“For only a very few of us, making poems is as natural, as inborn, as breathing. Jack Collom is such a poet. In Cold Instant, Collom once again grabs his spirit lollipop, puts on his Captain Rainbow smile, and brings us to ‘poetry’s perch upon the moment’s ledge.’ Collom has told us before that ecology is ‘everything’ and his poetry never fails to partake of the ‘radiantly verdant ramifications’ of that everything to which he bears witness so keenly. These poems bring it all together–‘profusion, extravagance/ invisibility/ holiness’– proving that ‘each tiny direction’s a universe.’ Collom capers with the joy and earnestness of a kid within his wild poetic traceries. His gift to us is to demonstrate that play is the form of wisdom we most urgently need.”
Jack Collom
Poetry / $16.00
Works by Jack Collom
- Elizabeth Robinson, author of The Orphan and Its Relations
- Reed Bye, author of Join the Planets
Photo by John Sarsgard, NYC
9
780982 664605
WWW.MONKEYPUZZLEPRESS.COM
Monkey Puzzle Press
Jack Collom was born in Chicago in 1931 and grew up in nearby Western Springs, where he spent much of his boyhood walking in the woods and bird watching. He is the author of twenty-four books and chapbooks as well as editor (with commentaries) of three books of writings by children. Collom has twice been awarded the National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship. He ISBN-10 0-9826646-0-5 has four grown children ISBN-13 978-0-9826646-0-5 51600 and is married to the writer Jennifer Heath.
C O L D I N S T A N T
“With Cold Instant, Jack Collom offers a compendium of recent poetic proclivities and favored shapes, including the sonnet, the slice, the lune, the perfect daily account, and the acrostic, all with ubiquitous variation and permutation. Surprises here for everyone who loves and studies art: “particular things/ Begin to mouse-rush in the domestic box./ So thought’s a gardener, crazy like a fox.”
COLD INSTANT
COLD INSTANT
Also by Jack Collom
Wet (1967) Blue Heron & IBC (1972) Little Grand Island (1977) The Fox (1981) Arguing with Something Plato Said (1990) 8-Ball (1992) Poetry Everywhere, with Sheryl Noethe (1994) What a Strange Way of Being Dead (1995) The Task (1996) Entering the City (1997) Dog Sonnets (1998) Polemics (1999) Red Car Goes By: Selected Poems 1955-2000 (2001) Extremes & Balances (2003) Exchanges of Earth & Sky (2004) In the Wind (2007) Situations, Sings with Lyn Hejinian(2008)
COLD INSTANT Works by Jack Collom
Monkey Puzzle Press Boulder, Colorado
Copyright © 2010 by Jack Collom
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief excerpts.
Cover Photo by Jack Collom “Newspaper Rock,” Canyonlands NP, Utah
Cover Design by Michael D. Edwards
Book Design by Nate Jordon
ISBN-10: 0-9826646-0-5 ISBN-13: 978-0-9826646-0-5
Monkey Puzzle Press PO Box 20804 Boulder, CO 80308 w w w. m o n k e y p u z z l e p r e s s . c o m
CONTENTS
PART I
A GARDEN SONNET QUINTANA ROO BEACH, 6 AM WHAT WILL HAPPEN (slice) UNTITLED MIGRATION SCRAMBLED DUCKS “TITTLE” PLAZA stoic office POLITICS AND NATURE OLATHE BULLETIN “to observe” INCIDENT IN PAC DECEMBER 2 POST-DOG SONNETS (MY CAR) poem for Bunny Bridges A SCOUT IS POÉMAS DOT’S (w/ Dan Hankin) ZENO I ZENO II ZENO III 7:26 AM, ETC. 100 Ways of Looking at a Human World
PART II
2 SQUARE FEET OF TURF 3 4 7 8 9 10 11 12 14 15 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 27 28 29 30 31 32 36
DIVIDING BY ZERO
FACE HOLIDAY SONNETS IYAMBICS AND A TOAST “Sardou ere pin” MAN WALKING ON “R”
43 44 45 46 47
PROZESS SEAMLESS POEM VERBS UNSINN MIT OUTRIDERS Rivertree 12 NATURE MODES AND MOVES “Chickadee silhouettes...” noisy alien mirror LUNE SERIES Sonnet On It “I don’t know” CLIMBING DOWN TWO LADDERS TO... about THE BIRTH OF POETRY BAD poem (4-24-09)
48 49 50 51 52 53 56 57 59 61 62 63 64 65 66 73
Acknowledgments
75
About the Author
77
AUTHOR’S NOTE This is new and slightly selected. High 70s. Varieties. Enjoy.
PART I 2 SQUARE FEET OF TURF
Jack Collom QUINTANA ROO BEACH, 6 AM
Jump in the water system (start;) perfect arc aspect from two blue eyes over sea’s edge chair out there where air & ocean liquid linear sweep-define then spring to split patterns pouring back here first UP the in clouds plunging imperceptibly–suspended–slate/pink demisubstance “tattered” “on” upward-paling bluish “shell” like light snatches o’ floating chitchat in great bluestone cathedral dome flowing through the vague imagined Xlapank wall above the the the the stamped-out town of repetition bone planted behind the radiantly verdant ramifications of the the the big-balled painted palm in swordy rows is one & below (sea-level) royal blue glides a skinful into peagreen patch windows of clear near-powder welling up to white whippedup combers which suddenly beige takeover spotted redbrown cream steep revealing crashing squirting flowering folding falling ever westward spreading leaf-thin marbled chalky foam past soft explosions off ground rock rising toward pressed metaphoric peach-fuzz atmosphere touch all slanting near by me & all gathered through crazy-razor shades in particle waves finewhirling clear & clear & clear below action ken with – north pelican oars – with crossing lapping weaving wild allegoric ink-stain rippled right-left sluices lugging “clouds” of whitebreath salted racing streams amorphous submarine mice across 4
COLD INSTANT
the thin translucent slicing sheet of undertow wind-mirroring “while” avant-garde bubble bulges cloud-edge cartoons blowing big lines in broken-curve servings rank pause pop sink some instant slight percent & remnant slip gliding back like mild knifestroke scales lapped along the literal littoral leaving nowhere scattered smiling heads of reptile dogs & whale simulacra curling ruddyweed detritus in the sun leaving lineworlds leaving solid sandslope static shuttle wet/dry through immensely subtle hue bubbly microstorms whisked to naught in brisk subsunset wink waterline slides sheetflat tender density webs of evanescent chainmail press alphabet friction over sandscallops terracing beneath to bright drip diamonds in a moment’s rigidity / slash / punctured equilibrium to wiggly worms of light bowed broadside squirming down the machined grain tilt & lean pack pales in sudden fresco stretchmark latticework como dos caballos corriendo por relampago con una risa y puedes mi limón apretar tan fuerte como el viento hasta los zopilotes negros comen cocos locos
it’s getting dark now wind-liquid Licking land as boom lalala kachew plumb swiss hoss lumpfish loose canasta lump sum lace miso delicious sizzle mess seem shame shazam caboose nice piss marmalade mistress bumper stash corral frazzle message bosom fuss mast zen icicle burn flash morass moose beams hush dash worms alas dims mathematic dreams crashsshshhsshhhaasshshsashhhhhhhshshhsss continuous sound silence surface dance spectrum slides to slightly spectral twilight range 5
Jack Collom colors born of shadow pools-of-an-instant hover, moon yellows like a slice, subjective senses scissor geometric sights, like intersecting arcs snipped in speckled watermark dark spouting mild gold as if the sun had not just impaled self on stelae-carved calendric profile figures stolen from limestone slab & leaking lights out to diffuse in matted jungle phosphorescence stretching to & through the monkey-music vegetable-swallowed pyramidal temples of Coba ha ha-ha-ha HA-ha HA-ha HA-ha HA-ha HA-ha HA-ha HA-ha paper blows, surf crescendos endless flows, everything goes, all speeds mesh mash curl & fold repeat! all speeds fold molecule hold, repeat! repeat “repeat� re-peat repet REPEAT rip it r e p e a t pt pt pt pt pt pt pt pt pt REPLETE! REPLETE! REPLETE! BEAT in shimmering morphologies on the rocks just now
6
COLD INSTANT WHAT WILL HAPPEN ‘90s
Is the destruction of food and food’s life and food’s ground. Is you walk the floor and the straight/line sym-phony roars. Is No more great blue herons, leopard frogs and wild roses. Is tiny loss that breaks your heart: “LAST ELEPHANT DIES.” Is culture goes “cult rue” “clue rut” “UELRCTU” Vulture. Is you walkkkk and your shoulders turn to dead sticks.k Is this four-billion-year dance vomits and lies down,, Is drain plow fence overgraze acidify encroach erode. Is that the red red robin goes bob bob bobbin’ away. Is.your.days.become.cylinders.of.snowwhite.plastic. Äääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääää. Is most backbones crumble in the blink of a lake. Is Civilization breaks down but not into nature. Is Time wadded & tossed like a grocery receipt. Is your life revealed as Pyramid of addiction. Is the exSpiration of gray gases is like Art. Is information slush and demolecularization. Is roving boneys slay elderfolk for grease, Mental epidemiology pours down the street. F**r**a***gm*e*****nta****t****i*o*****n. Wanton murder of trillions of Creatures. Quality of wildness only in:human lust. Nonononononononononononononononononon. stopclogchokejamcongestblockobstruct baroccludeimpedehindertrammelbridle. Window is broken, crazies crawl in. Grotesque explosion of cowbirdiam. iinnssianneeiinnesianneeainnesan. Foxfire furs bending skyscraper. Top-forty full of rabbitscream. empty+void+bare+barren+blank . The simplest tissues vanish0. The little things turn black. No time to finish hard work. All mind-delicacy diffused. Embarrassment and rubbish. Own souls whirled absent! HIT HIT KILL STRIP KILL. Massive chopping away// Diarrhea of rightness. Orchestra of disease. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! Melted photographs. Endless Isolation. Need gulps value. Noplace noplace. 1000-foot fear* Decay of pink. !@#$%_=&)/(+” Ha ha ha ha! Is drastic. Encaustic. Trenches. Roaches. Sewage. Weeds. Rats. Rot. XY. Z. ?
7
Jack Collom UNTITLED 2006
8
Once, when I was a boy (age 8), I was standing on the sidewalk a few houses down on Lawn, when I noticed ants scurrying across the concrete from a nearby “hill.�
I started stamping them; I think it was for fun, not out of any thought that they were harmful (tiny, weird biters).
Anyway, I stamped and stamped. It was great sport, like shooting fish in a barrel. Like shooting anything. Like driving a car, pounding nails, having sex*, planting seeds (no harvest), playing drums, boxing with cloth dummies, advertising a product, exercising my faculties at large...
Suddenly I was sick of it and stopped;
been a nature boy ever since. A few minutes ago (age 74), I recalled that occasion once again and saw it differently than I ever had (a vision lost now telling the tiny tale...). But it was
Just the act. Light. Stamp stamp. The shoes.
COLD INSTANT MIGRATION for Stan Brakhage—March 2003 I n t i m e rise; take off;p follow my pals; *digest experience; try random flight*; go by land/ marks& notice vegetation patterns; sense great magnetic fields; respond to differing light intensities; key (pigeon) on the micro.organ in my brain magnetite-crystal-crammed, each p olarized millions of X; undulate over Asperical effects resembling lunar tides; flip the Circadian rhythms of the pineal gland; extrapolate from figures of waves on the o/ ocean; FEEL gravity variations*. act accordingly; slide_on_latitudinal centrifugal diversity; wind up internal chronometer; detect baro (metric) pressures; pull taste %% odor# and sound( play the Coriolis force; make friends with Mystery Factors; look around (one-ounce pack)
9
Jack Collom SCRAMBLED DUCKS for Merrill Gilfillan
10
goy lendee
all dram (aka lard alm)
go in wed
dent la egg wiener
Mann coit Lane
lip Tina
“R� necking
her dead
love her S
glad law
COLD INSTANT “TITTLE” Luc-Bat (form from Vietnam)—for Ed Dorn, 1997
Re-cycle Time. Solstice (Sunstand), sky hostess, & return Imminent; the slow burn. Now, System D* discern. “We do things (Earth) contrary to their orig’nal sense.” Blue (sky) becomes a trunk. ‘Finity begins to give (change). Be well, all friends! Plan ’t: have a Ball! Roll on! I can’t recall where canned animals can be fanned (found?); the fork’ll unhand the olive branch. Sweet love may revolve a round. Define evolve.** A notion shifting shit to ocean. * In Daka (Afrique’s westernmost point, D (from De’brouille-toi!”– figure it out!)– rolls if not rules the economy. It’s “the logic of the inside-out.” ** Evolution refines equation to aesthetic.
11
Jack Collom PLAZA for the people at Woodland Pattern—July 16, 2009 Above my hotel room bed there’s a combination fan/light attached to the ceiling. The fan has five blades and the light has four individual lamps. It’s easy to determine, by gazing at their upper connections, which hanging string controls the light and which the fan; by the same token, it’s easy to mistake them in the heat of the moment, or when distracted by other pursuits. Accordingly, the first time I tried to turn the fan off, and failed, I thought I must’ve mentally mixed up the strings. So I pulled the other string and the light went on (or off, as the case may have been), and then I pulled what was certainly the fan string-and nothing happened. Then I thought that perhaps the wall switch might control the more localized fan-light switches, as it controls the switch of the tablelamp by the head of the bed. But turning this wall switch off, then, had no discernible effect. I thought about trying to limit the lightable and/or fanable aspects of my life, my hotel life, to the other end of the room, where another fan/light resided–and I could start over–but, in the end, found myself unwilling to let a minor mechanical confusion so impair my activities, especially on a trip for godsake. My next thought was that perhaps, on being turned off, the fan “coated” for an unbelievably long time, due to unusually well-greased ball bearings. With an eye toward testing this hypothesis, I picked up my cane and held it up so that the rubber tip collided with the fan blades–not violently, but to the extent that if the blade had indeed been merely coasting it would have been stopped by the interference of the cane tip.. The blades, while momentarily impeded, quickly resumed their normal circling velocity.
I was puzzled. ...
Hours later (after an excellent Amber Beer in the bar of the Astor Hotel a few blocks away, also bolstered by some peanuts and high-class trailmix), I had a thought: perhaps the fan is not simply a matter of off-and-on but has been thoughtfully designed to run at more than one speed! Upon my return to the Plaza and to Room 212, the first thing I did even before pushing number 55 (incidentally my high school basketball number) on the hotel phone, to check any messages, was to give the fan string an additional pull, and then see if its whirling slowed! 12
Nothing.
COLD INSTANT Okay: if two speeds (which I couldn’t perceive, only deduce), why not three? I pulled again, gazed upward until my neck ached, and–it happened. The fan slowed, then, very slowly...stopped. By this time, my black Roadside Attractions t-shirt was damp, so I turned the fan back on, full speed.
13
“For only a very few of us, making poems is as natural, as inborn, as breathing. Jack Collom is such a poet. In Cold Instant, Collom once again grabs his spirit lollipop, puts on his Captain Rainbow smile, and brings us to ‘poetry’s perch upon the moment’s ledge.’ Collom has told us before that ecology is ‘everything’ and his poetry never fails to partake of the ‘radiantly verdant ramifications’ of that everything to which he bears witness so keenly. These poems bring it all together–‘profusion, extravagance/ invisibility/ holiness’– proving that ‘each tiny direction’s a universe.’ Collom capers with the joy and earnestness of a kid within his wild poetic traceries. His gift to us is to demonstrate that play is the form of wisdom we most urgently need.”
Jack Collom
Poetry / $16.00
Works by Jack Collom
- Elizabeth Robinson, author of The Orphan and Its Relations
- Reed Bye, author of Join the Planets
Photo by John Sarsgard, NYC
9
780982 664605
WWW.MONKEYPUZZLEPRESS.COM
Monkey Puzzle Press
Jack Collom was born in Chicago in 1931 and grew up in nearby Western Springs, where he spent much of his boyhood walking in the woods and bird watching. He is the author of twenty-four books and chapbooks as well as editor (with commentaries) of three books of writings by children. Collom has twice been awarded the National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship. He ISBN-10 0-9826646-0-5 has four grown children ISBN-13 978-0-9826646-0-5 51600 and is married to the writer Jennifer Heath.
C O L D I N S T A N T
“With Cold Instant, Jack Collom offers a compendium of recent poetic proclivities and favored shapes, including the sonnet, the slice, the lune, the perfect daily account, and the acrostic, all with ubiquitous variation and permutation. Surprises here for everyone who loves and studies art: “particular things/ Begin to mouse-rush in the domestic box./ So thought’s a gardener, crazy like a fox.”
COLD INSTANT