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The Brooklyn Rail

JUL-AUG 2020

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JUL-AUG 2020 Issue
Poetry

six from Snoring in Oregon


      Oral History



      Yeah
      Bobo was in the band











Arrival



The event is now a few months old—
feels like forever. Surrendering
ourselves to what we couldn’t see
and forgetting the incessant
flood of information, we took the jump.
Present evaluation of past
events ending as night,
immovable till those moments, drew near.
Then dust rose, filtering the light—aridity, warmth,
rumination, hilarity, distant crooning dogs. . .
Who did we think we once were?


It wasn’t the fates
that brought the van
in lieu of horseback
but invention, impeccable style, a little charm


that brings us to the dream.
Palms and windows open. Stronger light,
no, just more
in accompanying allover dark.
We couldn’t believe it, then did—
a kind of emblem, quiet,
driving us on.
And what’s more free than that.









      Mondrian Room



      Big shot
      in the dark
      opens it. No grid
      after all and sudden
      brightness. Duration
      is a fold. Soft
      as you like. That’s
      the brainwave now.
      Ideas are their likenesses.



         for Eleanor Ray









      Six from Wind



      1.


      Live
      You live to a kind of tune
      Little musical screamings
      From the city birds
      Streamings that’s what you said
      The records come from another time
      Out of their heads
      The iron age
      Has made this morning warm
      Real power
      I sun my limbs to strains





      2.


      To say they’re made up dates
      Implies that some are not
      Hey I saw that bear
      Driving his brown car
      Out of town up stars
      Trying to
      Dream effort





      3.


      Off the cuff
      Guy ran from cop to cop
      In a comic I wish they had posterized
      Slept in time
      On my shoes
      Fear of pauperism
      Clipped from a block
      A thought box
      A consequential constant
      Memoria bubble





      4.


      ‘more to do
      with duration
      than the number of rooms’


      —a slow place
      where thoughts like wind
      aren’t collected
      they’re just there
      swinging screen doors
      a pace like that
      or maybe a heron
      or else a crane
      given the concept
      of passage and space
      the noun works
      and it moves
      after a long while
      being still



          for Kyle Schlesinger





      5.



      Walk the mossy path
      Faces of smoke and powder
      Mine mingling
      In this world
      To side with this or that
      Trapdoor
      Keeps you up
      I’ll keep in wind





      6.


      By way
      Of the occult
      You visualize
      And then can
      Throw a man









      Fragment



      One night
      I asked
      what about disordering
      senses has to
      do with night
      and its being
      some deep dark
      hue or else
      a separate air.


      State
      change is possible
      any given moment.
      Need of anything
      extra to be
      examined. We will
      always be different
      supplied
      by great wonder.









      Out is getting out and being out. And being out getting out.
      (Carla Harryman)



      These are my recollections
      We became the idea
      A look of enigma
      The ridiculous man got a stage for good reason
      There is power in the statue room
      Our caves bear no fear
      Low step
      Deep voice
      The fool is ignorant
      Of your story and mine
      Taste is puritanical
      Can’t take it with you
      There was the bug who made presence known
      Hate comes from care
      Will enchants life by dumb earth
      No such thing as mud
      A whole air full
      A reflection of mind
      Comes a time
      There is a crooked clock upon the wall my dear

Contributor

Paul G. Maziar

Paul Maziar writes about art for various publications such as BOMB, the Los Angeles Review of Books, Oregon ArtsWatch, L.A. Weekly, and RREALISM. A book of his art writings, One Foot in the Other World, is forthcoming from AC Books and his monograph, Roger Kukes: Thirty Years, was published in 2019. TO THE AIR, a booklet of his poems in collaboration with the visual artist Cynthia Lahti, was published by the Cooley Gallery at Reed College.

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The Brooklyn Rail

JUL-AUG 2020

All Issues