Ellis Island

Never had spaghetti before coming to America. It took twelve days.
Botany Hill. Mr. Lang.
Always very nice to me that Mr. Lang.
Coming to America.
Didn’t see the statue.
Never had spaghetti before coming to America.
It took twelve days.
Doesn’t choke it fattens you.
Two plus two.
I could do long division by decimals.
Night School. Mr. Lang.
Always very nice to me that Mr. Lang.
Coming to America.
It took twelve days.
Must have been a lot of chickens in America,
I thought,
passing shacks and shacks crossing New Jersey.
Didn’t see the statue.
Can’t talk but can explain what it means.
It took twelve days,
coming to America.
I Never had spaghetti before coming to America.

First published in The Quarterly
C 1989

QUARTERLY, NO.11

Work

A pestilence fell upon the earth and he was removed from his place and taken to the place where the work was done.

The work began slowly, but then proceeded apace gaining in both efficiency and speed as the urgency of the work became apparent to many and many cooperated, placing themselves and their resources at the disposal of those who directed the work and some offered themselves body and soul to the completion of the task.

He was a carpenter and carpenters were required for work but not for the important work.

He did not participate in the important work which was better for him for by not participating he could observe the work and learn from the work.

The work, however, was never completed. Others intervened to stop the work. He was glad and rejoiced for though he was a carpenter he did not like the work at all.

And though he was glad and though he rejoiced he did not rejoice in the manner of rejoicing and could not return to the place from which he had come for it could not be found nor could those with whom he had come be found.

He did not rejoice in the manner of rejoicing for he could not find those of the place from which he had come. He felt a profound sorrow for the suffering of those of the place from which he had come.

The place of work was removed and what was left of the work commingled with the earth.

He crossed an ocean.

Walking along the beach he paused to bend over and retrieve a shell which smiling he placed in the hand of a girl who stood staring at the number on his arm.

This action distracted her.

She studied the shell.

Thank you, sir.

And in this new place this place by the ocean he saw there was much work to be done and since he had learned much about work and since he was a carpenter he embarked on this new work with all his heart and became greatly loved by all who lived in this place by the ocean.

And in time he met others from that other place of work, the place that no longer existed, the place commingled with the earth and he met one from the place from which he had come and rejoiced.

And those whom he met rejoiced and each day they rejoiced together for they remembered the work and they were together.

And he rejoiced in his work in this place by the ocean and he was filled with love and they were filled with love and together full of love they rejoiced.

The seed of a new pestilence fell upon the land.

And he came upon this pestilence and saw a man of pestilence carve the symbol of those who were of the work that began slowly, but then proceeded apace gaining in both efficiency and speed as the urgency of the work became apparent to many and many cooperated, placing themselves and their resources at the disposal of those who directed the work and some offered themselves body and soul to the completion of the task that had been stopped and commingled with the earth.

And he told the man of pestilence that this was an evil thing.

And there was a struggle.

The man of pestilence stabbed him many times in the head and neck and beat him with an object of religion and he died.

The people of the place by the ocean with whom he rejoiced remember this carpenter and this pestilence and the others from the place of work and those not from the place of work and bid others to rejoice with them and not with those of the work that began slowly, but then proceeded apace gaining in both efficiency and speed as the urgency of the work became apparent to many and many cooperated, placing themselves and their resources at the disposal of those who directed the work and some offered themselves body and soul to the completion of the task that had been stopped and commingled with the earth.

First published in Caliban
C 1993

Caliban 12

Fire

The fire was started by a spark
igniting coconut husk
fiber in a cushion maker’s house.

Several people die each year on country roads.
Returning inebriated from taverns,
body heat depleted by alcohol,
they are drawn to warm macadam.
They lie down.
Four out of five drivers stop.
Some are run over more than once.

The fire was started by a spark
igniting coconut husk
fiber in a cushion maker’s house.

They applaud as the hearse drives by.
Victim’s father witnesses the execution,
fulfilling the promise of the day
his son was buried.

The fire was started by a spark
igniting coconut husk
fiber in a cushion maker’s house.

Archbishop orders fiftyfour Templars
burned at the stake
for retracting confessions.
Bearded man stops at the center of the bridge.
He is assigned to the work crews.
He watches two infants and a woman
placed on a grill
over a firey pit.

The fire was started by a spark
igniting coconut husk
fiber in a cushion maker’s house.

First published in The Quarterly
C 1989

QUARTERLY, NO.11

Matisse in Morocco

When Matisse was in Morocco, he took up rowing. This presented a problem, because there wasn’t enough water around. So he lay in his bed and used his imagination. He held a brush in each hand and sat on a palette. The gentle curves of his windows became the spans of the bridges under which he had passed. The water was calm, but he had trouble keeping the boat steady as he picked up speed. “Damn this mattress,” he said. “It is not sufficiently firm.” He tried sitting on a carpet, but it was too uncomfortable, too hard. Later, he experimented with canvas. But the canvas, however much he pulled and pulled to make it taut, could never support his weight. At times he became frustrated, and cursed himself. “Damn,” he would say. “Why wasn’t I more like Picasso. Why didn’t I take up architecture, like Picasso.” But he persisted, and eventually made his way back to France.

First published in The Bridge, a Journal of Fiction and Poetry.
C 1997

Mother on the Train

I saw my mother on the train last night. She hadn’t changed a bit. Her hair was still frosted. Her eyes had the same tired expression She spoke of Christmas. “Didn’t we have fun,” she asked. “Didn’t we have fun?” She asked if we had fun. The trains run by the cemetery. Often I forget about it, I forget it is there. But if I look up at the right moment, I see the stones have marched further forward as the dead continue taking their places. At the current rate of advance, it will be full before I die. I try to place her stone. My sister went to check on it. The stone wasn’t set properly, she said, but the cemetery had promised to fix it and she drove out to make sure. She told my father that it was the way it should be, he needn’t worry anymore. He was surprised. His look betrayed that he, like me, had never gone back to the cemetery. But as for Christmas, we did have fun. I told her we had fun. It was her last Christmas and we knew that it was important to her that it would be fun. Without so much as one word we agreed not to argue, not to drink too much, to try and bring back the joy we experienced as children, before we became poor and disease had the audacity to strike not once but three times. I wanted to tell her this again, to tell her that we had fun, but when I tried to catch up with her at the station she had disappeared into the crowd and was gone.

First published in Cosmos, Number Two
C 1993

Fifth Avenue

I

He dances on manholes all over town. Francis, dancing, spins with one arm extended. His hand cradling popcorn attracts pigeons from the park to his wrist and sleeve. Bobbing up and down, they lose feathers which loopily fall to the ground as he struggles to maintain his balance. Francis, dancing, popcorn falling from the bag suspended from his belt, popcorn forming a circle around the manhole.

Cars swerve. Their drivers honking overwhelm the sound of pigeon wings and water from the fountain. Drivers gesturing urge him onto Grand Army Plaza.
Bismarck passes, walking briskly, the prozac tablets to be taken only under a doctor’s supervision filling his pockets. He glances repeatedly over his shoulder, certain of pursuit.
Francis, feeding pigeons, dances on a manhole cover avoided by cars and taxicabs with their hoods popped to let in the air.

II

Otto von Bismarck, boots rising high above the knee, slackens his pace and with diminishing strides eyes shop windows along Fifth Avenue. Trump Tower rises over his instep. His oversized sweater falls well below the waist, concealing the top of the boots and the loops used to pull them on.
Approaching Tiffany’s he spies the King of France.

He steps beneath the arch.

Too late! The king has seen him and now draws near.

“Oh! Ho, there! Otto,” he shouts, admiring the sweater taut over the belly and concealing just a tiny bit of those spectacular boots.

“Otto! How are you? Doing a little shopping? How are things in Prussia, Otto?”

Bismarck bounces on the balls of his feet, his heels gently tapping the pavement. He rubs his hands briskly together to disperse a slight October chill. He glances into the store to indicate he is waiting for someone and trying to be discreet.

The king, familiar with the game, understands.

III

Franklin mania was still going strong. There was a hit song. The Louvre staged a retrospective of his work, consisting of carefully matted newspapers and pamphlets. The famous Aphorism Wallpaper was all the rage and decorated the entry to the gallery.

The king had had enough. While he admired Ben’s wit and accomplishments and at times conceded he was the Newton of his day, Franklin had been in Paris for how many years now and he wished people would say enough! already. And so he ordered seven hundred commodes emblazoned with Franklin in profile and presented them to his dinner guests.

IV

Francis withdrew a plexiglass cigarette case, opened it and offered a Dunhill to Bismarck who refused with an I prefer cigars or a good pipe after a meal wave of the hand. He took one for himself and inserted it into a short cigarette holder withdrawn from his sleeve.

“And will you really leave this behind,” Bismarck asked, continuing the conversation from dinner.

“Yes.”

He renounced the plastics fortune inherited from his father and chose living by charity alone.

“Perhaps I will grow famous. Thoreau is thought a poor man, but he settled by railroad tracks and could always get back to town.”

“I see,” said Bismarck, raising the snifter to his nose to assess the swirling cognac.

“Personally, I prefer intrigue.”

V

Francis dances on manhole covers all over town. Franklin swerves to miss him, gesturing and cursing unheard behind the closed window.

The king, bidding Bismarck adieu, steps to the curb and raises an arm. The cab cuts across three lanes of traffic and stops.

(c) 1989 - 

PROJECT Finnegans Wake

The following methods of performing Finnegans Wake by James Joyce were developed in 1980. A slightly different version appeared in the Winter 1992-1993 issue of The Abiko Literary Rag.  Click here to learn more about the project and how you or your organization can participate in an upcoming reading.

PROJECT Finnegans Wake to expand the book and condense it into a small space, scatter and compress its sounds, draw together and separate readers and listeners in space, time and sound, reread the book in its entirety.

Critical attention has been placed on the structure of Finnegans Wake and hundreds of hours devoted to structural exegesis. Criticism frequently emphasizes structure in a manner which is reductive and risks trivializing the book. Joyce used structure and method as a means to an end and not for their own sake. His book cannot be restrained by structure or the meanings in language: They are free.

PROJECT Finnegans Wake brings the book to the world in as inclusive a manner as possible. Its premise is that Joyce meant the work to be read and enjoyed.

ActiONs:

I Sequential Reading in Different Locations

You have chosen or have been assigned a number of pages and start time and select a location from which to read. At the appointed second, read this section then go home. Envision readers positioning themselves on street corners, in supermarkets, airplanes or anywhere else where they would be reasonably conspicuous. The only positions preselected are the first (riverrun) and the last (the), which take place before Rauschenberg’s Bed in New York’s Museum of Modern Art.

II Simultaneous Reading in Different Locations

The difference between this version and version I is that in this case everyone reads their passage at the same time. The sounds are compressed in time but not in space.

III Sequential Reading in the Same Location

For this version a large hall is rented and the public is invited to enter and leave as desired. A carnival atmosphere develops in and around the hall. This is the microcosm, the counterpart to the carnival of the world surrounding each reader in version I.

IV Simultaneous Reading in the Same Location

For this version, the hall is filled with readers and at the appointed tunw everyone reads together. The public is invited to listen.

The four readings can be performed in any order. For example, IV can be performed as an overture to III, but this is not essential. All or some can be performed simultaneously. Each can be performed more than once.

Manifesto on Structure: Time

Time rigorously applied includes all aspects of the physical universe. The readers move the work through space and time.

The details of time are worked out in advance by the organizer. The organizer establishes the time it takes to read a representative page aloud without performing exegesis of each word and motif. The number of readers determines the length and duration of each passage. Each reader is assigned starting and ending page and line numbers, a start time, and duration. Each reader fills this duration exactly. Readers practice their sections to ensure each performance is in fact sequential or simultaneous. The personality of the reader is not essential. The blank of this page, and those appearing at the break between each chapter and book, is included in each duration. The duration applied is the time it would theoretically take to complete the page if words appeared. The silences are as important as the words.

Manifesto on Structure: Space

BegIN in this space or in any other space.

Manifesto on Structure: The Readers.

Here Comes Everybody

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The scenario for these performances of Finnegans Wake by James Joyce were developed in 1980 and a slightly different version appeared in the Winter 1992-1993 issue of The Abiko Literary Rag.

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26 Songs From Finnegans Wake

What follows are instructions for composing songs derived from Finnegans Wake by James Joyce. This description is (c) 1993. A similar version previously appeared in The Abiko Quarterly.

26 Songs from Finnegans Wake
First Construction

The basic construction of 26 songs is based on aspects of Finnegans Wake. Songs are generated in the following order.

1 song for 1 voice
4 songs for 2 voices
4 songs for 3 voices
8 songs for 4 voices
4 songs for 3 voices
4 songs for 2 voices
1 song for 1 voice

You must generate a table of random numbers of four decimal places. When constructing songs, begin with the first random number on your list, then proceed down the list without skipping a number.
The basic procedure for constructing songs follows:

Select voice
Select book
Select starting page in that book
Select starting line on that page
Select number of lines to be sung

These steps are followed in order for each voice in each song, with each step requiring one random number. The exceptions are the songs for one voice. These frame the cycle with the opening and closing lines of Finnegans Wake. They are constructed in the following manner:

Song 1 always begins at 3.1, that is, the first line of the first page of Book 1. To construct Song 1, therefore, you only need to select the voice (Step 1) and the number of lines to be sung (Step 5).

Song 26 always ends at 628.17, that is, the last line of the last page of Book IV. To construct Song 26, you select the voice (step 1) and the number of lines to be sung (step 5). Since you need to end at 628.17, you back up from this line to arrive at the starting point.

For the remaining songs, Voices and Books (steps 1 and 2) are selected based on the following chart. Numbers of four decimal places are rounded to two places:

Number            Voice          Book

0.75-0.99      Soprano         IV
0.50-0.74         Alto              III
0.25-0.49        Tenor             II
0.00-0.24        Bass                 I

The starting page of the Book (Step 3) is determined by rounding the random number to three digits. These three digits will direct you to the page of the Book where the starting line of the part will be selected. Note, these are not the same as text pagination. Book I, for example, contains 213 pages, and begins on text page 3 of the Viking edition. If the number generated exceeds 0.213, then loop back. Thus, 0.223 gives you page 10 of Book I, which equates to text page 13.

The starting line of the page selected (Step 4) is determined by rounding the random number to two digits. Begin counting at the top of the page. If the number generated exceeds the number of lines on the page, then loop back to line one. Footnotes count as lines.

Steps 3 and 4 together have give you the starting point. The first two digits of the next number generated give the number of lines to be sung by this voice (Step 5).

Vocal Ranges: Voice indications are general. The singer determines the relevant range.

Tempo: Each voice proceeds through the text as quickly or as slowly as desired.

Role of the Conductor: The conductor indicates when each song begins. The singers begin at any time on or after the conductor’s cue. The performers are permitted to start and stop as often as they like, but they must sing the complete text without alteration.

(c) 1993. Click here for a PDF version containing a set of 26 Songs made from these procedures.

Hunt

Fifty fathoms to a six year old
To a father, a couple of feet. Here you go:
Treasure.
There is no sea glass today.
The tide is in.

First published in The Bridge
C 1998