Date: Wed, 15 Aug 2001 15:04:53 -0700
Subject: Re: the most desireable thing




Good good stuff Edwin! I like it, especially for the sensitivity it shows
toward the rhythms of ALL the worlding games as they play themselves out
inside randomly selected enframings of the seen wherein any randomly framed
seen is taken up a level higher, into the scenic -

engaged, softly but alertly, by likewise random inside placements of a
sympatico turned face on, and unexceptible with, brute nature, i.e.
counting us as "taking our place with (and as being no less or no more
brutish than) the rest of nature" (N). (or maybe also read as: "within the
seeing of what we see we also see that what we see also sees us seeing "it"
seeing us - AS it")

The rich striated weavings inside the texture of your melancholy are
composed of strands which, for me on the outside, fit externally as tightly
and well woven and evokes me the feeling you belong to a youngerish crowd,
or at least, when taken altogether, gives rise to a particular melancholy
inside me I have strong and fond memories of -

-k

You wrote:

>Cash-ing in again:
>You ask me if I'll get along
>I guess I will some way
>I don't like it but I guess things happen that way
>
>all true all to true tho HOW tackle the "It" that
>ain't a WOT - tho maybe (as may be) a day by day
>THAT, and dark nights of simple be-ing:
>
>she had a few days to live. out of the blue, i asked,
>"what will you miss most?" "everything," she said.
>
>night scene: the Harbor Light Bar facing the
>Manhattan skyline and Brooklyn Bridge. in this
>panorama of objects, three images(?) thoughts(?)
>happenings(?) pop up - as must on occasion with
>everyman:
>
>1. quote by Stanley Kunitz (in my backpack):
>
>"More recently I expressed a desire to write poems
>'so transparent that one can look through and see the world.'
>I recognize that there is a great area of unknowing within me.
>Such existential concerns tend to make me rather impatient with the
>particulars of the day. At the same time I am aware that it is out of
>the dailiness of life that one is driven into the deepest recesses of
>the self. There is a transportation, to and fro, between these two
>worlds. The moment that flow stops, one stops being a poet."
>
>2. a possible painting:
>apply ivory black to the canvas. place random sparkling
>white or bright colored dots strewn over the surface.
>connect the dots with straight and/or curved lines. add two.
>thicker, intersecting arcs that touch the perimeters of the
>canvas edges.
>
>3. a poem for Pete that i read at his memorial exhibition,
>July 19 - Aug 10 at the Greene Naftali gallery, NYC:
>
>Peter knew what the poets meant
>when they said that poems
>give you eternal enigmas
>rather than daily news.
>As a matter of fact,
>I saw Pete last night
>at the Harbor Light Bar.
>He was sipping wine
>and  gazing at the
>tangled colors
>of the Manhattan skyline
>and Brooklyn Bridge.
>"The brick and steel
>are not really there
>until you paint them", he said,
>"or maybe write a poem".
>
>Ed
>ps: here's to all the "Potato Eaters."
>
>
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