorce court, before I entered a roomful of strangers, spoke my first name and proclaimed my condition. Gibson does radio interviews now, easy target on the senex Andy Rooney, comes on like Mad Max and says "If he had a pair he'd say it to my face," repeats "If he had a pair" over and over, macho mantra, a great feat calling out an 85-year-old man. What a guy. Maybe there's an answer, though: hand-to-hand combat, expand the principle of A Pair to politics, Kerry in gladatorial combat with Bush in a ballpark retiarius versus secutor, sangre y arena, supposedly George Patton challenged Erwin Rommel to a man-to-man tank duel in the desert. Nothing came of it: maybe though they could have killed each other. "You forgive and move on" says the good Christian Mel, but damned if Detective Riggs, that lethal weapon, still doesn't wanna take old Andy out into the parking lot and whip his ancient ass with those cats of nine tails. Ken Wolman/Princeton, NJ 12:03 PM, St. Patrick's Day A SNAIL BOUNCES so here i am mid-morning lounging on the lazyboy i've been up for hours had a shower done bacon and eggs checked my email cleared the spam picked the pinta off the doorstep as i greeted the postman brought the laundry down set the washing-machine so now i settle down to listen to the video-recording of last week's just a minute on freeview digital radio the phone rings and it isn't a distant call centre selling a new mortgage telling of a holiday i've won in a competition i never entered or of how my postcode has come up on their computer i can be a show-house but this time it is the secretary of a society of which I'm a life member he wants to know if i am still me have i still got a life seems the last issue of the societies transactions was returned marked gone away but i haven't i'm still here time for a fresh pot of tea Gerald England Gee Cross, Hyde, Cheshire, UK Wednesday 17th March, 2004; 10.30 am i was cd editing my latest compilation with the usual blend of flash withdrawal & gloom called if you can believe it channeling leonard cohen tesseractives first eponymous track washed the scales from my eyes then the man himselfs great event what a sigh of relief thats no way to say goodbye it's just the way it changes pasting in schumann & heines am leuchtenden sommermorgen trauriger blasser mann then joan singing live suzanne certain only drowning men could see him segueing into duparcs linvitation au voyage aimer et mourir au pays qui te ressemble and suzy vega telling the story of isaac I will help you if I must I will kill you if I can so abram rose in brittens war requiem but where the lamb for this burnt offering cut to everybody knows everybody knows the fight is fixed es ist eine alte geschichte doch bleibt sie immer neu dont go home with your hardon it will only drive you insane being leonard cohen at weddings and bar mitzvahs i spent the first year finding myself and the second year losing myself in leonard cohens day job by the austin lounge lizards its part of the price every artist must pay lady midnight said i was dead and could never return um mitternacht sie achtets nicht sie ist es müd so long marianne laugh & cry & cry & laugh about it all again Eubies memories of you with satchmo & a rosary of tears the partisan by noir desir et je nai pas peur jai tant damour for you usa its here the familys broken and its here the lonely say thats how it goes took me all afternoon to burn the thing Martin Walker Lagorce 19.18 Romance Time have you opened it? you've opened it dont open it well have you opened it? wait till eleven oclock wait he's one mithering mithering sod it's flashing now he says can I have the small breakfast please? dont get toast with small breakfast you get your tea and coffee ask the lady if she wants toast on side she's just learning so you want beans or tomatoes? beans please just write down beans that's it just take three pounds from the lady Liz Kirby Pat's Place Fingerpost Shopping Centre, Wigan, UK. Internet access denied until 3pm productivity soars I write 2000 words by half-past one ...fuck me if I'd written my thesis that fast could've finished it in two months flat Dominic Fox, Leicester, UK in the cold of this winter Valentines' Day David Eller Robert Mykinn Timothy Caves & Daniel Kruger arsoned The Church Of God By Faith, Sodus Center, New York today it's ruled a hate crime I can't help but wish these packs of racists would feed on their own west irondequoit, new york 5:49 PM... 3/17/04 jerry schwartz "THE MISUSE OF HYPNOSIS" via Milton EricksonExcept under precise conditions of that waking performance, extreme difficulty finding (overlooked repeatedly) mislaid glasses / mislaid letter. Turning around around in helpless fashion turning blank pages over then upside down. Corrected: spontaneously blind. Corrected: blindness returned. Discontinue attempt. Barry Alpert / Silver Spring, MD US / 3-17-04 (6:02 PM) 
Oil Is it deaths for oil, oh, America, that new found land, overturned burdened by men without vision who speak without compassion that they advocate even as the people behind them voice their money ambitions. Peace it is against war. It is time to hear that call. ----Harriet Zinnes Being Quite Green not feeling myself but the colour of elf not being Irish, but being quite green a stomach virus churn'd me ol' spleen caused me to toss most other things hoping for good luck in what the day brings green eggs and ham should do me fine cause feelin' like yuck makes very poor line green eggs and ham green eggs and ham my break fast of 48 hours? it am so here's to you at Poetryetc: hope you won't get this stomach upset! Deborah Russell, 8:10 am 03-18-04 Baltimore, Maryland USA Liberty I want to climb inside your love machine There we would make mystic love Let's ride the sky where the air is thin. I'll bring the chocolate, strawberries and cream Flowered pillow from the big brass bed I want to climb inside your love machine. I want to climb inside your love machine Open portal door to where it's warm Let's ride the sky where the air is thin. Now that spring is nature's limousine And birds and bees are the steering wheel I want to climb inside your love machine. We've spent the years in bitter mien Shed our tears in a village scene I want to climb inside your love machine Let's ride the sky where the air is thin. Helen Hagemann, Perth WA Poetryetc is a listserv relating to poetry and poetics which provides a forum for poets to debate their critical and creative work. The list has over the years run a number of projects for its members, of which Snapshots has been the most enduring. Every Wednesday, Poetryetc members were invited to post short poems on any subject or in any form they chose. The idea was to make a poetic collage of instamatic “snaps” of that day that reflected the international membership of the list. The project has generated an astounding number of poems. The first two runs, of six weeks each, and the first ten weeks of the third run, are archived at Wild Honey Press www.wildhoneypress.com under Poetryetc Project. The rest - amounting in all to a run of a year - are archived here. Poetryetc, like its affiliate Salt Publishing (http://www.saltpublishing.com), was founded by Australian poet John Kinsella. Salt is managed by Christopher Hamilton-Emery (cemery@saltpublishing.com), while Poetryetc is owned by Alison Croggon (ajcroggon@bigpond.com). Poetryetc is now archived at http://www.jiscmail.ac.uk/lists/poetryetc.html. and anyone interested can join from that url. To contact the listowner: Alison Croggon These pages are designed, maintained, and hosted by Rebecca Seiferle, the Editor of The Drunken Boat. To email. 
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