Write minimally: one line or sentence per day

From a thread spun for ModPo from Bernadette Mayer's List of Journal Ideas: Would you like to "condense" your day into a line? It's just a handful of days left after all... My day's sentence is hanging wet laundry mindful of what feathers may remain of a turkey some dog left in our yard to die. That doesn't look too minimal. Give it a spin? How was your day?

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It's a migraine day of driving my family to and fro to the in-laws and back, back in time to watch a vid discussion talking a bit about a book on traffic, and another one about "shorter memory" and manatees, when what I was really looking forward to was Bergvall's spin on Dante because I'd like to know if the crew would be covering Bergvall's 700 years note in relation to Dante's intense attachment to (celestial) timing.

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A daughter trying to slide down her mother's thigh while the mother's watching "On John Cage's Writing through Howl".

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that mighty thick book you showed in the vid dicussion, must get my hands on that one

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Taking the family out for breakfast, giving the crew plus points in their Survey Form specifically in Maintenance and Cleanliness, because the kids have been disarranging chairs and were having such fun with it, running up against no one.

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"mutual taming" is beautiful, both as idea and image

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The sky over the park was heavy, but it was popcorn and ice cream and a clean getaway awaiting the family.

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Translated a mother's poem for mother's day after watching phonics songs and squishy ice cream cones with the daughters.

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Transmissions of violence

Enuresis
by Cid Corman

Terror—Ed—is not
Sitting in one's piss.
I know—I've sat there—

I've slept there and did
Most of my childhood.
That was warmth—in fact—

And comfort—in spite
Of the unconsealed
Unconsealable

Smell. Terror? That was
And always will be
Mother cursing Dad

And there there I am
Alone in that night
Hearing that door slam.



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AN— was oddly happy to hear about a poet who was very generous and responsive to the next generation. led me to think that maybe 'Mother' and 'Dad' here might also somehow represent previous generations of authorities (govt? literature?), i mean, other authorities too, yes, but also definitely (primarily?) the parents!

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AN— cid is amazing. felt like i was right there with him between the sheets hearing the door slam

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AN— graphic! but, okay

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DE— Yes. And he was so aggressive about it, in the first two lines. He was so eager to negate his friend's experience of terror with his own recollection of it. Upon rereading it, I heard an echo of the door slamming in the first stanza. I see the persona "consealing" his friend by cutting out the claim he was responding to, by reburying "Ed" in the foxhole, between his dashes and the words "Terror" and ""is not". There's a third terror at play here.

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DE— I subscribe to that reading, now that you mentioned it. I was looking for some other verbal play in the order of unconsealed and unconsealable in this poem, and thought there was none, until your idea came along. Also, I believe that if "Ed" was being actively absorbed by "Terror," then it supports (I hope) my idea that the Corman-persona here is likewise a source of a subtler (but for me, unmistakeable) form of violence.

AN— if only for this thread, i agree that enuresis would have been a fine addition to the syllabus. But for now, it remains our mean little secret

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DE— Found your take on "in spite" and I see how that can be extended to Terror/Smell. It goes two ways after all, the situation in comparison being war. Eye for an eye. It makes me think too that while the "Ed" person has been somewhat coerced to take a position in the foxhole, this character (if taken as part of the US war machine) may be juxtaposed not only with the child but also with the parents.

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DE— I'm sorry I didn't see you were asking a similar question I read earlier. If you scroll down a bit to her comments, I gave it a shot there. I said it's a portmanteau, a word coming from a combination of words. But it's not used beyond Corman (and us overnight Cormanites) so it's possibly a neologism or invented word.

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DE— I think "unconsealed" is a portmanteau word. It's like smog which is a combination of two words, smoke and fog. Poets and fictionists (James Joyce is the great example of going crazy with this device) sometimes resort to this in order to enact various effects. Here, for me, it's a truly curious effect. He combines "concealed" with "sealed" and with the use of the prefix, he makes it to mean both unconcealed (revealed) as well as unseal (release). I love unconsealed though, as well as unconsealable, because as words forcing a union between themselves, it's as if they're still trying to conceal, still trying to seal. As if these words were the legs just won't come apart—even after all these years!—they're still trying to keep it in.

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AN— unconsolable! that's a find! i'm glad they posted this thread, otherwise i'd totally miss that. Thanks for the riff

DE— Yes, thanks that you riffed on it. I was intrigued by the word since I first heard it, but now that you gave me that angle, it's now become my single my favorite word in the threads. And... I do hope you got something from the link. It was a good listen for me, and it gave me some insight not just for this poem but also for "It Isn't for Want"...

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AN— I think this is a sound reading of the interplay of words. amazing how much nuance can be loaded into a poem

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a Diecinueve

aking tula
dibuho ni tilde


Siyang muli na namang ipanganganak
kung saang gilid ng kama ang mas ligtas.

Bago pa rin ang Bagumbayan maging sa bingit
ng kawalan ng malay-tao ng mga apo

ng ating mga apo. Iiyakan ang pabo;
susubaybay kung sa wakas mahahanap ng

pinaanod na tsinelas ang nabigong kapareha.
Sa dami na ba naman ng ating mga gabi

paano aawat sa pagbilang ng mga nadakip
bago pa natin mamalayan? Saan man magtanim

ng paa: tumiim na ang asin sa lupa.
Siya yaong sanggol na kahit paulit-ulit

itihaya, dadapa at dadapa. Akala mo
kung anong tampo sa gasera, parating tulog

at walang ano mang pagmamadali sa buhay.
At kung anong pag-ire natin sa isang iyan. Siya

na kung ano man ang ating isisigaw. Sa hirap,
halos lumuwa raw ang mata ng nagdadalang ina,

dumaloy, nagkatawang-balakang ang sipat.
Biyayaan natin ng isang palasak na pangalan.

Or, Berrigan and the Whale

3 Pages
by Ted Berrigan
for Jack Collom

DE— Let me just say that my heart skipped a beat when Berrigan's list mentioned the Hunt for the Whale. I read Melville in my youth when no teacher required it of me, and it was one of my greatest reading experiences. In fact, when the line struck me, the whole poem was suddenly flooded by the novel's immense waters. Even the title reminded me of Ahab's own 3 "pages," Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask, petty officers and middlemen on this the grandest and most foolish of ventures.

AN— the first part of the novel is encyclopedic, a sort of melville's a dummies guide to whales, whaling, and the color white (that last part is my fave). formally, they're essays. if i remember right, there should be a good handful of lists in the pequod: what to do with blubber, what to do with whale parts (look up cassock!) and others, a lot of how-tos here and there. starbuck was the most practical of them, the least metaphysical, and he must be partial to these lists. of course ahab would dash them all and have it his way! he has his own list. and his methods of staking the ship to his own TO-DO, his theatrics, his mythic references, that sinister, inert doubloon!

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AN— schopenhauer sounds right in this case. perhaps not only in our reading of the poem but also in berrigan's writing of it.

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[A post was deleted]

DE— Ahab's mission, and this list of ten things to do. They're a whole universe apart in terms of grandeur and scope and yes time (and diction, as I think you're pointing out too). Though they're both America, that much is true. And maybe I'm forgetting (and you've reminded me) that the creation of this poem is itself the hunt for the whale.

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AN— it could be a key to this, i agree. one among many, i'm sure bec of the nature of the poem, but still, a welcome entrance!

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DE— The last lines after NO HELP WANTED doesn't seem like things you do every day. There's the heart attack, the medal of honor, the house in the country: these are things to aspire to, such that every day builds up to them. I guess in the back of the psyche there's something that gnaws, a less obvious, less acceptable desire, something more Quixotic (forgive the mixed references though I'm fairly certain Melville the sailor was likewise referencing Cervantes the sailor), therefore more grand than any desire. Still, there's that other thing. Ahab was all about revenge. Could this be the hidden motive (motif) of the poem? Berrigan's revenge on US conservatism (prosaic, sorry!), it's pretensions, how if it has any greatness in it, you'll find it solely in the shortcomings? For some deep yearning here is unanswered (WCW on the poem: for lack of which people die miserably every day). Which brings us back to the port of poem as whale as poem.

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AN— and maybe beyond the revenge of the poem is the vindictive life. like Berrigan was saying something like: I won't get with your program folks! my poker, my lunch poems these fly in the face of your congressional medal of honor!

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DE— Forgive the re-post here; I'd like the Mates in my ship as well. I tried to read Berrigan by using the 3 MATES of Ahab (as you suggested). There's something there, though not so clear-cut, but perhaps the others can make more of it.

Here it goes. Melville's Pequod is a ship of symbols (although it can be read as a driven narrative even without any eye for allegory, we thus have movies of it here and there) and as such is a very symmetrical construct. The 3 MATES can be read as the stages of the human brain: 1st mate STARBUCK is the voice of reason, the schooled one, a pragmatist at heart. 2nd mate STUBB is much less refined, but in moments of clarity he embodies a folk sort of wisdom. Nevertheless, he's more Gung-Ho and is thus more open to the seductions of Ahab. But 3rd mate Flask has practically sold his soul to Ahab even without him asking for it, and since it's clear we're moving down the brain here, Flask is more bile and vengeance; he really takes the whales personally.

Beer? Jack off? Curse? Probably Flask. hunker down, quite merrily, life goes by: We could probably get a whiff of Stubb's pipe here (though he seems to be smoking with Flask in the earlier parts too). Which means that the last, where happiness is not happiness but something negotiated with weather (sails?), that could be Starbuck there, the only dissenting voice when the ship went mad with Ahab's bloodlust. He's the one with his eye still on Mary, his wife, their "house in the country," their nameless son.

But all of their tempers and powers taken singly or together: NOT ENOUGH

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DE— Others in the forum say that it's part of the incompleteness, the "NOT ENOUGH"

Poem says that it's a list of 10, but it doesn't always add up (though it depends on who's counting), almost always amounting to but nine items. In the anthology, it physically takes 2 pages, though it says three. So 3 pages follows that logic. (An aside, Calvino's "Six Memos" contains only five, suggesting we write the last one, perhaps that's the case here too? Add your page. Or add your thing-to-do?)

The others cut the poem into three, following the sectioning suggested by those phrases with purely capitalized letters. What do you think? Perhaps there's an important 3-page document somewhere in American history we should know about?

Anyway, I'm glad to have to think on it/ of it. Hope this helps.

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DE— Hi! It's an idea I got from your 3 ages thread. I hope I didn't misquote you. But yes, put like that I see that it somehow not only "clusters" but "furthers" all the cutting that's already been done in/by the poem.

AN— a very good idea. the more you read it that way, the more the 3 "sets" or "pages" distinguish themselves from each other

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DE— True and tragic, how the persona "can't even find that wholeness in the lifestyle of other Americans." He lists everything that everyone else is about but comes out empty-handed. Even with fame and security thrown in at the last breath.

AN— perhaps because fame and security was offered in the list? maybe that made it worse somehow?

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DE— It's hard (for me) to put the whiteness of the whale out of the picture when inside North Am Lit, but because Berrigan does it in cuts he could evade full reference (as an epigram wouldn't, or a direct quote) and that sometimes makes for more richness, a more textured reading. Perhaps the "paging" I did with the mates was a stretch as well. But it was such fun doing it.

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AN— the openness of a cropped line is interesting. that's probably why I loved not only following Tzara's instructions but reading the works of people who did. and now that Berrigan gives us a project like this, it's wonderful to welcome all associations in the tapestry of meaning

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DE— Ishmael as the sailor behind (or grafted into) Berrigan's persona, that's promising. What a bummer to miss this, so: thanks! Ishmael's more laissez faire, a down and out man, going where the wind would take him. Melville must have been trying his damnedest to draw a blank of a character, someone who'd soak in the whole Pequod, all its men and methods then live to tell the tale. Ishmael is a survivor (the survivor) of the mad quest, and his presence could change the motif from revenge to just pure survival, openness, going at it one day at a time.

AN— she is on to something. Pip also is mad(dened) enough to deserve a second look as an intertext of this poem

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AN— hegemonic parameters of quality? are you saying they are the gold standard of poets of the time? and that they are oppressive somehow as influence goes? if i hear from you, thanks

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DE— I do love Berrigan too. He and Corman and Armantout, they're great "finds" for me, and only made possible by "This".

AN— perelman too now, and bernstein and hejinian

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DE— I saw this a bit late, here's the summary of some hypotheses offered earlier:

1) NOT ENOUGH. 3 Pages makes you look for a page that isn't there (the poem takes up only two in a book), the texts and contexts from which these lines have been cut. It highlights the insufficiency of the list, perhaps also of listing, maybe of poetry.

2) 3 SECTIONS. Some believe that lines such as "BY THE WATERS OF MANHATTAN" cut the poem physically into three.

3) That the title refers to 3 PAGES known only to Berrigan (and other such "hidden" readings).

AN— or there are (at least) 3 ways of looking at everything here. maybe read/ lunch/ poems are three pages more than enough!

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DE— Thanks!

Wala raw mauuwi sa wala

Ang dahong nangungunyapit pa sa puno
     ng mga patunay, at kukulayan nang tumingkad
Lipas na ang silong para sa nakapagsarili

Saan aani ng pagsisisihan     Ngunit tayo—
     sino sa mga naglalambitin sa arko ang ating anak
Walang nakatitiyak kung mas gusgusin

     ang naatasang maningil sa kanila nang totoo
     magparusa, kung kailangan     Araw-araw mang maghanap
     lagas na ang mga ugoy ng kadena     Nakiki-ukit

     na lamang ng ngiti sa buhangin     Ilan sa kanila
Sa nagpapadausdos sa yero, ang mga bata

Gagayyem sa hal.

Kalalabas lang ng ikalawang isyu ng hal. Kalakip nito ang tatlong tula mula sa Gagayyem: "sapagkat sa tuldok na ito magsisimula," "siyang tuyong dahon sa ibabaw ng malagong damo," at "Alitaptap". Gaya ng inaasahan, wala na akong kontak sa mga kasamahan ko sa proyektong ito. Kung matutuwa man sila o magtataas ng kilay sa bagay na ito ay hindi ko na alam. Binasa ko isa-isa ang kanilang pangalan na para bang malalaman sa ganitong paraan kung nasa maayos sila. O kung nasaan pa, kung hindi sa maayos.

Araw naman ng Kalayaan. Mabuti sana kung makakatikim ng kaunti pang pahinga ang mga ito.

Usapang Oppen

Nitong Enero lang, nagkaroon kami ni Hani Julien ng daldalang online tungkol sa tulang "If It All Went Up in Smoke" ni George Oppen. Nakakuha akong permiso upang ilabas ang kanyang bahagi ng balitaktakan. Simulan natin sa mismong tula:

that smoke
would remain

the forever
savage country poem's light borrowed

light of the landscape and one's footprints praise

from distance
in the close
crowd all

that is strange the sources

the wells the poem begins

neither in word
nor meaning but the small
selves haunting

us in the stones and is less

always than that help me I am
of that people the grass

blades touch

and touch in their small

distances the poem
begins

D— Oppen! Pwede ka nang bumuo ng sariling poetics (for life) based on these three lines alone: "neither in word / nor meaning but the small / selves haunting"

H— Lakas maka-meta nito ser. Kaaliw. Yung mga putol at pag-hold back, bits and pieces ng thoughts at imagery, at yan ngang, "small / selves haunting," brings to mind yung idea ng poetry as the subject of itself. Parang lutang lang at "we are infinite" ang peg sa kabuuan. Hehe

D— yung meta talaga nito, hindi maiiwasan. poetry does not merely represent experience, but is itself experience. kaso parang kalahati lang ng tula kung hindi matitingnan yung mga bahaging hindi naman (entirely) solipsistic. tulad nung from distance / in the close / crowd all. i suppose distance is subject position, tas yung "close" ay yung tula? pero, ayun nga: "crowd all" so either isinisiksik sa tula ang lahat o umaalagwa ang tula sa pangkalahatan. well, ang saya, tama ka, holding back. kaya ayun, ambivalence. so heto i'm looking at "distances the poem" in at least two ways bec of your "we are infinite"

H— Ka-inspire nga po yung comment ng tula sa proseso ng pagtula na ginagawa na niya mismo sa tula.

"the sources

the wells the poem begins
neither in word
nor meaning but the small
selves haunting"

Habang yung tula e mukhang nagho-holdback lang kaya nagpuputol, pwede ring kine-cleanse nya yung sarili nya, sini-sift o pina-pound, "us in the stones and is less" tas yung mga susunod na linya, ayan na, "blades touch / and touch in their small / distances the poem / begins," as if sinasabi na pag nasala na yung moments, at ang meron ka na lang ay view nung mga maliliit na pagitan between blades of grass touching in small distances--parang ito rin yung "crowd all" na nagsisiksikan and yet umaalagwa--sa ganyang kondisyon lumalabas yung poem na "infinite". Hehe. Tas ang reader, mare-realize na nga lang na parang buhay buhay lang din ito.

Stray observation: yung "of that people the grass / blades touch", reference din po kaya kay Whitman?

D— tiyak yun! people of the grass ang dating sa akin niyan, so poets esp of the whitmanian stripe. or pwede ring artists in general in the sense of grass = jutes, haha

digress lang, pero ang dating sa akin nung blades touch at saka nung siwang sa pagitan ng blades (small distances) ay parang yung unang image dito sa some trees ni ashbery, yung mga dahon ng puno, tsaka yung siwang sa pagitan nila na sabay at mutual ang konsepto ng distance at joining (at na sa mutuality na ito ibinabase ang tula, kung hindi pa nga mismo ang lahat ng talastasang posible)

Some Trees
by John Ashbery

These are amazing: each
Joining a neighbor, as though speech
Were a still performance.
Arranging by chance

To meet as far this morning
From the world as agreeing
With it, you and I
Are suddenly what the trees try

To tell us we are:
That their merely being there
Means something; that soon
We may touch, love, explain.

And glad not to have invented
Some comeliness, we are surrounded:
A silence already filled with noises,
A canvas on which emerges

A chorus of smiles, a winter morning.
Place in a puzzling light, and moving,
Our days put on such reticence
These accents seem their own defense.

H— "Merely being there" bilang communication. Communicating in silence/stillness, or more of, ang communication ay nangyayari with and within their context (the trees' distance and joining). Their being in a position where they are "far this morning / From the world as agreeing / With it, you and I" ay conversation and the conversation is communicating something.

Curious yung pagsulpot ng second person, "you and I". Pwedeng "poet and reader," or "poet and a specific person." Pero pwedeng character lang din naman ito tinuturing as in "agreeing / with it, you and I", and not necessarily the poet breaking the nth wall.

Pero ang pinakamabentang mensahe e yung pag-juxtapose sa emergence ng noise, happy noises, in fact, and yet the kind na hindi nagko-communicate the way the stillness--the joining and aloofness--of the trees does. Pasalamat pala tayo sa trees, poetry, art! Dahil without art, ang matitira na lang sa earth ay "eh". Haha

Sa kabilang dako, ang sakit sa bangs lang magbasa, parang kelangan naka-squint ka lagi na parang may sinisipat sa pagitan ng trees. Hehe

Re: Whitman at "grass people". Iba rin yata ang tama ng leaves kay Oppen kasi matahimik at naghoholdback unlike Whitman, at iba pang alagad, for example, Ginsberg.

D— objectivism daw ang diskarte ni Oppen. pag-aaralan ko pa lang ito at hindi ko pa lubusang maipapaliwanag, pero mukhang malaki ang utang nito sa imagism nina williams, pound, et al at ng modernism nina eliot, pound et al na parehong imposible kung wala si whitman. pero itong mga spare versification na andaming gaps, mukhang mga anak ni dickinson ang mga ganyan. nga lang, (pa)intimate masyado ang grass ni whit: what i assume you shall assume, na clearly hindi (lamang) ito ang stance na gusto ni Oppen (at baka rin ni ashbery, at least sa some trees) may distances daw dapat, may squinting of eyes effect (ika mo nga). at yun parang naghanap sila ng form na makukuha yung sense na yun ng distance plus communion . . . or better yet, (baka) distance plus recognition of distance (poetry?) equals communion. kaya heto ang mga gaps, masasayang enjambment. pero may mga tinanggal ding espasyo kay oppen dahil walang punctuation (of that people the grass)

or art mismo ang communion/solidarity, hence ... "Dahil without art, ang matitira na lang sa earth ay 'eh'."

H— Iba pa ba ito sa objectivism ni Ayn Rand? HAHA. Kasi I assume ibang-iba. LOL

Defensive yung Wikipedia entry: "Note that while the name is similar to Ayn Rand's school of philosophy, the two movements are not affiliated, and are, in fact, radically different." Haha *basa*

D— took me some time to find this, but oppen's ballad gives us what could be a very overt anti-academic stance ("The rocks outlived the classicists") that was to be a sort of objectivist seal

Ballad
by George Oppen

Astrolabes and lexicons
Once in the great houses—

A poor lobsterman

Met by chance
On Swan's Island

Where he was born
We saw the old farmhouse

Propped and leaning on its hilltop
On that island
Where the ferry runs

A poor lobsterman

His teeth were bad

He drove us over that island
In an old car

A well-spoken man

Hardly real
As he knew in those rough fields

Lobster pots and their gear
Smelling of salt

The rocks outlived the classicists,
The rocks and the lobstermen's huts

And the sights of the island
The ledges in the rough sea seen from the road

And the harbor
And the post office

Difficult to know what one means
—to be serious and to know what one means—

An island
Has a public quality

His wife in the front seat

In a soft dress
Such as poor women wear

She took it that we came—
I don't know how to say, she said—

Not for anything we did, she said,
Mildly, 'from God'. She said

What I like more than anything
Is to visit other islands...

H— May naaalala po ako dito na tula na nabuklat sa isang high school textbook sa Calamba (CEGP activity yon. Haha). Not sure kung Teo Antonio pero kilalang makata ito. Basta ang title nya ay parang "Ang Paaralan" o "Ang Aking Paaralan" tas ang nagsasalita ay mangingisda, kinekwento yung experience at mga aral nya sa laot, tipong, ang kanyang lapis ay [insert pamalakaya tool/terminology], ang kanyang papel ay [insert same same]. Traditional ballad sigurong maituturing yung pagkekwento though di ko na pinansin ang form. (Kinopya ko sa isang notebook yun, hanapin ko later for comparison. Hehe)

Ang curious ako ulit ay sa kumento nya sa proseso/experience ng pagsulat at pagbasa ng tula at sa panulaan mismo. Mas klaro at walang bitiw sa imagery ito sa kabuuan e, kumpara dun sa "If It All Went Up in Smoke" at "Some Trees." Tempting na sundan lang yung kwento/anecdote, at of course, talinghaga. But no. Can't be. Masangsang ang simoy sa isla.

So I had to Wiki and relearn ballad at i-explore pa yung historical context. Haha. Obviously, hindi pormang ballad yung tula pero yung subject matter, bilang anecdote nga ng rural life, ay pam-ballad. Then na-realize ko na mas hindi pa nga yun ang fishy e. Mas yung public character ng ballad versus canon/classics, at yung irony na ang ballad naman bilang porma ay galing din sa lab ng academe tas na-popularize (not sure about this but if it's the other way around, ang klaro e yung porma pa rin ay isang tradition/convention at hindi natural na paraan ng pag-objectify sa mundo).

So ang anti-academic stance ay yung dunong mula sa islang ito, sa mga batuhang ito, na hindi maitatanggi ng poor lobsterman who "knew in those rough fields / Lobster pots and their gear / Smelling of salt", na "The rocks outlived the classicists," etcetera. Narito ang mga salita, ang mga panukat... na kahit yung poet ay mahihirapang gagapin kung hindi danas (very Whitmanian, I think).

Kaya dun sa part na nagsalita na yung wife, alam na natin kung paano kinaaadikan at dyino-dyos ang public quality ng isla pero at the same time, gusto ring takasan/layasan ito. (LSS! Argh.)

"She took it that we came—
I don't know how to say, she said—

Not for anything we did, she said,
Mildly, 'from God'. She said

What I like more than anything
Is to visit other islands..."

At ang pagtakas/paglayas, kahit pansamantala, ay kita na rin sa kung paano ito ginawa ng tula sa sarili nya. (mga dash, napuputol na train of thought, lumilipad na isip, etc.)

I guess yun din yung objectivist seal? Gawing guinea pig ang mismong tula ng stance/poetics/politics? Tulad ng "Our days put on such reticence / These accents seem their own defense." ni Ashbery kung saan ang "still performance"/siwang at joining (these accents) ng trees, which I assume, ang tula, and being that this whole canvas is in itself an object, is also its own defense?

Whew. Parang gusto ko muna pradyekin yung mga imagist. Hindi ko pa nabasa si Ezra Pound, mas Williams lang pero hindi ganito kadugo. Haha

D— madugo rin si williams, pero so far mas gusto ko ang "dugo" ni oppen. maganda yung pagbasa mo sa ballad at sa pag-angkin ng piyesang ito sa pormang iyon. gusto ko talaga na biglang nagsalita yung wife, pagkatapos ng pa-astrolabe effect ni poet, ng pagpokus sa lobsterman at sa isla, biglang nagsalita na yung wife na kung tutuusin bukod sa gustong umalis ay gusto ring maranasan naman ang maging turista, ang maging perceiver i suppose as opposed to just perceived (by tourist, classicist, and even the oppen persona . . . baka nga pati ng lobsterman hubby nya)

H— Bukod sa gustong umalis ay maranasan ang maging turista. Hehe. Oo nga. Ayos. Hindi ko pa naman nabasa si Williams nang masinsinan bilang imagist, more of leisurely lang in comparison kay Whitman, which was such a relief. Haha. Nahatak lang talaga ako nung Oppen poem. Intense.