Outer Space Workout

Outer Space Workout

The negotiations to reach
the large
space
requires
intoning, intoning in the largest sense of the word
requires
vocalization, calling, here
here
here
here, from there: here
here
here
here
to
reverb, reverberation, vocalization vocal
intone
calling, calling
calling
calling
calling
calling, on in way out there here there there
here, calling
calling
calling
calling
calling, on in way out there what do you say
what, here
what
there here
we need
to
negotiate
freedom
from
human population bondage that brings queer
resentments out
outer
space, space
out
outer
space, space

out
outer
space, space
out
intoning
reverb
vocal
calling
there, here
outer
space, out there, interior, brother
pretend
brother outer inner space
out
there, interior calling from the interior
sister
pretend sister out there interior
out
calling
calling
you
who
are
are you
in
here
hey father pretend
father-mother pretend
mother, real
fam
i
ly
in need of renegotiations
with
calling
calling
calling
with
calling
calling
calling
with
freedom from human population bondage
that
brings
queer
resentments out, I want to sing & shout
I need
to ask you
pretend
real
interior
exterior
re-
negotiations
to reach
the large
space
calling
calling
stalling
falling
talking
calling
room
to
walk
a
round
we have
room
to
walk
a
round
& I
need
to
pin
you
down
in my
head
&
in
my
sound
yes I
need
you
in
my
dream
to jump
up
when
I
lean
down
to pre-
tend
you
are
my
friend
you need
ex
er
cise
a
gain
set up
for
me
like
a
friend
you need
ex
er
size
my
friend
you jump up
in
the
dream
I'm
in
you need to
run
a
round
a-
gain
I'll help you
guide
you
to
the
end
you're in the
out-
er
space
you
need
you get up
in
the
dream
I'm
in
you tell me
yes
I'll
do
it
now
we have the
pro-
gram
you
are
in
and space to
run
a
round
a-
gain
we'll get your
bod
y
on
the
mend
a work rou-
tine
that
is
a
friend

calling
calling
calling
calling
calling
you have
reached the inner ring
of
fam
i
ly
space
pre-
tend
you are
here
now
wake up
you are
here
now
make up
re-
negotiate
from
the largest inner space
you are
here
my
friend
now
wake up
& make up
now
awake

I woke up
with a work out
okay
from inner
outer
space.


larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

this poem was actually published, lovingly, by Unlikely Stories! 

I love it when the poem strings out with one or a few words per line
and I don't have to worry about paper waste (in the digital world,
supposedly) . . . here's an extreme of that, in my world, at least . . In The Stars, several short-line poems . . . larry

Escape At Home, a Playlet

Escape At Home

(clock ticking)

Woman.    How did you fix the syringe on the clock?

Man.         (reading paper) With bathtub grease. (pause)

                  What do you know, the aphids have taken over Brazil.

Woman.    I wonder if Barbara got out. I better call her.

                  Remember when she had a mud pack on

                  & the butterflies swarmed?

                  She ended up covered with them.

Man.         And hates butterflies.

Woman.    (has dialed)

                  Barbara! – (pause) You got out of the aphids?

                  Oh, in Venezuela.

                        The entire country is filling up with cold turkey soup?

                  You got out of there. Well now you’re safe at home.

                  Home is the best escape, don’t you think.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico /feb89

Photograph is of dear friend P A Blalock outside the adobe Roundhouse up in Dome Valley, Placitas, New Mexico

Oh Cabezon, 3 Poems from May 2001

1. "Cabezon Peak is a large volcanic plug that is a prominent feature in northwestern New Mexico. It rises to 7,785 feet in elevation. " Wikipedia

  

Entranced

Everything is entranced in
the estrangement of the dance
where leads follow the abrupt romance.
Surprise flies in the face of misery
and all washes away that was dirtied & delayed.
Freshness starts up from some untold place
that becomes familiar as an old book
or old sage or something old, new again.
Nothing has been written from this dance
of nature yellowed Jonathan apple leaves
nice green Jonathan apple leave on the younger tree.
The green with many suspended cylindrical cones
of the upright spruce, our solstice tree of old.
The pushing out white groups of roses blanc double.
The green of the grape vines with baby, baby grapes.
The untimely reddening of the cherries on the tree bit by borers
The tanager with bright yellow breast
topping the neighbor’s far apple tree
the hardened off tomatoes in four packs
left over from the garden plantings
to give away–Sweet Million and Early Pick
from old seeds
the farther near sloping swelling breast of
the hill we see North of us
piñon covered, dead grass covered gentle
arroyo drains on its side sloping out & down.
Oh perfect virgin as the houses build
up your side
human status the conqueror and the rapist.

Oh this dance, the freshness of this weekly irrigated nature
zebra grass, 2 feet tall already, rhubarb,  wild anise
apples sherries apricots some peaches
and lots of almonds, some black berries
and black raspberries
coarse screech of scrub jay
`at the pear tree’s base
Dance dance dance all rooted to the ground
and flying species,
and noisy crickets and village dogs barking, stopped
as the undefined, unwritten dance continues on
to freshen my standing here, my reception to it
my participation by giving in to it.
How unknown how undefined how unwritable
how rare and how immediately obtainable
by not seeking but by
entering in to the movement of it.

Movement, growth, as the ancient eroded mesas
in the distance sloping to Jemez
and geological archaeological finds continue.
Immersed in it, take me away from human form
all plants garden trees living flying sounding forms swallow me
Into your everything and free me of this guilt
of my human downfallings
free me as you are doing, as you, the dance of the Creator
creates endlessly in life sap and exchange & change
beauty, as if I don’t exist.


larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 31May2001 After Sunset

After Sunset

Sunset of my heart
afterglow of burnt orange in my blood
nipple of the world in my eyes
focal point of everything I know.
Cabezon, volcanic core old as
surface earth
right where the sun goes down around
the solstice
here I am asking a connection
to pull me out of the grave I’m in
where I buried myself with my own indecision
my wasting time away in laziness
sloth of decades on the cross of
disorganization
lack of application not even putting
one foot before the other
in responsibility, in a career
in the ability to respond to high art
and low Earth calling –
Let me be free with you, after sunset
to die with me into another night.
To rise with me into another day
when I might set things right
and forgive myself for too much forgiveness
and in turn act, do, focus one thing at a time
up the ladder to your heart –
Dark center of the world
calling me in evening silence.
Lead me as I can now physical follow
bodily move from breathing prayer to act.
After you Sir, Madam of the Earth,
afterglow still, in sinking.


larry goodell / placitas, new mexico /31May2001#2






Oh Self Pity

I’ve opened my heart
and allowed the part that’s funny
to step in.
But seriously, seriously
who stepped in with him.
The funny man & the serious clown?
Who is the secret partner that came along?
Oh sadness, depression, melancholy of old
Self-pity, selfishness, destructive inner pain.
Who invited you? You came, burst in
took over and put what was really funny
in a stranglehold.
Threatened to confound my life, my attitude
my direction, put
everything to a stop.
But you know, there’s something really off
about you
something that doesn’t fit.
Something that’s really funny:
you don’t last and humor always returns
unless I force it out.
No matter what takes over me
I can’t.
Laugh at it, I can.
As soon as others hear it, all the misery
they’ve all been there too
and they laugh
and I can laugh too.

Oh self pity you’re so indulgent
you’re just a crock of shit.
Stop taking yourself so seriously
you ugly man, who stepped in, uninvited.
Get out.
You’re the laughing stock
of the century.


larry goodell / placitas, new mexico /1Jun2001

See/read more poems from Oh Cabezon here if you're interested. Thank you to all,
Larry Goodell

Answers Hanging In The Air

I wrote this email letter in August of 2013 and received no answer but the things I bring up are still a consideration to me . . . some questions beyond me to answer, just hanging in the air. Mr. Bott is a tech authority living in Santa Fe. I'd appreciate any comments or links. 
Love to all, 
Larry

Dear Ed Bott,

I heard you on the Twit panel yesterday and earlier and so hi! I have actually become addicted to watching Twit-Live since I’m learning so much. I'm a poet but have written reviews, some commentary and short plays.
*
I live in Placitas and have since '63. I’m originally from Roswell. Most of my writing is on the computer in Wordperfect, but of course I have MS Word for communication with the non-Wordperfect world. I'm slowly OCR'ing with free Abby software my work prior to 1974 when I got my first computer. I've been writing some publishable poems since the early '60's. 
*
With poetry and all its various line indents and what I call breath-pauses in some lines I have to OCR to text file and then do meticulous formatting. I'm not a secretary writing legal briefs or a prose writer, so it takes me just about as much time to OCR as to type it over.
*
I will keep in touch with your posts concerning the production do-it-yourselfers like me have to do these days for POD and online publishing (no book publisher in sight). I want to publish my books hard copy (possibly by way of Createspace tho I'm still comparing) and in e-book format and some in audio book format. Since I’m a “performance” poet I need to have some audio. I haven’t yet tackled the many-odd video tapes that I must someday convert to video – by the way, do you know anyone with an old Sony Beta 4 inch reel video player?
*
This digital alternative for publishing is no longer an alternative for me but has become the only way. Period. 
*
I might start a blog called The Poet As Publisher since I taught that at UNM one summer (but that was pre-computer). I do have 2 blogs (shamelessly self-promoting), lots of Facebook stuff, a website (which is a Wix flash-based site so I need to do the whole thing again in HTML5, maybe with Squarespace) and I have songs and readings on Soundclick and short works and a couple long works on Scribd. Scribd has been very helpful for me to get my work publish-ready in PDF.
*
I will send you a list of links if ever you have a moment to just glance at this stuff and perhaps give me a tip what direction to go. Or link to self-publishing production info.
*
Basically I just want to say hello and I'm pleased there's someone in Santa Fe whose blogs and work can help me in my publishing pursuits. By the way I'm 76 so you can see why I'm fired up to get this stuff out.
*
Thank you for your work, 
sincerely,
larry 

larry goodell
po box 571
placitas, nm 87043

larrygood@comcast.net

Portland Poetry Festival 1974

4 page flyer Master of Ceremonies and Impressario Deluxe Dick Bakken gave me years ago before he went on and organized several of the Bisbee Poetry Festivals. It's entertaining to look at and imagine. And see the copy of a photo of Dick dressed up as the Poetry Chicken which of course was in the parade. It stirs the imagination of what was possible what will always be possible, as long as we have free speech and poets and lovers of such to put on such enjoyably inclusive events!

Dick Bakken, impressario & performance poet (one of us originals) who organized the phenomenal BISBEE POETRY FESTIVALS over in AZ. Known to come thru Albuquerque reciting from the poetry boards on occasion. And back in Portland he organized the Portland Poetry Festivals whose fabulous parades included the Poetry Chicken 

(Mr. Bakken with feathers)!! 

Dick says,'Deport Poets' T-shirt (period of Margaret Randall's fight, and others) by David Irwin in Bisbee at 3rd Bisbee Poetry Festival 8/23/81, the day before my 40th birthday."

Yes it's the Poetry Chicken at the Portland Poetry Festival '74

Also, here at home (northern New Mexico), there were Randall Ackley's Southwest Poetry Conferences which I was fortunately part of and enjoyed every minute of. Colorado Springs, Durango, Santa Fe, Albuquerque as I remember. In fact that's where the great arms of our literary pool stretched out and waved hello, we're here! The Chicano, Native American and "Anglo" poets, don't recall Afro-American at that time. So many were a part of . . . Leslie Silko, Simon Ortiz, Ricardo Sanchez, Keith Wilson, young Navajo poets, E.A. (Tony) Mares, Joy Harjo, Drum Hadley, us'ens, on and on way too many to name and/or remember: Ackley was gifted in pulling these together. 

In 1976 the Rio Grande Writer's Association got its start with a poetry conference of readings in Albuquerque and the seminal book Voices of the Rio Grande, edited by Rudolfo Anaya and David Johnson  . . . more about RGWA see David Johnson's account. More from me.

So isn't it time for a Festival of Poets and Books and Discussions and Readings-Performances right here where the sky meets the earth the sound of poetry abounds? I love your comments.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

OH HOLY TURD or How To Make It In the 80's

(ink drawing on back of mimeographed broadside)

Back in '82 I was still mimeographing  broadsides . . . this one is a poem which is in my Firecracker Soup published in 1990 by Cinco Puntos Press down in El Paso. I always put on a brown tipped large nose half mask before reading this and it is my salute to Ronald Reagan and his ground-tearing-up era. I love reading/performing this poem.

I also have a small paper weight acrylic block thru which you can see the drawing of a turd. Love to all down memorabilia of a performance poet's lane!

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

White Rat Generation - Thataway Prints #5 - 1982

Blueprint edition, therefore it fades, thus "Thataway" by Lenore Goodell using Larry Goodell's "White Rat Generation" poem which is on pp.37-39 of Firecracker Soup, Cinco Puntos Press 1990 The blueprint is 31" by 13½"

Photograph by Lenore Goodell - Larry Goodell with rat mask, rat tail

reading "White Rat Generation"

Text of poem, for reading aloud, back (audience sees) and front.

"White Rat Generation," written November 1982, as in Firecracker Soup.

This poem came out of the intensified development and house building that picked up in the late 70's and became an onslaught in the 80's. For those of us here much earlier and used to the snail's pace change in and around the Village of Placitas, this feverish land grab and rapid development was a living nightmare. I read this poem whenever and wherever I could . . . once in front of some realtors involved in all this. It was all I as a poet could do living through the yuppie phenomenon and the Reagan years . . . thanks to Lenore for doing this "Thataway" print . . . always appreciative, lg.

Larry Goodell / Placitas, New Mexico

from Firecracker Soup, 1990

Scibbled Envelopes

Pretty Lanterns

When the airstream's on the hayload

          & the limb is on the tree

you can hang your pretty lanterns

          where my legs attach to me

we can take our gloves & stockings

          & arrange them on that tree

you can shake your pretty lanterns

          & light up the inner me

when we go all out & say so

          that the air is full of bees

summer's here & we're a partin'

          & we'll do what damn we please

but it's really not the springtime

          & the air aint full of bees

will you take your goddamn lanterns

          get them off my BVD's.

1991, from Larry's Songs
Pretty Lanterns is recorded on Ubik Sound's The Mad New Mexican

Curiously, for me, I just this minute discovered on the envelope 
these lines following the song.

Holy Terror

Holy terror stalks the advent 
of the coming of the Lord
when he’s lost his good right hand love
& lives by the crooked sword.

Larry Goodell

Roswell


Roswell with the Plains rolling out into the Eyes 
Eyes with the Plains rolling into the Bars 
Bars where the Cattle cross into the Heart 
Roswell where the Heart rolls out of the Bars 
Bars with no Bars but Photographers arms 
back from San Francisco talking of Pool 
no Table   no bars    no    way to find Home 
Home from I am Roswell with the Veins in my Arms 
Arms with the Plains rolling out of all Harm 
Harm where you know it alive the Baby cries 
Roswell with recorders & Plains with their Arms 
to be one   Born here   St Mary's ordinary cross 
Roswell with the Music   He cleaned it up 
Roswell with no name   He never saw his town 
Roswell never saw the town named from his name 
Plains arms roll never knowing where they came from
Philanthropy an old thing   naming from the Bars 
no Bars only Home to some 
trying to name   an artist 
who's really good   at home in his voice 
reading the names as they show up in the Plains 
Home   & Home again   a name in the Bars 
of Albuquerque Algodones Placitas home 
Roswell with the name nobody calls it a home 
Home it was & ever will be & be & be 
Roswell with the name where 
the flat    ness rolls out 
aflame in the ears    to die Roswell old home a poet born to hear what 
he hears   her sitting home   away in the tears 
he left here   to come back   a dozen years of solitude 
a chronicle of Paradise in trees they left to die
Artesian Roswell making making
empty clothes lines

I give you Silk Stockings for Yr Empty   Bars
I give you back Roswell with its empty Death Wish
I give you back what you brot me   Lines with a Stick
a Bat out of Carlsbad   a Bag of loose Cotton
a reaping raping raiding woman cursing with the Dry Plains
I give you a Letter   the Letter Z
Z for Zones   Z for Cattle Brands unknown
Z for my Home never found never wandering
A Ghost of the Lovely Host who ate his Solid Wafer
& blessed the Town to turn it back where its Hope was found once
when you let the newly found Artesian wells spill out their
Giant wealth   to give it in again   & take the People Hatred
Hiding in DeBremond Stadium where the Football games
pounded   it in   turn it in the Spring River   come back
flowing   flowing   in all the ways of fuck     again.

 Larry Goodell   (written on envelope at Wendell Ott’s 

in Roswell, NM, Sunday, 7Apr74)

She Got It Right


The Bible wrote a woman
to teach her how to be right*
but she wrote before the Bible
it never got it right.



Larry Goodell /6Jun91


First time best.

(Spicer
         "Dictation" . . . )

*"write" I wrote in but I prefer original
which is on an envelope from Eileen Myles.

Today I received the incredibly beautiful and precious book of Emily Dickinson's envelope writings, each envelope whole or scrap of it carefully photographed with the typed text provided, from New Directions & Granary Books & the benevolent Steve Clay, The Gorgeous Nothings, by Dickinson, an amazing display of creativity in the act put to convenient paper . . .

this gift generated this putting together a few things: the "Roswell" poem is somewhat important to me having been a spontaneous act on a visit to my home town when at a party in the artist Wendell Ott's home, the poem started and I had to find an unoccupied room and tore open an envelope to write on . . . when I've read this to a younger audience I've, against my heart, substituted "fuck" for "love" but the original, as almost always, has the say . . .

in making my work presentable (on computer and printed out) I am constantly going back to the originals in the notebooks or, in earlier years, folders by year . . . as that first take in time and place allows little or no change in a different time and place since that would be contrary to the impetus, at least for me . . . I've spent too many years beating the dead horse of my uninspired poetry trying to whip the dead into living, a hopeless and exhausting and wasteful task . . . thank you Robert Creeley for giving me the hand up and out and into my own voice and possible unpretentious expression . . . the sounds can go deep and wide when true, true to one's cooperative self.

for That's A Poem  which was written on napkins in a hamburger place in Shiprock, New Mexico, please see That's A Poem, from Napkin to Printed Page.

Larry Goodell / Placitas, New Mexico 3/14/2014
this post is for Steve Clay