Lucien Stryk - the poet as my teacher

I am deeply saddened to learn of poet Lucien Stryk's passing. He was my teacher, for a couple of undergrad semesters right when I discovered I was a poet (he supported this notion of mine). I bumped into him on his way to our class the one & only time I blew off class. I told him I was skipping class; he said it was a wonderful idea; I should not come to class for it was a lovely spring day - the birds were outside and i should be too. I agreed the day was lovely but I admitted that in fact I was going to a dark basement to practice with my band - for which I sang & wrote the lyrics (poetry,therefore). He immediately announced that this too was a fine way to spend my time in lieu of attending the day's class. We were both rather amused and this meeting has remained one of the most entertaining & most reassuring coincidences I've ever experienced. Later, in a graduate independent study where we met occasionally to discuss my work he told me "Raymond, I cannot show you how to write." I already understood this but was a little surprised he expressed it that way; what followed displayed his winning dry humor. He told me that at that point he couldn't assist me any further than he had, that I already was a good writer: my writing was vibrant , imaginative , and that "It's particularly strong when you're upset about some woman." That last line was insightful, to the point, and one of the funniest things anyone has ever said to me (though I don't remember whether or not we laughed). That was our last class. Maybe I saw him in the hallway or something a couple of times after that; I don't recall. For the next ten years until I moved out of state, I would look in every record store hoping to find a copy of his Folkways LP so I could drive out to DeKalb, say hello, and have him sign it. I never found a copy, and never drove to DeKalb to say hello. Years later, living in Los Angeles, I bought it online - Lucien Stryk: Selected Poems Less than a year ago, before moving out of California, I walked through Pershing Square in downtown Los Angeles and contemplated his reading of his "Christ of Pershing Square." Those who have read it know what a great writer he was; those who have heard him read it (or anything) - in person or on the Folkways record - know what a fantastic voice he had. But upon just now learning of his death, these great talents are not what first came to my mind. What I first thought of was how personable he was, & funny he was - and how in the brief time we knew each other he used that humor to show how well he knew me. It was a skill he showed in class a lot, using unexpected humor to demonstrate his understanding of his students and their work. This was part of another great talent- his gift for teaching. I will always be grateful to have been his student, and to have enjoyed his humor. I'm glad to have brought him some enjoyment through my writing, which he exhibited through engaged and dramatic descriptions of my poems. I knew him only a short time, but will always remember him as a great writer and teacher. And though his writing is very serious, I remember him clearly as a poet with precise timing and a grand sense of humor.

It's Daylight, America

Okay America:

My Belated Write-In Presidential Candidacy / Exactly-On-Time Announcement of new party for the Future

Disclaimer / Points of Certain Failure regarding November 6, 2012 Write-In:

• Many states have write-in registration requirements / deadlines, all of which I've missed.

• No write-in candidate could ever win White House (William Fife Knowland & Strom Thurmond won Senate seats…)

Platform for the future, starting now:

• no patriotic appeals, except as noted*

• separation of state and church (notion will sell better to the anti-government pro-religious fervent with this simple repositioning of nouns)

• tax reform, emphasizing an inheritance tax (percentile increase with age of wealth)

• marriage (& divorce) equality, even for plural marriage as seen in origins of "Governor" Romney's church (this is a dirty tactic to smear Mr. Romney; the plural marriage component likely to be abandoned in event of Mr. Romney's loss this coming Tuesday or whenever election outcome is eventually determined)

• a new branch of the military, dedicated exclusively to defending the sun; this is exception as our sole *patriotic appeal. We will pledge to claim the sun, the source of all life on Earth (… charging other nations for Sun Power & immediately remedying our economy forever into a state of dominance) for America, just as we placed the flag on the moon.

This will allow me,

as candidate,

to run

on endless pun

as America's Sun;

my name after all is the very solar Ray [legal name: Raymond. But I have history of also going by Ray, so there should be no concern that anyone can "Barry Soetoro" me. My birth certificate is yellow, like the sun, but I'm all Red White & Blue]. As untold billions (generated from aforementioned "Aristocrat Tax" as well as other, as-yet undisclosed means) will be spent, and lives lost, in this Solar Territory Expansion we will need to posit this as brave courageous and patriotic — but also strategic — ultimate drive for Energy Independence: acquiring and harnessing the greatest source of power in our solar system. Also, as it's the source of all life, this should inoculate our party (with a platform championing reproductive rights, birth control, and sexy new methods thereof) against any charges of not being pro-life enough.

Party to be named:

DAYLIGHT PARTY.

Again, being named "Ray" I am a natural candidate.

• full openness and transparency, exemplified by our signature Earthbound legislation, the "Daylight Act" (actualizing the second meaning of the Daylight name, in the “Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants.” sense)

• exposing the fatal flaws of both parties, which with each passing minute render the Republicans too evil and greedy, the Democrats too ineffectual and weak and compromised, and either/both too indistinguishable to lead This Great Nation, the Rightful Guardian of the Sun, These Free and Remarkable United States.

lovesongs & bygones

lovesongs & bygones and waitress missives, a christmas fissure left me broken still in the springtime heather– a furnace to burnish my boastful misgivings.

and, across town

rats eat baby arms

and higher suits sell the rodents' leavings-

  infant fingernails bound with blood thinning pesticide

while students*

*yes, they do

dance 

& I paint a banner which reads: Scarlet

or was it Amber

or it says Violet or Jade

all the same, in grey.

The bicycle messenger leaves at the first hint of rain; the terrible actor recites the parade route & I'm just about ready to shit on the sundial in the moonlight.

to a sunny witch aspirant

I kept myself from bringing down the house
you think you build daily
(I refrained from
Protest once for
you . a true protest
against the injustice
of stupidity and
bad art.)

is it
The short days
seduce me? Was
it the way
dusk echoed off
the snow?

-it w as the way
the dusk echoed
off the snow.

oh you summer leaves
fuck off

oh you summer
lovers fuck off
too
eh you summer
lovers
   warm yourselves
of nothing . nothing is when you leave
the world (spring and autumn lovers
  beware -
you are cheapened by
proximity to summer.)

Lemme show you how Cold Love
                                       can be

who forecasts Romance's
                            end?
who calls for this
Slow rain to crack
the ice I pace
(upon)?

Your
incantations
       lack proper
  occult grammar.

You hacked your
  magic past
the initiates but
I always had  to
force myself to
suspend disbelief.

the new never

when you want trouble, there is no trouble
- when you don't want trouble, there is
- when you have what you want, it is taken away
- when what's taken away appears before you, you are no longer sure you want it back
- when you balk at attempting to retrieve what was stolen, you wonder if you erred through pride or obstinacy
- there is no victory in the face of deeply experienced loss; what is lost cannot be retrieved
- memories of what is irrevocably gone do not bring comfort or relief, only a stinging rebuke of what has come in the wake of yesterday, the substitute experience that does't even pale in comparison; today is like a vapor in competition with a ghost (ghosts are forever; vapors mist away)

•• have I replicated the error yet?
•• have the errors of my way been documented in the process?
•• can there be a new always? or just the same old never?

{fin}

I drew a comic in support of the ground zero mosque; this comic depicts Mohammed.

I drew a comic in support of the so-called Ground Zero Mosque; this comic depicts Muhammad

in the first panel in which he appears,  I drew him in full burqa.  I figured no one could be offended, because you couldn't really see the messenger behind all that.

a couple of panels later, I drew him as a question mark, so you could see him in this poem. Here- Muhammed: ?

I designed a bumper sticker about prayer in defense of womb inns' rights. Intended to offend veryone and meant to be adhered to bumpers in church parking lots. It read:

Thank God For Abortion.

I wrote a play about the duality of Jesus, called "The Crucifixion of Christ's Cock." It offended a gay Catholic in my state school theater class. I told him I was not the enemy.

I jotted down some dreams about the woman I actually loved and shared a couple of these with a therapist. It changed nothing. The woman still (had never) loved me; the casual Jungian analysis did not make her betrayal any less injurious to my soul.

She kissed me- one last time- on the cheek / in a garden / like Judas. 

So wonder who or what is betrayed when you:

-panic over worship

-are afraid to draw the prophet

-assail the halted mothers

-deny the messiah's manhood

-feign that dreams of love are easily replaced

Do wonder who or what is betrayed by:

-panic over prayer

-fear to draw the prophet

-hatred of the halted mothers

-denial of the messiah's manhood

-feigned repairs to the heart

(- feigned love met with feigned indifference)

Perhaps God is betrayed; perhaps the truth is betrayed.

Perhaps god and the Truth are one and the same. Or

maybe / "perhaps"

do you

think

(you can 

whisper it)

they could be

opposites

?