I was meditating on the fear-based poetic vision of the Los Angeles regional writing powers that be [though there are a few anthologies I can think of not mentioned -- one was a multicultural one I was assigned in grad school which had mostly LA writers, ex. Aleda Rodriquez, Luis what's his face publishing a piece of his famous menior as a poem, etc.], as well as the fact that
I read Temblor at the same time I began reading Sun & Moon Press books, and my sense of literary Los Angeles has always included Douglas Messerli's editorial projects and a variety of innovative writers actually in southern california or originally from southern california. And so this, too, has informed my sense of not only the literary region, if such exists, but also by sense of the way that this particular place for poetry is inherently flawed. Plus, for eight of the nine years I've lives in LA, I've lived within a block or two of Sun & Moon Press.
I was thinking these thoughts while pruning grape vines. Put me off my scraping texture coating project. Seems one of our neighbors got a wild hair about cutting down greenery yesterday, cut down a tree that was on a property line (actually arguably belonging to neighbors), by pruning one side extremely, seems to have killed an eight foot high hedge, and asked us to kill some grape vines which were masking our admittedly ugly and to be replaced chain link and this VOID of a lawn which now makes our lawn look like Versailles. There is a related adventure about the abandoned house next door and two walls that are collapsing. Anyway, when I was at Abdenego's or whatever (name from Bible) reading last month, someone read Frost's walls poem, and of course I realized what a prick the neighbor was in that. So I first pruned back the grapes so that the grapes will grow (I don't know what kind they are) -- thinking perhaps Eileen Tabios can make us a bottle of "La FAyette Square 2005" -- and keeping long parts for grape vine wreaths -- thinking maybe the house will be visitable by the holidays for a cookie exchange, and that now that I don't have pinecones, maybe I can have grapevine wreaths for everyone, la la la.
Ron told me that I would have to try to get as much of the vines as possible off their side of OUR FENCE which I have attempted to do.
Now back to my real project, and thinking more about Douglas' intro to the PIP anthology.
I read Temblor at the same time I began reading Sun & Moon Press books, and my sense of literary Los Angeles has always included Douglas Messerli's editorial projects and a variety of innovative writers actually in southern california or originally from southern california. And so this, too, has informed my sense of not only the literary region, if such exists, but also by sense of the way that this particular place for poetry is inherently flawed. Plus, for eight of the nine years I've lives in LA, I've lived within a block or two of Sun & Moon Press.
I was thinking these thoughts while pruning grape vines. Put me off my scraping texture coating project. Seems one of our neighbors got a wild hair about cutting down greenery yesterday, cut down a tree that was on a property line (actually arguably belonging to neighbors), by pruning one side extremely, seems to have killed an eight foot high hedge, and asked us to kill some grape vines which were masking our admittedly ugly and to be replaced chain link and this VOID of a lawn which now makes our lawn look like Versailles. There is a related adventure about the abandoned house next door and two walls that are collapsing. Anyway, when I was at Abdenego's or whatever (name from Bible) reading last month, someone read Frost's walls poem, and of course I realized what a prick the neighbor was in that. So I first pruned back the grapes so that the grapes will grow (I don't know what kind they are) -- thinking perhaps Eileen Tabios can make us a bottle of "La FAyette Square 2005" -- and keeping long parts for grape vine wreaths -- thinking maybe the house will be visitable by the holidays for a cookie exchange, and that now that I don't have pinecones, maybe I can have grapevine wreaths for everyone, la la la.
Ron told me that I would have to try to get as much of the vines as possible off their side of OUR FENCE which I have attempted to do.
Now back to my real project, and thinking more about Douglas' intro to the PIP anthology.
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