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Transcript

Poetry on Tape 4.7.25

A recording from Josh Datko's live video
11

We started off playing the latest bitpunk.fm tape and then read the following poem by Walt Whitman, I hear America Singing.


I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

We then moved into

‘s poem:

Stranger Strands
Fugitive
Fugitive: Time exile in the barren wasteland of the waving deserts' tyrant star, I dig for water, sandpapered, hands bleed in pyramids, and flounder, my jigsaw-skin hugged by water in the ocean home of soul's first baptism, ran or lost, green years forgone, to find it's still…
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and discussed his note:

Then

with:

The Wildflower Field
honeyed, when bared
curl shells trace-white [ ], embodied melt wet the storm does not hesitate to break its thunder barbed ] rainsoft ] sharp inside soaks my goldenflower crown her mouth on me robed tongues…
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from which I learned about the Poetry of Sappho, so thanks for that Allison.

And

came next or about with:

The Great Beyond
Engraver
Long halls to wander in the black sand cathedral, an urn to imprison all minotaurs of a man's past let me relieve you of your coarse eyelashes suffocating in ash, bring name to the ritual mileage you complete in death a marathon of all wounds given before a final bow before the Maker. …
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this one hits with the force of stone cutter.

‘s Petal Logic was next:

Null Point: Fiction & Poetry
Petal Logic
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which I felt went back to Benno’s comment about the pull of rationality in an irrational world. Also, some very beautiful imagery.

And lastly,

with:

#Poetry
The filling of space
I tell you about a block of butter softening on a table set for one and you paint a picture in your head, add a knife, a curtain and shuffling feet and a certain grey filter and write — an ekphrasis that talks of solitude or silence or disintegration of form or salt or substance…maybe death. You search for romance in the bleak. For a rhythm in the …
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Lots of nice things about this, but it all happens quicker than your butter melts on bread.

Outro music by Øystein Berge.

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