The Diamond at the End of Time

New Podcasts

2007-10-28T15:09:00.001-07:00

Sat, 13 October 2007

"Song for my Father" by Dale Credico, "My Father in the Store Commanding 'Buy'" by Joe Green, "Gondar Avenue" by Tim Smith, "Richie Halloran" by Joe Green, "Arnold Gates" by Tim Smith, "Peggy LaRue" by Tim Smith, "Go Tell the Achyans" by Joe Green, "Going to Goodland" by Tim Smith.

Brought to you by Mr. Clean, Camel Cigarettes, Beechnut Gum, Salem Cigarettes and the folks at Chevrolet!

With an appearance by Roy Rogers!

Direct download: Into_The_Past.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 6:50 PM

Comments[0]

Sat, 6 October 2007

A Salute to Francis Muir

A salute to Francis Muir – blithe spirit. Here’s a little bit about him:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_Muir

and here it’s possible to read about his asteroid. http://ssd.jpl.nasa.gov/sbdb.cgi?sstr=95802

“Don't forget to include a reference to my Godfather, Dean of Balliol, and he after whom I was named: Francis Fortescue Urquhart.. Google or wiki will prolly set you straight.”

Direct download: A_Salute_to_Francis_Muir.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 6:41 PM

Comments[1]

Thu, 4 October 2007

The JD Salutes Sputnik!

"Famous Monsters" by Joe Green "One Step Beyond and Back" by Dale Credico "Immortality" by Tim Smith "Once There Was Childermas Gazelles" by Joe Green "The Wild One" by Dale Credico

Beautiful …That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly remold again and ever again, the face of this soiled world. Drum-Taps. Reconciliation Walt Whitman

Direct download: The_JD_Salutes_Sputnik.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:19 PM

Comments[0]

More Podcasts

2007-08-28T11:22:00.000-07:00

Tue, 28 August 2007

A Visit to the Minnesota State Fair.

Epiphany Diner. Haunted Mansion. Hot dog or Corn Dog? Confronting Patriot Radio.

Bucky Beaver? Prostate Cancer. At the Marines exhibit. Poet Laureate for Minnesota. The DFL Stance. Hungry again. Corn Fritters. University of Minnesota’s Great English Majors. Persist despite injury. At the Chapel. Let’s eat. Dipping Dots. The Great Machine. They don’t eat corn in Germany! Minnesota Zydeco! We meet a fellow student. At the Quilt center! Creative Activities. Lefse Bakery. “She always has to go.” Colleges and Lions. Jesse Ventura! Pickle Shirt. A question at the Mensa Exhibit.

A Strange Scene! The Parades! Ronald McDonald Confronted. Finger or Thumbs Down? Appalling Uniforms. The Mounties! Polka Spotlight. Al Franken Speaks! We cheer! Al remembers Dwight Eisenhower. Joe Lieberman’s Teeth. Petting a Piglet. Future Farmers of America. A Musical Interlude. Sheep bleating. Final Thoughts. On the Bus. Bus driver yells at kid who has hand out window. We overhear a guy who sounds just like the Rainman. He discusses Minnesota wrestlers of the sixties. Mad Dog. The Baron. All nice guys. “My aunt went out on a date with the Crusher.” Cindy Lou the Dog. Listen to this guy. Perfect!!!!!!!!

Direct download: A_Visit_to_the_Minnesota_State_Fair.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 10:04 AM

Comments[0]

Sun, 26 August 2007

The Ballade of Little Noddy

The time: 1992. The place: Smoking room of Cray Research. Time to Completion (est) about three hours over three days. Ah, the mojo was with me then!

Direct download: Little_Noddy_The_Ballad.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 12:32 PM

Comments[0]

Mon, 20 August 2007

DarkSource--St. Paul--The First Five Episodes

We all have to make a living-- even we poor poets. Here are five episodes of workday life from my office: DarkSource, St. Paul.

We write policies and procedures for our government here in Minnesota.

Goldy is our receptionist/switchboard operator. We are located on the corner of Selby and Western in St. Paul in the Blair Arcade. Drop in sometime. We won't be there but Goldy will. Just tell her what you want so she can forget it!

Direct download: DarkSource_St.Paul_Episodes_One_Through_Five.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 5:40 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 20 July 2007

The Limerick Odyssey

Books 12 through 24.

Direct download: odyssey1.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:03 PM

Comments[0]

Sat, 19 May 2007

The Mighty Jim -- A Tribute to James Joyce

Includes "The Mighty Jim" and "A Christmas Story,"

Direct download: The_Mighty_Jim3.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 12:22 AM

Comments[2]

Wed, 16 May 2007

The Limerick Iliad: Books One Through Four

Homer's Iliad translated into limericks by Tim Smith and Joe Green. The first four books.

"This translation fulfills an unnameable need" T.S Eliot

Direct download: The_Limerick_Iliad.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 6:02 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 11 May 2007

Babylon

The second episode of the Sir Douglas Falstaff Poetry Reading Showdown.

Distinguished jazz poet and roustabout Dale Credico reads "Babylon" by Robert Graves.

Direct download: Babylon.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 10:13 PM

Comments[0]

Sun, 6 May 2007

Sailor Dreams

The first entry in the Sir Douglas Falstaff Great Poetry Readings contest.
Read by its author, Timothy Smith, twenty one years ago in the cabin at Owl Oak. Sailor Dreams.

Direct download: SailorDreams.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 11:14 PM

Comments[0]

Sun, 29 April 2007

A Simple Desultory Philippic

William Butler Yeats comments on Ron Silliman's deep thoughts anent scrunchies.

The Flop Eared Mule brings you the first episode of "Dueling Poets."
Ron Silliman and Kent Johnson duel over a poet's clinamen! Yes! Shocking!

A Simple Pirate Song by Tim Smith

More about bums...

Direct download: SimpleDesultory.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 8:43 PM

Comments[0]

2007-04-27T17:21:00.000-07:00

Podcasts available at http://thejeunessedoree.libsyn.com/

Sat, 21 April 2007

The Great Train Journey

The Great Train Journey of Rashmi Prakash as told by Sir Douglas Falstaff!

Direct download: TheGreatTrainJourney.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 6:07 PM

Comments[0]

Mon, 2 April 2007

Rambling Dale Credico

Rambling Dale Credico abuses some ducks, moans about robot women and reads three poems!

Direct download: RamblingDaleCredico.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 6:46 PM

Comments[0]

Sun, 1 April 2007

Gamblers Three

Dale, Tim and Joe on the Midnight Train.

Direct download: Gamblers3.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:55 PM

Comments[0]

Sat, 31 March 2007

Walk On The Wild Side

Shake that thang!

Direct download: Walkonthewildsided2.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 4:32 PM

Comments[0]

Sun, 25 March 2007

Helen B Denis-- A Lost Poet

From the Introduction to her Book "Gardens of Eden" by Leslie Burton Blades author of "Fruit of the Forbidden Tree."

"Quite young and alone in a strange land, she found herself at the outbreak of the World War in the United States and facing the inexorable knowledge that her German relatives were plunged into the anguish and terror of that great disaster.

Disconsolate, her tongue condemning her to the suspicion and dislike of war inflamed people, she was forced to solitude to seek what comfort could be found in communion with nature.

She begins to write...without knowledge of the technique so highly developed in English poetry...

Such an impulse has prompted many a poet; but few there are who, lacking the irresistible urge of glowing genius, would have attempted poetry in a tongue the rudiments of which were scarcely familiar...Yet..the author bent herself mercilessly to the mastery of English...speaking in a strange tongue, without the knowledge our literary traditions, unacquainted with the trend of our present day poetry...

Dr. H. Spencer Lewis (on the flyleaf of the book jacket) remarks "The first poem is certainly symbolic and very beautiful." Dr Lewis is none other than Harvey Spencer Lewis F.R.C., Ph.D. (November 25, 1883 – August 2, 1939), a famous Rosicrucian author, occultist, and mystic.

These poems were also endorsed by Paul Swan -- the most beautiful man in the world.

This is the only recording of her poetry available.

Here -- at the Jeunesse Doree.

Direct download: exordioum1.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:52 PM

Comments[0]

Mon, 12 March 2007

In Lunar Conversation

"In Lunar Conversation" read by Sir Douglas Falstaff.

Direct download: inlunarconversation.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:14 PM

Comments[5]

Sun, 11 March 2007

Oh! Donna!

Direct download: Oh_Donna.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:37 PM

Comments[1]

Sun, 11 March 2007

Weary Tune

Soldiers in the rain...

Direct download: wearrytunef.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 6:36 PM

Comments[0]

Sun, 11 March 2007

The Sinking of the Bismarck

The real story.

Direct download: sinkthebismarckf.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 5:22 PM

Comments[0]

Sun, 11 March 2007

Poetry Baseball: Avalon Archers vs. 20th Century Limiteds

Poetry baseball as it is meant to be played!
The Avalon Archers versus the 20^th Century Limiteds

The Archers

Coach W. H. Auden, John Keats, John Donne, John Milton, William Wordsworth, Alfred, Lord Tennyson

20^th Century Limiteds

Coach Walt Whitman, Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot, William Carlos Williams, Allen Ginsberg and Ron Silliman

Broadcast from Don Schaeffer Memorial Stadium on the Sunny Slopes of Parnassus!

Direct download: poetrybaseball.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 2:34 PM

Comments[0]

Mon, 5 March 2007

Don Schaeffer Once More

Once more into the breach with Master Poet Donald Schaeffer.

Direct download: donpoemsandmusic.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:22 PM

Comments[0]

Mon, 5 February 2007

Ken Wolman Reads

his great poetry.

Direct download: KenWolman.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:10 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 22 December 2006

Joe Green Live at Boston University(R)

Recovered!

Direct download: Joe_Green_Live_at_Boston_University.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 5:48 PM

Comments[1]

Fri, 22 December 2006

A Jeunesse Doree Christmas--Stave the First

A Dale Credico Christmas. A Poem on Dale's Loss by William Butler Yeats. A Loneliest Christmas. The Lawn Jockey Christmas Carol by Tim Smith. "Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh" a Hannukah poem by Don Schaeffer and "Don's Dreidel" composed and performed by Joseph Green.

Direct download: JDChristmas_Stave1.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 1:34 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 22 December 2006

A Jeunesse Doree Christmas--Stave the Second

Christmas spectaculars by Tammy Turner Peaden and Mike Antonelli and two trifles by Joseph Green.

Direct download: JDChristmas_Stave2.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 1:30 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 22 December 2006

A Jeunesse Doree Christmas--Stave the Third

Joe Green tells us how -- on a Christmas long ago -- his sainted mother gave up drinking gin and Tim Smith descants on a California Christmas.

Direct download: JDChristmas_Stave3.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 1:23 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 22 December 2006

A Jeunesse Doree Christmas--Stave the Fourth

Poems and Song of Joe Green and Tim Smith. Don't miss Tim's "A Sad But Merry Christmas" in which he cries wassail to the great spirits of the JD!

Direct download: JDChristmas_Stave4.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 1:19 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 17 November 2006

Letters to Denny

Letters sent to my Uncle Denny during WW2. All from 1945. He never answered. Found in his cabin after his death a few years ago. Worlds and worlds -- all lost. Here.

Direct download: Letters_to_Denny.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 3:12 PM

Comments[1]

Thu, 16 November 2006

Therapy at Parapark

Discovered today in the old trunk in the attic of the Jeunesse Doree studios!
The time: 1986. The place: the Owl Oak cabin in Owl Oak woods in Carmel, California.

Yes, I was up in the attic looking for letters to my Uncle Denny sent to him during WW2 (soon to be a major podcast) and found the old tape. Tim Smith as Samson Shillitoe performing on the Parapark Therapy hour. You must hear this and just when you think it's over, it ain't. Listen to the immortal flamenco stylings of Tim Smith back when (as he has said) he could really play. Is Immortal Diamond.

Direct download: Therapy_at_Parapark.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:00 PM

Comments[0]

Wed, 15 November 2006

The Jeunesse Doree at the Movies

At last! For the first time ever! The Lost Poems of Robert Mitchum!

"Out of the Past"

"On Location"

"At Schwabs with Archerd"

and much much more!

"Picture of Brando in The Wild One" Dale Credico

"The Defiant Ones" and "LA Song" Rin Tin Tin

"What Frank Knew" Tammy Turner Peaden

"The Stand In" Tim Smith

"My Brooklyn -- the Movie" Joe Green

"Movie About Murder" Don Schaeffer

A Short Ending --Voices of the Stars

The Kindness of Movies -- Jean Marie Green, Johanna, Joe.

Direct download: The_JD_At_the_Movies.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:53 PM

Comments[0]

Mon, 30 October 2006

A Visit

A visit with my mother. This summer. Concertina stylings by Joe Green.

Direct download: A_Visit.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 3:37 PM

Comments[2]

Sat, 14 October 2006

Halloween with the Jeunesse Doree

Eldritch songs, poems and tales from Jewelmoon, Johanna, Dale Credico, Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Tammy Turner Peaden, Baron Donald Schaeffer, Tim Smith, Joe Green, Sir Valentine Ravenscar, Basil Firth and others. Tu Mani Martini is your host.

Direct download: AJDHalloween.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:20 PM

Comments[1]

Wed, 27 September 2006

Autumn with the Jeunesse Doree

Direct download: Autumn_with_the_Jeunesse_Doree.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 10:12 PM

Comments[0]

Wed, 27 September 2006

The Magic of Don Schaeffer

Direct download: The_Magic_of_Don_Schaeffer.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 8:51 PM

Comments[0]

Wed, 6 September 2006

Well Met by Moonlight

A song and two poems. Tim Smith -- lyrics. Tim Smith --guitar.

Direct download: tim.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:10 PM

Comments[1]

Sat, 10 June 2006

The Silence of Men

The Silence of Men. The Silence of Men. The Silence of Men.
What is it? It's the silence that ensues (according to a certain poet who has written what is, perhaps, the worst poem ever -- a poem that features a waltzing penis) when men can no longer speak of sex or violence.

In this broadcast Marty and I try to break through The Silence of Men.

I don't think we succeed.

But we try. Dammit, we try.

Direct download: The_Silence_of_Men_1.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 6:01 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 19 May 2006

Bob Marcacci Live from Beijing!

Bob reads at a birthday party on April 6th, 2006 for Alex Jorgensen at 13 Club in Beijing, China, which featured a number of poets and musicians.

Direct download: maracacci2.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:53 PM

Comments[0]

Thu, 18 May 2006

The Great Flood

Being a true account of my trip to Dartmouth through the Great Flood (greatest downpour of rain on those granite hills in 70 years) to meet my translator. Includes a jaunt to Detrroit, my mechanical incompetence, dining at Big Boy's, a tribute to Tim Smith, a brief account of the great conference, literary chit chat beneath paintings of men and dogs chasing foxes, a reading of my poem by myself and my great translator and a moving account of my arm wrestling a Russian poet as I recite "Paradise Lost."

Direct download: The_Great_Flood.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 3:46 PM

Comments[1]

Sat, 6 May 2006

Trifles

Trifles from Joe Green

Direct download: Trifles.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 10:34 PM

Comments[0]

Sat, 6 May 2006

Diner, Harvest, Horses, Shiny Stones

Poems from the third day of the Dale Credico festival!

Direct download: Diner_Harvest_Horses_Shiny_Stones.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 5:33 PM

Comments[1]

Sat, 6 May 2006

Noire for Celia

Dale Credico -- the rain, the city...

Direct download: Noire_for_Celia.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 12:42 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 5 May 2006

Dale Credico Live!

Dale Credico, blithe spirit, performs two poems!

Direct download: Dale_Credico_Live.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:50 PM

Comments[3]

Mon, 1 May 2006

Six More by Don Schaeffer

Six more by Don!

Direct download: Six_More_by_Don.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:09 PM

Comments[0]

Sun, 30 April 2006

The Dark Bark

It has been six years since Rinty died at the pound in Brighton Beach.
And now, for the first time, audio of his selected poems is available to the general public. He would have wanted it this way. Of course, all sorts of problems remain. His assertion that he killed JFK still questionable. His assertion that he was the greatest Hamlet of the twentieth century not accepted by all.

But what is beyond question is that in these poems he gives us a glimpse into an extraordinary dog -- a spirit who, in these querulous times, can, perhaps, lead us to an understanding of what it really means to live and to hope.

The very last minutes of this reading should be listened to with especial attention by those of you who are not quite convinced that the myth of the eternal return of a spirit, destined to again and again, bark at the dark until the darkness yields, is merely the embodiment of a vain hope.

See! They return!

Direct download: The_Dark_Bark.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 11:54 AM

Comments[1]

Fri, 28 April 2006

Flarf Hell

Did you miss the Flarf festival? Here is an account exactly (well, almost) transcribed then recited. The temptation to overlay it all with various news from the suffering world resisted. At least.

Direct download: Flarfhell.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:28 PM

Comments[7]

Thu, 27 April 2006

The Transgressive Poet

You can change your life. Here's how I did -- following the advice of Kent Johnson (yes, to younger poets but what the hell) to stop blogging and engaging in the usual reindeer games and do something to show that they know life is short, to defy the pezzonovantes of poesy and to live, to live!

Thanks to "The Black Robes" for the music!

Direct download: The_Transgressive_Poet.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:50 AM

Comments[3]

Wed, 26 April 2006

The Sense of an Ending

This podcast -- by special request -- combines two transcendent moments in World Poetry: the return of the Lonliest Ranger and Kent Johnson's Descent from Heaven in his Swan Boat with what has been described by one fellow as "The Greatest Poetry Reading I Have Ever Heard."

Ah, well. The Exorcism is deleted. Why include it? The Pezzonovantes have been dealt the final blow and, of course, they can't know this. Please don't tell them.

The Collector's Edition.

Direct download: The_Sense_of_an_Ending.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:09 PM

Comments[0]

Sat, 22 April 2006

The Devil in Kent Johnson -- Part Two

The Exorcism continues and then...transcendence! And more.

Perhaps the greatest Vision ere podcast.

Direct download: TheDevilinKentJohnson2.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 3:16 PM

Comments[7]

Sat, 22 April 2006

The Devil in Kent Johnson-- Part One

Exorcism on a wet afternoon. Join me as I travel to Castle Dracula on the express invitation of Andrei Codresceau and am trapped into witnessing the Exorcism of Kent Johnson by Franz Wright, Charles Bernstein, Rob Silliman, the Flarf Gang, Louise Gluck, Ted Kooser and other great Pezzonovantes, Poobahs and Bonzes of American poetry. Appearances by Jim Behlre and Curtis Faville and many others!

WARNING: This podcast contains some of the most frightening conversations ever heard.

Direct download: DevilinKentJohnson.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 3:04 PM

Comments[1]

Sat, 22 April 2006

Kent Johnson Comes Back!

AMerica's most beloved poet returns with a new poem -- Thirty Three Rules of Poetry for Poets Twenty Three and Under -- and with many new epigrams.

Epigrams for Josh Corey, Stephanie Young, Galway Kinnell, Ryan Daley, George Bowering, Bob Perlman, Joe Amato, Daniel Borzutzky and others.

Recorded on the same Radio Shack tape Kent received for Christmas in 1978 or thereabouts!

Direct download: Kent_Johnson_Comes_Back.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 2:54 PM

Comments[3]

Sun, 16 April 2006

Inferno Stave 1--Yet Again

By special request etc. great engines etc. this the First Stave of the Inferno is forthwith published yet again.

Direct download: Inferno--Stave_the_First.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 6:59 PM

Comments[0]

Sun, 16 April 2006

The Battle -- Yet Again

By special request of those who depend on not seeing these and having them simply downloaded by great engines. This -- The Battle -- is republished.

Direct download: The_Battle.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 6:54 PM

Comments[0]

Sat, 15 April 2006

Kent Johnson: A Jeunesse Doree Book Club Discussion

Join Joe Green and Marty Brennan as they stroll, as if strolling through a wood near Athens in the great tradition of Flute, Snout, Plato and Parminides, and discuss Kent Johnson's new book, his character, his probable ethnicity, his probable sexual procilivities and the direction he should take in his art.

Discussion also includes:
Annette Funicello
The theft by Walt Disney of a painting by Marty
The power of the legs of women
The mysterious book of Genta.

Direct download: Kent_Johnson--A_JD_Book_Club_Discussion.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 1:01 PM

Comments[10]

Thu, 13 April 2006

Marty-- Stave Four

A leap from a balcony, An unfortunate fall.

The mysteries of the Book of Genta.

Direct download: Marty_Stave4.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 9:54 PM

Comments[2]

Wed, 12 April 2006

Epigramititis: Kent Johnson

Kent Johnson awkwardly discourses and clumsily reads twelve and Â½ new epigrams, to be included in the expanded edition of his recent booke of satirical trifles and incongruous pictures, Epigramititis: 118 Living American Poets [BlazeVox, 2006]. The second edition will be titled Epigramititis: 168 Living American Poets (also issued by BlazeVox and to weigh-in nigh 400 pages). The epigrammed writers honored on this recording are, in order of appearance, Jesse Glass, Noah Eli Gordon, Jonathan Mayhew, Jane Hirschfield, Cole Swensen, Katie Degentesh, Paul Hoover, Joshua Clover, Mark Doty, Tony Tost, Mark Weiss, and Joe Green.

Go here for the book: http://www.blazevox.org/bk-kj.htm

Direct download: Kent_Johnson-1.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 12:01 PM

Comments[19]

Sun, 9 April 2006

Inferno__Stave 2

The Descent into Hell. A word of caution to the troops. I am met by Dante -- but not that Dante. A problem with boneless breast of roast duck and seabirds loud with Dawn. Ron Siiliman in Hell. Poets in the Ninth Circle -- the most pitiful scene ever narrated. Up again to the bright world. Marty Brennan on Damnation. A plea for Mercy for All. And so home.

Direct download: Inferno2.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:25 PM

Comments[5]

Fri, 7 April 2006

More Blue

More poetry from Tammy Turner Peaden

Direct download: MoreBlue.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 10:58 PM

Comments[22]

Fri, 7 April 2006

Marty3

In his first broadcast of the Spring, Marty takes a break from recounting near death experiences of years gone by to tell us a simple tale of a frisbee, a janitor and an unfortunate fall.

Direct download: MartytheThird.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 10:26 PM

Comments[0]

Fri, 7 April 2006

Inferno--Stave the First

Into the Poetry Inferno

Direct download: Inferno--Stave_the_First.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 10:02 AM

Comments[2]

Tue, 4 April 2006

Vietnam

Tammy Turner Peaden was a medic in Vietnam for three years -- part of the time in the Aushau Valley during the Tet Offensive. Tammy talks about Vietnam. Reads some poems about the same.
Exact.

Direct download: BlueandNam.mp3
Category: podcasts -- posted at: 7:24 PM

2005-05-28T12:31:00.000-07:00

Lon Silliman

The Little Shop

2005-05-23T18:47:00.000-07:00

I found the little shop just off 52nd street. One always does, of course and I was pleased that everything was in order when I entered.

Dim, the little old man behind the counter with the sly smile, the great shadows in back of him and there in the display case just what I was looking for.

"I have to say," I told the fellow "An egg .. a crystal egg? This has been done."

He smiled back without saying a word. "But I'll take it, of course. "The usual price?"

He nodded and reached into the case and placed the egg for me to examine."

I believe that there is an instruction manual with it. A moment please." He disappeared into the shadows. Footsteps and then nothing for a bit. By the time he returned I had it working."Quite lovely isn't it?" He handed the manual to me. "This is in Latin!"

He sighed. "It's what they expect. Of course you must never under any circumstances open the egg. Is that understood?" He seemed bored. "Or I lose my soul."

"Of course."

I hurried out into the street the egg in my pocket.

Streetlamps, a women walking her dog, a taxi, a light May rain.I was up all night, of course.

Listening.

Such songs I heard.

It was all there, of course.

All of the past and the future.

The latest flakes of Eternity.

And I kept my soul. I never opened it. Why should I? I knew what was inside. Nothing.

Great Writer Fantasy Baseball

2005-05-23T09:43:00.000-07:00

I started my great writer fantasy baseball league back in 57 when the poet X was living with my mother in our place in Cape May, N.J. He was just one of my mother's poetic lovers. In fact, you can pick up an old Oscar William's anthology and see most of these guys. The ones that were my mother's lovers all died fairly young, but more about that later. Anyway, the poet X and I started playing "Authors" during my mother's more than occasional absences (with, as it turned out, Poet Y). I can still see the poor guy in a ratty old sweater of my father's sipping Scotch and holding the cards in his shaky hands: "Do you have any Louisa May Alcott?" Poor jerk.

After about the third day of a drizzly November (he wrote a little verse about that waiting beginning "In the Impossible November," so you can find out who he was if you want) he came downstairs early before I could escape with little pictures of all these authors pasted on index cards. He cut them out from my mother's books. He had about 100 cards. All the big guys were there complete with their stats. The poet X was big on the 18th century so he had Jane Austen leading the league in R.B.I.s. Alexander Pope (whom I eventually acquired in a trade and called "Sparky") was a great little shortstop, and so on. I can still remember my team and how the poet X cheated me. He talked me into picking Johnnie Keats for right field. "Look at this guy, Joe. He's young -- just 24 -- and has more promise than anybody in the league." He said almost the same thing about Chekhov ("Has a lot of heart.") so I had him at third base. We'd go through a season in about a week. One season, one year in fantasy time. I was really pissed when both Keats and Chekhov died in the middle of next season. "Tuberculosis, Joe. You can look it up." It was a lot of fun anyway. Poet X had Old Possum Eliot on the mound and every time he would strike someone out the poet X would cackle: "I do not think that they will sing to thee." My mother would call in the middle of one of these games and the poet X would take the call in the library. Muffled cries, whispers. My mother would ask to talk to me: "The poet X isn't doing too well, dear. Perhaps you two should go looking for Cape May diamonds." I didn't ask how the poet Y (who later threw himself off a bridge) was doing. I could hear the Vibra-Bed humming. My mother was quite fond of them.

All of this comes back to me because my mother recently died and I am sorting through her effects. I came across book after book by young poet after young poet with inscriptions to my mother: "Snowflakes on stained glass." Peter "To the latest flake of Eternity" Trevor Not their real names, of course. God, how this boy's life comes back to me. I remember hating the poet Z. I was only about seven when he "boarded" with us. He's the guy who wrote the poem about the starfishes copulating. I remember that he read it to us and then went walking with mother on the beach. I followed with a sharpened stick and impaled every starfish I saw. (I know. "Who knows but that every starfish who mucks the moisty way is not an immense world of delight closed by your senses five?") But those starfish had to pay the price and I liked to imagine that they "screamed" "Haie, it is a good day to die!" as I pinned them wriggling each to each all on that misty moisty morning.

One after another they ended up falling in love with my mother and I ended up with them as my mother went "To Rienzi's to meet a friend." The poets -- not the starfish. Poet Z had a face like a thermometer. I remember sitting across from him at dinner, lamb dripping from his chin (these guys loved lamb) as he called my mother "the pure product of America I am crazy about." All these guys would have to tell me why everything meant something when it happened to them when I would rather have been resting by some tidal pool reading _Bomba the Jungle Boy_. Is still liked the poet X though. He kept coming around every few years and mostly started hanging around with me. The scotch got to him and he would make up stories about the wonderful time he and my mother hadd in the "Pension Beaurepas," and greet my mother with "Ut desint vires, tamen est laudanda voluptas" on the mornings when she would come down to breakfast. (Though the power is lacking, the lust is nevertheless praiseworthy). He also gave me a snowglobe (those little worlds so popular in Nabokov stories) inscribed with "All nature is a Heraclitean fire. Pray you, avoid it."

He was a funny guy. My mother came back from the hairdresser with her hair a fiery red. The poet X: "See, see how Christ's blood streams in the permanent!" Ah, hell. She was quite fond of Marlowe. His happiest times were years ago in my mother's bedroom, the "Damnation of Faust" playing on her old hi-fi. I think she tied him up. It all comes back in nightly visions unimplored. "Bases loaded. Bottom of the ninth. And here comes Leo Tolstoy from the batter's box." My mother read all their long and marvelous letters and kept them all. I'm told that the Poet X's graffito can still be found next to a urinal in the City Lights bookstore.

But, this is strange. A few nights ago I was going through my mother's books and found her old Oscar William's anthology with pictures of poets X and Y and Z (and Q and W and R). There is a big black X across each of their faces and, at the bottom of the page, in my mother's neatest Palmer penmanship: EXTERMINATE THEM ALL!

2005-05-20T17:19:00.000-07:00

My Cat Died on the Titanic

Yes -- my cat also died on the Titanic. I became suspicious when I noticed that she would wake me at midnight meowing "Nearer MyGod to Thee." My wife scoffed, of course, and insisted that the tune was, in fact, "Paddlin Madeline Home" but I knew better. She (my cat) was regressed by the same fellow in Milwaukee who has regressed the better class of Dolphin. It was expensive but worth it. It turns out that Chloe had been Jack Johnson's cat -- the black fighter who was refused passage because of... oh, you all know the song: "Jack Johnson want to get on board. The Captain said: "We don't haul no coal. Fare thee Titanic. Fare thee well."Chloe (whose name was Lighting then) had already boarded the ship and was nibbling caviar in the Greater Stateroom and waiting for Jack whenthe doomed vessel left port and confesses that she was rather pleased when she discovered that Jack wouldn't be coming. She could meet him inNew York and she had quite a nice cabin all to herself and there were masked balls to attend and no-one to stop her from renting the Pierrot costume that she knew would devastate the rather snooty millionaire cats who promenaded in First Class. Jack had always made her dress as one of the chorus of dancing girls in Aida and she felt that costume much too revealing. She was, in fact, dressed as Pierrot when the unsinkable ship went down. Of course, I didn't believe any of this. I t seemed too fantastic.I had never seen a cat dressed as a Pierrot. As Rhett Butler... yes...as Sinbad the Sailor... certainly... so you can imagine my amazement when I saw the film...there it was: a pitiful little cat skeleton and on the skull a Pierrot hat with a lavender pom pom and the oozy weeds twisting about -- as Lightning in the collied night/ So quick bright things come to confusion.

My Left Foot

2005-03-06T15:01:00.000-08:00

My Left Foot

Doesn’t work anymore
One day I got out of bed
And it hurt like hell.
It still hurts.
Even with no weight on it
And when I stand up
I almost begin to limp
But not so you can tell.
Things fall apart.
Bodily decrepitude is wisdom.
I’m not ready for this.
But I can almost remember
When “Chookie McCall”
Was not quite an absurd name
For a heroine in a detective novel.
So it’s probably polio
Like we used to have
And soon I’ll be in an Iron Lung
Yes, soon it will be 1958 again
And all my dead will visit me.
Me in my iron lung.
And eat candy and smoke.
While I look at them
Upside down in the mirror
As they get up and walk away.

The Rain

2005-03-06T14:46:00.000-08:00

The rain in 1959 say is
Not the same as the rain in 2005
Which is something a lot of bad novelists forget.
In 1959 it’s raining and some kid has
To stay inside or go outside wearing one of those
Yellow raincoats and funny hats
That Dick of Dick and Jane had to wear
And this kid won’t do that.
No, he’ll watch “Superman”
And George Reeves is still alive
There on the black and white TV
And that 1959 rain is falling
On lilac bushes under which
He once buried a silver dollar
For a whole night and once saw a dead mouse
And the moon that comes out
After the rain when his mother is
In the basement actually ironing clothes
With a mangle and smoking a Lucky Strike
Is a 1959 moon but to get back to
The rain just then a rain was falling on Pusan
And Normandy beach quite different from
The rain for example falling
Today in a suburb here on the coffin
Of some poor kid killed in Iraq
And that kid knew in 1995 at ten
The 1995 rain and now he’s dead
And tomorrow it might rain.

The Tall Hair Blues

2005-03-06T14:39:00.000-08:00

They say I'm ugly and they're right I guess.
They say I'm ugly and they're right I guess.
Some say I look like a plugged up Porgy.
Some say I look like a drunked up Bess.

Went down to the Mojo Man asked him what I can do.
Went down to the Mojo asked him what I can do.
Told him I want some of that sweet sweet loving too.

He said "Drink this potion. Then get outta my place.
Drink up this motion potion and get outta my place.
Give me fifty dollars. I don't want to see your face.

You'll look like a Beatle. That potion make your hair grow long.
Maybe you'll look like Ringo. But your hair gonna be long.
Maybe you got an ugly hairstyle. Maybe thats all that's wrong."

But I ain't like the others. Hair roll and flow so beautifully.
But I ain't like all the others. Hair roll and flow so beautifully.
I'm the Lonliest Ranger. My poor hair grow vertically!

Went down to South Philly. Gals give me such looks!
Went walking down South street. All the gals give me those looks.
One said "Hey mister, you in those record books?"

Walked away from those mean women. Hair got caught up on a electric wire.
Walked away from those mean women. Wire was twenty feet or higher.
Listen to em all. "That funny man's on fire."

When you got tall hair you're gonna ride the Midnight train.
When you got tall hair you're gonna ride the Midnight train.
Have to sit on top of the coal car. Smokestack lightning in your brain.

The Tall Hair Blues.

Trio

2005-02-26T21:27:00.000-08:00

Trio

At the Starbucks next to
The Barnes and Noble where
Somali cabdrivers huddle in winter
And where last nightI sipped a tall hot chocolate
And read some poetry
The guy with the black overcoat
And the shiny shoes and
The look of what
The look of money looks like
If you are that kind of guy
Asks the poor women across from him
“If you don’t mind me asking
How old are you?”
“59,” she says the poor woman
“I have six grandchildren.”
“Your time is now,” he tells her
“All the rates go up at sixty”
And she must have told the guy
How much money she had
Because he says “You are in
An excellent position” and tells her
That it might seem ok to have your
Money in the bank with their
So called guarantee but do we
Really know if the worst happens
Is it really guaranteed and
Six grandchildren that’s wonderful
And there are some funds where
She could put her money.
And I am reading that Frank O’Hara poem
“Autobiographia Literari”
That great poem: O’Hara the lonely child
The orphan even birds flew away
From him and then those great last lines
“And here I am, the / center of all beauty!
/writing these poems! / Imagine!"
And I laugh out loud.
And they both look at me
Like I’m crazy.

2005-02-02T19:06:00.000-08:00

Viewmaster

2005-02-02T18:47:00.000-08:00

Uncle Joe 1941

Mothers

2005-02-02T13:47:00.000-08:00

Shakespeare was something... but Shakespeare's mum
Struck all the poxy critics dumb!
Till one found voice and then another
"The Bard owed everything to his mother!
"Or so she dreamed. Then woke to life
Stuck up in Stratford with Shakespeare's wife.

Poor, poor motherless Eve
Might not have fallen
but it's hard to believe
How could she know?
"Why the hell should I bother?
Give me that apple.
I don't have a mother."

2005-02-01T20:25:00.000-08:00

The Youngest Ranger

2005-02-01T20:22:00.000-08:00

The Younger Ranger

2005-02-01T20:19:00.000-08:00

The Young Ranger

2005-01-31T18:25:00.000-08:00

Backstage "Our Town" Dressed as the dead Emily and wearing the top hat of Sam Craig

2005-01-31T18:03:00.000-08:00

The Daughter of the Erl King in November with her second cousin Chloe

With the Daughter of the Erl King

2005-01-31T17:52:00.000-08:00

Red Rose

A Lecture on Heidegger

2005-01-31T16:45:00.000-08:00

Heidegger, laboring late one night
discovered selbtsbegebenheit.
And later, in his lonely room,
beneath his bed, his sinngebung.

And all the lonely years spent fearing
that he'd never find the sacred clearing
where Being waited for Becoming
were healed by his bold hermeneutic.
(A thing he found most therapeutic
along with an obsessive thumbing
of ancient volumes pre-Socratic).

With metaphysics wearing thin
he examined our man Hölderlin.
At a loss for words he didn't panic
relying on his tongue Germanic
to bring his deepest thoughts to light
(und zo he gave us Sein und Zeit).

His ferverent hope that all would see
things phenomenosologically
led him to unceremoniously beg
that it was all still unterweg
sur sprache, that most eloquent sign
and exclusive purview of Dasein.

Zuhandenheit, Vorhandenheit
I really couldn't care.
Besorge and Fursorge!
Always and Everywhere!

Umgang, Ausgang, now we're really rollin'!
At last, but not least, there's gewissenhabenwollen!

Timothy O'Smith

Eisenbahnwagenlebenvirsicherunggeschellschaft.

2005-01-31T09:34:00.000-08:00

Eisenbahnwagenlebenvirsicherunggeschellschaft.
Is German for "The Railroad Life Insurance Business"
I don't even want to laugh.
And they are telling US about isness?.
"Arbeit Mach Frei."
Makes me want to lay down and die.
In fact, none of them exterminatin' languages
Has any reason for Being.
Which eliminates most all.
Startin' with the Indo European.
We gotta pick, we gotta, one language to die in.
Maybe Navajo? I choose Hawaian.
Komoniwannalayyou. Ilakalittlenookie.
I might even pay you. I think we could speak Wookie.
Oh, what is that sound I hear of Being and Becoming?
It's only the soldiers dear, the soldiers coming.

The Poet Goethe

The poet Goethe was well hung
He didn't need no Weltanschaung.
Didn't need it since er war ein Kind
Dreaming the far Tamarind.
Or dreaming on the skull of Schiller
Seeming to compose a thriller.
"More light," he cried on his death bed.
"More light is what I need," he said.

Uncle Joe Ignores Hegel

Onto said to Theo
"You just have to believe, oh.
"Theo said to Onto"
Get out of here pronto.
"And my Uncle Joe took a sailor to his room!
Boom a lay Boom a lay Boom a lay Boom!

Onto said "Heidegger."
Theo said "Quite meagre."
And my Uncle Joe took a sailor to his room!
Boom a lay Boom a lay Boom a lay Boom!

Selbstkunst

I love making up them fake German words
Though Eisenbahnwagenlebenvirsicherunggeschellschaft.is real.
Still the word "Selbstkunst" has a certain Teuton appeal.
Like what you would apply to a guy like Eminem
Denied access to the Eternal Feminine
And stuck with the usual ranting
Like Hegeling or Kanting.
Selbstkunst Selbstkunst everywhere
Fair is foul and foul is fair.

Scottish Philosophy

There was a young man from Carlyle
Who was magnificently ept at denial
When leaking his Being
He said I'm just peeing
And offered to all a sad smile.

Wittgenstein bereft of is

2005-01-31T09:09:00.000-08:00

Wittgenstein bereft of is
Watched all that isness whiz.
Forlorn, bereft, you know, because
He knew what a wiz that isness was.

He stayed up night after night
And thought about that.
No light! No light!
Meowed Schroedinger's cat.

The Song of the Sledded Polack

2005-01-30T18:13:00.000-08:00

"As thou art to thyself:
Such was the very armour he had on
When he the ambitious Norway combated;
So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.'
Tis strange"

Hamlet Act 1, Scene 1

Our town is "Our Town"
Rescuing Polacks from snowdrifts happens most days.

Poem Written at Twenty Below

The Song of the Sledded Polack

I'm that perseverent Pole. The Yellow Knife drifter.
The poor sledded Polack. I ain't no grifter.
My plan of attack is to keep coming back.
Won't you please? Won't you please? Just give me a lift, sir?

Yes, I'm that very Polack as Shakespeare has written:
That was once on the ice by King Claudius smitten.
Now I'm up here inYellow Knife stuck in a drift.
Won't you please, kind friend, please give me a lift?

Drygulched and fordone by that stinking Dane, Claudius
Yet, heaven forfend, tell me where the party is.
Give me 10 bucks and get me out of this drift.
A poor freezing Polack on the midnight shift.

I'm pure Polanaise. I should be dancing a minuet
Stuck here in Yellow Knife and I'm not very Inuit.
Yes, I'm here now but it's where you gotta go:
A ghost of a ghost alone in the snow.

I'm that perseverent Pole. The Yellow Knife drifter.
The poor sledded Polack. I ain't no grifter.
My plan of attack is to keep coming back.
Won't you please? Won't you please just give me a lift, sir?

2005-01-30T18:11:00.000-08:00

The Sledded Polack

Bell Book and Candle

2005-01-30T17:57:00.000-08:00

I always liked Kim Novak
In “Bell Book and Candle”
Curled up on that couch
Which you would describe as
Immensely red but you are wrong
For the colors that show best by candlelight
Are (she tells you) white, carnation and
And a kind of sea water green
And Pyewacket that lucky cat
Curled up next to you green eyes
And a sardonic glance
And you reach for the silver cigarette lighter
Man, you are as shaky as Jimmy Stewart
And it is Christmas! Christmas!
And you know she is a witch and
You want to ask her
Why she well.. has a tree…
Let the roomAbound in light especially
Colored and varied
Or something like that.
Witch? Christmas?
And she gets up and is on
Tiptoes placing the ornament just so
(“oes and spangs as they are of no great cost”)
On the tree and she knows what you are
Looking at.
She knows.
Christmas? But if you ask she’ll say
Something like“The best art is general”
Which, really, you haven’t heard before
And she turns and the doors to the balcony
Open and snow swirls you out and you
Are both on the balcony. Manhattan!
And you know that Gene Kelly is
There somewhere feeling just a bit blue
But will anyway dance his way into
Someone’s heart tonight and snow is
Steepling on the Chrysler Building and
There is giant impossible yellow moon
And she is there and you

Know this poem ain’t going to end the way
You want it to.

2005-01-30T17:53:00.000-08:00

That Lucky Cat

The Ballad of Duane (Actual Photo!)

2005-01-30T17:44:00.000-08:00

"I have to go now. I'll call you tomorrow.
When I'll be on the top of Mount Kilamanjaro!"
My wife's eyes became moist. "Oh that was poor Duane."
I put down my pen and said "The poor fellow's insane."
Five years ago when I came on the scene.
She confessed to poor Duane "Oh, I love Joe Green"
The poor guy took it hard and tried to forget he
Ran to the mountains with the yaks and the Yeti.
"I've finished my sonnet." "Oh, I love you, Joe!"
And poor Duane tried to sleep in the wind and the snow.

2005-01-30T17:26:00.000-08:00

Poor Fellow

The Lonliest Ranger

2005-01-30T15:11:00.000-08:00

...is glad to be here.