Lithium poetry

Got back from poetry tonite, and the poem I remembered was about lithium...all the lithium in the world...and how lithium in the water might make the world a better place...less violent. I got thinking of lithium balloons...forgetting that they were actually helium...but what about that? I pondered that awhile...then my mind wandered...to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, Oregon. There are lithium springs in Lithia Park...right below the acting stages. I would always go to the lithia spring water fountain...and drink the slightly carbonated water that tasted somewhat dirty...yet made me feel just a bit better. It made me think of the effect of lithium on mental health...how much is too much...and is it addictive? I guess it depends on the person, but I've known many under the effects of lithium...and it's a curiousity to me. But well...maybe the lithium balloons aren't such a good idea. Sounds like fun though. What do you think?

What snow feels like...

I just finished reading William Mayne's book Pig in the Middle (1965) in between Criminal Minds episodes. I turned in my other three library books on time but mostly unread. This book is worth turning in late. The most startling thing about his works are the details. Sometimes they seem everyday mundane and you want to rush over it. That's a mistake for even in the mundane details are an accuracy you could test out for yourself. Then you come across a detail that's so startling, it changes how you view your world. This is how I come to write the way I do...inventiveness is viewing through fresh eyes...

Here are two passages from Pig in the Middle, that change how I look at snow...

Snow was still falling, very gently. It had been falling
all night. The yard was full of it, rather more than a
foot deep. No one had ever walked in it. Robert put a
foot down, and the snow grains grunted under his heel.
He stepped out, and closed the door behind him. He
crossed the yard and pulled at the gate into the alley.
It opened a little way and then stuck. The snow had
banked up as he pulled. He put his slept-on hand into
the cold and dug like a dog. The door opened wide
enough for him to pace outside, lifting his feet like
royal horses. (page 107)

Robert took off his socks and found iced damp feet
inside them. His hands could feel the feet, the feet could
not feel the hands. He pulled off his coat, all starched
with snow... (page150)

Writing so amazing I feel like keeping the library book...but no...
I'll probably buy it online.

Earwig listening

I was yawning when the earwigs came running
Dripping their spouts through the open air
I lay a toadstool and let them come in
Furniture dripping in the cows of night
I lay a table with rags and rugs
Into their skins they run and swim
Thinking some cartwheels or circus might come
Snuggling in tight to mitten a kiss
And the dreams come running, drums tangerine
Dressing formaldehyde to keep them warm
While the sticks play tricks with the camphor bunnies
Dust balls rolling in camphor snow
With the cameras hidden an earwig away
Soft as a hat and yawning
Dripping their sprouts through the open air
Tenderhooks yawn, turn tighter than drums
Dreams come running to tangerine reply
Soft as a hat and yawning
I open my earwigs and listen.

Denis Streeter 2/27/11

Book review: Little Long-Nose

I couple days ago I discovered a wonderful new book on the University Book Store bargain tables. It's a classic fairy tale originally published in 1827 by Wilhelm Hauff called Little Long-Nose. It is a beautiful edition illustrated by Laura Stoddart, slim hardcover book (5x8) just over 90 pages, put out by Candlewick Press Treasures. Anything by Candlewick Press Treasures will be excellent. Also in this reprinted collection is Elsie Piddock Skips In Her Sleep by Eleanor Farjeon, The Lord Fish by Walter de la Mare, and Rikki-Tikki-Tavi by Rudyard Kipling. I just read Little Long-Nose in one setting. It reads aloud well, is extremely well written, and an unusual tale...
From the inside jacket...

Being the extraordinary
tale of a bewitched boy
with a long nose and a
small body who becomes
a great cook. But will he
find the secret ingredient
to set himself free?

This amazingly gifted writer published this book just before his death...ten days shy of twenty-five. Below is a sample of his writing...

There he caught sight of a
cupboard that he had never noticed
before. It's door was slightly ajar
and Jacob saw that it was full of
boxes which gave off a strong but
pleasant smell. He opened one of
them and found a herb of strange
shape and colour. It had blue-green
leaves and a red flower with yellow
edges. He noticed at once that the
flower had the same smell as the
soup the old woman had cooked
when he first came. The scent was
so strong it made him sneeze. He
sneezed and sneezed and sneezed--
until he woke up. (pages 22-3)

This book is truly a treasure for all ages. It seems sad to me that it did not sell well, but I was happy to pay the bargain price of $1.14.

Time flux

Set alarm last night
Woke up on time
Put CD in tv and listened to
Co-worker borrowed Dead Kennedys Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables
Did exercises, made lunch, got ready for work
Put in Crowfoot CD, unique folksy contra-dance music
The polar opposite of the Dead Kennedys
I realized about the Dead Kennedys...
They were and are a great punk rock band I would have loved to hear live
A real raw power but not really that good...with the exception of a few songs
Like "California Uber Alles" and "Holiday in Cambodia"...which were hits for them
And I still like...they have a kind of subversive politically incorrectness that's oddly fun
But then I wanted to hear something completely different...
Crowfoot is excellent musicianship and a well crafted recording...with a different young folksy energy
Somewhere between the two differences I was thrown off kilter
Or maybe it was the night before
Time slip...
Got in my car, turned on the radio to my favorite station...running late...
I think...
But wait a minute...
They're playing news and not music...
Wait a minute...
They don't play news unless it's before 9 AM
Look at my car clock...8:40 AM
It's 13 minutes fast now
But I'm more like one hour fast
I usually don't leave until my car clock reads 9:35 AM
Time slip...
The night before
Set my alarm too early
I drive around the neighborhood wondering what to do...
Finally come home
Put in some more Crowfoot
Type up this journal entry and
Where is my mind...
Hopefully I'll find it sometime today
Drive on time...
Yet still a little early
To work...
Where anything could happen...

Denis Streeter 2/26/11

Is there a spam factory in the woods?

That was a comment from a co-worker after hearing my poem read aloud tonite. During the 5-6 PM dinner break hour I wrote 4 poems on paper towels...non stop, no proof reading. Later when I looked at them, I discovered they were somewhat interesting but had no focus. I wasn't in a good space, but on a writing spree, having had a bad experience with my last customer before break. After I'd mellowed out a bit by talking to co-workers, this lighter more coherent poem took shape...

As the spam lives and flies

Unicorn the woods
The flies are sparrowing again
Out the tolerance ghettos
To the place where spam lives
Let loose the onion rings and doves of prey
Where the fruit flies trees and the lambs cotton
During the wet season when the wool runs dry
And the sap runs cold when the tulips sing
And dance around the spam ring
Touching icicles as they frost
When the wool runs cold and the spam ring sings
Unicorning sparrows in the tolerance ghettos
Where the fruit flies sing and the chocolate walks
Talking of the first moment
The sap ran dry
In the land of milk and honey
Toasting their dovelish sparrowing ways
In the tolerance ghettos
As the spam lives and flies.

Denis Streeter 2/25/11

Antony Ant and the Earwig Pirates

I was exploring the bargain books at the University Book Store on the Ave and saw an Australian picture book classic by D.H. Gilmore. Can't remember that title because of the title that had listed on the back of that book. As soon as I saw the title, I knew I had to have it! "Antony Ant and the Earwig Pirates, Gregory Grasshopper, and the Cruise of the Saucy Walnut". It is a three story picture book written and illustrated by the author I believe around the 1930's. Has anyone heard of it? I couldn't order it through the King County Library...so I put a request for an interlibrary loan...could take months! I'm too impatient. Must have it now! So I ordered a reprinted copy through Abebooks through a bookstore in the UK...for $17.20 including shipping. I can't wait for it to arrive! Well...actually I have to wait...about 3-6 weeks... But come on...it was worth it...just for the title alone!

Bearded change

Temperature awake
As the tonsils fly by
Wishing the dreams
To reenact
My reality
Temperature change
Flying by night
Morning moon
Takes flight
Discovering worlds unmade
Roads undiscovered
Gifts made to discover
And the wild man guesses
One shoes to the next
Just what will be
In the pudding of works
Sister brother cousin lover friend
Some cosmic soup we're in
And the wild man guesses
Bringing up the roots
Been travelling so long
Love a destination, start, cycle
Begin over again
One shoe to the next
Let the breathing begin
Fright take flight
Bearded change

Denis Streeter 2/22/11

Lurid prose

London reviewed its lurid prose
For half a hack knee and a dose of blood pudding
But then it slippered off
Lampering under street lights and porcelain plains
Half a stain away with the fork and the spoon
Nursery rhymes fell and couldn't be Humpty Dumpdeed
Half a stain away with the fork and spoon
Porcelain scrapings jumped the moon
Leaving the kniflings
Misunderstanding their childhood
Slippering off some slidden train
Rank of thought in pools of light
Posing as prose beside the blood pudding
And the laughter humpty dumpdeed a fork over the spoon
For half a hack knee and a dose of lurid prose
London slept beside its misunderstood childhood
Lampering some S-O-S
Distress and dress the morning
Slippering off some slidden train
Scampering one london away
For some dress rehersal
The lurid prose never understand.

Denis Streeter 2/22/11

Grumble cookies

Grumblebrow under the skin
Grumblebeard outside the skin
"We'll be making cookies"
And the mice kept coming...
First there was floor mouse
Next there was hamper mouse
Then came table mouse
All looking very dapper
Floor mouse the dough
Hamper mouse raisins and oats
Table mouse the almond extract
Grumblebow grumblebeard the grinder til
Raisin oats grumbled just right
Grumbled in bowl, grumbled just right
Floor mouse, hamper mouse, table mouse
Rolled perfect ball dough
Onto the pan in the oven they go
Table set, milk out
Four chairs
Eatings out.

Bald to beard: Nine and a half

Nine and a half days. Neck area under chin itchy. When it's warm, feels like some porcupine hit me up with needles...just didn't go in so deep. Don't know...never met a porcupine except as roadkill. I imagine it would be some slow roadkill type porcupine...kinda tired, older, didn't get much sleep...shot me with mostly white needles...and a few black...then kinda meandered away...like it forgot what it was doing. When it's cold and I'm walking to and from work, the needles feel kinda good...not prickly...a cool barrier but not cold. Wonder how long prickly stays prickly. The rest of my face feels nice. If it's still prickly after a month, I'll shave off that neck piece. Still not a beard. Just looks like I haven't shaved for a while. The head has a lot to catch up on the face, but I'm not waiting on that. Just waiting on those porcupine needles to let up.

Beard-uary

It's bearduary...so that would have to be either January or February. It's been exactly one week of not shaving. The underside of my chin is beginning to itch. I guess I have the beginning of a beard, but so far it just looks...well...scruffy, uneven...I've heard...edgy. I can go with that. I have an edgy part of my personality that I like to explore. Some have said it makes me look more dangerous...but then change their mind as if searching for the right word. In some ways I feel like my beard growth has given me more freedom. I'm more likely to say what I want, what I feel...people are less likely to argue with me...and I'd rather not argue...unless I'm in a mood. The beard growth has definitely affected my personality. I wonder if that is...well...I was going to say normal...but I hate that word...it's so meaningless to me. But I wonder...what affect has beard growth had on you...or someone you know well? Has their personality changed? Does it make no difference? Perhaps it's mostly the same...with some differences. What do you think?

Vision

Here's one I made up Friday during a work break. "What were you on?", I'm often asked...would probably apply to this poem as well. I have an unusually loose mind...that feels free to travel many directions. It's all me...with all the limber simplicity and complexity that follows. If I were to analyze my poem, perhaps the sandbox would represent a simpler more childlike life I yearn for. Yet I realize sometimes life plays games with us...messes with our vision...can be filled with nonsense...which is our adult life looking at present incongruities. Somehow nonsense has a way of tapping into my real world in ways I can't quite understand or comprehend. It's an odd comfort...

Vision

I looked out my window to the sandbox below
And saw two crickets tugging a hula hoop
Not believing what I saw, I cleaned my glasses
And looked again...
There were five pies playing a merry-go-round circus
Not believing what I saw, I closed my eyes, took off my glasses
And looked again...
There were five saws hammering wood into sheet metal
Putting my glasses back on I ran down the stairs
Out the door and grabbed one of the saws
Whispering in its ear...as it performed a quick and painless
I looked outside my window to the sandbox below
And saw two tadpoles tapping on a ferris wheel.

Denis Streeter 2/12/11

Alright

Some words about this poem... It's written like an algebraic equation. The 2, 4, or 1 after each parenthesis indicates number of times. Then I abbreviated each expression with the letter H, A, and J. Yes...there's lots of repetition...and no question marks. I leave that to you, the reader. Try reading it aloud and put your own expression and question marks where ever you like. Have fun...

Alright

(Hows it goin') 2
(Alright) 2
(H) 2
(A) 2
(H) 2
(A) 2
(H) 2
(A) 2
(Just alright) 2
(A) 2
(H) 2
(A) 2
(H) 2
(A) 2
(J) 4
(A) 2
(H) 1

Denis Streeter 2/9/11

Bald at work

At work,
I knew something was going to happen...
Standing in front of the personnel computer,
I had a sense that I would have to change my password...
And I did...to clock in.
Then it was crazy busy this morning cashiering and customer service...
We were short staffed, three of our cash registers locked up, a return went awry
It felt like me and my bald, sleep deprived head were struggling to keep the department afloat.
Then more help arrived and it got better.
It was still pretty busy all day and slightly crazy.
I blame the sand papery stubs on my bowling bowl head... ;-)

Two days later

It's nearly two days later...after shaving my head. It feels weird. Sometimes I touch my sideburns, expecting them to be there. I've gotten various comments from "I nearly didn't recognize you", to "you look good", to "you look about 10 years younger". My first bald outing was Monday night poetry. All looked surprised...although I reckon many didn't even notice...or just thought there was something different about me...and couldn't place why. That's probably what I would think....depending on where my head space was... It's weird...putting on my undershirt over my head felt like scratch paper...and of course my head gets colder. Now there's just a ghosting of white and grey across my head and face...like God decided as a joke to sprinkle salt and pepper from the sky and have it stick. Now to go outside again...with a knit cap...otherwise my head will be like a cold bowling ball.

Bald to beard

It's nearly 3 PM in the afternoon...and I imagine the Superbowl is going on. I just finished spending about an hour shaving my head. Just my eyebrows are intact...and those are trimmed back. My head feels different...colder but good. I think I'm just going to let my hair and beard grow out...for about a month...see what it looks and feels like. No more hair and bushy sideburns...yeah! I've shaved myself bald a few times before...usually when I'm drunk and it's my birthday...but this time I'm dead sober. I've never grown a beard before...so I want to see what that is like. It's like a grand new experiment. For those of you who see me, I'll be curious what you think... For those of you who don't see me much, I'll still be curious what you think. There are so many opinions running about the beard/no beard issue...or why it even matters. What do you think?