Showing posts with label Joesph Semenovich. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joesph Semenovich. Show all posts

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Joseph Semenovich, Kerouac, and a Handful from the Archive


Cover by Oberc

In last week's post, I featured a couple of poems by the late poet Joseph Semenovich. In the discussion that followed, there was interest in his work and I discovered that there was very little on the net. Joseph died 10 years ago, a small press poet, well regarded by those who knew his work. I found out about his passing when mail I sent to him came back from the post office simply stamped "Deceased." It was at once a shock and a great sadness. In order to take a bit of the edge off of that feeling that still resonates today, here are the balance of poems by Joseph I published way back then:


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poet's lament

there's hardly a piece of silence
i can listen to
without myself
trying to accompany it



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the sunlight
through the window
over my shoulder
over the surface
of the table
into
the cup
of tea

on the ceiling
le mot juste
flickering



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Curio

Figure out the sky.
Tally up the bricks.
Count the windows.
Die.



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That's it, 5 poems in total including the two from last week, but it's more than I've found anywhere else. #97 of Lilliput was dedicated to Joseph and here is what I wrote then, the only prose piece ever published in Lillie in its nearly 20 years history.


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Sometimes it's necessary to pause for a moment and think what we are about. The life of a small press poet is fleeting in so many ways: the impression that is left, the recognition (if any) that comes, even the time allotted to practice one's craft. The constant battle for validation while all too frequently fighting meaningless jobs to just get by. And, so, Joseph Semenvoich, a poet, has died. I knew little of him besides a fleeting (that word again) correspondence. But what I did know of him was something of his essence: his words. His work was at once beautiful and cutting, to the quick. As with many another poet, his poems were an exploration of self, the eternal quest for meaning and worth. The following three poems (which were included in this post and last week's), from previous issues of Lillie, say it all, and then some.

This one's for you, Joseph.

July 1998


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Before heading to the archive, one further note of interest from the website Beat Scene. They've posted a clip from a forthcoming Kerouac film entitled One Fast Move and I'm Gone: Kerouac's Big Sur. Here's a synopsis from the Internet Movie Database:

"He was called the vibrant new voice of his generation -- the avatar of the Beat movement. In 1957, on the heels of the triumphant debut of his groundbreaking novel, On The Road, Jack Kerouac was a literary rock star, lionized by his fans and devotees. But along with sudden fame and media hype came his unraveling, and, by 1960, Kerouac was a jaded cynic, disaffected from the Beat culture he helped create and tortured by self-doubt, addiction and depression.

Desperate for spiritual salvation and solitude, as well as a place to dry out, he secretly retreats to Lawrence Ferlinghettis rustic cabin in the Big Sur woods. But his plan is foiled by his own inner demons, and what ensues that summer becomes the basis for Kerouacs gritty, yet lyrically told, semi-autobiographical novel, Big Sur.
One Fast Move or Im Gone: Kerouacs Big Sur, takes the viewer back to Ferlinghettis cabin and to the Beat haunts of San Francisco and New York City for an unflinching, cinematic look at the compelling events the book is based on. The story unfolds in several synchronous ways: through the narrative arc of Kerouacs prose, told in voice-over by actor and Kerouac interpreter, John Ventimiglia (of HBOs The Sopranos); through first-hand accounts and recollections of Kerouacs contemporaries, whom many of the characters in the book are based on such as Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Carolyn Cassady, Joyce Johnson and Michael McClure; by the interpretations and reflections of writers, poets, actors and musicians who have been deeply influenced by Kerouacs unique gifts like Tom Waits, Sam Shepard, Robert Hunter, Patti Smith, Aram Saroyan, Donal Logue and S.E. Hinton; and by stunning, High Definition visual imagery set to original music composed and performed by recording artist, Jay Farrar of Son Volt, with additional performance by Benjamin Gibbard of Death Cab for Cutie." IMDB



This week's issue from the archive is #87, published in April 1997 and dedicated to the memory of small press pioneer and publisher of the legendary Wormwood Review, Marvin Malone. The further back in time we go in the archive, the more the tone alters and so it is a bit like reading a personal journal for me. Here's a few numbers from this issue:


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stink bug
on the blackberry,
look carefully

Ralph S. Coleman



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Translations

A scar of clouds
creeping down the belly
of the sky

means no one.

Tidepools: a season
of futures
hung on the short tail
of now.

Jane Vanderbosch



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Mountain
go tell
it to
the sky.

Cid Corman



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Until next time,
Don


Note: If you would like to receive the two current issues of Lilliput Review free (or have your current subscription extended two issues), just make a suggestion of a title or titles for the Near Perfect Books page.

Saturday, May 31, 2008

Walt Whitman


It's Father Walt's birthday, so in his honor, here's a little something by himself:



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Out of the Rolling Ocean, the Crowd

1.

Out of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me,
Whispering, I love you, before long I die,
I have travel'd a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look'd on you,
For I fear'd I might afterward lose you.


2.


(Now we have met, we have look'd we are safe;

Return in peace to the ocean my love;
I too am part of that ocean, my love-we are not so much separated
Behold the rondure-the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, irresistible sea is to separate us,
As for an hour, carrying us diverse-yet cannot carry us divers
-------------------for ever;
Be not impatient-a little space-Know you, I salute the air, the
-------------------ocean and the land,

Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love.)


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



His expansiveness is beyond all bounds. It doesn't get much better, much more Buddhist, than this.

I'll be walking away from the computer for the next week or so: a little something I need to do. I will have a regular post on Thursday, which will be featuring more work by Joseph Semenovich, who had a couple of poems in
last Thursday's post.


best,
Don


Note: If you would like to receive the two current issues of Lilliput Review free (or have your current subscription extended two issues), just make a suggestion of a title or titles for the Near Perfect Books page.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Robert Hass Reads Issa, Thoreau Grinds Away & Damned Baseball Haiku


Cover by John Bennett


Ran across a number of interesting pieces this week, including a video of Robert Hass reading Issa haiku at the Geraldine Dodge Poetry Festival. This short reading (less than 2 minutes) of 9 poems perfectly captures the playfulness and humor that endears Issa to so many. In addition, it a a model of how to perform haiku, no easy task. It misses the immense sadness of Issa, the other dimension that contributes to his immortality, but that was not the point of this reading as may be readily seen. This reading is part of a larger series entitled Poetry Everywhere, which includes such poets as Charles Simic, Lucille Clifton, Sharon Olds, and Robert Frost.

Fine, fine stuff. I've made it a permanent link in the Issa section of the sidebar.

In Monday's post, I mentioned
The Blog of Henry David Thoreau; here is another gem from that journal, entitled Grinding Away.

Mary Karr has recently taken over the Poet's Choice column in the Washington Post and it has taken me a little time to warm up to her style and tastes. A recent post in which she began by admitting she never liked Emily Dickinson did the trick; she mentioned the anecdote that has long been making the rounds that you can sing almost any Dickinson poem to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas." Try it with Because I could not stop for Death.

Hmn.

Her latest column takes on something I just can 't abide: baseball haiku. It's not the fault of the haiku; I can't stand baseball fiction, baseball short stories etc. (n.b.: I am a big baseball fan). However, in her column covering the recent publication of Baseball Haiku: American and Japanese Haiku and Senryu on Baseball, she quotes the work of George Swede, among others. Congratulations to George, one of our finest purveyors of the haiku form. He ably proves why in the two poems quoted in the article:


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empty baseball field
a dandelion seed floats through
the strike zone




video ball game
through knotholes in the old fence
evening sunbeams

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Now, there are a couple of baseball haiku that even I like. The first is simply perfect and the use of the single word "evening" in the second has me on my back waiting for my tummy to be scratched (and you thought you could never really please an editor).

This week's selection of poems from a past issue of Lilliput Review takes us back to #89, July 1997. As the summer season begins, here are a couple of seasonal works from back then:


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Tentative Summation

A poem is ocean -
without shore.
Tim Scannell



in my hand--
the rock smoothed
by part of the Pacific Ocean
Gary Hotham

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And two by the late Joseph Semenovich:


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narcissi

i present
whoever i am
both subject and object

and just like narcissus
how unlucky can you get
the pond became

the verb
he drowned
himself in





my step-father's paintings

the black rocks
the green frothy water breaking over them
the sky pulled apart like the innards of a pillow
one screaming gull

outside
the heavy trucks/the grinding
gears/the chug-a-lug
the way the world

is



------------------------------------------------------------------

best,
Don


Note: If you would like to receive the two current issues of Lilliput Review free (or have your current subscription extended two issues), just make a suggestion of a title or titles for the Near Perfect Books page.