The Fantastic Poetry & Piano of Ellyn Maybe & Robbie Fitzsimmons - Skywriting with Glitter

In some collaborations between poets and musicians it’s more a collaboration with the enemy where sound strangles the poet’s words or vice versa and both go their selfish ways.

But in Skywriting with Glitter you get a cross-fertilization, an interweaving, a mutual creative respect, the best of the best of collaboration – human voice and piano. Ellyn Maybe’s poems, like apocalyptic fairy tales, are narratives of surreal/real adventures from her well-read storied mind. They are stories of innocence in a world of indifference, evocative of the post-Beat revolution.

And Robbie Fitzsimmon’s sonorous rhythmic piano urges through every phrase and lingual delivery as perfect as the warp and weft of a Navajo landscape transfixed in weaving. His counter-tenor voice compliments and amplifies, accompanies and lifts both his and Ellyn’s words and is secure in the groundwork of its own.

These works are often a revolution of the lyric where doggerel and repetitious rhyme are simply unneeded, in fact foreign to the song-poem. Poetry has been freed to be music again. We are dealing with a poet’s inspiration and the remarkable creativity of a musician.

Trying not to listen to the pieces on this album again won’t succeed. Once you enter its world, Ellyn’s poems and Robbie’s music, you’ll find each hearing opens up doors like stars that are there blinking with amused deference.

The compelling mystery and insistent story board of these collaborations will fill your room, your headphones, your speakers, your mind-space with fresh energy and plenty of rhythmical dance to move you around.

Larry Goodell / Placitas, New Mexico / 15Sep2016

Skywriting with Glitter, Ellyn & Robbie
Available now! CDBaby or Amazon

New Mexico Love - Music & Poetry - Joan Cere - Alma- Larry Goodell

New Mexico Love - Music and Poetry (about a 15 minute video)

This has been an amazing project for me to learn something about editing video and I hope everyone enjoys this (sorry I'm so prominent and drinking like a fish before I saw the light and sobered up). Love to all and thank you dear New Mexico friends and friends and acquaintances everywhere.
This is New Mexico my home and native state as I love it! If possible see at full screen with volume adequate. Video done by John McCloskey in 1981 in Bernalillo for the 3rd Annual Birthday Benefit for S.E.A.C. (Sandoval Environmental Action Committee) with Joan Cere and the first incarnation of "Alma" and Larry Goodell.

Other poems I read at this 1981 Event. "Sprout" (about 6 minutes) which includes audience footage. And "An Occasional Poem" & "Story of Football" (very short)

Subscribing to my Channel simply encourages me to bring more poetry videos to light.

A few screen shots from New Mexico Love and from Sprout.

Larry Goodell August 2016

Aroma Parlor, 1981

(large sketch of a nose in back of desk with 2 phones on it.

Woman sitting at desk.

Voice of 1st phone is from a man standing behind hanging nose)

Characters:

Woman

Voice

WOMAN. (1st phone  rings)
Brussel's broccoli sprouts,
Medium of the East speaking.
Yes
We have Darm cures.
Darm, D.A.R.M.

They put you in the sprocket of the sprout
And bathe you in kitty litter
And (2nd phone rings)
can you hold?

Pop up Puberty Crackpot Soap
Yes we perfume.
Oh, your odor.
Oh
your odor,  it's so unusual
It comes right through the phone desk.
But ours will reach through the drainpipes of
your typical bathroom country and
cause the President's eyeballs to twitch.
Yes we go beyond the mere titillation of the nose
into the astounding refitting of round eyeballs into square sockets
(laughs)
You know how those satellite bathroom countries are
they havent rounded off their odors yet.
So we have political process at our disposal.
Our odors insist and change.
We are politically oriented,
we change the world through smell.
The nose is connected to every other part of the body
including itself.

Your appointment?
At 12,  will that be convenient?
12:15.  Thank you. (hangs up 2nd phone, back to 1st phone)
Thank you for holding.

I had a rimjob patient on the other line.
Yes,  I am the secretary,
Our organization has combined the former major functions
into the secretary
in other words
I am the doctor or docteur too.
All our secretaries perform all the major functions in this clinic.
Besides selling pop up puberty crackpot soap
we demonstrate every function of its aura –
anal, oral, aroma, atonal, anatomical
and anointed.
Yes we have instant phone cures
in it, around it, through it, sometimes under it –
we control everything we’re connected to.
(pause)
  Cracked

Popped

Nukes ?

The New Nukes?

I hadnt heard of that
but we’re in
the Pussy-So-Firm Department
You know,  to go along with
the Cock-So-Limp.

Or should I say the bulge instead of the recess.
Recesses bulge too,  on the other side.
Recesses have bulges,  and those bulges fit
the recess on the bulge –
that is
       the big bulge.
All bulges have some recesses.
Tho an exact mathematical bulge that exists in the previous state of mind
where we used to live in the 50's
with social orientation not even learned yet
an exact mathematical bulge cd exist on an abstract level.

But I'm talking too much how's your father?

VOICE. (this is the voice being talked to, now heard)
Oh he's selling odors now.

WOMAN.
Well he should join up with the Pop Up Puberty Crackpot Soap
and reform his pad.
All change comes from within.
You start in the very circles of your own eyes.

Havent you ever wanted,  really wanted to change?

VOICE.
Oh yes, and how.  I have changed
without really wanting to.
I have learned to be practical
and apply my mute wisdom
to my hands,  my fingers
beyond my fingers.

WOMAN.
And that leads to the discovery of ectoplasm.

VOICE.
The aura is what surrounds you
whether you like it or not.

WOMAN.
I dont see it,  I never did.
This office is so hot.
God I hate working here.
But when through your own ectoplasm
you materialized over the phone
as all those customers
voices in the ear
became you.
Wow, working in this slave joint
almost became worth it.
(2nd phone rings)
Excuse me.
(answers 2nd phone)
Major Centrifugal forces.
(other phone 3rd? rings)
Oh I’m sorry I must put you on hold.

Illusory Bumper Stickers.

Yes, we do have no-Knox gelatin.
All things gelatinous, oozy, translucent, slick
like jello, we have.
We use them for our Illusory Bumper Stickers.

VOICE.
Oh yes, Electrolux Vac
back where we are.

WOMAN.
In front of the backdrop.
Doing a routine.
A routine day in the life of
Mrs. Phantasm
the illustrated illusory spa
of never-never life.
Well it's all hogwash.
We know that language wasnt pure
it was all computerized.

VOICE.
It had its magic formula
but that was an amalgamation computerization
the computer talking magic talk
plugged into the telephone machine
trained by satellite into the Mistress Computer
and returned here
at the phone desk.
Of course I materialized but I always do
when the day is over
and the job is done.
That free week time when you float
from one space to another
and hopefully land.

WOMAN.
Land.
Well, we're at home.
And you're on the phone.
(ring)
Hello, Weightlifting Division.
No,  Harold's out to lunch.
Sure, he works here.

This is reality,  come back to earth,
drop all those seaside clouds
this is the desert.
This is the fuckin desert.
You dont see no palm trees out there
this is the real desert.
You know,
carbohydrate vacuum.
Yeh.

VOICE.
Well I wont be staying long.

WOMAN.
Goodbye.

(Hangs up.)

(End)

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 28May1981

This play(let) reflects Body Palace, a play for two women, which I wrote in 1975. A recording of Body Palace is here.

Love to all in the continued revelation of "3 Dimensional Poetry," Poetry in the Round, Poetry in the Plaza, Lifeforms of Poetry living and well interconnected and interpersonal with its surroundings . . . .
larry

SPACE ORB VISION CROWN

accordion fold poem (one long sheet) for Joe and Olivia Bottone wedding in Placitas, 1968

housed in my book of typed and assembled poems for that year

(foldout is one long sheet)

larry goodell 

placitas, new mexico

A Few Pages from Larry Goodell's Notebook #17 - 1974

4 successive pages from Notebook #17 - Larry Goodell

2 pages

Working on the late Bill Pearlman's Inzorbital, a "novel of high research" at this time in 1974, the day after my dad's birthday and the day before Bill's, Leos of advanced degree. Bill was married to Lynn at this time.

The personal value of notebooks is so intense as not to be described, especially from anyone whose first writing is the spirit of that piece, so that all else that follows is keyed to that creative and mysterious moment. It's more than a supplemental memory, it's the handle of its time and surroundings for anyone to refresh their memory with within its fold of the past. A notebook is my referential soul.

This notebook was a gift of the lithographer Bruce Lowney who was living in Placitas at that time. It's a handmade book.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

Blind Potato Sky

Sir Lawrence of Placitas, I think we should plan a gathering. Have a poetry festival just like the old days. Do you think we could do that? Someplace neutral like the Planet Pluto, or Drum Hadley's billion acre ranch, or some enchanted forest so sweet and juicy that we all ride the fifth dimension right through the Third Butthole of God. And that has got to be some fucking ride if you know what I mean. Even his/her butthole has got to be beautiful. That's your next assignment . . . your next pome to write . . . since I am younger than you and more alert and definitely have a bigger dick and from all the polls taken much more goofy than you, then I can give you this assignment pronto tonto butthole bonanza babies, and that what I'm thinking about this morning as I write to you and I've even written two emails before you so I'm on a roll and I'm live-serious about this gathering and you could even have it at your place, or on the end of buddha's dick and we'll feast on Buddha sperm and snails and hang on to your S-car-go babies because it's rendezvous time for us ol' Beat/Hippy Fandango Farts and I'm thinking I've got a least twenty good years left so we've got lots to do and lots to write but we ain't gathering like we're suppose to be. I know, let's go half way and meet in Moab, Utah. Or, get out your divining rod (no, not that you you preee-vert extortedium) and wherever half way between Placitas and the Grand Salt Lick that's where we'll rendevous and we'll have a poetry reading and we'll film it and put it on Any Tube You Like and we’ll call it the New Wave of Fingerling Poetry, so get out your compass Larry G. and let's get going and quit diddling the dawg . . . . because time is running out and I'll tried to get a hold of Drew Wagnon the other day and found him in a rest home in Bloomington, Indiana, so that's what is in store for you . . . but not a rest hope but a rant home a chant home a panting home a choir home and polish the buddha home and fuck home a suck home a rhyme the chime home a garbooze home a chicken friend sonnet home a ding dong home a key of A home a gluten free home a elevator home a sweetness home at our next rendezvous home and that's it for now . . . buddha bananas to you . . . Blind Potato Sky

/from Gino Sky, 2011, Salt Lake City, Utah

Gino, Bonafide Spirit, it will always be a grand idea -- from the brilliant Southwest Poetry Conferences to the Vancouver and Berkeley Poetry Conferences, from the Portland Poetry Festivals to the Bisbee Poetry Festivals, National Poetry Slams and Talking Gourd Poetry Celebrations of the Great Southwest . . . and we will happen again and again and again!

/love from your ancient contemporary, Larry

Love prevails in the freeing bonds of poets and all free spirits, all free speech.

larry goodell
larrynewmex@gmail.com

Kenneth Irby Letter With Poems In Response to My "Path To" Broadside

Broadside sent to Ken Irby and other friends at end of 1994 . . .

duende press broadside december 1994

PATH TO

May this be an opening, a revolution of the Sandoval
           CD-Rom slowed to one cycle per second
A see thru discovery that is yet to appear before Coronado’s eyes
           that slows down into myth of the rocking Corn Maiden, yes!
A stirring of Zia Santa Ana Corrales Tejon San Felipe
      the Old Placitas in a dust-devil vision of the now in
      the now on the side of the Mercantile a twister
      carrying on into the night
     drink up read poetry at the Wine Festival
      and the he & she of the words of art creations are on velvet of silver & iron
tortillas of gospels of the new post-multi-sequential
post-big bang theory realized in Buddhist actuality
      of now, what lovers on
the sides of the mercantile walk in
      flowers of graces towards the front doors.
We have vacated the land of too many people &
      the land can come back again to lead instead of follow
      lead Earth instead of follow, vitamin pills
      of the future contain dirt &
      getting our hands back down into the orchids we grow
           again
the everything we did we did again
affordable housing & affordable
      people again
The he & she of the new presence never ignored again
      rocking/walking in the doors and off the walls
           forever,
into the room of the computer garden turned back into earth
I am you & he & she
      stepping down the ladder of the economy
back into the helping older community
      who are we to deface
      all that came before us?
      Who are we to change
      the rock art of all that came so slow before
      purposeful steady & alert & possibly fast
      dancing flute players with rock hard
           hardons &
soft mounds of the oceans & mountains of breasts
in the corn/oats/all-vegetables especially tomatoes
      & chile & butternut squash maidens just
our wives our husbands
all our children deserve a flowering of the arts
that interject reality with the fantasy of truth.

The gods & goddesses are now those people
           who connect with their past.
The Gods & Goddesses are now those people
           who connect with their path.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 11Dec94

Letter with Poems (7) from Ken Irby sent back in response . . . click on anything to enlarge . . .

Pieces of writing sent with Ken's letter.

These 7 pages can be found on pages 537-541 of The Intent On, Collected Poems, 1962-2006, Kenneth Irby, North Atlantic Books 2009

Love to all on this end of the year 2015 . . . just an item posted here in warm memory of Ken  . . .

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

Did You Get My Last _____?

Did you get my last letter. I guess it was a bit long for email. I miss the letters I used to get and their prompting the letters I used to write. Somehow email shortens everything and hides it away. When I don’t get letters I don’t get the inward mobility of soul. In fact the soul can only be revealed in personal penning. At least in my stationary world it’s the only evidence I get of a soul. That personal writing to me, handwritten or typed, immediately opens up a presence which contains more than itself. That direct focused involvement, with me involved, can only be a joy, a renewing, an expansion of his or her intellect with mine, the ongoing revelation and opening of self that can even be more personal than sitting next to each other and talking.

Talking is like sports. You can do it walking, or even running as well as sitting or standing. It’s delicious in its own right. It’s batting the ball back and forth, or tossing the ball. It can be accumulative and lead to a win but usually not, it’s a tied game and everyone goes home satisfied, unlike real sports.

But in a letter written and sent in the US mail there’s not banter, there’s an expression of depth. True you can get involved with writing writing but you will come back to the focus on who you are addressing. The immediacy of now commands the tone. There’s a filling in of spaces of shared friendship. An amplification of a relationship possible in a letter. The friendly letter. The expression of where the mind has been and where it is, what reading, what books, what findings, what reflections, what pains what relationships, what anguish what loves, what travels what goings on, what elements of life. It’s the best way to keep alive a friendship when there’s distance. It defies distance and renews everything again. Or that’s what I’ve experienced and that’s been a major component of my life.

But time goes by and technological hazards reveal themselves in the frenzy of change. The instant secretive aspect of the computer, the chip in phone and tablet, rushes us to complete things quickly and get on with other things. So I guess I let the old idea of letter invade the digital premises of email and let myself go a bit as if I was writing a letter. I went on more than the usual email snippet limit. So if you got my last email I’d like to hear back from you, however short. That’s the demand of the technology it seems, leaving me at least with the nostalgia of the former days of writing and sending, waiting and receiving, and after awhile, sending back in the mail sincerely or best wishes or abrazos or with love, Larry.

Goodell / Placitas, New Mexico /19Sep2015

Beauty of Broadsides

The Lodestar Broadsides, 1974, Editors: John Moulder, Marc Campbell and John Gierach, Printed by letter press at Lodestar Press in Boulder, Colorado * This is number 35 of an editon of 150

(Carol Berge and Larry Eigner pages)

I have been going through my small press collection - 60's, 70's, some 80's most of which I received in generous exchanges with other small presses when I was actively involved with duende press including Fervent Valley. I hope to add to this post when I get into the broadsides.

*

Illuminations 1, sheet eight sent to me by Norm Moser from San Francisco includes a poem by August Plinth which is a rare instance since Bill Bingham (his real name) published his own work and secretly placed his books on bookstore shelves. His big book is Pope Art, a curiosity. He lived here during Albuquerque's Beat period, late 50's & on. And there's a poem by David Sandberg and my friend Gino Clays (Sky).

(top part)

Love to all, especially poets as publishers and small press and poetry aficionados.
Larry Goodell / Placitas, New Mexico

Part Of A Revealing Joy

For many readings I've water-colored the backs of cut out poems
and put them on a clothesline so I can just reach up for a poem and read it.
Here are three.

Pull

(back of poem)

(poem)

Pulling myself out of the doldrums, the fair-weather surprise
comes when it comes, but I want it now,
where is it? Dawn of dawns, are you coming?
The beginning pinhole explosion, no explosion please, that’s happened
just light, clear skies except for some beautiful rosy-lit clouds
as the gods step out of the gods.....

 / from Escape At Home, poems 2005


Here's a larger one.

Panguage Loets

(back of poem)

(poem)

Barles Churnstein
Warret Batten
Beve Stenson
Hyn Lejinian
Yoeff Gung
Bavid Denedetti
Harla Carryman
Pob Berelman
Floria Grym
McCave Staffery
Aruce Bandrews
Reeve Stodefer
Cark Cloolidge
Pichael Malmer
Bei Bei Mersenbrugge
& Sonn Rilliman
all of them coming out of the ghost of
Stertrude Gein. 

 /from Remembering the Present, poems 2008

(one more of many, usually spontaneously done in preparing for a reading)

Strings

(back of poem)

(poem)

I never knew the difference between a thousand years & a string on my chest.

 String theory, hiccup therapy. Does time go by?

  What is therapy? Does whatever you did to make it better

do any good?

   Have you finally contracted an enigmatical pause?

   How can a higher power be involved in little squijits

so teeny nobody can ever see them?

   The building blocks of everything whizzing around

all energy, no intelligence at all?

   All is a useful word if you don=t use it at all,

   I give up, scientists, you=ve got me broken up into little

whizzing pieces, no solidity ever.

   Solidity has disappeared. I have nothing to stand on.

  String theory destroys meaning & presents us with surprise,

 Only the Buddhists were right. Catch on to the now

with talons

 Which I=m sure you have.

 Glide & hold on to Aletting go.@ Creative intelligence?

Stenciled madness. Peace & serenity broken up into energy.

 The secret of the universe flying.

/ from Remembering the Present, poems 2005

The clothes-line which I can stretch out and hang poems from.

Poetry Can Be a Revealing Joy

A life devoted to poetry and its creations is an ever evolving life full of almost daily surprises when a poem appears, when a drawing appears, when a musical improvisation appears, as it is all generated from the core of being a poem, in my sense, as in Louis Zukofsky's, "Poetry if anything has a sense of everything."

And since whoever's listening is usually looking, the back of the poem, or the folder, or the binder or the book, is visible to them, as well as the poet (what he looks like), how he makes himself up, if he or she does, the lighting of the room, and on occasion, the manifestation of any object that might go with the poem or at the time of inflatus, come out of the poem.

Poetry when allowed to open up all avenues to the poet is a broader more 3-dimensional or multi-dimensional phenomenon that will continually bring great joy to a poet as well as conveying intense articulation of anxious depths of exasperation from the full palette of human life.

love to all,
larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 27jul2015

I Pray From The Foundation Of The Steps Of Heaven - a shuffle & read poem

(shuffle cards & read - here's today's layout)

I pray from the foundation of the steps of Heaven - a shuffle & read poem

   

     She is the foundation,
     the steps are in my heart.
     When we walk together
     gratitude swells about her in every way.
     We are slow together
     always is always
     in love together.
     I pray from the foundation of the steps of Heaven
     She is the foundation
     Heaven is here
     that she be lifted up.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

Speech! a shuffle & read poem . . .

envelope for Speech! I just discovered it by the window splashed by a little rain.

(this is one chance layout)
people can read a slip in the order they've been given it. especially in a circle
it seems to work.

I've done several shuffle and read poems, probably starting with "Making It" which is a 7 boxed definition of poetry (making it) . . . one poem is called "Pope" - - - who's the Pope, are you the Pope? etc. But for public school classes I changed Pope to Poet and it works just as well, or better.

Here are some! See Poems On Cards 

Larry Goodell / Placitas, New Mexico

Hymn To Wealth - Manuscript and Typed Copy 1977

Hymn To Wealth


0h wealth can you be hymned in 
I have none –  no wealth, no hymn. 
No him no her, wealth interred.
   Give me pocket samples of your P bombs 
    oh wealthy oil-destruction magnates. 
    Isnt the P Bomb succeeding the Cobalt.
All the combined black bags of
         millionaire astronauts 
         & nautical scientists 
         oil drudgers & 
         uranium poly-glots 
         All the combined excreta of Amer-Eurasian multiblllionaires
         in one black bag 
         descends over our heads 
         drops down on all the ministers of the Lord
         asking for wealthy tithing, 
Oh excreta of the myth monsters 
robbing us of our dreams. 
We poor people ask 
for our considered decency again 
Christian money-makers' outhouse the church of their dreams.

I sing the hymn to wealth —
I love you for the art work you gave to museums. 
I love you for museums.
But I sing no hymn to you for the personal deprivation 
Of my daily life.
And I refuse you my dead body over which you will descend 
like vultures of critics, English & art departments 
over the dead carcases of poets & artists.

Hymn to no hymn. Merry Christless Christmas 
Hymn to no wealth. We 
are happy here on earth with our sprouts & poverty
as well as we can be.
Hymn to ourselves alive in the struggle of loving, without jet trips or 
flights to the Moon     or Mars     or Mataztlan.

Hymn to the center of the dollar, the hole. 
All holes are holy 
& see clear light.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 15Dec77 
from Sun In The Mountain, poems 1977.

Hymn To Wealth, 1st writing on 3 by 5 card and napkin, then typed poem with sketch for performance . . . 15 Dec 1977 . . . forgot to do it at performance with Coyote Dance Collective in Santa Fe's Center for Performing Arts so the hanging stuffed garbage bag "headdress" simply hung there on stage, unused . . . (just a memory). The 1st writing almost always takes precedence in my way of working, so I'll probably revert "Mataztlan" to "Juarez."

My dad came over from the N.M. State Legislature to hear my reading, probably the only time he ever heard me do my poetry. His comment was, "You certainly gave the establishment hell!" Love to all, Larry Goodell / Placitas, New Mexico