Gary Barwin's Blog: serif of nottingblog, page 9

Geese of the Wild: In memoriam Margo Sim

About 25 years ago, I wrote music to a childhood poem one of my closest friends wrote when she was in her early teens. At her funeral a few years before -- she committed suicide in her early 20s -- this was the poem that was used to memorialize her.  

I’ve been wanting to make something with this poem and this tune since then as a tribute to her and to somehow capture something of my memory and grief over her loss, now about 30 years ago. I still think of her often. I hope this captures something of the beauty, sensitivity, and bittersweetness of her words and that there is something of her in the music. My sister-in-law sang the beautiful vocals for me and I'm grateful to have this tune sung so hauntingly after all these years.

Text by Margo Sim, Music by Gary Barwin, Vocals by Pam Campbell.

Geese of the Wild

O Geese of the Wild

Take me with you

The wind is so mild

The sky is so blue

Geese of the wild

Teach me to fly

You are so beautiful

When I watch you go by

O Geese of the Wild

Please take me with you

I want to find the peace

which stays within you.

Geese of the Wild: In memoriqam Margo Sim

About 25 years ago, I wrote music to a childhood poem one of my closest friends wrote when she was in her early teens. At her funeral a few years before -- she committed suicide in her early 20s -- this was the poem that was used to memorialize her.  

I’ve been wanting to make something with this poem and this tune since then as a tribute to her and to somehow capture something of my memory and grief over her loss, now about 30 years ago. I still think of her often. I hope this captures something of the beauty, sensitivity, and bittersweetness of her words and that there is something of her in the music. My sister-in-law sang the beautiful vocals for me and I'm grateful to have this tune sung so hauntingly after all these years.

Text by Margo Sim, Music by Gary Barwin, Vocals by Pam Campbell.

Geese of the Wild

O Geese of the Wild

Take me with you

The wind is so mild

The sky is so blue

Geese of the wild

Teach me to fly

You are so beautiful

When I watch you go by

O Geese of the Wild

Please take me with you

I want to find the peace

which stays within you.

Need to Know & Clown Ear

 

I’m struggling with

my clown ear

 

and on the other side

 

I’m also struggling

with my clown ear

BROTHERHOOD OF THE TRAVELLING PANTOUMS

Finally read all of this book which I bought in 1989 at the Scarborough Town Centre (Toronto). Hard to imagine an Ashbery book there now in the remainder bin and also what on earth I was doing there.

I wrote a pantoum after all the fixed forms including a pantoum that Ashbery wrote in this book

PANTOUM

 

there’s something over there

this nearer that 

something in the dimness

that which is this but further 

 

this nearer that 

this indicating the difference 

that which is this but further 

only twilight knows which 

 

this indicating the difference 

this where you find me

only twilight knows which 

twilight where I write 

 

this where you find me 

that which is this but further 

the twilight where I write 

this nearer that

 

 

 

 

 

THE ALPHORN FACTORY IS VAST BEYOND BELIEF

THE ALPHORN FACTORY IS VAST BEYOND BELIEF
for Alex Porco

Rudi puts his lips to the mysterious

by the time it arrives at the other side

there is no other side

PO(E)TATOES

inside the potato

the exact same potato

and inside that potato

another potato

 

I’m not looking

outside the potato

 

*

 

the letters on the gravestone

became letter-shaped pools where

letter-shaped moss grew 

 

*

 

but let’s return to potatoes

one thing they are not is

the moon

they are also not a lot of other things

 

*

 

other things are often 

not

other things

 

*

 

sometimes they are

*

there’s a large boulder

the size of

a small boulder

blocking the road           

 

who can tell?

as always

we’re very far away

 

*

 

what isn’t a potato

might not be a potato

 

we don’t know everything

 

*

 

 

snow for example

 

is sometimes not potatoes

 

though often far away

 

 

*

 

 

 

in the movie-set woods

 

they used potato flakes as snow

 

have we learned something?

 

not yet

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rise Up, Trees: Frank���s Tree Service.

My friend and collaborator Simon Frank created a performance art film some years ago which I saw at an exhibition at Hamilton's Cotton Factory. He was riffing off that remarkable scene in Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five where time moves backward and the bombs lift from Dresden, go back into the bombers which fly back to the factory and the bombs are disassembled and their metals and minerals are put back into the earth. In Simon's video, a wood chipper disgorges whole trees and Simon plants the trees back into the ground.

I'd never been able to get it out of my mind and so I recently asked him if I could add words and music to it. I'm really delighted with how it turned out. I'll eventually post the video or a link to where it can be viewed, but in the meantime, here's the text that I wrote plus two stills from the video.

Rise Up, Trees: Frank���s Tree Service.

Gather round and lend ears for let���s hear the truly foremost story of Frank���s Tree Service. O Frank���s Tree Service serves tree trunks for free. Frank���s Tree service is the foremost tree service for trees. Frank���s Tree service is the foremost tree service for forests. Frank���s Tree service arrives in a Frank���s Tree service truck and so the Frank���s Tree Service service technician arrives on the scene in Frank���s Tree service overalls and says, We���re experts in the field because nothing beats Frank���s Tree Service overall or overalls. And lend ears and gather round for nothing makes us happy because nothing is like trees. Imagine how it feels when the sky is dark and you���re the first star. That���s Frank���s trusty Tree Service. You���re the first tree. You���re reborn. You���re a tree and you���re reborn as a tree. And soon you���ll be surrounded by a forest of trees reborn in a forest reborn and filled with trees.

 If a tree falls in the forest, oh that���s good because it means there���s a forest. But if a tree falls in the forest that���s not so good because it means Frank���s Tree Service isn���t there. If a tree falls in the forest and makes no sound, it���s falling the wrong way. But don���t worry for if it makes no sound, we at Frank���s Tree Service still hear it. 

Rise up, trees of the forest. Rise up into the waiting hands of a Frank���s Tree Service trained and certified tree technician. We���re technicians of trees. Magicians of the forest. Chipper alchemists of wood.

Imagine how much wood a wood chipper would chip if a wood chipper had nothing but ungovernable hope and the unbridled ability to make forests like we create pulp fiction. 

Frank���s Tree Service serves trunks for free. Trees rise up. We write the rise of the forest. We right what was fallen and we make the forests alright, alight with life. 

They say you can���t see the forest for the trees or the lack thereof. They say there are no trees because the forest isn���t there or it���s a ghost forest filled with ghost trees. They say the wind is the ghost of leaves and the ghost leaves shake in the ghost wind as it winds through the ghost forest. 

The hollow forest is an open mouth formed into the shape of an invisible forest. The wind howls through the invisible forest, ghost forest, forgotten forest, lost forest. 

They say you can only find a forest if you know where the trees are. They say you can only find a forest if there are trees there, and you can only find the trees if the trees are not lost. They say you can only reverse a forest if you know it needs reversing. They say the opposite of a forest is not nothing but less than nothing. 

They say the birds would sing for the forgotten forest if there were any birds left to sing. They say that sometimes the birds have lost their song. 

Or the songs have lost their birds, like leaves falling from forgotten trees or the wind moving through the forgotten branches of lost trees that are there no more. 

What does a tree think? A tree thinks forest. A forest thinks tree.A tree thinks other trees and so forests.

A forest thinks in forests. And mycorrhiza. Rise up, trees. Rise up, birds.Rise up, lost leaves and forgotten songs. Frank���s tree services makes trees rise. We make birds come to life. We make the forest arise 

But gather your ears and lean round for here is a secret about forests. We take what was broken and fix it. We make what was broken and put it back together. We take the parts of the tree and make a tree. We take the trees of the forest and make a forest. We take the branches of the broken heart and make a heart. We take the heart and send blood. We send blood round the forest like sap. We build a forest by fixing our mistakes. Listen! Send this through your cell phone towers. Send this to your people���s ears. This is foremost. This is foremost in the forest. This is how to build a forest. You build a forest by fixing your mistakes. By fixing the broken. By wearing overalls and walking backwards. By gathering together. By sticking in. By sticking close. By taking the pieces and not letting them remain pieces. You build a forest with trees. You make trees with a forest. You make trees by looking closely at a forest. You make trees by never forgetting the trees. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rise Up, Trees: Frank’s Tree Service.

My friend and collaborator Simon Frank created a performance art film some years ago which I saw at an exhibition at Hamilton's Cotton Factory. He was riffing off that remarkable scene in Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five where time moves backward and the bombs lift from Dresden, go back into the bombers which fly back to the factory and the bombs are disassembled and their metals and minerals are put back into the earth. In Simon's video, a wood chipper disgorges whole trees and Simon plants the trees back into the ground.

I'd never been able to get it out of my mind and so I recently asked him if I could add words and music to it. I'm really delighted with how it turned out. I'll eventually post the video or a link to where it can be viewed, but in the meantime, here's the text that I wrote plus two stills from the video.

Rise Up, Trees: Frank’s Tree Service.

Gather round and lend ears for let’s hear the truly foremost story of Frank’s Tree Service. O Frank’s Tree Service serves tree trunks for free. Frank’s Tree service is the foremost tree service for trees. Frank’s Tree service is the foremost tree service for forests. Frank’s Tree service arrives in a Frank’s Tree service truck and so the Frank’s Tree Service service technician arrives on the scene in Frank’s Tree service overalls and says, We’re experts in the field because nothing beats Frank’s Tree Service overall or overalls. And lend ears and gather round for nothing makes us happy because nothing is like trees. Imagine how it feels when the sky is dark and you’re the first star. That’s Frank’s trusty Tree Service. You’re the first tree. You’re reborn. You’re a tree and you’re reborn as a tree. And soon you’ll be surrounded by a forest of trees reborn in a forest reborn and filled with trees.

 If a tree falls in the forest, oh that’s good because it means there’s a forest. But if a tree falls in the forest that’s not so good because it means Frank’s Tree Service isn’t there. If a tree falls in the forest and makes no sound, it’s falling the wrong way. But don’t worry for if it makes no sound, we at Frank’s Tree Service still hear it. 

Rise up, trees of the forest. Rise up into the waiting hands of a Frank’s Tree Service trained and certified tree technician. We’re technicians of trees. Magicians of the forest. Chipper alchemists of wood.

Imagine how much wood a wood chipper would chip if a wood chipper had nothing but ungovernable hope and the unbridled ability to make forests like we create pulp fiction. 

Frank’s Tree Service serves trunks for free. Trees rise up. We write the rise of the forest. We right what was fallen and we make the forests alright, alight with life. 

They say you can’t see the forest for the trees or the lack thereof. They say there are no trees because the forest isn’t there or it’s a ghost forest filled with ghost trees. They say the wind is the ghost of leaves and the ghost leaves shake in the ghost wind as it winds through the ghost forest. 

The hollow forest is an open mouth formed into the shape of an invisible forest. The wind howls through the invisible forest, ghost forest, forgotten forest, lost forest. 

They say you can only find a forest if you know where the trees are. They say you can only find a forest if there are trees there, and you can only find the trees if the trees are not lost. They say you can only reverse a forest if you know it needs reversing. They say the opposite of a forest is not nothing but less than nothing. 

They say the birds would sing for the forgotten forest if there were any birds left to sing. They say that sometimes the birds have lost their song. 

Or the songs have lost their birds, like leaves falling from forgotten trees or the wind moving through the forgotten branches of lost trees that are there no more. 

What does a tree think? A tree thinks forest. A forest thinks tree.A tree thinks other trees and so forests.

A forest thinks in forests. And mycorrhiza. Rise up, trees. Rise up, birds.Rise up, lost leaves and forgotten songs. Frank’s tree services makes trees rise. We make birds come to life. We make the forest arise 

But gather your ears and lean round for here is a secret about forests. We take what was broken and fix it. We make what was broken and put it back together. We take the parts of the tree and make a tree. We take the trees of the forest and make a forest. We take the branches of the broken heart and make a heart. We take the heart and send blood. We send blood round the forest like sap. We build a forest by fixing our mistakes. Listen! Send this through your cell phone towers. Send this to your people’s ears. This is foremost. This is foremost in the forest. This is how to build a forest. You build a forest by fixing your mistakes. By fixing the broken. By wearing overalls and walking backwards. By gathering together. By sticking in. By sticking close. By taking the pieces and not letting them remain pieces. You build a forest with trees. You make trees with a forest. You make trees by looking closely at a forest. You make trees by never forgetting the trees. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two stories about Mrs Santa

 

Video: "Mrs Santa Sings"



Mrs Santa has a Coffee Out Santa’s window, there’s nothing. The North Pole, imaginary, featureless, disappearing into the always twilight. Mrs Santa a cup of coffee held to her chest, remembers the small bright sun, low on the horizon, undefeatable. The day of her marriage and her travel here. Of course, it wasn’t as if Santa actually existed. All rosy cheeked in Mrs Santa’s bed, he was always the sentimental love child of advertising campaigns and folktales. Didn’t stop his attempts at merriment with what he irritatingly called his “elf.” There’s a reason he could travel around the world so quickly. And then she’d begged him to do the inevitable and sell to Old Jeff Bezos, so she could gather the elves around her, the real elves, each with their small childlike brightness, and, dressed in the warm skins of reindeer, set out into the tundra, the real tundra, and find the winter sun.

Being Irish: My inclusion in the Irish Poetry Reading Archive as a Diaspora Poet.

I'm delighted to have eight poems included in the Irish Poetry Reading Archive hosted by the University College Dublin, included as an Irish diaspora poet. Above is the first poem, "Edwin," but the seven other poems are on the same channel. 

I’m Irish born — born in Belfast, Northern Ireland to immigrant parents (Ashkenazi Lithuanians by way of South Africa)—and my connection to Ireland and to what it means to have spent my formative childhood years in Ireland has always been a significant part of my identity as a person and, more indirectly as a writer. The complex negotiations of how identity functions in the modern world often includes a network of diasporas, national, ethnic, religious, and cultural components. For me, Ireland is an important part of this mix. The landscape, the narrative and poetic impulse, a particular relation to the language — these are elements that connect me to Ireland. But also, an understanding of modern Ireland, diverse, complex and comprising a web of relations to Ireland and to Irishness, which includes the further complexity of being born in Northern Ireland and its relation to nation, heritage, colonialism, cultural and religious struggles and identity.

Identity for me has been a recognition of “otherness” — in culture, language, history — while at the same time negotiating belonging and connection.

Additionally, because my grandparents moved from Lithuania to South Africa, and then my parents moved to Ireland, and then my parents and me and my siblings moved to Canada, thinking back about growing up in Ireland makes me aware of language, culture and identity as an agreement, as something constructed. Some part by history and place, some part by those living in that place and that history. It was evident that there were many ways of being, many ways of seeing one's self depending who and where one was. This is the experience of exile, of migration, of diaspora, of being a stranger in a strange land, or of recognizing how we construct "stranger" and how we construct the strangeness or normalacy of the land.

And so, because of this, I was very honoured to be part of the Irish Poetry Reading Archive as a recognition of my ongoing and abiding connection to Ireland and Irishness. I have never been recognized institutionally as part of the diaspora and I have had few opportunities to be included in Irish or Irish diaspora events or literary culture. It means a great deal to me and for my writing to have it appear and be collected in this significant archive. I am glad of the opportunity for my work to be able to be available to Irish and Irish diaspora readers and scholars as well as to have the archive become more well known to Canadian readers and scholars and to share my work as part of it. I’m also glad that this archive furthers the discussion of what Irish writing is and speaks to the more complex understanding of contemporary Irish identity.