While my first-person singular takes a breather, unaccustomed as it is to public blogging (like a frog), I'll use this opportunity to share some of my prized catches from the ocean of the Internet.
HOT LINKS
Interviews with creative people
* This interview with one of my favorite weirdo poets, Russell Edson, contains his own thrilling account of
his poetics. (His answers make a lot more sense than the questions, you probably don't have to read the questions if they become too impenetrable...)
his poetics. (His answers make a lot more sense than the questions, you probably don't have to read the questions if they become too impenetrable...)
* Poetry people will no doubt have come across this profile of another of my favorite weirdo poets, Anne Carson, in Sunday's New York Times Magazine. (I was pleased to learn that she refers to her husband as "the randomizer" and made him t-shirt made with those words on the front, and a image of one of her painted volcanoes printed on the back...)
However, poetry people may not have read this much meatier interview she did with the Paris Review back in 2004. Carson is unvarnished here, and unflinching and funny, and reveals a great deal more about her relationship to ancient Greek, her mother, being female, etc.
Funny
* In deference to the great feline overlord of the WWW, here is a GIF of a cat figuring out it was her human shaking the feather stick all along.
* A few years ago, I had a dream about a carp twisting and dying in my arms. In my search for a fairytale about a talking carp I thought the dream was referencing, I came across this New York Times story about a 20-lb carp in Rockland County that began shouting in Hebrew when it was about to be bludgeoned to death... I will let you discover the details of the story on your own... (I never did find the fairytale, which I must have dreamt, as well.)
Song
In my head these days, this lovely end-of-love song by a young Serge Gainsbourg. If you know some
French, the lyrics are a poème.
And a poem, to finish
Here's an Edson-ish poem by Anne Carson, from "Short Talks," in Plainwater.
On the Total Collection
From childhood he dreamed of being able to
keep with him all the objects in the world lined
up on his shelves and bookcases. He denied
lack, oblivion or even the likelihood of a missing
piece. Order streamed from Noah in blue tri-
angles and as the pure fury of his classifications
rose around him, engulfing his life, they came
to be called waves by others, who drowned, a
world of them.
