Monthly Archives: March 2013

Quiet! We Got Our Friend Maya Sloan Here

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Terry’s Video Playlist

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Debora Patrina: Me by Bike

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will_rogers_in_washdc1) Never miss a good chance to shut up.

2) If you find yourself in a hole,
stop digging.

3) The quickest way to double your money
is to fold it and put it back in your pocket.

4) There are three kinds of men:
The ones that learn by reading.
The few who learn by observation.
The rest of them have to touch an electric fence.

5) Good judgment comes from experience,
and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.

6) If you’re riding’ ahead of the herd, take a look back every now and then
to make sure it’s still there.

7) Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier’n puttin’ it back.

8) There are two theories to arguing with women….neither work.

9) Never slap a man who’s chewing tobacco

10) Never kick a cow chip on a hot day

11) Always drink…

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Karen Does Not Do Karaoke

Karaoke Singer_Female_wht_burgandy_border_01Karen does not do Karaoke!
Absolutely not.
That’s not serious music
and she’s probably right.

Karen knows everything.
Don’t it make you sick?
She’s a rock and roll Puritan.
Anything else is a joke.

Karen does not do samba.
She does not do Jazz.
She does not do U2.
She does not do Nina Simone.
And she definitely does not do rap.

She’s Hendrix biggest fan
though she hates the blues.

(She does like some of the newer country)

And trust me…don’t even mention The Mills Brothers
all of that is ludicrous.

But what Karen does do is heroin
when she can get it. Crack when she can’t.
Karen constantly confronts the dilemma
of her teeth falling out.

But Karen definitely does not do Karaoke,
to her credit, since that would be far too

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October 1962 : Poetry Magazine : John Allyn Berryman : Benjamin Myers

The October 1962 : Poetry Magazine has the John Berryman I was looking for, because, well, the story goes like this:

John-Berryman-1914-1972The other night, Benjamin Myers mentioned something about how this fellow, John Berryman, being speculated to be a very important writer in the realm of contemporary poetry. So I reckon I might as well try getting into some of Berryman’s work just to see if Myers knows what the heck he’s talking about.  (God knows I’m not getting into the stuff of Robert Creeley)

During  Myers’ reading at Cameron University the other night,  he did read– in addition to his own works– a poem by William Stafford which means that Myers might be on to something and which makes his opinion worthy in my opinion (hopefully he wasn’t just having a bad night)  Anyway, I will listen to him on this and hope for the best.

John Allyn Berryman (October 25, 1914 – January 7, 1972) was an American poet and scholar, born in McAlesterOklahoma. He was a major figure in American poetry in the second half of the 20th century and was considered a key figure in the Confessional school of poetry. His best-known work is The Dream Songs. Wiki

Hey, Berryman was from Oklahoma?  Okay, that settles it. I’m reading some John Berryman poetry now:

Dream Song 14: Life, friends, is boring by John Berryman
Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatedly) ‘Ever to confess you’re bored
means you have no
Inner Resources.’ I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,  more

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A Book You Might Love by Benjamin Myers

Benjamin Myers is the author of two books of poetry: the forthcoming Lapse Americana (New York Quarterly Books, 2013) and Elegy for Trains (Village Books Press 2010), for which he won the 2011 Oklahoma Book Award for Poetry. His poems may be read in numerous literary journals, including Nimrod, The Iron Horse Literary Review, The New York Quarterly, Christianity and Literature, and Measure. He also reviews poetry for several publications, including World Literature Today.

His reading at Cameron University was great.


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“Crash here, Cass.”
Cass from the world’s navel.

your face appears
as if cut off at its ankles.

“Is it okay if I call you–the wind– Mariah?


“Well, all right then.  I won’t.

So you, wind, I mean Cass, rest awhile here.

And as you do, I hope you do
not mind a photograph
surfacing, 1982, of your hair so long,
so black– it’s spooky.

Here’s another pic of your teeth so full of braces, you could die.

And what’s with the suspenders and the poke-a-dots?”


Sleepy Cass, stay awhile and then off you go.
Soon as you can smile again.

“I’ll make some tea.

Oh, off again, already, well, okay, goodbye.”

I guess I’ll drink the tea.

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I Thought this While a Bird Flickered Past

I thought this while a bird flickered past.
And for my life, I cannot recall its name
though each day I remain sad and joyless.

How I cannot forget the hours fast-
spent now and anon–hope in Niflheim.
I thought this while a bird flickered past.

Look, not a wren nor a nightingale but a fantast
above– here then gone.  Darting by unnamed
while each day I stand sad and joyless.

Look, when I reach for heaven it feels like brass.
When I kiss the earth it feels the same.
I thought this while a bird flickered past

the…(uhh, damn, sorry. I forgot what I was going to say right  here)
But each day I am sad and joyless.

Fate/time may restore a lexis lost.
I will thrive then that morning, maybe not–ashram.
I thought this while a bird flickered past
as each day remains sad and joyless.


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