#100Days100Poems Day 40

It seems a lifetime ago that we discussed how even the nation’s most important cultural institutions are in the struggle against the cacophony of crazy from Trumpet and his minions. The Museum of Modern Art installed several works to add voice to the chorus of those of us protesting and fighting. With each plaque accompanying the pieces you read

This work is by an artist from a nation whose citizens are being denied entry into the United States, according to a presidential executive order issued on January 27, 2017. This is one of several such artworks from the Museum’s collection installed throughout the fifth-floor galleries to affirm the ideals of welcome and freedom as vital to this Museum, as they are to the United States.”

Inspired by this, today’s poem joins the other ekphrastic pieces responding to some of the works in the MoMA’s collection. The poem, untitled at the moment, simply bears the name of the artist and painting. Photos of the piece are the author’s own.

***

The Mosque 1964
Ibrahim El-Salahi, Sudanese, born 1930
Oil on canvas

somewhere just off-canvas

        or so it seems

                the muezzin begins the adhan

        and it calls out from the minaret

        stretching far beyond frame

                and gallery, far

        beyond wall and window

and from the west

        a figurey shadow looms

                menaces in manic paranoia

        the mosque suddenly marked & monitored

                        no longer sanctuary

to the east, a figure

        masked,

                perhaps Munchian in style, no

        El-Salahian

                        perhaps he the muezzin

                is it a look of dread

                        eyes wide mouth agape

                is it a look of reverence

                        the call pouring from outspoken lips

                is it a look of caution

                        a warning warbled of the wicked

                wizard of

                                the west

the shadow rising from

        & the call continues

        and the mask reveals nothing

                as if frozen in oil on canvas

        & the call continues

        through soundless swirls and silhouettes

& the call continues

        the muezzin is muzzled/is the muezzin muzzled

the perilous penumbra poised in the west

        poisonous in its prevarications

        dangerous in its discharge of belligerent jingoism

the western aggression

        threatening bans & walls & wars & blitzes

another call starts

is it to line up for prayers

        or deportation

        or encampment

                        for petitions

        or capitulation

        or opposition

somewhere just off-canvas

another call starts

***

 

© David Siller – Text and Images – 2017

.*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author.

VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

#100Days100Poems Day 33

For today, a political cartoon, appropriately sketched on the back of a receipt. We’re all already paying the price, it seems.

 

receipt-cartoon

 

 

© Hector Colón – 2017

.

 

*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author.

VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

#100Days100Poems Day 29 #PhotoHaiku

Yesterday was a day of action, #ADayWithoutImmigrants. Today our #PhotoHaiku captures but one snapshot of the movement.

 

 

© Alyse Ramirez– 2017

.

*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author.

VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

#100Days100Poems Day 28 #PhotoHaiku

Despite the fact that at the very top everything we know is being shredded and rendered unrecognizable, we still keep trudging on. Proof that we will survive, perhaps a little worse for wear, and a little more motivated to seek our better angels.

 

 

 

© David Siller – 2017

.

 

*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author.

VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

#100Days100Poems Day 27 #PhotoHaiku

Today, another #PhotoHaiku, to be read as you see fit. In order to fight this good fight, we should all head to our arsenal: the library will have all the weapons we need for this struggle.

 

ps230badnewsheadlinewarning

 

© David Siller – 2017

.

 

*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author.

VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

#100Days100Poems Day 24 #PhotoHaiku

Tonight, a #PhotoHaiku, to be “read” as you see fit. We are all in this together. #Resist

 

© David Siller– 2017

.*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author. VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

#100Days100Poems Day 23

For today’s poem, I simply include the note from the poet herself:

The story behind this poem is two fold: First, it was in response to artist Jackson Pollock’s work ‘Untitled. C.1950.’ This poem is also in response to the recent ban on immigrants and refugees, and a growing increase of intolerance in the United States. According to Carl Jung, everyone has parts of themselves that they suppress and ignore. These parts make up what Jung referred to as our shadow. Jungian scholars pose that just as an individual has a shadow, so do societies and nations. According to Japanese author Haruki Murakami, ‘At times, we tend to avert our eyes from the shadow, those negative parts, or else, try to forcibly eliminate those aspects. No matter how high a wall we build to keep intruders out, no matter how strictly we exclude outsiders, no matter how much we rewrite history to suit us, we just end up damaging and hurting ourselves.’

 

A link to the referenced artwork can be found at: Jackson Pollock, Untitled (c. 1950)

 

we are a land of shadows


sometimes they break through
the veil
dark, dense and outside
the light
black winged things
swishing saurian tails
dancing
encircling
containing
what we cannot reconcile
thought and memory
blur
incite 
the primitive
to rise 
a fevered frenzy
of feathery trails
engulfs us
lifts and carries us
not above our own wounds
but the world’s

 

© Mary Katherine Creel – 2017

Bio:

Mary Katherine Creel lives in the foothills of North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Mountains with her husband and their animal collective.  Her poem ‘we are a land of shadows’ first appeared in What Rough Beast. She has worked as a journalist, freelance writer and counselor, and currently serves as communications manager at an art museum. Her poems have been published in Paper Rabbit, Tar River Poetry, Pittsburgh Poetry Review and Avocet. Her first poetry chapbook, Exit Wound, is forthcoming.

.

*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author. VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

#100Days100Poems Day 22

As we mentioned yesterday, the Museum of Modern Art has joined in the voices against the Trumpet nonsense. With each plaque accompanying the art you read

This work is by an artist from a nation whose citizens are being denied entry into the United States, according to a presidential executive order issued on January 27, 2017. This is one of several such artworks from the Museum’s collection installed throughout the fifth-floor galleries to affirm the ideals of welcome and freedom as vital to this Museum, as they are to the United States.”

Today’s poetic response is to [Composition-40-2011] by Shirana Shahbazi, a German artist born in Iran in 1974. It is a chromogenic color print from 2011.

space-painting

 

 

 

Standing on a Ridge on Callisto,
Gazing toward the Sun

“Of course, it’s easy to see
the Red Planet, Mars,
God of War, guardian of agriculture--
and next to him the terrible Deimos,
as if war needed an escalation,
and just beyond is Luna,
that bright white moon doing
all it can to hide the blue dot behind.”
 

        And what is that, exactly?


Nothing worth the trouble--
separated by puddles
they still fight over myths &
borders & trinkets &
colors.
So wrapped up in themselves
we are able to remain here,
unknown
unbothered
uninvaded  
and the sun a kilomètre zéro, blazing bright center,
lighting our way to more,
            far beyond the blue, wet contentious stone. 

© David Siller – Photo and Poem – 2017

.

 

*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author. VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

 

#100Days100Poems Day 21

Even the nation’s most important cultural institutions are in the struggle against the cacophony of crazy from Trumpet and his minions. The Museum of Modern Art recently installed work to add voice to the chorus of those of us protesting and fighting. With each plaque accompanying the pieces you read

This work is by an artist from a nation whose citizens are being denied entry into the United States, according to a presidential executive order issued on January 27, 2017. This is one of several such artworks from the Museum’s collection installed throughout the fifth-floor galleries to affirm the ideals of welcome and freedom as vital to this Museum, as they are to the United States.”

Inspired by this, today’s poem will be the first of eventually several ekphrastic pieces responding to some of the works in the MoMA’s collection. The poem, untitled at the moment, simply bears the name of the artist and sculpture. Photos of the piece are the author’s own.

 

 

 

The Prophet 1964
Parviz Tanavoli, Iranian and Canadian, born 1937
Bronze on wood base

I. The Profit
Eyes downcast
 this blockhead leaning or falling back
  hands worse than tied: stopped locked and boxed
   such constraints only propel the reverse
    this is the devolution, where capitalism
     trumps democracy, where regression
      brings a high ROI, at least to the top
      (lean back enough, you’ll see up there)
       hands worse than tied: unable to reach the ballot box
        from this prison of our own (though not the majority of us)
         making the stench in the air comes from the refilled swamp
          a reminder that money does(n’t?) buy democracy

                                                      The Prophet II.
                                                    Eyes high & wide
                                               arms folded & strong
                                         we lean into the future
                                       lean into the struggle
                                    our queer straight immigrant
                                  citizen shoulder to the wheel
                                 you see hollowed stomach,hungry holes
                               this is how we feed ourselves,
                             that pit yearning for freedom
                           this pit to be filled with justice,
                         that with equality, this with light,
                       those with shared bread, shared love,
                     shared dream
                    this is the revolution,
                   where, like comic book heroes,
                 we stand firm, we plant ourselves like a
               “tree beside the river of truth,
             and tell the whole world, No, you move
           because for the struggle forward is the only way


through walls & bans & backroom bargains
through bought pols & bought polls & 
bought nominations & bought abominations
the power of a prophet always mightier than that of the profit

 


© David Siller – Photos and Poem – 2017

.

 

*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author. VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

How to Poetry Better (*w/ apologies to Fischli &Weiss)

The Guggenheim Museum here in New York City recently closed a wonderful retrospective of the Swiss artist duo of Peter Fischli and David Weiss. For those unfamiliar with their work (as I was), I suggest reading this from one of the Gallery Guides who posted on the Guggenheim Museum’s blog. Explore the site further to learn more about the exhibit.

 

One of the things that struck me about the retrospective was the infectious sense of play that clung to the works and also influenced museum goers of all ages. You could hear laughter and sighs of contentment, bursts of Aha! as jokes or visual puns sunk in; the entire space was filled with the buzz of people not just talking and reacting to the art, but feeding off its energy and fun. I’m currently working on a poem that more directly deals with the themes of Suddenly This Overview and some of the popular opposites that emerge there. But this present blog post comes inspired by a completely different piece in the exhibit, the Large Question Pot (1984), an enormous painted polyurethane and cloth vessel, filled with dozens upon dozens of questions on the inner wall, written in German in various colors.

large question pot
Photo by Philip Greenberg for the New York Times

 

In keeping with the theme of play (and, in some cases, the juxtapositions found in popular opposites), I wrote answers to some selected questions that the curators translated for the exhibit. These answers, at times short poems, or even poetic bits, or simply sharp responses, were written in quick bursts, as the muse struck, with no rhyme or reason necessarily to unite them, other than the poetic exercise itself. At some point I’d like to find translations of all the queries inside Large Question Pot (my German being, well, non-existent), to continue exploring what Fischli and Weiss bring out of me with their work. Until then, you’ll need to be content with these selections.

 

 

 

 

 

A Kettle of Answers to

Select Queries from Large Question Pot

When does the money get here?

Tuesday. As long as I get the burger today.

Should I put a red hat on?

No.

Should I sing?

And dance. But no beatboxing. Or humming.

Or mumbling. Or made up lyrics. Read the

karaoke screen for gods’ sake!

 

To whom is the moon useful?

Wooing lovers & lost wanderers & whitening

launderers & leaping wagyu & wage deficient laborers &

lonely werewolves & star-struck stuck strivers lacking in accuracy

Am I being watched?

Nice tie.

Should I invade Russia?

Napoléon: Non.        Reagan: No.

HItler: Nein.                Genghis Khan: Maybe.

        McDonald’s: HELL YEAH!

Should I go to the zoo?

Old MacDonald: But there are so many creatures on my farm

Ol’ Dirty Bastard: Brooklyn zoo!

Ol’ Man River: Roll along, jus’ roll along

Old Man: No, The Sea

Who governs the city?

Mr. Mayor, cousin to the congressman, son of the

senator, consort to the queen, lackey to the lords,

monkey for the mob, that sniveling sot standing at the open bar.

Why must I always fight?

Because of your honor. I’m a man

hero dreams etc, etc

Should I lie?

awake at night the mind swarming with thoughts lapping worries in photo-never-finishes?

saying the thing which is not? I love you.

down? Only if the ache has reached the tips of your fingers

Am I the chosen one?

Let’s review. She chose you and divorced you. They hired

the other candidate. The bouncer left the velvet rope up.

They skipped your number at the butcher’s. They called another name

down on The Price Is Right.

Sans scar, sans midichlorians, sans hammer, sans scantron, sans prophecy,

sans sword, sans portent, sans oracle, sans sacrifice, sans adoptive parents,

I’m gonna go with no.


Is there another bus?

The SMS says six minutes and the schedule says

yes and the queue says probably and the traffic

eventually and past experience at some point and

all I want is a window seat and a courteous driver

 

Why are the forests silent?

With no hikers and no bears and no trees or leaves or

loves falling, they’re really just enjoying the peace.

Do I know everything about myself?

A. YES                C. Maybe

B. NO                  D. Can I?

E. ALL or NONE of the above

Why can’t I sleep?

GCS nighttime

Who will pay for my beer?

On Tuesday, when Wimpy catches me back for

that burger, I got your beer.

Where are the galaxies moving to?

On up. To the east side. Where they’ve finally got a piece

of the pii-iii—ie.

What does my dog think?

IMG00016-20110103-1419

Do I stink?

Yes. At many things. But not hygiene. I bathe like nobody’s

business. Soaps and scrubs and shampoos and exfoliants

keep me clean. But they’re no help to my math skills,

flirting, dancing, drawing, and picking the fastest line at the market.

Was I a good child?

Grandma J: Indeed, the family’s Great White Hope

Grandpa L: I won’t get to see

Grandma L: Save the one time I drove you, wiperless, in the rain

Grandpa F: I won’t get to see either, but drink this beer, it’ll open your appetite

Grandma E: You’re too young to be bad, and I definitely won’t get to see

Mom: That’s my boy

Dad: Until you got your license

Brother J: Hell no, you just got away with it

Sister A: Probably-obably


Is the New Ice Age coming?

–Man, are they making another one of those movies?

or, alternatively,

–Of course, and the polar bears are more than a little impatient.


How far can one go?

Space-You-are-here-950x320

Is everything a game? And is it over?

If yes, up up down down left right left right

A B B A start select start. Then 99 lives.


Am I not right to ask?

it’s just that I never ask the right

questions or proffer the right answers

she: can I get your number? me: really?

she: flirts. I flirt. 20 minutes. Dammit I should’ve asked for her number.

Should I go? Should she stay?

Is she coming? Is she going? Is it love? Is it

like? Is it over yet? Is it really starting?

How will I know? How will I know? How will I knooooow?

Who you gonna call?

Naughty? Nice?

Candidate A? B? R? D?

When does it end?