Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
— Wallace Stevens, “The Snowman”
“When you're tired and you're hungry and you want something cool
Got something better than a swimming pool” (Tom Waits)
As the year begins its denouement, I want to (briefly) celebrate one of my favorite small presses, namely above/ground press, the lovechild of Rob McLennan, who also edits a poetry journal titled periodicities, as well as a collaborative poetry titled Touch the Donkey, in addition to writing and publishing poetry — and all the other ways in which a human being can make a life of his commitment to literature.
On that note, Rob recently wrote about Pierre Joris’ Poasis II: Selected Poems 2000-2024— and included this divinely-wrought poem by Joris, whose writings and translations nourished my understanding of language, and whose presence as a physical being is greatly missed by all who knew him.
Among the many writings delivered to my mailbox by above/ground press this year, I only have time to mention a few, and, so I do, mention them, with love and gratitude, beginning with a poem by Austin Miles from the journal, Touch the Donkey:
Speaking of the woods, or that patch of surviving pine trees two inches behind the curb where the ice cream truck stops, there are a few more popsicles shaped like poetry that I couldn’t forget, including:
Against Perfectionism & Other Poems by John Cone
Spamtoum by Noah Berlatsky
whittle gristle by Lori Anderson Moseman
Bibliomancy by Leah Souffrant
Studies by Micah Anthony Cavaleri
Chimneys by Tom Jenks
— and here’s a short poem by Tom Jenks from one of those little stacks that breathes smoke out of a house seasonally:
“Shoo-be-doo, ba-ba-da” (Tom Waits)
More ice cream that fueled my delirium from the above/ground offerings:
My Life as a Notebook by Jason Heroux
The Sun Will Bleach It Away by Rebecca Comay and Cary Fagan
Angel Dust by Micah Ballard
The Oh Oh by Beatriz Hausner
The Man: Micro Poems by Benjamin Niespodziany
The World Is Beautiful by Lillian Necakov
Never Saw It Coming by Steph Gray
pedagogies for the planthroposcene by Orchid Tierney
. . . which leads me to this, namely, a poem by Orchid Tierney from the chapbook mentioned above:
“I wish I had the guts to bum one but we’ve never met” (Tom Waits)
Ice cream is a pleasure. Sometimes ice cream owns its eater, or this is what I told myself after reading Lydia Unsworth’s GAG and cursing its genius. Loved it. Begged it not to end. Took it to the pond and read it to the swans. You should try it.
Finally — post festum— I fold Tom Waits’ “Grapefruit Moon” into one thousand paper airplanes that want to be a book… and launch them with a certain futility from a hill on this freezing day that begs for mittens and kittens and music:
'Cause every time I hear that melody
Something breaks inside
And the grapefruit moon, one star shining
Can't turn back the tide
*
Austin Miles, “Authorial domain of the representative” (Touch the Donkey 44)
Orchid Tierney, “it’s amazing how the sun . . . “ (pedagogies for the planthroposcene)
Tom Jenks, “overalls” ( Chimneys)
Tom Waits, “I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love with You”
Tom Waits, “Ice Cream Man”
Tom Waits, “Little Trip to Heaven on the Wings of Your Love”
Tom Waits, “Lonely”
Tom Waits, “Midnight Lullaby”