moon traveller herald

  Jack Vaughan 3 · StPatsPoems2017

 Mission Hill Gas Lights Wheezing in the morning  stewing all in it wheezing cloud of  power plant particulates the gaslight hums down on Shepard St  where the bikers would party where the cobblestones dont answer the phone and the mass art people were mass art arty the gaslight hums on Folsom   DeQuinceian glowing the brothers open the door in millimeters slowly and the gaslight hums at Flann Obrien's alley where George feeds the flocking birds St Francis in his sandals the gaslight hums on.

  A monk's prayer Bitter is the wind tonight, It tosses the ocean's white hair: Tonight I fear not the fierce warriors of Norway Coursing on the Irish Sea.  -Anonymous  [Translated by Kuno Meyer] Wind fierce to-night Wind  fierce to-night. Mane of the sea whipped white. I am not afraid. No ravening Norse On course through quiet waters. -Anonymous [Translated by Seamus Heaney] Serendipity today - I pull out a Kuno Meyer translation from St Patrick's Irish Poetry posts past. And lo, that evening, reading through a book of Seamus Heaney translations. I discover the same poem with a different rendering. The fear of the Viking raider impelled many an imagining of the sea, and poem. [- J.V. The painting is by Albert Ryder.

  I wish, O Son of the living God, O ancient, eternal       King, For a hidden little hut in the wilderness that it      be my dwelling. An all-grey lithe little lark to be by its      side, A clear pool to wash away sins through the grace      of the Holy Spirit. Quite near, a beautiful wood around it on every      side, To nurse many-voice birds, hiding it with its      shelter. A southern aspect for warmth, a little brook across      its floor, A choice land with many gracious gifts such as be      good for every plant.  ... This is the husbandry I would take, I would choose,      and will not hide it: Fragrant leek, hens, salmon, trout, bees. Raiment and food enough for me from the King      of fair fame, And I to be sitting for a while praying God in      every place. - Anonymous (Courtesy of Kuno Meyer)

At the Supermarket on Tremont dressed liked Zorro, the Shiek and the Invisible Man, how abby normal-  the new normal, how great the anxiety in the Campbell Soup can.                              - Jack Vaughan

The fog was misting - the crypto was descending. it was the late innings - someone agreed. in the big city - of holland and his submarine, smart guy with a dumb phone bummed a light off me. SAID man those boots are played out that umbrella's had it and some then your feet smell like tuna in august and your hair is taking on the mange and your house is on fire in hell, sir so go take the long way home no one can tell me Jupiter's not blue or neon aint atop new york's arch of triumph but thank you for the light sir tobacco will cure my bones and choir boy like, he lit his butt where the fog was misting - the crypto was descending. it was the late innings - someone agreed.                                                    - Jack Vaughan, 2018

============ in mission hill back in the cold war a race of cowboys lived underground they were hydrogenated cowboys flew b-47s they were on call serious cigarette smokers all had a hotline to the nike base hotrods and ransil functions in their basements i coulda heard their chatter on my quaker oats crystal radio all they wanted was the news the sapphire realization of impermanence and they got what they could looking out from the hole in the ground on the hill you could get there through dr ransil's garage if you could calculate the function chrome smoke still rises on the  phantom empire  below tombstone city shapes gray search lights probe the dark background of time Gene - the singing cowboy with his cavalry legion ever on the way. - Jack Vaughan, April 2012

Today seems like a good day to watch the classic elongated serial Spysmasher. I was actually lucky enough to meet the real Spysmasher. He had been a college mate of one of my instructors at Mt Ida. He told me about the patent on the rheostat. He'd created it and it found use in Wire-round variable resistor controlling ovens, heaters and the like. For making bleeder circuits and voltage dividers. You know. Spysmasher was a monster euchre player, according to my prof. He could play the game of euchre . But he could cheat - you had to watch him with that euchre.  Drove a 500-mph Gyrosub. At one point he was brainwashed by The Mask using a Brainograph. But, like with most crazy things, he done got over it.

Poem-Passing the Hogbutcher Edge empty empty empty brick foundries, metal shops and drear depots on the rail out of chicago adjustable clamp co. -  architectural steel chicago mailing tubes  - mountains of tires and empty empty emptiness the secret health plan's no secret anymore we are adjusting to the mean and making america great again the prime minister of india is visiting and he's going to help might send one of the man hole cover factories back to neenah Make grates in America again lights on dusty sandlot ballfield empty empty empty now the first ball ever is in a wobbly orbit and  mr trump is alone on his podium                                                                        - Jack Vaughan See also CityCityCity writeup

Power9 die Let me riff a little on Kuno Meyer. His name surfaced on my horizon way back. The book was Selections of Ancient Irish Poetry (1911). I bought a replicated version of the book - which was something you did back in the day on out-of-print books whose copyrights had expired. A nifty version of Selections of Ancient Irish Poetry is now on the Web via the Way Back machine . Memorable name and it belonged to a guy who was very deep into early Irish poetry. His translations were amazing. You know there are some people (Angel Flores is another) who get it, when it comes to translating poetry. I didn’t really know anything about Kuno himself. And was disappointed when I looked him up (cursorily) that there wasn’t much about his talent .. but there was a whole lot about his controversy. I just learned today he was a German scholar, and he went to Great Britain as a student, and he developed a love for Irish poetry. But what he became famous for was something completely othe...