52 SONGS

...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Leonard Cohen

"As I grew older, I understood that instructions came with this voice. And the instructions were these: Never to lament casually. And if one is to express the great inevitable defeat that awaits us all, it must be done within the strict confines of dignity & beauty."

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Film Death

Time to elegize it, maybe. Probably.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Sunday, November 13, 2011

"Lord,

Protect My Child"

Why Critics Can't be Trusted, Wrote the Critic

Feist

v.

The Kid I'm Angry At

is bouncing the basketball in the yard
out back, has ignored me when I asked
if he'd help out, is singing or talking to
himself. The ball goes pat pat pat on
the cement then a break then he holds it.
His head is like mine, in some way.
It must be. What makes me so bad
is my refusal to stop what I know makes me
so bad, and could make it worse for me,
us, for him. He mocks openly because
he's young. What I do is what's been done.
Like him I don't know how to stop.
Or I do, I do, but my body, and my will.
The lines carrying electricity and
information above his head are arrayed
like a funnel of sin beneath the sky
bringing dispatches pulse-propelled
to the hole above the window and
down the wall to me to where I type.
I can feel a world opening at my touch.
It can't be his fault, his anger-making
actions. He's too young. Protect him.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

yeah yeah

everyone's keeping me out.






hello////?

Monday, November 7, 2011

Close Encounters of the Third Kind

[Last night, I took the kids to see it at The Bay Theatre. Below is a thing I wrote up as a way to get a reviewing job at the now-dead District Weekly.]

Steven Spielberg has a lot to answer for—Michael Bay, for example—though it’s not exactly his fault. His movies from the 70s and early 80s are rich in spectacle and detail. His followers kept the spectacle and missed the detail. That’s why Close Encounters of the Third Kind is still playing in revival, as it is this week, instead of, say, Pearl Harbor. Yes, the spaceships are cool, but the earth-bound stuff is cool, too—even, at times, awe-inspiring: Witness, for example, the astronomers rolling a globe through the halls of an office building, like children with a giant beach ball; or the sea of hands in the Indian desert pointing up in unison toward the washed-out sky; or the moment when Richard Dreyfuss and Melinda Dillon exit their car and see Devil’s Tower lifting out of the Wyoming landscape. That image alone—and not just the climactic vision of the mothership hovering over the same mountain—will more than compensate for the eight bucks it’ll cost you to see it on the big screen. Images like that are what movies are for.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Plath

It is comfortable, for a change, to mean so little.

Tom Waits

I like writing melody without an instrument, just so it's more like the, the choreography of a bee. You just go. There're no frets on your neck.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Hoops and Lines

On offense, the team gave itself over to nonstop cutting and ball movement, what guard Walt Frazier called "making a poem."

- Free Darko Presents The Undisputed Guide to Pro Basketball History, p 74

Limerick

That dog with the big, bushy tail,
as slow as a slow-witted whale:
nothing can stoke him,
no creature provoke him,
except for the man with the mail.