Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Cleaving Japanese Lit

—for Phuoc Tan


Thank you—for posting Gamelan Music.
I was looking at it tonight—enjoying Gamelan Blue too.
Your Cleave has this Full Screen—that’s really NICE.
It lets the Reader—see the Cleave so clean and crisp.
None of the baggage—that litters most Pages.

No sidebars—no flashy little gimmicks.
No layout equipage—just the Cleave.
There’s just the single Cleave—on The Cleave page.
It’s so elegant that way—so smooth and clean.
I can see the Cleave—the Cleave can see me.

I’ve been going thru—these Cleave stages.
Letting the Cleave do its Thing—since we started.
The Pound series—got my attention right away.
It turned Personae (1926)—into an interactive poetics.
The surprise vertical stanzas—spontaneous oracles.

From then on—each Cleave was a happy surprise.
I’d compose the Horizontal—then Cleave it gently.
Like a succulent slice of Cherry Pie—a la mode.
And that’s the way—I’ve been doing it ever since.
Except for one thing—I let it take me where it wants.

The Trinity—is more than just a chance three-way.
Or maybe it is just that—maybe that’s enough.
Enough of a doorway to get me thru—to the Other.
Whatever it is—it’s checking things out quickly.
What Mac Low and Cage couldn’t do—it does easily.

Gamelan Music & Gamelan Blue—so Elegantly New.
So simple there on the Page—no clutter no distractions.
Just the Cleave—opening up like a Gong or Rose.
Bong!!! it says—immediately in the Here and Now…
So that there’s more than—just Vertical Surprise.

Many poets have tried—to capture it somehow.
Spontaneity they call it—Kerouac, Ginsberg, the Beats.
But in the end like Mac Low—they shrug in defeat.
No matter how diastic—no matter how much chance.
No matter how much they improvise—ad lib so coyly.

It alludes them—because of their Ego.
They throw up their arms—all systems simply fail.
Like Mac Low’s seed text—and diagonal slice.
Down thru the Text so cleverly—so what?
Playing with chance is one thing—doing it another.

I didn’t want to plunge—into the Anthology.
With preconceived Theories—about LangPo etc.
L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E Poetics—and Silliman.
I’ve studied how his Anthology—turned out to be.
In the American Tree—an exciting genre spree.

The problem with American Theory—and Poetics.
It’s still a Box to shove—Words into like a coffin.
Once you’ve tasted Spontaneity—like the Cleave.
There’s no turning back—you want it to be Free.
And Freedom is—what Freedom wants to be.

It’s like riding a Tiger—across the River Styx.
Hold on Tight—the Dark River is swift.
The Cleave is Alive—it’s a Giant Cat with Eyes.
It slinks nonchalantly—thru my Literary Blog.
It’s pretty simple—you dialog with it that’s all.

I’m doing it now—the dialogical imagination.
Cleave conversationalese—it’s the Other.
Ever read Borges—“August 25, 1983”?
A nice little short story—about the Other.
Two writers in a dream—Doppelganger Lit.

Is that what The Cleave is—the Other?
The younger writer—confronting his older self.
The dying author—telling him his future?
The Double—both in Cambridge by the Charles?
Then that mysterious hotel—in Buenos Aires?

My approach—a Cleave Journal day-to-day.
Google tracks it too—like a Digital Shadow.
Put site:snarke.com—into the search box.
Up pops page after page—haiku snapshots!!!
Quick little summaries—of each Cleave post.

Reading Google at night—clever satori.
Late at night—reading what I wrote.
Digital RE-translation—of The Cleave.
Google tracks Snarke—with ironic ease.
Tracking the hits—from around the world

Mapping the visitors—watching StatCounter.
The Cleave goes Global—what does it mean?
The Snarkosphere is cool—it’s totally Cleave.
Like a Cleave Diary—it tracks Cleave Flow.
Nonesuch Gamelan Threads—come and go.

Playing DJ Shadow—all night long
Leaving my Bose—on continuous Replay.
Working and Sleeping—Gamelan Blue.
Moving now—into Japanese Love Poems.
Kenneth Rexroth—and Sam Hamill.

RE-translating them—into something new.
Cleaving Japan for myself—and Strangers.
Cleaving Japanese Lit—Manga and Yaoi.
Lady Izumi Shikibu—Lady Murasaki Shikibu
Prince Fujiwara No Motoyoshi—Mikato Shami.

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