This is an excerpt from the notes I am using to help my student understand her reading homework:
"Sexual intercourse is the richest encounter possible, and out of this encounter a new being is created. The creative encounter is similar to sexual intercourse in its encounter, partial withdrawal pattern. The two opposites become united as in the creative encounter. It is this continuous experience of encounter and re-encounter that is significant in terms of creativity. The process is what is important. It brings change to both the subjective and the objective poles. The particular forms resulting from the creative process are symbol and myth, which reveal the relationship between conscious and unconscious experience."
Yeowsa...lol.
"Slowly, So Slowly, Slowly"
Trident
Don’t call me woman
Unless you say I am
Your woman
In only the best way possible
That I am yours
Because you
Understand and
Respect me.
Don’t wait for me to make up my mind
When I have asked you three times
For your opinion
I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t
Want it.
Is it a contradiction
To want a man
Who is a man?
Who knows how to take care
And let me take the lead
As well?
Passing back and forth
Awaiting the other’s response
In a timely manner
Passing back and forth
Finding the clench in the eyes.
I don’t want to go forth
When the past is so close
Sitting in the dents of my shoes
Like the deterring bubble gum that it is.
Don’t call me woman
Unless you want me to be
Your woman
And you mean it
In the best way
You can.
J. McIntyre
An Observed Sidewalk Kiss
Dance on Pavement
They were only going for a drive
or to the store
but he grabbed her with a ferocity
that seemed rough
but was instead a wanting so strong
that he needed to reach out
and take her
in his arms and kiss her neck in the middle of
the sidewalk
working up to her lips as
they both smiled.
As they went to their respective sides of the truck
(she drove)
He said:
Oh, I have chocolate on my shirt.
J. McIntyre
When Time Shifts Quickly...
Veracity
She walks upstairs
and finds her friend
in his Japanese hotel room.
Her things are strewn everywhere
and she is 24 hours late for her plane.
Dresses and shoes
books and pages
run into her hands (push, push) and back out
with nowhere to go.
Now, she is in California
more of her things strewn around.
They will not fit back into the bags she has brought
even though she has bought nothing
aside from coffee and food.
24 hours late again.
Her belongings multiply in cities.
She gets lonely and these objects become bigger than she is.
They soak up disappointment and fear
lust and confusion
like spilt milk on an end table.
Back in Japan, she can only get the news in English.
Wanting to hear anything besides her (static, static) mother tongue
she walks back down the stairs, finds the dining room
and sits down with him
as he gets up to leave.
J. McIntyre
New Jon Sands Poem
The Fishermen
for J.V. C.H. A.F. E.H. E.M.
Sometimes you dance slow
with your best friend,
while a woman you love
differently than you love Etta James
sings At Last into a karaoke machine
like she wrote it in the bathroom.
Sometimes every person you know is drunk enough
it becomes a new definition for sober.
There is a bar on the west side of Brooklyn
the fishermen call home,
(or they used to, when Brooklyn had fishermen)
like a siren carrying them back to their whiskey.
Sometimes there is tonight, and we are six people.
If we made footsteps that never disappeared,
can you imagine the lines we would have carved out to get here?
There are people who have called us their homes.
Tonight, there is family in the oxygen.
Sometimes, two people is its own person.
It has a lifespan, it gets hungry, it too, can lie underneath its sheets
and wonder how it can still feel alone—
Sometimes it is more.
There is a phone booth in the bar that seats one,
as six of us scramble inside,
we crawl up the walls until even our drinks fit,
and our bodies are rediscovering what it is to be possible.
It is one night when the clocks on a bar in Brooklyn
begin to spill backwards, then stop.
The bartender—still as a stalagmite,
and the perfect pour stays perfect.
The couple at the corner table held like
popsicle sticks in a freezer—
the ovvvvvvvv from I lovvve you suspended in the air
like a vibrating chandelier.
And we, with our slow dances
we with our songs
we with our smiles—
which on any other day are the downswing on a jump rope.
We are the last to go.
We are the last to go.
We are the last to go.
for J.V. C.H. A.F. E.H. E.M.
Sometimes you dance slow
with your best friend,
while a woman you love
differently than you love Etta James
sings At Last into a karaoke machine
like she wrote it in the bathroom.
Sometimes every person you know is drunk enough
it becomes a new definition for sober.
There is a bar on the west side of Brooklyn
the fishermen call home,
(or they used to, when Brooklyn had fishermen)
like a siren carrying them back to their whiskey.
Sometimes there is tonight, and we are six people.
If we made footsteps that never disappeared,
can you imagine the lines we would have carved out to get here?
There are people who have called us their homes.
Tonight, there is family in the oxygen.
Sometimes, two people is its own person.
It has a lifespan, it gets hungry, it too, can lie underneath its sheets
and wonder how it can still feel alone—
Sometimes it is more.
There is a phone booth in the bar that seats one,
as six of us scramble inside,
we crawl up the walls until even our drinks fit,
and our bodies are rediscovering what it is to be possible.
It is one night when the clocks on a bar in Brooklyn
begin to spill backwards, then stop.
The bartender—still as a stalagmite,
and the perfect pour stays perfect.
The couple at the corner table held like
popsicle sticks in a freezer—
the ovvvvvvvv from I lovvve you suspended in the air
like a vibrating chandelier.
And we, with our slow dances
we with our songs
we with our smiles—
which on any other day are the downswing on a jump rope.
We are the last to go.
We are the last to go.
We are the last to go.
Empyrean Benefit Show!
(Photo by Jon Iraundegi)To help raise the 20,000 needed for the new sprinklers at The Empyrean Coffeehouse [link] there is going to be a "Burning Down the House" two day benefit extravaganza.
Get stoked, get ready to boogie and open your wallets and purses! There are going to be cool "Burning Down the House" T-shirts available for purchase as well! There is a $7 suggested donation for the show.
Here is the line up...
............................
Friday..
5:15-5:45 3 Years Later..
6-6:30 Hillary Susz..
6:45-7:15 Le Train Train Quotidien..
7:30-8:00 Mon Cherie'..
8:15-8:45 The Camero’s ..
9:00-9:30 Imperial ....Sparks......
9:45-10:15 Gas Masq ..
10:30-11 Free Times Synthetic..
.. ..
Saturday..
2:15-2:45 Natural Selection..
3:00-3:30 If I Had..
3:45-4:15 Green Light Go..
4:30-4:45 The Infernal Ukulele Trio..
5:00-5:30 The Sassmatrons..
6:00-6:30 Crimson Resolve..
6:45-7:15 Executive Smack..
7:30-8:00 Bodhi Drip..
8:15-8:45 Level Zero..
9:00-9:30 MY O.D...
9:45-10:15 A. P. Victory..
10:30-11:00 ....Small.. ..Town.... Nation..
If We Listened to Mother Nature...
Mimicking Momaday
Water, I gave you dirt
expecting only clean skin in return
We ate berries and corn
together in silence
Two old souls
contemplating earth
Not so different, you and I
78% water is a good capacity for someone
Like me (fallible, fallible) to have
Leaps and bounds free us both
(down, down) at each others’ feet
Piecing together molecules to make your clothes
We fought hard for rivers
with our bare hands
Stood together in front of God
Or as they say Buddha Jehovah Allah
The sedition is not the only thing that matters
But it was never too much for us to ask
Of this earth that carries our skin
takes it back and forth and then
around again to all places we go
To the rooms where shadows quake
To the heart of kicked-off shoes
Forgotten till morning comes
You and I, Water, would
never abandon these pieces
that we have made whole
moving the familiar
and continued breathing
of lungs
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