All copyright © 2003 remains with the authors.
All copyright © 2004 remains with the authors.



Snapshots
3/31/04






Listening to Conundrum

This next jig, said the flute-player,
I learned in Peru,
from an American banjo-player.

They launched into it, full-tilt,
him, fiddler, guitar, bodhran.
Oh when Conundrum played the 'East'

in Lygon Street, Brunswick,
we warmed to their charms.
This was Melbourne, and their

Irishness was all in their veins
and their hearts;
and their feet, and their blurred

fingers playing so fast
none of us could tell this
jig¹s melody from the rest.

They've been too busy to get out an album,
but are selling a short sample on disc
for just five dollars.

Enough no doubt to get us
jigging in our heads all the way
to Ireland via Peru.

Max Richards

6.30 am, Wednesday 31 March, 2004
North Balwyn, Melbourne

***


chunnelling duddy or diddy

there seems to be uh guepe in the text

L[ ]c[ ]n is the nume they worship

leeter un even more sucred

nume turns up uz referred to by

the letter         urlso uh         psycho[ ]n[ ]lyst

or shrink         though uz so often

with these 20th/21st century

hominids         the sucred is excoriyetied

et the seem time uz it is urdoored

urdoored?         urdoored         yes          i sed

yes          whut the bleyzes         is         it

text coming thru         theres uh pettern to be

descried         now urnother         someone culled

Ozym[ ]ndi[ ]s         urnother wholy figure I guess

round the dec[ ]y of that coloss[ ]l wreck

gets on your nerves doesnt it

boundless and b[ ]re

some monurch doubtless         now I ken reed

some torquing of the f[ ]ther figure

on urnother lyst         further

firther feyther?         urnother hole

these eternull guepes in the text

seem uz with L[ ]c[ ]n          sometimes its d[ ]ddy

theyre torquing of diddy or duddy? now our

chunnellers voice groning end moning ut lust

weet          its in germen          so trouncelight it

okeh here goes          the moment of repetition

the uncunny         hot summer efternoon

nehru street         only peinted frowen?

no doubt         wot they ur

feeces from the windows

i esceeped         but noh         buck in the seem street once more

ive excited urtension now

oh those feeces

got buck ut lust to the piuzzuh murtuh

I didnt touch honest to gourd pleez

im thru futter?         sick moond do you heer

futti? im thru deddy

im thru

Martin Walker
chunnelled in Lagorce Wed 31.03 00.03 romance time

***


the cat's tail hangs over the monitor
as she stares at the rat
who eats last night's leftovers.

it's a sign of
the interruption of
the natural order of

things. subject to
'subject' changing to
the will of Subject to

return to a definition of
the natural order of
(here we go again) things,

Jezebel the cat
must be watched
as her tail wags

in the straight talk
of instinct,
a tale thwarted,

poem
editing itself into
silence.

Andrew Burke, Perth, WA

***


Written yesterday, edited a little today.

When it's over
I will be silent.
You will try to celebrate,
to go out with a bang,
but I will be silent.
There is no joy in death.

I will cry my tears silently.
There will be no-one to hold me -
no-one that matters, when you are gone.
There will be arms around me, flesh arms,
and I'll take some comfort from that
but there will be no-one to hold me.

I'm crying now, thinking of it,
and Bob Marley is singing "No Woman No Cry",
making it worse.
Because look what happened to him.
What happened to his special ones?
Who holds them now?
His spirit?

Will your spirit come to hold me
when it's over?
Will I still be able to sing?

If it is not time to cry - not yet -
then why these tears?
What is your spirit saying?

The telephone rings and blasts us all to bits.

Janey Jackson
10am
Parkerville, Western Australia

***


E-MAILS AGAIN!

oh!
she said
'e-mails again!
not those poets?
what are they all
on about this time?'
he replied excitedly
'conflation morphology
solipsystic hypermorality
dialecticical triad biosemantica
or centripetal numinous.langpo metanoia
geist. transsubstantiation phylotic simularcra
heartstrings plinking pinche hijo de la chingada.
Information Theory introjective verse glossolalia
multiple declensions litotic sprezzatura autopoiesis
Hegelian sublation cave canem! or pussem exegesis
_sine qua non_ poluphony lettristes, ultralettristes
tamegaze petroglyphs Lyotard radical horror pleni
jouissance Lacan, psychoanbalysis, heterogeneity
buttinsky terza rima and Bataille of course Bataille!'
but
she had
by then
gone off
to get
haddock
for lunch..

pmcmanus 7-32am raynespark
london uk-n382

***


News of the blind man

He left his country
before the army could pen his number
and life.
I knew him, half blind,
well aware of his aggressiveness.
In Adelaide, he left behind winter suits,
vests, ski boots, blood drying in the pockets
of his winter overcoat.
When I met him
he had the voice of a bell,
growl of life, a hunger to walk
inside leather shoes.
Days grew to battles he fell into,
an inheritance of family lies.
He spread the distance between us
with a bottle or two of beer and wine.
No one knew him or was informed.
He gave away his existence,
destroying walls and doors.
At times, he was a husband,
a father, absent from home.
In my sleep he’s the lion that can’t be caught
smiling from the lettuces, mortar and brick.
I’ve had this dream before
of paint sheds, lilac tins, studio of wooden toys
his children will never see,
or a face without drink.

Helen Hagemann, Perth, Wed 31/3/04

***


"THE UNHEAVENLY HOST"
via Lars von Trier
THE KINGDOM
("poetic & captivating" - LvT)

As if someone were on top of the lift,
how long does the humiliation go on?
In his own way he’s rather an asset,
"Here is an illustration of the brain of a malingerer!"

With sublime generosity a corpse delivers;
the dead don’t mind giving us a bit of light relief occasionally.
I just meant mind your nose,
but what are things when the building starts to cry?

Barry Alpert / Silver Spring, MD / 3-31-04 (9:49 AM)

***


what would Science
as a subject
say?

Edmonton's weather
as a standard
for what's going
down in an
atmosphere of?

yesterday a record
high -- plus 24
& today I woke

to falling snow
those huge white flakes
so beautiful

& cool

real cool

in some context/
content/ spare
change

Douglas Barbour
Edmonton Canada 09:00

***


orange-tipped half-disc
peeps above thick mist
last sunset in March

Gerald England
Hyde, UK
31/3/04
7.30pm

***


Larry Adler Plays "My Funny Valentine"

Adler, old commie exile
scandal of his family for
his life as Al Jolson,
wanting not the life of a cantor
but to blow the harmonica
like a backporch schwartze,
expelled by HUAC from Baltimore,
stays instead in Britain,
adopts British style and dress,
but keeps the acid tongue until
it falls upon the chromatica
the sound the sound
I hear by night in
the darkness of my car,
Rodgers' "My Funny Valentine,"
the opening melody line, key of C,
crying, bending, sobbing,
a violin, a human voice,
a Bjoerling of the harp,
and the dark indeed is light enough.

(For Larry Adler, harmonicist
1914-2001)

Kenneth Wolman

***


Spring, sprang, sprung

days when words rest
on green beds, oval as eggs
wait to be scooped up

what is it about
hats and brick city flowers
we want to show up

scatter seeds, tear off
piece of cloud, dandelion
gets a brand new "do"

Deborah Humphreys
Newark, NJ
3:05 pm

***


Never seen him sitting
with his feet up before.

A bullock jumped on it.
He went all colours.
It hasnt swelled
but he's on the ibruprofen.

Five hundred sheep about to lamb.
Two heifers due any day.
Lucky he fixed the ridge tiles
after last week's gales.

We've had the March winds
now we'll get the April showers.

Liz Kirby
Heaton Moor Farm, Staffs, UK.
8.45 pm, March 31st 2004.

***


Actionable intelligence

                                             fragment as enactment

language in motion

an attempt to settle

                                             between potential & act--

the very ambiguities

gaps         disruptions         un-

                                             certainties

contradictions of memos

secret of their power

Jerry Schwartz
West Irondequoit, "United States", 31 March 2004,
4:30 P. M.

***


SNAPSHOT 49

end of march a
         dying winter
                  made the most of
his last breath
         hurling a lame
                  blizzard at us
now uncool
         slowly
                  surely
the snow
         melts reluctant
                  to let go

árni ibsen
11 pm march 31 2004
hafnarfjördur
iceland

***





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.

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