Owen Hill's Blog

I was at a poetry party. Pretty big party--Eileen Myles was the guest of honor, so there was lots of factional crossover. 21 Grand types, flarfers, 4th gen langpo--I feel embarrassed listing them because I'm so out of it now that I can't recognize the categories, let alone the players. Where's my scorcard? But it was pretty comfortable--or as comfortable as parties can be, for me. I thought, I'm a poet, they're poets, lots in common. But---

Talking to a younger poet--I really like her work. Sh...

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we all come into this world
with our little egos equipped

with individual horns now
if we don't blow them who

else will

--George Sanders


Tough to get reviewed these days--especially hard for small press writers.
The New York Times passed--also TLS, New York Review, um--SF Chronicle, Rain
Taxi...but a couple of nice feature pieces the Express and Daily Planet.


Garrett Caples' review in the Guardian got bumped:





Double Penetration

The Incredible Double
by Owen Hill
PM Press

review by Garrett Caples

Poet, boo...

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"resist

the cracking

weather

on all fronts"

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"I think I'm so educated
and I'm so civilized cuz
I'm a strict vegetarian..."


never felt so normal


as at the anarchist

demonstration

steps of sproul

tried to read

your crazy shaved head

attracted in spite

if you took the factory

it would stink

in that great

unshowered

tradition

like Henry Miller's

crotch



tarzan tarzan make

me a home in the trees

ape man fantasies

the pure joy

of the coconuts

as they fall

in imagined

slow-motion

split some lousy

skulls


in the room the women

come and go

(and the guys

too) the names

of six big

co

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never felt so normal


as at the anarchist

demonstration

steps of sproul

tried to read

your crazy shaved head

attracted in spite

if you took the factory

it would stink

in that great

unshowered

tradition

like Henry Miller's

crotch



tarzan tarzan make

me a home in the trees

ape man fantasies

the pure joy

of the coconuts

as they fall

in imagined

slow-motion

split some lousy

skulls


in the room the women

come and go

(and the guys

too) the names

of six big

commie theorists

dropped in as many

minutes in my own

living room

if we took the

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catching the rise

of the rhythm wave

out the door

wind hits left side

of my face

turn left on the avenue

a walk among the bogus

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There are a couple of places in The Long Goodbye where Marlowe has nothing to say, and Marlowe as narrator says just that--I let it ride...I didn't say anything at all. Other places where the hardboiled wisecrack is called for but passed over--as if Marlowe (or Chandler) was tired of the sound of his voice.

The similes are also less frequent. I just started rereading the middle novels--not sure how the the progression works--but between Big Sleep and Long Goodbye you can feel a difference in the

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OK

... so I'm following along--reading the poetry blogs. Slo-po-con-flar-po, whatever--happy to not have to take sides. Telling myself that I don't care but after coffee and the Times I'm reading the blogs. All the various arguments are old news but the personalities are an interesting study--I've met the players, most of them have read at Moe's. I think they see me as the guy who sets up the mic, I don't push my own work--don't think they'd be that interested. They're mostly a generation or two

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-- Farrah Fawcett, the blonde-maned actress whose best-selling poster and "Charlie's Angels" stardom made her one of the most famous faces in the world, died Thursday. She was 62.

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the fall
came sans
duende

sad
it
wasn't
sad

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