EVOCATIVE NOMINATIVES

Sky mountains waterfalls ocean depths

Snowflakes white earth rivers frozen lakes

Leaves in the air fallen on the sodden ground enveloped by the season

Raindrops vaporescent oceans downpours clouds

Mist meadows fog sky rainbows

Faces mobs friends the human race

Love a God above devotion heaven sky and earth

FALLOW HEAD

There is a time for production and

A time for induction.  I am learning

A Scott Joplin piece and I have nothing

To say.  Fallow land is still being farmed

If not by man or woman, then by God

And if God be too high to comprehend cognitively and get, yet

All that is works on brain synapses

Which some call mind, others the soul

On a fallow head

 

I’ve labored hard abnegating everything else

Sabbatical’s completed creativity rests.

But since time still needs filled and CNN

Repeats itself on the hour and TV’s repeating movies fail to move

I play the piano.  And learn Scott Joplin’s Mexican Serenade;

I read a little, listen to classic rock, maybe jazz, and wake up my days to baroque, sipping coffee

In my following of sabbatical fallow induction

After all, there needs to be some substantive thing to make something

 

Sleeps dreams arrange the brain

Psyche’s stresses become meaning in sleep

Criticism, Opinion, and Contemporary Art

OK.  I have difficulty appreciating contemporary art.  I had difficulty appreciating disco music.  In the mid ’70’s it was disco or punk.  I had difficulty appreciating both the Bee Gees and Sid Vicious.  So in the mid ’70’s, I opted out of pop music.  For musical enjoyment, I retreated into the world of classical music in my protest/hermitage from pop culture.  And in large part, I’m opting out of contemporary art.  This includes conceptual art, much poetry, and fiction.  I can bear some contemporary music, probably because of all the arts, I understand music best.  But even in “music,” conceptual art such as John Cage is past my willingness to try to like.

Innovation gives birth to new art forms.  In high school, I didn’t understand Jackson Pollock, but like him now.  Fair to say, though, I wouldn’t hang his work in my condo.  My parents didn’t like rock music–disco or other any other form.  But I would argue that rock pushed an envelope that needed to be pushed.  And I’ll say that some classic rock is great in a pop sort of way.  I certainly wouldn’t want a world with only Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr., and Frank Sinatra.  So whatever contemporary art thinks it’s doing, it may be advancing the arts.  (Isn’t that generous of me?)  Few appreciated the Impressionists in their day.  But they did the art world a great service in moving painting beyond Gustave Moreau.  Maybe there’s something in the art that came through town which consisted of folding chairs interspersed with speakers through which a dreamy woman spoke about her dream of crows dying.?

A while back, I thought that my ideas about art were bona fide criticism.  I thought that my understanding of art constituted a critical stance and I thought that others should heed my critical positions.  But I now see that as ego.  My critical stance is really opinion.  I’ll validate my opinion that much in contemporary art is not worth my time.  But I won’t say that it’s bad art.  All I can say is that I don’t like it, don’t get it, don’t wish to take the time to get it.  What passes for art today may well be advancing forms that the children of my generation will love.  Or it might be like disco, and die out.  I don’t know.  Don’t think anyone can know.  What I can know is that my position is opinion.  I’d like to think it critical theory and call down the Harpies of the art world on everything I don’t like.  A few months ago, I would have.  Now, call it humility, maybe, but my preferences are mine alone.  Which frees me up to shrug off what I don’t think deserving of my time.  And to laud those who are doing things I don’t get.

KEY WEST: NIGHT CRUISE

The sun had left to darkness the reflecting sea

And the sunset gave the night to you and me

That we watched from the harbor,

The masts’ rigging weaving an arbor

Of love.  The night yielded up silhouettes I cared no longer to see

While I gazed on you in the harbor glow.  Some moments suffice for eternity

 

EXPLANATORY NOTE: Dear visitors to my site: Your each visit means so much to me, and when you “like” one of my posts it makes my evening (I usually post late at night, my time).  You may have noticed a recent flurry of posts–sometimes even two a day.  This is not a sprint of new creation.  I am revising some old(er) poems with an aim of assembling a collection to send out for publication.  To no small degree, I weigh the response my poems get from the internet to gauge whether I will include them in my collection.  In general, when I get a favorable response from the net, I, too, prefer the given poem, personally.  So I think the net is an accurate metric to consider when I make my final determination about whether to include or scrap a poem from the ultimate collection.  So thank you each and every one for taking the time to visit this site.  Your visits and even more, your feedback, are so much appreciated!  Sorry if lately I’ve been sending a plethora of scribblings into your inboxes.

THE WHOLE WORLD SHOUTS, “YES!”

I passed the greater passage of my time alone

Sometimes I stood against the world and I felt fine

At other times, a peaceful solitude I’ve known

But all I was and all I did was only mine

 

Now my life is our life!  You are with me!  We two!

Your presence dances in my work, effort, ambition

New purpose that I never knew devolves from you

All for you, for us, is now my inspiration

 

With you my life is blessed

With you is happiness

With you I want the best

With you the whole world shouts, “YES!”

 

Now my world, my universe, is doubly joyous

Now I am we

And joy or grief for me is joy or grief for us

Solo so long, we two is all I ever want to be

OUR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER IS TRUE

For both of us it’s been a trying year

My new med change, you lost your old career

I felt drowning in manic passion

You seemed overwhelmed with stress and fear

We stayed together despite desperation

We struggled but remained in relation

 

In hard times and in good times we still date

Regardless of the trouble on our plate

You are my support; I support you

As we accept—in fact, embrace—our fate

Our love runs deep through all that we go through

In ease, in strain, in everything we do

 

And now it seems we’re coming through our trials

Our grimaces are yielding into smiles

The psychic storm we both drove through is ceasing

Having churned through tempestuous miles

Our difficulty finally is easing

And pleasure in each other still is pleasing

TOGETHERNESS MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE

With you with me, I can handle anything

It feels sometimes as if the world is at me

Frustrations, failures, attacks enemies bring

In all, your holding me holds me steady

 

As Tristan and Isolde lived on love’s bliss

Our Love Grotto blesses every place and date

The outside world which whirls outside our kiss

Our love and deeds receive and penetrate

 

And when I err—I do—and stray awry

You call me back and straighten my direction

In all the flowering arts I love to try

When weakness saps, you fire my motivation

 

In life what matters most to me is us

We are salvation among change and sin

An anchor when seas turn tempestuous

I became we; then did my life begin

 

It is a holy gift to love and care

The world, too often, is indifference

We are the answer to each other’s prayer

Togetherness makes all the difference

LEONARDO’S SONNETS PART II

In fact, brain synapses configure

New pathways forming in gray matter

Thought processes and capacities for

New comprehension’s creation

Creativity

Reading a new work viewing

A new art form or revisiting such as

The Mona Lisa

LINES WRITTEN IN DEJECTION, NEAR NAPLES

Fugue V from Well-Tempered Clavier

And in the new generation, creation, art work

Writing a sonnet

A whole new brain is born

Any least aspect changes the whole

Recasts the mold fashioning

Consciousness

Any new experience and learning

Love

Repentance

The Rig Veda

Makes a new capability to make

And so, the sonnets of Leonardo

Indeed conspire in the painting of

The Mona Lisa

LEONARDO’S SONNETS

The artist who painted the Mona Lisa composed

Sonnets

Leonardo is not known for his verse

Though you might be able to find them on Amazon

I don’t know if anybody read them in his day

So why write sonnets no one would read

When you are a painter?

And he designed

Bombs, sculptures, a flying machine

None of which materialized

I don’t think his flying machine would work

Did all this conspire in the painting of

The Mona Lisa

Thought by many to be THE GREATEST PAINTING

The Confederate Flag and other Signifiers

I’ve been thinking about signifiers lately.  Analytic philosophy like that of Saussure and Derrida write in French much about signifiers.  Saussure writes that either everything is a symbol or nothing is.  And Derrida writes that language retreats into an endless series of signifier, and signifier, and signifier . . .  I think that signifiers, or symbols feature prominently in every culture.  The flag is one such symbol.

Before I turn to the flag, I’d like to consider the nature of signifiers in general.  I like to wear Buddhist prayer beads like a necklace.  I do this because I have an abiding sympathy with Buddhist doctrine and life.  To most Canadians, the prayer beads have no significance at all; they don’t know that they are Buddhist prayer beads.  They just look strange around this westerner’s neck and make me look strange.  But to a Buddhist, the necklace is a signifier.  In fact, a Tibetan lady told me the correct way to use them in reciting Buddhist prayers when she saw them around my neck.  Then there is what the beads signify for me.  They remind me of the love beads we hippies used to wear in the ’60’s and ’70’s and recall an ideology I still hold and remind me of a golden age in American culture.  That is another thing that the beads signify for me.  So I was wondering, are the beads a signifier if no one else recognizes the meaning that they hold for me?  Do the beads signify peace and love if no one else sees them that way?  Is signification in the eye of the beholder?  Does signification need to be shared in order to be a symbol?

A related consideration devolves from a traffic incident I experienced.  Once, I was pulling out of my parking space into traffic and an Asian woman didn’t slow down but drove her vehicle right at me.  I kept pulling out and she honked her horn at me.  I very calmly gave her the finger.  But she didn’t react at all.  It occurred to me that she might not share the significance of the finger; she may not even have known what it meant.  Or she just didn’t react.  I got mad because my signifier was lost on her.  It didn’t convey the anger I felt, and that made me mad.  But the question goes deeper.  What if the finger means love for me.  If I give people the finger meaning a show of love, and other people see it as a symbol of hate, what has happened to signification and symbol?

This brings up the confederate flag as a signifier.  I lived in Birmingham, Alabama in what is called “the deep south.”  I was totally charmed by southern culture.  The southern graces endeared me.  My experience of the south was beautiful.  The confederate flag is a symbol of southern culture for white Americans in Alabama.  I was so enamored of the south, I even carried a small confederate flag into the airport when I arrived home in Boston.  I was trying to stir up trouble.  But Boston isn’t still fighting the civil war.  So no one in Boston reacted, no one noticed.

I know why some southerners feel an attachment to the confederate flag.  However, the confederate flag was flown by the confederate armies when they withdrew from and actually fought the federal armies.  And the issue that precipitated the civil war was slavery.  So to African-Americans, the confederate flag symbolizes slavery.  Also, hate groups like the KKK use the confederate flag to outright attack and sometimes murder African-Americans.  So the confederate flag has different significance to different peoples.

We’re back to my issue with the finger.  If people understand the finger as a symbol of hate, it can’t really mean love if I use it as a love sign.  Symbols are shared.  Must be shared.  If the confederate flag is a symbol of hate and slavery to some people, even if we don’t mean those things when we fly the flag, it’s like giving someone the finger a a love sign.  Furthermore, the flag has a history.  It was the symbol of the confederate states who sought to withdraw from the United States of America.  It was and is the symbol of the confederacy.  I think that there are two meanings for the confederate flag.  One meaning is pride in southern culture.  Another meaning is hate and slavery, even racial violence and murder.  If a signifier has an odious meaning for some, and a positive meaning for others, then the offended people win the argument.  It is simply not possible for me to give someone the finger as a love sign.  And the confederate flag can’t mean southern graces to African-Americans.  Those who take the confederate flag as a symbol of southern price must yield.  Historically, and among contemporary hate groups, the confederate flag is an odious signifier.  One can’t fly an odious symbol in public.  It’s offensive.  Removing and prohibiting the confederate flag from flying in public is not re-writing history.  It is prohibiting symbols of hate to be made public and to be part of official government policy.

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