sunday, june 12, 1998

From fire on the mountain @ coconut twelve (2008)

Phoems are in some part phony. In terms of process - the identification of this tranche of work as transcriptions (even if edited) of taped recordings - this one does not disappoint as I wrote it on paper. I recall I did so more or less straight up, following the aphroism of Chagyam Trungpa via Allen Ginsberg, "First take best take." I have sometimes doubted the truth of this dictum: Or it may be said that it takes many takes to get to the first take. My experience, however, is this applies to the learning of a craft; once internalized, one has immediate access to originality. It becomes a matter, as O'Hara writes, of going "on your nerve" (Olson too). My learning to work with speech followed this pattern, and relative to writing, it had to do more with speed and so a heightened set of trust parameters. Beyond this lies performance, which at a certain point is what happens (chance/cadence). If the trust and nerve are there, it will well.

Connect to Coconut Poetry here.

Sam Truitt

sunday, june 12, 1998

—for WD & JB

the skeleton of a single bird on a single tree does

make a spring

backed against memory of these things concrete

wall all is crushed before seen

what is that the pattern of sky as hue heaved in

branches leaves of beech trees sun and now this

one bird and now everything sleeping the grass its

own pillow like words that need no one around to

cut them

the wound is in my eyes sunsets bruises that guide

my heart if i can find

famous people walking through the lighted room

then stand in darkness looking in

warner is sleeping up late left his haake beck bottle

and bali shag cigarette pouch and jim is sleeping

and cherry and flo with a sheet over her face is


what happens when you sleep is your body is alone

and all the arrows point inward toward the same


the mind a sheet through which light pours

the raccoon is not sleeping walks to the edge of the

trees and looks into the house its face like a

grandfather then a grey cat with white back legs

walks where the raccoon was sniffing. molly and

nora are hiding so there is this sphere of silence

that is not made of silence but stillness eyes move

in not breaking as much as weaving it and not

tighter but larger as though to site it it would go on


what ideas are being cast around?

what is the logic forms of tongue confound?

a large diamond is buried under the ground i mean

under the ground so that you cannot dig for it only

get there by being the ground and then lifting

yourself off molly's head above the window sill

now looking into the trees in the direction of where

the raccoon was her black fur glistening