D.A. Levy Reading in Cleveland: BERET: a concrete poem for the war monuments

BERET: a concrete poem for the war monuments (1967)

by D.A. Levy

The Cleveland Memory Project makes this 58 second video available. It's a bit difficult to hear clearly so I include the text (much longer than the recording). Here is the text of the poem which is available on the Cleveland site. The recording is only of the very first part . 

"This clip was edited and digitized from a newly discovered 16mm film segment originally shot by Dennis Goulden of Cleveland's WKYC-TV's vintage television series Montage as he and his crew captured scenes from the counterculture/hippie movement of the late1960s." 

D.A. levy Reading: May 14, 1967

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D. A. Levy

The Coventry Reader, 20 years after, celebration of d.a.levy . . . 
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Many thanks to the enterprising and dedicated Cleveland Memory Project for making Mr. Levy's work available. The diversity of both his poetry and his remarkable hand done publications was a great delight to me during the years I was exchanging publications with him and sending my publications to Jim Lowell's historic Asphodel Book Shop in Cleveland.

from the duende collection of d.a. levy publications

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico . . . links to my online work

Saint Kush at Cloud House - Walt Whitman Breathes Here - 1980

Cloud House by Richard Hack is a good quick survey of Cloud House history. Here is a photograph by C.R. Snyder from the article, 1959 open reading. (What I wouldn't give to see and hear Helen Adam, but in '59 I was still discovering what was going on in the open vitality of American poetry.)

A letter with flyers from Kush of Cloud House

Walt Whitman Breathes Here

"About 1854, age 35, just before the first publication of Leaves of Grass in Brooklyn.
Courtesy of the Duke University Library, Trent Collection."

Kush generously video taped a reading/performance I did in San Francisco when Marge Nesset was setting up performances there billed as "New Mexico Performance Poet & Wily Troubadour" (Loft Theater, San Francisco, March 6, 1991). If this video is around there was a piano there, very rare for me . . . Steve Rodefer was there with a new friend, Lenore was there and just about nobody else, but the poetry event proceeded . . . 

Cloud House Poetry Archives is essential to see with videos . . . from Penn Sound. Many thanks to Kush for your life of spurring poetry on and recording it. Kush is a Saint, yes, Saint Kush.

Larry Goodell, Placitas, New Mexico

Tribute to Peter Karassic, June 2013

Peter Karassik, sculptor, artist, spoon and useful object maker . . . left me with his imagination calligraphy on hanging banners . . . so in memory of that and in a bit of a tribute are these small pages from my current notebook . . . these dedicated to Peter.

*

7 Panels of Writing by Peter Karassik

ca 1969, Gift of the Artist

Karassik, 3 Panels (left)

Karassik, 4 Panels (right)

Karassik, 6th Panel (larger)

Peter these days, up in Oregon
Hello Peter! We love you and are forever grateful for your introducing us . . . 
it led to 45 years of marriage so far . . .
hello and love to you Lorraine!
larry goodell & lenore

A Poet Too

Am I a poet, a light weight, a semi-heavy weight, a know-nothing, a pretender, an almost, a middle-weight, a fluff, a reality, a songster, a magician (pretend), a bard of the ha-ha clan, a bad-ass performer, a heart-evangelist, a minstrel, a skald, a scop, a rhapsode, a wordist, a poetaster, a poetatoo, a word writer, a song writer, a lyracist, a diddler, a doddler, a doodler, a listener, a journal writer, a note taker, an improviser, an open-ear responder, a receptionist, a word-wrangler, a scribbler, a creator, a recognizer, a maker, a guy with a fountain pen and a notebook spending too much time at the computer . . . 

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 2013 08 01

Like a house balanced on the tip of your tongue, my poetry is self-contained to this place. 
Making things is my disposition, a carpenter of air.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 2013 07 31

Iris and Iris, 2 Poems from 1977



This little booklet, hand sewn with yellow thread and cover bordered in gold pencil, came from early August of 1977, year of the NYC 25 hour blackout, Jimmy Carter pardoning the Viet Nam draft dodgers and announcing we must do something to counteract our massive oil consumption, and the year the World Trade Center was finished . . .  larry goodell

     The following poem, also for the goddess Iris (and her equivalents), is read left to right first line, right to left second line and on back and forth. The arrows will clue you which lines are to be read backwards. You can see it also in this parcel of broadsides from the 70's: 6 Broadsides from the 70's from duende press

I R I S

 

"I prefer the unknown." 

Jack Spicer  

Iris I cant find out anything about you but I love you and am yr wings

out fish I all is gods the of messenger intertwine we and mine are you or

of this cavern. I prefer to be alone & with you lightly bearing the snake stick

hair of flowers the off headband the kissing other each up & around coil we

falling down I pick up and fall down in you touch air which is yr purity

race up light up lit particles out burst speckled rainbow the of rain

the sky to the other end of the world together forever doing good to each other

soft count that ways little the ,way the pointing goods delivering

in yr soft hair I love you till the rainbow plunges in dark count of

.together cave the into us forcing us against down bearing rocket the 

There is no other way but the way of the unknown as you came to me

hair and face my washing morning the in up sun prism the from blinding

and lift to do the day, that way I know. "You do your poems!" someone

tickling earth of ends the as true ,friend a was it and me at shouted

between the toes where shallow rivulets fall down between me and the nearest friend

intertwine we and fly and direct but ask not do dear true only my you

vines up each other to the bloom of the first sunflower turning red to attract the hummingbirds

up me holding ,voice no ,earth no ,spaceless being ways our in set are we

the airy innards spilled out in the lay of love, the old singer’s voice

around dancing and alone other each on back splashing ,cracking ,clacking

counterclockwise on toes tipping up and off the earth forever.

　

/6August77

larry goodell

this is a duende press tattered old manuscript broadside was resurrected february 2006 as part of 6 Broadsides from the 70's using Issuu & Scribd. larry Goodell

Walking Hawk

pot with poem in it -
mix up strips (lines) and read

. long hair is a scaffold for blowing out yr brains

. a Nixon nugget is a nuxin Nigget

. Survival is kitchen napkin

. they want the most violent image to tear their tissue paper

. revolution is a dragass minority in rear

. it defeats the purpose not to be named

. it pops into yr head

. do you want another he said pouring charcoal out the sewer

. I cocktailed inefficient Sunday     rock     rock

. nematode is no toes

. flash on cards

. a heap of Sundays

. on cards

. freeflowing Tuesdays jacks yr diamonds

. change attire    retire

. going out on Sunday

. sundancers

. keep in towards

. leaping hinges

. a jack in time multiplies the dime

. reaches on Sunday

. what you can’t reach on Monday

. it’s terrifying what language does to him

. I am used     ill-used

. leaping high in vineyards

. language to put in a pot

. take it out on Sunday     & leave it there

. a make to brace

. a challenge for Europe

. old electric dildo     catching a snooze

. I’ll never make you on Tuesday

. make you mind

. I am out on Tuesday

. tie it all together with a mop & sop

. how many wafers do you have in yr corn

. donuts        donuts

. in each case there was a case to shake

. other than that it was stone pussy

. jack off backwards

. I come first    then play all day

. that is    your ferris wheel rocking

. knocking them off

. sugar towards   Christian hippies   knock them off

. a meeting on Sundays

. knock them off

. a meeting on Tuesdays     time to get up

. don’t go out     go out

. time to get out

. whack a steward

. this is not the first time     the first time

. I never slept with you

. are you minding yr puddings & yr pants

. don’t breeze off     too soon.

. a jacket on Tuesday  

. a meeting on Tuesdays

. rock my wind pardner

. a hanging cob justifies the brain

. you get too much money     for what you do

. his peter was up higher than his salary

. I’m not going to be pleasant     pleasant

. I’m going to fill this soap notebook up

. wipe yr ears clean

. adjusted images     a deviled pig

. where it’s at was where it rot

. don’t look at it 2 ways     upside down

. pick it up & lay it down along the pot

. images on Tuesday    Monday’s Sunday

. I’m red    you’re dead

. she comes itching out of her period

. periodicity is a dish for a period

. get up & ejaculate the dawn

. a rooster is a quick pulling hen

. my sex is yr sex     disaster

. playing with the trucks

. he done fuck himself with rapid cleanser

. a solid formation on the cup

. a releasing thru

. he cd hear the fly buzzing after it was dead

. the fly wasnt dead

. take it out on time

. the precious nowhere escapes me

. the face of Cain is the ass of Able

. are you able Tuesday

. Aaron is Monday     Tuesday is Sunday

. all school functions are decrepit

. a school is a walking hawk

. the hawk that walks

. he realized he cd go on forever so he stopped

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

This was written 18th August 1972, with procedure "pot with cards in it – shuffle & read." For now printing the poem double or triple spaced and then cutting each line out with a paper trimmer works fine. The pot I'm using here I unearthed out on Rio Grande Blvd. in North Valley of Albuquerque when I was living there & teaching at the Academy For Boys (Albuquerque Academy). . . 

Notebook #14, back cover. I had finished the "Staff" a poetry performance piece and/or serial poem, and herein started on the "Bowl of Ometeotl" . . . . 

a page from "Walking Hawk" which is also in this NB.

I find it interesting to look at the full-blown original writings of a poem (any poet's poem), the notebook, the papers, the surroundings, the time and place, the "3 dimensionality" of the poem in specifics . . . to get a sense of the context and gift-offering of the poem . . .

love to all,
larry

On The Mesa

                                                                                                                     for Don and Pamely Lichty

There is much love that goes wasted on the sides of morning
when "skating in Vermont" means living in the desert
& sitting on top of the world is a delicate song
rocking with the windmill from Jemez to the Sangres
the same old steps again Wisconsin New York Kansas Europe
bobbing with the knocking in groan Tibetan horn wind-
mill burns the Peter Hurd off the canvas morning where
the panorama stares back Sandias in the morning
cobalt blue the haze forever lifted from the eyes as
we walk up the ladder thru adobe built up to the cedar
bedroom out to see the new roof flat black asphalt
mopped under pebbles & the frying pan full of piss
to float eyes out from this top of the mesa
into love that goes wanting in disheveled cities slid
awkward down the pilings of earth twist out
& fold levels fold & geology present Miller's
from Milwaukee or Azusa or Fort Worth sitting
on the mesa tipped in tipped in love gone sliding thru
stuff under tarps woodpiles things live underneath
our pointer after mice birds wind & exotic
religion sides with our insides     you connect the landscape 
as land forms form out     chile & beans with salt pork 
pressure cooked   stares in the afternoon Die-Hard battery 
to work the TV seldom on just looks & doesnt look back
we have filtered out our present built up our logs on 
this ship launched out
added special twists & uncorked Tulemare Dew made
Irish coffee & worshipped night      in daytime
way way north of Placitas     the road turns
around where you live     & everything stands
up to lay down     before the fire on a clear     cool warm
day     day New York New York Wisconsin New Mexico
Sunday      the new room     with cedar ceiling builds
the history     building     our history      the movie finds itself
entrapped in the heart     Rebel Without a Cause
stares from the kerosene lamps whose reflectors of glass
are insides of vacuum bottles     carefully positing
every step along the way     a narrative     of where we
stand     or sit      build a new door out of
split wood held together     by dust off the palms
& the working sweat    of the morning beer
take it easy     & care no care     until caring everything
is love in air      creaking under      the depression    out there
mesas build on mesas flow out from volcanic core
in the frozen warmed present November
I come to sing     Woody Guthrie Hank Williams Kell D. Robertson
if I had a guitar      I couldnt sing a song
but talk in the round of four-fold friends comes
singing around     the corner.      There are no corners here
where    in the dust lit up     Joel plays     & the dogs romp
& play on this mesa     in this mesa in our hearts     we flow
from the center of the fire.



/25Nov74
larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

  

(the photographs are from the Open Space north of Placitas in a mesa area much like
where the poem took place . . . houses have built up around where our dear friends,
the Lichtys, lived in the early 70's).

This poem is a testament to a wonderful place and wonderful friends . . .
                                                                                                                                              larry goodell

Talking Water

Photograph by Walter Chappell (1925-2000)

                                                         (hear Talking Rain)   

God has the dewdrops to bake and ache
as burning sun meets cool wind
to suck juices out of the dirt
monument to sky, monument to the missing moisture
to irrigate is life to the trees and the lost garden.

Why must we be pleased with this, oh world of balance
where are you where is meaning in this, to kiss
a hot rock, be comforted by a cool night?

Flow with slower juices in the channels of earth
and accept with bitterness lessened by prayers
or at least good breathing & conservation.

Spirits of the high mountain communicated with high summer
to bring on the rain to bring on the rain again,
bring back the possibility of a garden, spirits of a tomato world
blessed. Oh jalapenos of the spirit world, see us through
Creator creating from the image of life, balance and rain again.

May I create equal steps in walking, and my heart and mind
on equal plane and bring someone what they need while waiting
for the beautiful storm, the rainbow that’s etched in my memory.

As a headdress of glowing water, and thunderclouds of miracles
brought down to Earth, splashing our dry furrows, oh drinking water
with a mountain face and a sky of love, a dancing spirit of the springs
on our knees before you, thundering as I remember, welcome
your presence in total submission and surrender, and dependence on your dance.

Rain water trance. Transformation. Fruit trees are looking up
from our home here, awaiting your pleasure, everything in the water.

Reflection of the sky in the spring, clouding up thundering down
your sound of rain surprises. Helping others brings you closer.

Cover up the sound of the crickets with your falling rain.

larry goodell / plactias, new mexico
from Dry Water, poems of 2003
©larry goodell 2011