NY Times Poems 7/26/23

 

William S. Burroughs believed that if the texts from media and mass culture could be cut up and rearranged, they would reveal deeper truths lying beneath the factual truths or lies or ambiguities in the original documents. I have found this to be true. Today, I bought a New York Times and extracted and arranged the following three poems from three separate articles. 100% of the text is from the articles published. As I suspected, the pieces seem to reveal something more -- stories & a mournful music subterranean to the original sources.

NEW YORK TIMES JULY 26, 2023

I - "and the sea between them"

Wildfires devour swaths

And the sea between them

Rescue efforts sixteen people

"I wish her home burned down but she were still alive"

Plumes of smoke rise

97 fires 13 remained

Trapped in a cycle of nightmarish waves

The heat set in

Rumors of arson

Quash the rising anger

Compensation for the victims

"With the abundance of mercy”

A densely forested region

Olive trees in dry coastal areas

Dangerously close

II - "weighing on growth"

Raised its forecast

Rosier in parts

"Hope is not a policy...

critical to avoid..."

It expects consumption

Intended to restrain

Weighing on growth

Slowed down, raised, forced down

Defied expectations, avoiding recession

Pushing up, growing concerned

Weak, tepid, reasons to worry

Tumbled, slumped, cut, running low

Restore confidence, target support

Strengthen consumption

Reasons for optimism

Not in the clear, pose a threat

Portend headwinds, could intensify

Food fuel fertilizer

Suspension concern warning

Further splintered

Additional volatility

III - "changes in the overturning"

Major slow down

Ocean currents

Deep cold

Human driven

Undergo a great weakening

Shut down a potential

Coming so soon

Atlantic circulation

Will decline

Pin down the timing

"It's now," she said

Could set off

Abrupt thawing

Loss of the Amazon

Collapse of the ice sheets

Harbingers of tipping-point-like

Meridional overturning

Bending toward Northern Europe

The water releases its heat

The sinking effect

Disrupting the balance

Creating a "cold blob"

Examining the magnitude

Could see faster

Could experience stormier

Would most likely get

Abrupt starts and stops in the deep past

How the currents might behave

Data and their proxy measure

Changes in the overturning

“An increase in these indicators”

Mathematical properties

Extrapolate from trends

Atmospheric concentration

Applauded the new analysis

Voiced some reservations

More work was still needed

A questionable proxy

The cold blob's development

Sensors slung across the Atlantic

Sent an urgent message

To keep collecting data

“If it weren't for us humans”

“It's very plausible that we...

I fear, honestly..."

All re

Smoke & Brood

smoke & brood on the front stoop

the phone glows

in the gloom

hunched over

the days fold

like bended spoons

the moon a joke

i'd rather forget

once there was

a kite that flew

a song to sing

now there's only

time to kill

within the house

or on the stoop

or in the car

6:00 AM can't come

soon enough

pack the pipe

with leaves of void

blow up the block

in the AM

with a scream

there'll be

time again

tomorrow night

to smoke and brood

and think

about the day

to come

Owl Búho Coruja

A Line by Baudelaire

I was captivated today by a line by Charles Baudelaire in Paris Spleen, “I am a cemetery by the moon unblessed.” I loved everything about it - the audacious melancholy of claiming oneself as a cemetery, surpassing even Morrissey's "Cemetery Gates" for sadness; how still and stark and yet how evocative is the line. I especially loved how the adjective "unblessed" is situated after the noun "moon" -- a very uncommon syntax in English. Then, I thought -- Well, that is a bold choice by the English translator. Who is she or he? And what is the original phrase in French? Starting with the second question, it goes: "Je suis un cimetière abhorré de la lune." I am beginner level French, but know that "abhorré" is most commonly translated as "abhorred" or "loathed. "Unblessed" seems like quite a departure, and yet it delivers the overwhelming sensation of feeling bereft & abandoned by everything - even the moon - better than either of the more common options. And, of course, you get the bleak "eh" repetition echoing "cemetery." But the translator is inspired to go one step further to achieve the spell and, as indicated, places the adjective after the noun. "I am a cemetery unblessed by the moon" lacks the rhythm and cadence needed to successfully cast the spell. Voilà, now they got it: "I am a cemetery by the moon unblessed," and I read it in 2023 and feel simultaneously stricken by its eeriness and comforted by the fact that a phrase exists to describe how I have felt in my most abject states.

What about question #2? Who composed the translation? That I have not yet determined. Many signs point to Edgar Allan Poe, but it will take some digging to find out. Feel free to share your thoughts!

I See a Bad Moon Rising, 2023

the summer it hit the summer it rained

the summer it cooked

make a time machine

of abandoned tires, washing machine parts

& the juice of 1000 wildflowers

go back and distract henry ford

get him to pursue chess

smoke cigars with him, compliment his shoes

chess over industrial production, tell him

or bring jim morrison with you as you recede in time

to visit adam smith in glasgow

tell him music is his destiny

what a great scottish tenor he is!

sing songs with him and jim

drinking pints in a pub

verses & choruses over markets, tell him

fly back further on the winds

of the world whirring in reverse

and throw columbus off the ship

watch the swales with him, the spouting whales

the sun rising like a fiery iris in the east

read maps with him on the deck

then push him over the rails

12 Point Buck

I knew I would see him one day

the other one

the one who didn't go to the Village
and study Guthrie and Ginsberg
but remained in the Midwest
and painted houses
just a blue truck
ladders on top
can of chew on the front seat
and a color postcard
of a 12 pt. buck
dangling over the dash
on the side in faded black letters
Bob Zimmerman Painting (gascap) 462-9117