esrosedotblog

I was not a child of the Sixties.

More of a middle ager that got nipped in the ass by it.

I liked a lot of the stuff and bought into it but basically could not stand the showboating and disguised hate of it all. Hate of country, hate of other classes. Just plain hate.

No one from that time who was into it would agree with me of course.

Nevertheless I do enjoy the memories of the times which did change me. Alter my view.

Today's film is a reminder of all that countercultural stuff. The good and the claptrap.

Ferlinghetti: The Rebirth of Wonder (2009)

This film does a very good job of separating the shit from the shinola.

The one very important thing about Ferlinghetti is that he founded and maintained a mainstay of a strong counter culture in the form of his wonderful City Lights Book Store. A SFO landmark.

I am not a poetry guy. I am more a "if you have something to say fucking say it" kind of guy. The elliptical and the metaphoric does not sing in my head.

But I enjoyed this film anyway because Ferlinghetti is a strong hero to a lot of people and if you scrape the nonsense off him he is a great poet and a great thinker. He is seminal.

I love that he is beat poet and a capitalist. An American contradiction. The gods laugh.

I would gladly see this again just to hear the poetry and see this guy swing. A 4 out of Netflix5.

Labels: documentary, films, poetry

FOUND ART OR IS IT POETRY

I love this.

It is my experience. In a way.

The James Dean part reminds me of what I saw in my husband. Of course, the punk part doesn't. But you can be a punk in any genré.

Labels: gay love, poetry

LIGHTS ACTION CAMERA

HitRECord, an online collaborative production company founded by actor and director Joseph Gordon-Levitt, released the above video earlier this week. The two-minute short shows a stunning collection of contributor- and audience-submitted clips of various "flickering lights" — reflections on rivers, candles on birthday cakes, cell phones scattered across a packed theater.

The concept originated from a poem by HitRECord member Wirrow, called "Give Me All The Flickering Lights," which is recited in the video.

Labels: films, fun. music, poetry

BLANCO updated with text of the poem

One sun rose on us today,

kindled over our shores,

peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces

of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth

across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies.

One light, waking up rooftops, under each one, a story

told by our silent gestures moving behind windows.

My face, your face, millions of faces in morning’s mirrors,

each one yawning to life, crescendoing into our day:

pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights,

fruit stands: apples, limes, and oranges arrayed like rainbows

begging our praise. Silver trucks heavy with oil or paper—

bricks or milk, teeming over highways alongside us,

on our way to clean tables, read ledgers, or save lives—

to teach geometry, or ring-up groceries as my mother did

for twenty years, so I could write this poem.

All of us as vital as the one light we move through,

the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:

equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,

the “I have a dream” we keep dreaming,

or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won’t explain

the empty desks of twenty children marked absent

today, and forever. Many prayers, but one light

breathing color into stained glass windows,

life into the faces of bronze statues, warmth

onto the steps of our museums and park benches

as mothers watch children slide into the day.

One ground. Our ground, rooting us to every stalk

of corn, every head of wheat sown by sweat

and hands, hands gleaning coal or planting windmills

in deserts and hilltops that keep us warm, hands

digging trenches, routing pipes and cables, hands

as worn as my father’s cutting sugarcane

so my brother and I could have books and shoes.

The dust of farms and deserts, cities and plains

mingled by one wind—our breath. Breathe. Hear it

through the day’s gorgeous din of honking cabs,

buses launching down avenues, the symphony

of footsteps, guitars, and screeching subways,

the unexpected song bird on your clothes line.

Hear: squeaky playground swings, trains whistling,

or whispers across café tables, Hear: the doors we open

for each other all day, saying: hello, shalom,

buon giorno, howdy, namaste, or buenos días

in the language my mother taught me—in every language

spoken into one wind carrying our lives

without prejudice, as these words break from my lips.

One sky: since the Appalachians and Sierras claimed

their majesty, and the Mississippi and Colorado worked

their way to the sea. Thank the work of our hands: weaving steel into bridges, finishing one more report

for the boss on time, stitching another wound

or uniform, the first brush stroke on a portrait,

or the last floor on the Freedom Tower

jutting into a sky that yields to our resilience.

One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes

tired from work: some days guessing at the weather

of our lives, some days giving thanks for a love

that loves you back, sometimes praising a mother who knew how to give, or forgiving a father

who couldn’t give what you wanted.

We head home: through the gloss of rain or weight

of snow, or the plum blush of dusk, but always—home,

always under one sky, our sky. And always one moon

like a silent drum tapping on every rooftop

and every window, of one country—all of us—

facing the stars

hope—a new constellation

waiting for us to map it,

waiting for us to name it—together

Labels: poetry, Re-election of Barack Obama

INAUGURATION POET

Good news

Richard Blanco

American Cuban Gay Poet

How's that for a minority

An Obamaphile

Chosen to read his "occasional piece" at the ceremony

Why good news

Partly that we are still having poets

Another that we have poets openly gay

Beyond that is the Cuban part

Tearing down the walls

Another thing

Blanco was/is an engineer

Time for us having a comeback

What better way than as poetry.

More about this here.

Richard Blanco 2013 Inaugural Poet

A great honor for all of us.

Labels: poetry, Re-election of Barack Obama

DINNER TALK

Taylor Mali, slam poet and teacher.

Via Bill in Exile

Labels: education, poetry