Biking The Urban Cow Pasture @ignatzybanjo - Tumblr Blog

Princess Leia 26 figures (1977) Kenner Merchandising Is Forever

Farewell Princess.

Equinox Lackadaisical (draft)

I’m going to fall down playing a famous figure in history who has only her famous pets to think of the jingle you know a network show about all the shows on the network local weather working during anniversary promos after an auspicicious anniversary year remember the moment when this caller’s phone ceased working cars up and down the street know it’s the beginning of fall they rumble past chased by ghosts hoping to bunk in wheel wells the warmest place before winter a trouble with technology all the time our brief touch complicated by touch just getting to know you was glass shards with music rattling over an owl’s never kiss a Gun Street Girl a finger lingering on tremolo of weather in stringy leaves piling up along with leaf blower commercials a thousand guitar rock-a-billy with apples and cinnamon and when I fall I’ll eat the dirt of our yard the color of a tornado sky and imagine the taste of every chemical we never imagined we would create out of our lovely seasons spent

#not good at writing love poems #equinox #listening to records

thebeakerblog

Solarbeat tells you how long it takes planets to orbit the Sun, but it also makes some pretty cool musical tunes.

Here’s how it works: the tool (which Internet history nerds will recall was launched in 2010 as a Flash program) has been reprogrammed and now allows you to adjust key and add effects like echo and flutter to the sounds you create.

Tempo of the music can be adjusted by messing with orbital rates – and there’s even a neat little counter to let you know how many times each planet has zipped around the Sun.

Do you learn much? Not really. But the music is enchanting, and after a while, I found myself not needing the counter anymore. I was able to pick out certain tones and know when, for example, Mars had completed an orbit, just by listening. -Patrick

(Image Credit: SolarBeat)

npr

This experience is simply beautiful. -Emily

Bumblebee & Okra Bloom With Elvis the Dachshund in Background

#garden #okra bloom #bumblebee #luck

The Storm Just Offshore

-a draft

after reading Maged Zaher

winds in the oak shows us the silver back-side of young leaves

a mockingbird troubles a squirrel the length of the neighbor’s yard

the mechanized bells of the Methodist Church toll half hours for hours

it is early morning in May the sun climbs out of the marsh for the first time in days

during a serious stretch in the grass the dog affects worry in his serious eyes

I worry about everything especially the rotten branch swaying eagerly above

little miracles amaze me how high against the blue a massive shore bird hovers

nature’s invisible meter measuring stress of wind against tensile strength and weight of dead wood

how clouds occasionally form into old lover’s faces the sound of your approach

#subtropical storm ana #stomata #Maged Zaher

Relaxed Sunset at Bowens Island Restaurant

#Vimeo #charlestonsdotcdot #bowensislandrestaurant #timelapse #gopro #bowensisland #verychill #sunset

25-30

25 in the other room sound effects affecting my concentration the cat peers over the monitor in my ears is classic “bullet-on-metal-during-climactic-scene” noise a piece of mouth for laborious cinema lunar fits and firefly mouthpieces between frames the flicker to come a piece of dark bigger than you ever thought 26 ought to be no one always in a mobile home its character defined by sides decorated like shit stains ought to be motoring across this nation righting all wrongs with an ancient comic book power no one asked you your heroic opinion your wings always a sudden impediment 27 admit it news footage depicts ghosts and only ghosts things surveilled we do not believe in or else we would be with them in angry streets choosing cause or helmet or despair or all of these spirits only appear because they so fully believe in themselves their ethereal ability to engage us in the way they burn drugstore smoke chokes the yōkai reporter his spectral tears burning real holes in the firehose 28 a daytime moon hovers over spring leaves it is my favorite satellite look at all it is we do daring to orbit one another green to this place we call home a daytime moon aligns all the longing pours it through a hole in the sky the data suggests we miss the point all-together pointing weapons at one another fingers, words, the illusion of being able to see 29 to future explorers of territories not shown on any physical map a world of grass existed here the thatch gave way underfoot a discovery greater than hollow earth each threatened memory a world of gunfire and faces too behind each pane of glass a trigger 30 after heavy rain the frogs return their song peripheral a chorus bored with the worn psalter smell of jasmine weary Spring’s futile excuses for de-friending the world worn into vinyl grooves of the album played always in the dark and then backwards again the candle croaking with each flicker run run now run

#book of eli #firefly apocalypse #national poetry month #paltry depression #over eager righteousness #baltimore #how to engage?#why do they decorate RVs like that?#mutants #wolf blitzer is the devil #baltimore uprising #ghosts #missing the point #time capsule #paul is dead #ribbit #john cleves symmes

17 - 24

they planned to hoist Topsy seventy five feet by her neck aborted coin rolls and the smell\ of pennies my fingers filthy from counting currency Niagra abounding with alternatives thanks to Edison’s aggressive appropriation my father wore a copper band on his wrist\ for years its conductive powers against arthritis and its conductive powers for a Coney Island execution

Caspian Tiger, Mason River Turtle, Javan Tiger, Puhielelu bibiscadelphus, green-blossom pearly mussel, 24-ray sunstar, gastric-brooding frog, golden toad, Atitlán grebe, dusky seaside sparrow, Saint Croix racer, Levuana moth, Hainan ormosia, Pyrenean ibex, St. Helena olive, Baiji dolphin, Liverpool pigeon, Alaotra grebe, eastern cougar, western black rhinoceros, Japanese river otter, Pinta Island tortoise, Cape Verde giant skink, Formosan clouded leopard, Scioto madtom, Acalypha wilder, Bermuda saw-whet owl

my selenetic moment waxing from private pools\ so new as not even to be crescent the satellite rising at dawn I’ll wait I’ll wait the insult of sharing same space behold my quarry the night so irksome it rained two inches in an singular hour so many messages unsent having a tiki moment the moon all in leopard print spiced pages of the coloring book the verde hairdo

our skin marigold with insect repellant electric reservoir in the hound dog’s eye heating the western horizon in the still air the figure behind my eye an image of the last zoo workers throwing cage doors open because at least – though too late – humans will probably do the right thing eventually being able to hear the train from here means rain

The Moon and Aldeberan stalk Venus in the west at the end of a very good day the kind you worry about once it’s over if you are prone to anxiety which I am the lack of clouds suggests a lie in the atmosphere says go ahead and stay up listening to ultra-lounge waiting for the Lyrids Les Baxter’s b-movie output a mosquito bite itching like the optimist convinced of clear skies

the osprey is unconcerned perched atop the letter M in the hotel sign as a trio of fish crows attack etching their cursive complaints in the air 10 floors below we’ve gathered at an outdoor lounge to complain to one another about the work day buy one another drinks I squint looking for stolen prey or doomed hatchling in the raptor’s claws see neither above in blinkblue light a quartet of eager gulls circle

the blade reel disturbs the sandy cone of an absurdly large mound of fire ants they mount rescue attack reconstruction simultaneously weaponized chitin crawls across steel larvae carried to war between jaws the frantic pain plume spreads from the eruption flashes of light mistaken for lightning climb my legs

getting paranoid in each tooth I’m bone carved radiating sword dance from each troubled cavity broadcasting dachshund low and easy drawn\ during important meetings about important things becoming edible and packed tight and level like soil in the post-hole of a bird house

#national poetry month #extinction #selenetic #George Herriman #tiki #les baxter #lyrids #osprey #fish crow #fire ants #nina simone #teeth problems #bird house #aldeberan #alternating #current #edison

Eight More Days

in which the eight-line-a-day odyssey continues...

I miss early morning freight train not the insipid, Paul Simon ones – all church organ and xylophone – no the Norfolk Southern it wakes you with a curse eager teeth rattling out a dog’s mouth one canine, four incisors the wagging tail the engine trails behind unconsciousness ferried over still water

rainy days my brother and I spent hours in a low ceilinged basement – table tennis between us and our sick mother upstairs I taught myself secret geometry deep angle backhands almost always resulting in either his bat or forehead striking ductwork hidden in a bathroom drawer her silicone prosthesis the first thing I ever tried to write about

we argued all day put up a fence around the garden put plants in the ground let the sun cook our flesh we argued and asked each other where to find the bug spray filled wheelbarrows emptied beer cans sat in the grass with the dogs arguing about the most difficult music

difficult music begins when it has ended seven steady cartridges spent then a pause for the eighth that space that caesura the most challenging moment where reason having gone to beach itself and suffocate despite the best efforts of do-gooder insanity interrupting its own down-time turns to tell the family yes all is quite well

not knowing what comes next does the bee leave its sting or not in my wrist the beans have been sown after soaking all day the drone just happened to land hello there given the circumstances of your colonial collapse I’d rather we let this meeting ecstatically go

across the yard in the dark sits Wappoo Road named for an extinct subtribe of the Cusabo a dark macadam horizon automobiles trickle across something named for something no longer there my stiff fingers bent into a fleshy pergola that supports invisible messages written across swollen joints each stupid neuron repeating what the cars say white red soon soon white then red soon soon soon

“Colour is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers, and the soul is the piano with many strings.” –Wassily Kandinsky, Concerning the Spiritual in Art

at the computer screen a barricade behind which I watch Mary Lee a 16-foot white shark she’s tracking north patrolling the edge of the continental shelf near the “Graveyard of the Atlantic” off the Outer Banks such is the minutia of my days sometimes my too careful comrade my soul slightly out of tune

fullness granted by dumb anger after an argument the extra space that comes with trying to talk through a tunnel of sky branches bleeding in trying to guess the order of each pinpoint the light from each star which got here first and one of my favorite things these days stumbling through the house each morning opening the blinds and raising them all to the exact same height

#National Poetry Month Mary Lee Wappoo Cusabo astrophysics #paul simon's train in the distance obx colony collapse disorder rip walter scott home ownership breast cancer table tennis pergola

Eight Days

I’ve been having an eight-line-a-day conversation with myself and posting the results to Facebook each day this month. It’s been, I guess my attempt to also converse with national poetry month. Then I remembered I have a Tumblr and poets I know and love who are only on Tumblr. Why not subject them to the same torture? Here’s a draft of the first eight days.

tree frogs in the marshdemand blooms from un-eager azaleas along the rail-to-trail path give us, give, give, give give us, give, give, give give it now, give, give, give it now, give, give give, give, give, give, give

give, ive, ive, isteria, wisteria the wisteria obliges and takes a heavy bow Spring and all that hysteria mise en place the neighborhood dogs barking just so at an Easter Moon climbing through live oak branches

branches ches chisled by night or lack thereof tomorrow’s satellite a similar cinema of shadow called blood moon on the sill with a cup I catch a paper wasp the fifth one in as many days I didn’t have the heart to kill it achieves the glass edge its wings catch light

what happens to light once it happens a muzzle flash in 1968 travels up and out at the maximum speed it travels still bending around stars the heart of another April grows hot under ancient chemistries of dirt where elemental fingers wrap around the throat of just another transformation

clandestine image inducements along with the history of comics where the characters cannot stay in high school forever some actual cosmic tickle to believe mere addition of color over white keeps the next page from bleeding through an x-ray of every arch advertisement ever

dusk and the bees are still at it apian optics apart from ours fully able after sunset to seek sweet and a swirl of bodies over the ultraviolet dome of flower the airborne mosh pit vibrating like the lightning bolt on the cover of first album by Bad Brains

not knowing what to make out of the random segments -- despite what Douglas and Proust say -- of sermons from Antioch Baptist -- Preacher Teague’s Brown suits -- the very real question: why would I sneak my prized copy of Fangoria with Godzilla on the cover into service -- being dragged from the back pew to the church bathroom by my mother -- mortified to watch her rip the glossy in half and again mortified to stand and listen to her behind the stall door -- Memory as the King of the Monsters

that knocking sound with each pedal stroke a pair of geese sound in the fog a shush of rubber in rain on asphalt yards strung with lights how wood bleeds in attics the belief under streetlamp of safety the gunpowder smell mistaken innovation the ballistic technique of it all

#national poetry month #spring and all #azaleas #wisteria #wasps #MLK #comic books #godzilla #memory #Bad Brains #eight lines a day #destroy all guns

allisoncobb

I keep having encounters with older white male poets who feel free to confide that the reason they never got [tenure, a big prize, the recognition they deserve, etc.] is because of women and minorities taking these things instead. Then there is the older white male poet who has suggested that...

susanlanders

What nuns dream of: one of the best things I have ever found in an archive. Source: Philadelphia Archdiocesan Historical Research Center.

maggieamagazine

maggie a magazine

Drawing by Emily Pettit

Maggie is a little magazine about dogs, inspired by Maggie Zurawski’s Companion Animal (Litmus Press 2013).

Featuring poems by: Julian Talamantez Brolaski, Jen Coleman, Leopoldine Core, Peter Culley, Ethan Fugate, Carol Mirakove, Stacy Szymaszek, Kevin Varrone, and Magdalena Zurawski.

Editor: Sue Landers

ignatzybanjo

Happy National Dog Appreciation Day, y'all!

What a Lectern is For A drafting compass marks space and keeps time as the hobby helper comes alive atop the lectern to investigate a cicada wing. A pair of Scottish terriers race around the circumference of the magnifying glass stopping history and attracting the hungry attention of a cicada husk which climbs the helper to give chase. The terriers are only a kind of natural bait. My eyesight is going. The cicada husk chases the Scotty dogs 'round and 'round. The procession is fanned by the cicada wing. The cicada husk is captured by one of the hobby helper’s claws. This is a pattern. From within the depth of the “Dictionary of Angels” a syringe appears and is filled red with a secret knowledge of angels. The hobby helper injects the cicada husk with the contents of the syringe as the Scotty dogs retreat back into the dictionary. A system of Liliths is shown. The hobby helper shows us its prize. The cat observes from afar. Music from P.I.S.O.R. Scares 2003 - disc one, track 23 "Loons in our national eyebrow" pisor-industries.org/w/sound/p-i-s-o-r-scares-2003/ This is both an homage to the Brother's Quay and a stop motion experiment.