JUST BOOKS - (JUST PHOTOS - 28/feb/2012)

 *   *    *    *    *    *    *

ON "CHE HAMZAH'S MONKEY" - Owen Davis - Stingy Artist/Last Straw, 1988.

The life and legs of a book always amazes. Of recent times have met and had good chats with my Malay/Sufi friend, Suzuki. Warmth and ease was there from the start. Instant. In the usual flow of Zen and Sufi tales and stuff, i happened to mention that i had published a book of Malaysian travel poems by my friend, OWEN DAVIS. i followed this up by giving him a copy the very next day.
                                      SYNCHRONICITY !
Suzuki actually knew CHE HAMZAH - The Puppet Master. Had been a student of his as a young man in Malaysia. Suzuki said Che Hamzah was one incredible guy = shaman, spiritual teacher, a thrower of shadows and voices, AND that he had died about 10 years ago.
i relate this to OWEN (nearby, in Bournemouth ! AH ! a real poet in Dorset !) and he is not only amazed but also, not amazed. These synchronicities DO occur. Owen tells me, he could have bought one of Che Hamzah's puppets for just £10. in the '70's - but had no room in his rucksack ! It would now have been such a treasure. Of course the real treasure-house is memory.
i am increasingly amazed at the interconnectedness of all things = the readers of this blog; 6 billion people on this planet;the Milky Way; Indra's Net; countless BIG BANGS; the endless possibilities in the beginner's mind.....infinite stupidity.........i am moved to tears as i type this/ at all of this. & this. AND THIS. and even this....  

* * * * * * * *

THE BOOK THAT NOBODY WANTS !

If one can believe it, not one outlet in Dorchester were interested in having even one copy on their shelves. Variety of reasons - from "too expensive" or even, that they didn't think there would be any interest ! DUH ! THOMAS HARDY, son of Dorset !. DORCHESTER, the County Town.! Tourist season coming up!. Absolutely not a problem not to place them. i just "DON'T BELIEVE IT" !

OH WELL...it is available @THE DANSEL GALLERY, ABBOTSBURY and THE ANTIQUE CENTRE , Nr.BREWER'S QUAY,WEYMOUTH. And, of course it will always be here @ Golden GOJI Hermitage.

Limited Edition of 75 signed and numbered copies @ £10 each.

However, everyone DID think they were beautiful, little hand-made books. Problem, i guess, was that they had never seen this sort of "book" before."It is almost an "art object" one person said, "i wonder where the best place for it would be?"  ....Answers on a postcard to me, the publisher @ Stingy Artist Editions..i do everything, apart from the actual printing..even make sauerkraut and sourdough bread. COME...TASTE AND SEE.

KWAN YIN'S BLOSSOMS IN WEYMOUTH

SUDDENLY,"MY" HANDS ARE MY FATHER'S HANDS ON

EARLY -MORNING-BUS-SEAT-RAIL-BEFORE-ME.

HANDS THAT HELD ME,THAT DID NOT KNOW THEIR OWN FATHER'S HANDS

THAT SAVED ME FROM MY BABY-TEARS-AND-FEARS

AT THE END OF THE ORCHARD UNDER BLOSSOMS.

AND THE SOFT-SLIPPERED LITTLE-LADY

CLUTCHED AT "MY" HANDS WITH MY MOTHER'S HANDS

AS I STEADIED HER HOME ONE NIGHT

WITH HER PAINTED NAILS AND RINGS ON HER FINGERS AND BELLS ON HER TOES,"HE SHALL HAVE MUSIC WHEREVER HE GOES" MY MOTHER SANG UNDER BLOSSOMS.

AND MOTHERS ARE MOTHERS, OH! WHERE DO THEY GO? WHERE DO THEY GO?

THESE HANDS ARE TO HAND-OUT

AND HOLD-OUT

AND HANG-ON-TO.

AN OFFERING OF

OUR HELPING HEARTS

UNDER BLOSSOMS.

(winter 2011/2012

written on the road

around Weymouth)

                               *  *  *  *  *  *  *

ON WEYMOUTH'S SANDS IN FEBRUARY for Kris

Jerry Cobbold speaks on page 329 of WEYMOUTH SANDS (John Cowper Powys - The Overlook Press 1999) = "Your baboon's arse may be an Aurora Borealis..." And this morning on the beach @ Weymouth i see the universe in a gram of sand, a sea-weed, a playful dog, a plastic bag, a Ben Nicholson painting, driftwood, foot and paw prints, a moustache....

And at end of walk and musings, i find No.1 for No1. Appropriate that these things come to my mind looking thru his eyes from our Hemensley family home in Weymouth, in Dorset. "Have a base and be mobile," is what he has advised for years. Happy now, to be based in the county of Thomas Hardy, William Barnes & The Powys Family.

* * * * * * * * * *



BARTER : BREAD FOR POETRY

Left for THE PHOENIX & AIDAN CHAPMAN just after 6am.Down Goldcroft to THE ROCK,turn left towards town, thru subway, inner harbour... and walking and jogging, get to KING'S STATUE and THE PHOENIX. Aidan's "shift" started y'day evening (friday), will be finished around 9am, then home to BRIDPORT. i collect the promised organic rye sourdough and make for the sea-front = always on the lookout for a photo opportunity. and the sun has yet to rise into the sky.[had already given Aidan copy of my latest = "THE THOMAS HARDY POEMS" = as my part of barter.this is what i prefer as business practice].

******************

A LIFE DEFINED BY BOOKS #1

THESE WE HAVE LOVED - from childhood to the '70's, until this present moment, even in this present breath, THIS is all we know....the future runs free. 7.25a.m......and ticking....

*************************

VALENTINE'S-DAY-MORNING

5.30 a.m. - bedside bliss

Breakfast bowl of hot porridge with :

oat,millet & quinoa flakes

sultanas, blueberries, apple & banana

cinnamon

sprouted flax-seed powder

raw honey

water and almond milk

and basking in bed

with thoughts of

THE VALENTINE'S DAY POEM

*

WO/MAN

*

THOSE FINE LINES

WRITTEN ABOUT

MOUTH & FACE

THOSE LIPS OF LOVE

THAT SMILE & KISS

YOUR LOVER'S BLISS.

*

A HUMAN ANIMAL

SOFT OF BELLY, BREAST,

HEART & FLESH

MOULDED BY ANOTHER'S WORDS

"FOREVER BLISS".

(Golden GOJI Hermitage 2011/2012)

* * * * * * *

EACH DAY IS A GOOD DAY

Seemingly, each day is the best of my life. Each day aspire to have no expectation of what lies in store. And it then exceeds the idea of my non-expectation for the day. Something actually happens which is always joyous and blissful. In fact, i probably misuse the term, but i feel as if this very body is a "bliss body". Is it because i am managing to be mindfully aware, and experience this present moment almost perpetually? This is my mind now trying to assess the past. Trying to confirm my progress out of over 40 years of anxiety. But no crowing about it. Everything seems fluid and easy now - (by comparison ? - is that what i still have not got away from ?) But there is nothing better than the present moment = THICH NHAT HANH = PRESENT MOMENT, WONDERFUL MOMENT.  Maybe i actually learned something from the 70 plus books i have of his. AH ! too many books ? As younger brother says when i relate that i have bought such and such a book, or found 2 or 3 second-handers = "You'll enjoy looking at those beautiful spines on your bookshelves ! You'll put them up there and see nowt else of 'em.!" And we are NOT from Yorkshire ! But in my opinion, there's nowt as queer as self. Time to drop it.?