winter poem (for newsclippings and rowens)

[serge gurkski]

I got talking to a street performer once who noticed a copy of Algren's 'Wak on the Wild Side' in my bag. He told me that he himself was once an addict, and how every Tuesday he would get his methadone script, get loaded and for some reason the film of 'The Man with the Golden Arm'

<<< yes, I get that. ;-)

was nearly always on T.V. He said he fucking hated it haha. Anyway, the tea's been prepared which I guess means it's time for an edit...

PRELUDE

A Winter in Munich

for Rowen S and Newsclippings

An error occurred at my bank. It was xmas and none of the guys over there felt the need to fix it. … yet! So I, on my way to work, collected the cash, a two-months income for me, in order to waste it. You could say: I had a plan.
Moving on, I considered to not go to work, but instead take the train to Munich to bacchanalize my life. And my birthday was coming up soon, too. is this little back story part of the piece? Or is it a separate anecdote to contextualize the poem for us forum-heads? Either way, I quite like it. It's daring, amusing and somehow a little ominous too.

<<< You are almost there: this prelude sets the scene. But I address the general public (not just the Pigpen members).

FUGUE IN THREE VOICES

Voice 1:

Close the doors, put out the light*

My bourgeois lamp dimmed down because of 'Bordeaux' in the second line, I'll let you get away with using 'bourgeois' in this line because at least your use of French is consistent.
[b]<<< Verharen was a bourgeois voice in a modernist choir of early 20th century.

We studied Marx recently and after hearing/reading/saying/writing the word so many times it just pisses me off haha, but I digress, I do like how the piece opens. Only, why does the lamp dim? [/b]
while I sat on my Bordeaux cushion
drinking Blue Curaçao straight from
the pretty bottle I had bought as a
bad imitation of a soother for a lost boy. 'pretty bottle' works really well. Solid first stanza, I'm not sure about 'soother' but can't think of anything else <<< well, I can, lol: pacifier (I like how my brain reacts to that: association: soother -- pacifier --- peacemaker etc )


Landed at Munich's grand station
feeling more warm by then.
I strolled through Schillerstraße
(a Harlemized NYC 5th Avenue) <<< Harlem does not fit in here anymore (too posh now) but I keep it for euphonic reasons )
rented a bed at a hotel called:Heimat meaning Home or better: at home.

You're killing me, this stanza is great. I love trivial motion in poetry, very Frank O'Hara-esque. I may be a little partial given my own fond memories of Munich's grand station, but hey. Also, I assume if the last line was prose

it would read 'Heimat, which means home, or better yet; at home.'
[b]<<< that would be correct! ,-)

If I'm wrong in saying that, then I'm wrong. If I'm right, it may only be on account of my ability to speak German (poorly), perhaps you could make it a little more comprehensible for all the non-German mono-linguistic scum, unless you're shooting for esoteric-ism. [/b] <<< I added meaning: Heimat is german for "home" in home is where my heart is (song ref)

Me, blue-blooded now, ventured into
the scene of horses and downers:
The H was good: I was Bowie for just these references are very cheeky, unless I'm looking to far into them. Bowie [heroes] for just one day? [b]<<< yes!

And Queen being, among the other meanings, reference to Bowie's colab with Freddie? How's my aim? [/b] << this time you are wrong:
"needing a Queen to satisfy
my needs, and I found one queen bee
of the smack. She wanted to lay me and
screw, but I: my brain needed the powder."
is the narrative (the red thread). Maybe too opaque.


one day, needing a Queen to satisfy
my needs, and I found one queen bee
of the smack. She wanted to lay me and if you mean lay me as in sex and screw as in sex, I think it's best if you scrap one.
screw, but I: my brain needed the powder. very nice. the personal pronoun proceeded by 'my brain' seems to separate you as you from the dependent gears within you.

So, it took her about a million years
to apporting what was mine. All was apport or apporting?
mine because me, I paid for it. again, me and I, some may call it fault, I like it though.
Major league hit through my nose:
Next thing I know is: her exposing
her breasts, first to me and then to
the mirror, me recalling: I'd fuck myself
from the silence of the lambs, but I doubt
we made love because I blacked out. starts to get hectic and ends with a satirical subversion (sort of). It's cool, but I don't know about the silence of lambs thing.
<< I'will link you later.

this here:
"Next thing I know is: her exposing
her breasts, first to me and then to
the mirror, me recalling: I'd fuck myself
from the silence of the lambs, but I doubt
we made love because I blacked out.


is my homage to rowen's style.



I only remember, we stole magnum bottles
of champaign in order to sell them to a downtown
bar in order to get cash for horse of course.
It worked. Me feeling like a cultural anthropo-
logical field worker, getting too inclined. repetition of 'in order to,' to highlight the linear progress of it all? I get it, I think, but I'm not sure if I'm a huge fan of it.

In that same winter with a dark cloud for a sun,
covering what was wrong with me, my bourgeois
lamp dimmed down lowest. Aha! so here 'dimmed' is an adjective ("the red lamp/the dimmed lamp") is this how it was meant to be in the first stanza? Because the word 'while' in L2 suggests you've used 'dimmed' as a verb (i dimmed my lamp down/my lamp miraculously dimmed itself down). <<< No, this time you missed me.
It is about prostution and a ref to:
[b]Turn your lights down low

(look here please:

and part of the lyrics:

Turn your lights down low;
Never try to resist, oh no!
Oh, let my love come tumbling in -
Into our life again, .....
is the verbal equivalent of the soother I mentioned earlier.

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/bobmarley...wnlow.html

sorry but I have an assignment to complete so I can't crit part 2 at the moment.
thoroughly enjoyable, Frank O'Hara meets William Burroughs without the trite-ness that each of them have from time to time. Vielen D[/b]ank

You are welcome and I thank you for getting so much into it. .-)

serge

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The backbone metaphor of this text is Bach's Wohltemperiertes Klavier: Präludium und Fuge (through all scales (Tonleitern).

---

Is it caterpillar or centipede? I think it's centipede that I meant to say last time. << both is correct but what is not correct is centi: they do not have a hundred feet. I nevr coumted them myself, but instead rely her totally on the poor biologists who had to count them.



So you have one more part to finish? My concentration is slowly forming a comeback. Though I'm still zoning in and out. I keep forgetting where I am, and I have a sneaking feeling I'm not alone in the house.

So you are getting better. Don't worry. I am totally fucked up but it want it to be in finer way: the being fucked up feeling. Maybe by analogy I can explain:

http://youtu.be/qgjYM6mlLVM

Please, when listening look at the blue galaxy in front of you. Could be a nebular glaxy punkified.
But I love blue glass ( explains i wrote upstairs.)

The paranoia you mention, in my opinion is best treated with either a woman who wants to play with you or beer plus valeriana (with the occasional booze shut in the the beer-drinking breaks.

I here have this prob: My substance intakes make my body weigh a thousand pounds. You will understand that that fact constitutes a barrier between me and what I want.

---

Is it caterpillar or centipede? I think it's centipede that I meant to say last time. << both is correct but what is not correct is centi: they do not have a hundred feet. I nevr coumted them myself, but instead rely her totally on the poor biologists who had to count them.



So you have one more part to finish? My concentration is slowly forming a comeback. Though I'm still zoning in and out. I keep forgetting where I am, and I have a sneaking feeling I'm not alone in the house.

So you are getting better. Don't worry. I am totally fucked up but it want it to be in finer way: the being fucked up feeling. Maybe by analogy I can explain:

http://youtu.be/qgjYM6mlLVM

Please, when listening look at the blue galaxy in front of you. Could be a nebular glaxy punkified.
But I love blue glass ( explains i wrote upstairs.)

The paranoia you mention, in my opinion is best treated with either a woman who wants to play with you or beer plus valeriana (with the occasional booze shut in the the beer-drinking breaks.

I here have this prob: My substance intakes make my body weigh a thousand pounds. You will understand that that fact constitutes a barrier between me and what I want.