C.J. Martin's Blog, page 45

"Somehow a farmer’s handwriting"

"Somehow a farmer’s handwriting":

eyelashleye:

The way perspective in painting could be said to not only increase the illusion realism but help us to identify loss. To the back. Back. The clouds look pink in the greyest light or the slices of projected Beijing sunsets into fog. Those artists who wore earrings like crystal scissors into…

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IX.

IX.:

percorrermiglioracque:

“Pre-abolishment of self” — Anne Boyer

How the angel cuts us.

“Passion brought you here, passion will save you.” — Brenda Hillman

His secrets have secrets.

I was carried up by St Lucy herself.

“I put it on paper to encounter it outside myself.” — Rosmarie Waldrop

Death row is more than…

martin-cj:This guy’s booth at the bookfair at Northcross Mall...

martin-cj:

This guy’s booth at the bookfair at Northcross Mall has poetry chapbooks arranged by state of publisher. If you’re in Austin, tomorrow’s the last day of the fair—coupon in the Chronicle gets you in free.

The bookseller emailed tonight to say that if you stop by his booth tomorrow and tell him you’re one of my poetry peeps, he’ll give you a discount. Happy to help! (PS: the Spicer was from his booth.)

This guy’s booth at the bookfair at Northcross Mall has...

This guy’s booth at the bookfair at Northcross Mall has poetry chapbooks arranged by state of publisher. If you’re in Austin, tomorrow’s the last day of the fair—coupon in the Chronicle gets you in free.

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poetrysociety:More Collages and more about Jess and Robert...

poetrysociety:

More Collages and more about Jess and Robert Duncan via

Jess, single page, From Force of Habit, 1966. Collage book of nine loose, double-sided pages. Courtesy of Odyssia Gallery, New York, NY. Image appears in O! Tricky Cad & Other Jessoterica.

Creeley, from “Away”

Creeley, from “Away”

omnidawn:As a kid growing up in New England, in West Acton...

omnidawn:

As a kid growing up in New England, in West Acton particularly, literally, this poet was primary and close. Her ways of feeling the world were extraordinary but also remarkably familiar. And I think the first time I can remember specifically was the time when we were asked in the high school class to memorize some poem. I must have been using a general anthology. I remember I chose a poem of hers that has the classic line “Inebriate of air am I” and because I wasn’t that sure as yet I remember I got the poem correctly except for that line which I had translated to read, “I am an inebriate of air.” And in some peculiar way it begins then: not only the engagement with ways she was feeling and thinking the world or that the fact of her feeling was such an information of her thinking and vice versa so that there was virtually no separation, but that kinds of subtlety of hearing began to be insistent and began to be specific from my habits as well as those so obviously hers.

Robert Creeley on Emily Dickinson, from OmniVerse 39

Just back from Odessa, TX, the oilfield town where Creeley died and where I grew up. My uncle was telling me about his own time in Mallorca in the seventies and I kept thinking what a strange and desolate exit Odessa must have been. Looking forward to the big selected letters, just out from UCP.

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