Transcript
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
1/60
1
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
2/60
2
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
3/60
Huntington, NY
poems
by
Don Schaeffer
3
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
4/60
4
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
5/60
To Hannah Banana and Alex the Palex
5
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
6/60
6
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
7/60
Biography
Don Schaeffer is a phenomenological poet, devoted to exact description of experience. At the age of 70,
he has experienced the institutionalization of his spouse and the re-development of a new life out of theashes of the old one. His poems reflect the transitions in his life. He currently lives in New York after
spending half his adult life in Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada.
Don has previously published five volumes of poetry, his first in 1996, not counting the experiments
with self publishing under the name "Enthalpy Press." His poetry has appeared in numerous periodicals
and has been translated into Chinese for distribution abroad. Don is a habitue of the poetry forumnetwork and has received first prize in the Interboard competition.
He holds a Ph.D. in social psychology from the City University of New York.
7
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
8/60
Art and poetry. Poetry and art. I do this stuff every day, quietly, alone, nobody interferes even when I
want them to.
Defining Art
When we travelled
to an arty town
we found mostartists
own their
galleries.
What about this?
Art definedas things on
displayin an art gallery
The 1% and Art
A weekend article in the New York Times described an artists who just purchased a 3 million dollar
building to use as a studio and display space. His art is not memorable. I wondered where an artist
could get the resources for such a purchase. The question reminded me that the issue of income
disparity has wider implications than just relative poverty (which is certainly important enough). Thetruth is that in this culture, broad access to media and the arts is passed down from parent to offspring,
dynastically. If the son of a media star writes a book it receives easy access to publication with fullpublicity and prominence. The mediocre photographs taken by a movie star's daughter receive quick
positive review and hailings of greatness. History will remember only those poets and artists who have
received their credentials by right of kings.
8
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
9/60
9
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
10/60
Victory
The future
is a sticky confection
that makes you fatand selfish.
Spend your wealthon the future and
indulge in stingy dreams,
sickening your heart.
When the future
shrinks to a strandfresh air and health
open in your body.
Unclogged,eyes wide,loving,present moments,
slide graceful,
lubricating the sunsets.
10
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
11/60
Modern Physics
We oscillate.
Particle and anti-particle
do-si-do in ourgelatinous vacuum.
I orbit my shadoweclipsed and augmented,
shimmering, am
and am-not
hide each other,
do and do-not.
11
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
12/60
Simple Social Principles
1.
I concede
the virtues of my enemies
but not gladly.
2.
Conspiratorswithout enemies,
make poor friends.
3.
Can there be a
lonelier place thana world without conspiracy?
12
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
13/60
Is God My Audience?
Tonight
I'm feeling most keenly
the pain of being small,
the paltry income
of a casual glance.
Amateur,
living a day
on the protruding edgeof a sixth floor brick,
making an egg,in the sun,
dying unmagnified.
13
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
14/60
Systemic Misunderstanding Dream
Now I get it I'm
surrounded by the
frowns of righteousness-addicts,
I sit swivelling on a pike.
When they spin me,
push into my eyesglower after glare,
asking whys.
I wanted to please them,
loved the project;
but can't do it.Resign.
Garden Gate
Hey neighbor,
fire's in your garden,
sun not travelling on human pathsand the stems of dead flowers flowing through it.
Only the trees upright dam the lightbut can't hold it,
brief and precious flameand ordinary shadow green.
14
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
15/60
Sentimental Journey: Variation on an Old Song
"Gonna take,"
they crooned,
"a sentimental journey."
The place is habit now
you can say I miss it
and can't bear to feelthe customs fade.
I travel there
on Google Earth
to imagine
the streets,trace where places are
I no longer enter,
goodbyes long said.Electrical memories are
cleaner than real ones.
15
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
16/60
Great Pillars of War Movies: What Death Kills
I: aye,eye
moving moment,
fat bundle of
memory, pastedpictures,
a tower of
skulls.
want: the mattering
of the world, greatpointing,
you: the bestowalof birth knighthood,
eyes to meet.
Then boom:flesh cells.
16
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
17/60
Episodic and Orgiastic
Once a day
not all the time
I burst the shell
for the ooze of yellow
bio-stuff, innocently made,
not for me. I steal the life
and scoop its substance into my teeth.
The mixture of pleasure and ragelifts me nearly to shouting.
17
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
18/60
Jung's Intruder
I awoke in the darkest part of the night
and came into the living room
startling a half naked man
busily unstraighteningpictures on the wall.
18
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
19/60
On Seeing "Lust for Life"
(I'm hung up on the word "I."
It has meaning until the last seconds of life. I count down.
Then it is meaningless.)
"Theo," he says at the end.
"I want to go home."
But he's been saying
what he wants all his life.He wants only to illustrate.
Pathos is in his voice
when he wants.
"Theo" he says
and we count down10,9
"to go home"
8, 7. 6"want"
5,4
"I" (aihhhhye, ich, yo)3,2,1,
0
Then He's gone.
19
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
20/60
Another Dream Poem
When
deep in the Andes
we found the valley whereNature makes all the giant round roadsigns,
my fathercould really relax.
20
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
21/60
Comatose
He goes to visit her, bearing the smells of the garden.
She doesn't speak the whole time,
doesn't look at him. He is frantic
when he realizes what she has chosen.
When she says
the lonely worldis just as good,
we all mourn
another tuft of grass
pulled out into the sea,
a piece of the beacheroded,
the Earth shrivelled,
wires unplugged,propaganda from the enemy
adding to our doubt.
21
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
22/60
True Origin of Awe
I watch my cat looking out the windows at the woods. I have a sense of her awe--fascination with life
outside. To the cat it is a pragmattic woods of feeding. So much to watch through her infantile mental
wiring, triggers drawing her to the presence of things not really there, dream things, erroneous theories,
infantile magic.
My glance at the earthis made of tools and fears
impressed by variety
and risk.
I still stalk the woods
hungry and frightenedlooking for tactics,
but understand with imperfect theories.
I wonder,wonder full not from the world
but magic
from my infant eyes.
22
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
23/60
Otoscope Micrograph Image of an Olive Pit
Living hoses,the archetype
of earthlife,
eager fingers asking,
have you had your share?
We will give you all you need.
23
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
24/60
Siona's Orangepeel Sun #2
Looking for pretty things
and surroundedin the shop and on the walls
put up with joy
as numerous as smilescasual as tea.
All of our busy handsand talkative hearts
buy the pretty things
and make them
like galaxies rising
out of the dark.
24
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
25/60
Eight-Thirty AM
I can only put on
the rememberance ring
after the knuckles stop
their daily swelling.
In the room I call my space,
the display of my booksthat only I can really see
has fallen into a heap.
The bathroom floor
may not be as wet as we
first thoughtand maybe we don't need a plumber.
Happiness reigns
in this new place.Peace may run like syrup
over the short years.
25
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
26/60
Hope Joked
I remember
when we were
the future
and every stepwe took
into brilliance
was noted by akindly teacher.
We were rising.We became
sweet and soft
with hopefultears of romance
in our words
and the certainty it
would all count.
When the teachers all
wizened and diedand romance turned
hard like flesh,
hope joked.We all
laughed at the joke.
26
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
27/60
Twenty-First Century Religion in the USA
My god is
The Economy
and my duty
is studying scienceso we can outpace
the Chinese.I do my duty
in spite of
breaking mypoetic heart.
Hell isfalling
behind and
becoming just
anothernation. Amen
27
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
28/60
Musical Bones
I breathe
melodies,
drum tum puffingdiaphragm beats:
"Red River Valley""Mr Tamborine"
"If I were a Rich Man"My singing is long
silenced but notsong.
28
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
29/60
Goodbye Note at 75: A Nightmare
She said:
It was a mistake
to find you, even thoughyou were a route to
relief at the time.
And we sat side-by-side
for those quiet years
while I longedto have a body in love.
You are not my deepest love,you know, the mysterious
love of my life. All the
years, passed, wasted with you
and there is this
wish come true
who makes me faint,found late, but found.
29
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
30/60
Seeing Out
I don't see why
life is not extraordinary,
seeing out
and re-creating everythingin a mass of circuits that may not close.
I don't seehow we look into the faces
of creatures we don't know
and learn that they can do for themselvesif only we supply fresh water.
Maybe God caresonly for species
and lets my individual eyes
go blank.
30
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
31/60
Special
He says, "When you
scoff at my means
I'll say, I'm not exactly stupid."
He nods
at the degree
hanging on the wall.
He says, "I Know how I'm
wasting everyone's timewith my non-stop displays and my questions."
He says, "like a dutifulschoolboy currying
favor from the adults."
He recalls his dreaded violin caseand the big leather
briefcase even in Summer.
He says, "I know
how time
explodes in my head."
He says, "I know
how feeling good
deprives me of my edge."
31
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
32/60
Glass Ceiling
All those grownups
standing aroundlooking up at the monitor
as some college graduate
picks the winner
have nothing to do
but wait, no names or titlesand very small chances.
They all resent each other
because of the way
they are bunchedup against the glass
at the top of the cagewhere the sun floods in
so they can see the screen.
32
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
33/60
Democracy
Money
is what we are seeing
when we think
we are looking at politics,the arts,
the higher
forms of anything
through rare air
to the palacesof seminar
and fine talk,
those who livecomplete lives
in the sun
with grand pianos,
quiet bargainsover rich drink.
Books are published,interviews arranged
galleries take
and clientele pointand nod
in checkbook
agreement.
33
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
34/60
Godless Sleep Prayer
I am ready now
to give up the day.
Won't aspire
any more,
ambition
faded. Dreams,
my only safety net,
guideposts to dawn,sleep blank
and dangerous,I gamble with night,
to win another morning.
34
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
35/60
Cemetary Prison
The elders,
buried on the hill
under the time
twisted stones,
surrounded by that
fence with nodiscernable gate,
can't get out,
stay caged above the town
watching the young
parade from restaurantto restaurant.
35
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
36/60
A Not True
I write poetry
that has an audience
in my egocentric brain andmake things on paper
I call art that waitlike a beggar for a
passerby's disinterested eye.Self and sincerity
wrestle on the ancientfield of paper.
There are just too many
empty artists.
36
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
37/60
Lilly Pond
without making what nature makes,
I install filament clouds
and wire grasses.
37
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
38/60
Rolling Down the River
Is it somewhere between
"boyning" and "burning?"
The singer works the ar.
There is a faintsmell of oil.
the timebetween the consonants
and vowels
leaves previously unknownroom for
microscopic lives .
I make this
discovery in a dream,
and understand
where all those eternalsouls can fit.
38
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
39/60
Ten AM
Coping is fun
I think as I lounge
in late Spring
while the kitchen
is slowly reborn
and I have made tea
on a slow grill outburner.
We are in a bubbleof Summer.
The insects are kindI have never heard
so many birds.
One of them is singing,"we need ya-we need ya-
we need."
39
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
40/60
He Thinks Poetry is Fraud
He is allowed
to sit bundled on the porch
hugging the walker
on the cool June morning
with all the piety of the flowers
swarmed around him.
He feels that
poetry is fraud.But the pretty poets
long fingered, pavane
among the peonies,
gesturing toward
but not quite touching.
40
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
41/60
Fresh Wednesday Bread
As if I were a child
as if,
I look up intoageless bedtime story eyes.
The bagel bakerritually chants, "May you
be granted your last bitesbadekt in cream cheese."
41
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
42/60
Democratic Markets
Stands at the palace gate
clenched in the fist
pants short
feet ready to stamp
but it won't let him go.
Ready to surrender,suicide even if he
doesn't get the soothing statement.
All is silent though.
History nearly over,
the future drizzles awayand the enemy persists.
There is no
fame for me,born mediocre and
mediocre I remain.
42
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
43/60
Poetry
We are so
helplessly absurd.
If we find a morsal of success
it doesn't come with any real smilesand probably represents
a corruption or pretense.
So we needn't try
to say anything sincere
or to publicallyencounter ourselves.
Nobody will receive us.
Nobody readsand only a few
unwillingly listen.
When they opine honestlyit's always with malice.
If there is charity
it is not in their hearts.
43
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
44/60
Ultimate Lumps II
Clean the
slate of me
fresh greens
to grow on topbright eyes
unrespectful
swinging open doors.
Neat packages
eighty unitswrapped with costumed passages
earthy and bright
decoratedquanta
plopping through time.
If you imaginetime as space
you will understand
life afloat,the eroded edges
particulating,
drifting away.
44
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
45/60
Weak and Silent
If this were clearer
it would be embarrassing like a dream.
The failurewas weak and silent.
I just walked through the sceneamong the un-entitled
while voicessang obvious and
well-known praises.In private I know
I should never
have expected more
on a very large
and quiet planet.
45
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
46/60
Ultimate Lumps
Neat packages
eighty units
wrapped with costumed passages
earthy and brightdecorated
quanta
plopping through time.
Clean the
slate of mefresh greens
to grow on top
bright eyesunrespectful
swinging open doors.
46
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
47/60
Busker, Troubadour, Beggar, Thief
A poem is not a poem
unless it whines,
mines the shiny
sour candiesfrom the tragic clowns'
pickle underground.
pickle sellers'
word vaudvilledance.
47
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
48/60
Chauvet Cave
From a world of
closed loops
where bends and
corners weren'timagined yet,
where animals
mixed and soulsslipped in and out
of bodies. We hold
the line now, coldand fast. We
lock and crimp sharp.
The circle is onlyan ideal we cannot match.
48
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
49/60
Brenda the Real Poet
To all the
unheard poets
who want to weep too
in the spirit of weeping
feel the tropical
drizzle gustson just a special day of
music they make,
to all of us
with small and silent audiences,
I call in sympathy,"May your stories
sting."
49
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
50/60
What Happens When You Settle Down
I put away my
pretty orange vest
and toss away my
wing-tipped salesman shoes.
Love means
no more parade,poetry over,
the end of the pleas.
The world of aspiration
thins, fantasy assumes
its valid translucent form,all is tame. Days pass.
50
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
51/60
Textures
Focused eyes
dots of the world,
filaments streamingwavelets
within the big thingshovering through intermediate space
between the nose pushing insectsand the mountains of the moon.
51
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
52/60
The Party
The first course of
outrage was wonderful.
Now, I await the tears.
Lick my lips,
feel the
sea building in my eyes,breath surfs
prayer.
Servers bring dessert.
Yes. It's my birthday.
I so lookedforward to this.
52
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
53/60
Love Light
When you say
I love you and
you are faint of heart,
uttering a slight orignorant lie,
you live luke warm,
senses numbing.
53
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
54/60
Freud vs Jung
I used to think
something came from
down the great tube of body and brain.I thought I saw a light.
But I'm grown less certain.I now think it all comes
from this tiny Earth,emergent detail. Memory
is all that's leftof mystery.
54
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
55/60
Why I like Cop Shows ("Where Id was there shall ego be.")
Police come in
bright like the sun,
cleaning away from the outside
what should be hidden safely within.
So the ordinary hours
dawn from underneath.They are full-sized,
with heavy feet.
55
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
56/60
Chauvet Cave
From a world of
closed loops
where kinks and
corners weren'timagined yet,
where animals
mixed and soulsslipped in and out
of bodies. We hold
the line now, coldand fast. We
lock and crimp sharp.
The circle is onlyan ideal we cannot match.
Then something came from
down the great tube of body and brain.
I thought I saw a light.
Now it all comes
from this tiny Earth,
emergent detail. Memoryis all that's left
of mystery.
56
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
57/60
You Have Many Moles
When I slipped into the world
it wasn't certain about me.
The lines around my body
are therefore fudged.
It takes more energy
to finish the work of rounding.Rough extrusions remain,
statistical shivers
of half way.
57
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
58/60
Mom Returns for a Night
It took
a lot out of her,
returning that kind of smile
and pushing her body intothat angle she learned
in high school. But shebecame my mother again,
briefly, on that anniversary day,
those years ago, a womanof long learned habit in front
of the camera.Unknowns followed her, just
weeks ahead. The effort
showed. I don't know how
she remembered.
58
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
59/60
My Comment When The Poet Denied the Rant
He wrote a wonderful rant about
somebody's criticism of his poems.
I never noticed the trouble
somebody said he had.
I told him the one thing
you have to watch when you
write a rant is the glorious high you get.
It makes you selfish.He blushed saying it was
just a spoof. But this was no spoof.I told him how much he enjoyed the bitter juice.
I told him I can tell.
59
8/3/2019 Huntington, NY
60/60
Daily Visit of the Unforgiving Sun
First sun slipping through the
East window excites the air dust
and highlights the flaws
in the rug.
The sun is
refreshing likean inspector
who visits from
beyond the walls
and tells me I'm ok.
That's why I lovethe morning.
top related