#107

“Theory:
Stanzaic metric verse
aims to put thoughts into
equal divisions, embodying
each thought in an equal
image, with an equal number
of sound for each image; symmetry.
To give concrete symmetry to
thought which is worthless, shifting,
meaningless as being incorporeal
make symmetrical corporeal the
mind. Make existent what is enexistent,
permanent what is impermanent.

Rhythm, as Holmes says,
is spontaneous in Pound
like bop – and Benyon's
comment (or Pound's) – “Slowness is Beauty”” (id, 501).

The Night-Apple

“Last night I dreamed
of one I loved
for seven long years,
but I saw no face,
only the familiar
presence of the body:
sweat skin eyes
feces urine sperm
saliva all one
odor and mortal taste” (id, 494)

Two High Up on a Balcony

“– “Why now, after all this time,
Which is no time at all,
May we not speak of the sublime
and act from soul to sou?”
“Oh lover, lover, so many years
Have come, and come to stay;
If you had tears, and I had tears,
We would weep years away

But words don't weep, and would I love
I had wept years ago;
Now two on a balcony but prove
What one in bed could know.”

– “But what you prove, and what I ask
are not such different things,
For you have made despair your task,
and I my imaginings.

You speak of my stiff fence of bones,
And I your wall of skin,
But though we talk thru telephones,
We both can hear within;

And though my speech may seem abstract,
Both fence and wall are one
And when you think of this as fact
The wall is broken down.”

– “The wall is banished, then, and we
Stand drunk in barren air,
And you laugh in your ecstasy;
But I laugh in despair.

For what we were and what we are
Change us as before;
Now heavens turn round in one big star,
And day is night no more:

Then stand here on this balcony
And wait for dawn, for dawn,
For sun keep you company;
Till then, I sleep alone”” (id, 477-478).

#104

“I place one rose upon her hair
And placed my hand upon her knee.
And as we breathed the summer air
She returned the rose to me

I twined a lovely rose into her hair
She leaned – we kissed – it fell upon her knee
And so we breathed the heavy summer air
She laughingly returned to rose to me” (id, 390).

#103

“Some have hinted that they love me – but I couldn't or didn't love them – certain creeps. Some I've said I love you to have said, on different occasions I love you to me, but not meaning the complete submission and self-delivery and total physical and spiritual sacrament and devotion (of body and soul)” (id, 358).

#102

“Should Jack and I ever write a book – and none but we alive can remember the beauty of certain days and nights – some acts – Lucien throwing money in the gutter, Neal in 106th St. in East Harlem – Bill, sitting in the window in the damp furnished gray room, above old Riordan's, landlady refugee – talking about Europe in the 30's, and afternoon and night in Denver when we talked of birds, and afternoon in York Avenue when we created “Pull My Daisy” and “The Shrouded Stranger” and “Dr. Sax”, and evening we played Sebastian's [Sampas] record and afternoon in his house with Luanne and Neal and Al Hinkle, moments with Vicki and Huncke – Bill Gilmore's manners and age, Phil White in the Great days, and Hal Chase in love with Celine” (id, 355).

#101

“We who have been fed on comic or saved endings have not seen public art show life in its deepest and beyond that and its purgation through a revelation of it on the screen, its deepest joy” (id, 314).

#100

“Jack [Kerouac]: “I am going to marry my novels and have little short stories for children”” (id, 250).

#99

“The minute you get your hands on something the power to keep something like that going you couldn't do it you couldn't even leave it alone for a few people still looking for something beautiful, people who'd rather hear a symphony than eat who can still, who hear a magnificent soprano voice singing ach nein when you hear this here lady singing up mine you can't get up to their level so you drag them down to yours if there's any way to ruin something, to degrade it to cheapen it...” (id, 659).

#98

“Player piano plays by itself get to shoot the pianist just read it Gid damn it says it right here, here where invention was eliminating the very possibility of failure as a condition for success precisely in the God damn arts there” (id, 604).

#97

“– Like I mean what's that.
– What.
– Like that arrow you made.
– What this? It's a diminuendo don't you, you read music don't you?
Plunk – like why do I want to read music man I mean I play music, like that's what music is isn't it man? I mean I play my own music what do I want to like read it for” (id, 551).

#96

“(...) changeover in the magazine's title form Her to She, passive to active image whole new concept came out of in-depth studies on potential readership modern gal's self-image came a long way baby clean freak from this old-fashioned passive Her flat on her back missionary position, new concept gets her right up in the saddle putting the boots to here” (id, 535).

#95

“Borges por él mismo”

BORGES, Jorge Luis (1995). Borges por él mismo. Madrid: Visor.

#94

“Man you keep saying you write this music but like everything I see you say it's some business you're in” (id, 369).

#93

“I hope every reader will, from this history, take warning, and stamp improvement on the wings of time problem most God damned readers rather be at the movies” (id, 289).

#92

“How do you think it makes me feel, why do you think we don't go to parties anymore, because I have too much to drink? Yes why because all of you, you and his friends and these editors asking about his next great book shaking their heads admiring how hard he works to support us, me and David but what a tragedy for American literature how do you think that makes me feel? The great Thomas Eigen's talent being thrown away in a stupid job because he has to make a decent living for his wife and son he resents every bill he pays, the rent, nursery school, he even resents that, paying David nursery school and food, three lam chops Jack, three lamb chops! A decent living standing in that kitchen looking down at that man with no hands and, no face, just a burn scar with holes in it” (id, 270).

#91

“Brecht held that an actor should play his role from a distance, almost tongue-in-cheek, as though commenting on the part rather than losing himself in it. He felt that even the backstage activity should be made obvious to the audience. The point of theater, to Brecht, wasn't for the spectators to lose themselves in the play, but to consider the issues raised, reflect on the interactions of the characters, think about different possibilities and outcomes” (Dirda, 2008: 37)

DIRDA, Michael (2008). “Spellbound” in The New York Review Of Books, December 4 – 17, Volume LV, Number 19. New York: The New York Review Of Books.