For full orchestra, Ur is composed
hissed,
Inanna dressed by fumbling priests
lately
naked boys paw at her breasts
their salutary erections
tin pot snouts
piping A abba babba who.
the throe of the loin juice,
when she throws the beggar off
another to be brought
to allow candles to be bought,
the genteel slaughter
when the snake is fed
the moment of glaze
brush of wet flesh--
At Ur, in the world tree,
cracked:
browned boys climbing in glee
the serpent enclosing supple bones
tongue tasting dust. An undue haste
at meals:
Such is such, to be transferred to another account,
ledgered neatly an Axis.--
(underneath the word.) Abba, I fell from you
laughing, stroking his hair
the dust forming a halo,
malformed his crucifixion,
her genuflection
at his resurrection
paints stations from thigh to knee
in absent reverie
until his armor falls away.
he fades
erecting Ur from the gathered dust
chopping time
from unnamed to named--
her thighs bear fruit, her breasts flow
about the roots, the grass turns white.
Author notes
I abandon sculpture engraving and painting to dedicate myself entirely to song.
—Pablo Picasso to Jaime Sabartés, April 1936
Schwitters stood on the podium, drew himself up to his full six feet plus, and began to perform the Ur Sonata, complete with hisses, roars and crowings, before an audience who had no experience whatever of anything modern. At first they were completely baffled, but after a couple of minutes the shock began to wear off. For another five minutes protest was held in check by the respect due Frau Kiepenhauer's house. But this restraint served only to increase the inner tension. I watched delightedly as two generals in front of me pursed their lips as hard as they could to stop themselves laughing. Their faces, above their upright collars, turned first red, then slightly bluish. And then they lost control.
http://www.milkmag.org/RothenGetty.htm
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Thinking about your latest batch of good poems. Maybe you wrote something else here...
Fascism there is no struggle for life but, rather, life is lived for struggle.
Thus pacifism is trafficking with the enemy. It is bad because life is permanent warfare. This, however, brings about an Armageddon complex. Since enemies have to be defeated, there must be a final battle, after which the movement will have control of the world. But such "final solutions" implies a further era of peace, a Golden Age, which contradicts the principle of permanent war. No fascist leader has ever succeeded in solving this predicament.
-
Perhaps the artist and the poet cross ego's like a bridge invisible, serving only the purpose to enhance one muse to enrage the other back into life.
C
-
guess mixing art leads to dada
and dada to what the fuck?
& where did all the psychosis split man?
back to clay tablets, first tritons
ceremonial chants and pulling out they eyes of king's customers
that in time would evolve in authority
market place concoctions of power&powder
thou shalt not and du hast
thanksgiving and good natives on shields
rosemary and peppermint, particle of the particle
king of kings and of the hill
breasts, vaginas, penises, computers
the infamous beer can
a bear, no salmon, salary
&THE LOAN.
-
http://www.ubu.com/historical/schwitters/ursonate.html
leave it to you to uncover something this wonderfully modern.
I've been listening to the score. You left out something important in your author notes -- that thing about what they felt -- after their experience they felt something the didn't expect "a great joy."
I think this is about the state of contemporary poetry --- but that's just my lens of perception I suppose but that's what I see here in my first couple of reads. Here's a few reasons why I think that:
Ur -- one of the earliest places cuniforms - early writing was found
pawing at her breasts -- wanting the Goddess to pay attention to them
tin pot snouts --- the poets and poems all proud of themselves but insignificant.
and I guess I need to think about those deliciously good images some more. Love the dust forming halo etc...
Yeah -- good stuff. You are in her favor at present. But we know how fast that can change -- how she can throw the beggar off...
Good story maker am I?
Adding your comment:
