Haven't been a conscientious record keeper, but I have some informative index cards here from the years when I cared and was more actively trying to publish my writings in literary journals and elsewhere. So this is a convenience exercise. Most of what I have had published appeared in various issues of Wisconsin Review. In the late 1970's and early 1980's I was publishing under the pen name of Alden St. Cloud, a name derived from a family history fact and a supposed fact. However, I have used other pen names on occasion, but only once was anything legitimately published that way. * Reviews - Marvin Bell's The Escape into You Atheneum, 1969, 1970, 1971) in Road Apple Review Vol. III No. 4 Winter 1971-1972 pp. 48-50 - "Keeping Us Mad" Peter Wild's Magical Book of Cranial Effusions New Rivers Press, 1971) in Wisconsin Review Vol. 7 No. 2 Spring 1972 p. 32 * Cover designs - Their Place in the Heat Road Apple Review Spring 1971 Vol. III No. 1 - Road Apple Review Winter 1971-1972 Vol. III No. 4 * poems in anthologies - "February" and "September" (as by Alden St. Cloud) Wisconsin Poets' Calendar: 1982 and "Snow" (Alden St. Cloud) Wisconsin Poets' Calendar: 1983 Tom & Mary Montag, editors Midwestern Writers' Publishing House Fairwater, Wisconsin - "Where Once the Old Mill" and "307. November 2nd" (as by Alden St. Cloud) Poetry Out of Wisconsin V edited by Mardi Fries & Jeri McCormick Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, Madison, 1980 - "The Mind Has Seasons Out of Time" "Beauty" and "Being a Poet" Minnesota Poets Anthology—1973 Vol. 2 No. 1 St. Cloud State College - "Woodland Shades" (sonnet) National High School Anthology 1959 * poems in magazines and newspapers - "Woodland Shades" (sonnet) Marquette Journal - "Into the Marsh" and "Solitudo III" Marquette Journal - "The Lone Pine Tree" Pursuit Spring 1963 Vol. III No. 2 - "To John Keats" Pursuit Spring 1964 Vol. 4 No. 2 - "After Almost Five Years" "Rome, 300 A.D." "Sea Shells Are for Hiding" "The Evening Soliloquy of Samuel Portal" Pursuit Winter 1964 Vol. V No. 1 - "Symphony" "The Rock Garden" "The Mind Has Seasons Out of Time" "The Purple Fox" Pursuit Summer, 1965 Vol. V No. 2 - "Cave" and "Swallow Bend" Wisconsin Review Vol. 3 No. 1 Fall, 1967 - "Beauty" (first published as "The Swans of Winnebago") Karamu No. 4 June, 1968 - "Sitting at My Desk" "A Dream of Collaboration with the Muse" (Is now simply "Muse Dream" but was first published as "A Dream of Collaboration") Karamu Vol. II No. 1 April, 1969 - "Starting Over" Road Apple Review Vol. II No. 4 Winter 1970-1971 - "Behind the Garage" and "Transferal" Wisconsin Review Vol. 6 No. 2 Spring, 1971 - "The Mystics" Small Pond Spring 1971 #22 - "Notes at the Watershed" (Christmas Season 1970-1971) Wisconsin Review Vol. 6 No. 3 Summer 1971 - "Being a Poet" "The Maverick" and "Imagining Myself on a Hill near the Old Mill Stream, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin" Wisconsin Review Vol. 7 No. 1 Fall 1971 - "Revealing the Source" Yes Vol. Two No. One Autumn 1971 - "Martha," (accepted by Free Debris, 1972) - "After the Funerals of a Friend and an Uncle" Sou'wester Winter 1972 - "Prosody" (a broadsheet in Oshkosh, 1972) - "Words for Walt" GPU News May/June 1973 - "Tonight" Saltillo Vol. 2 No. 3 Winter 1974 - "Apology of a Hypocrite" Mouth of the Dragon #6 Sept. 1975 - "20° Breeze" Abbey #20 October, 1976 - "82. March 22nd" (for Sandy Troedel) "Funeral Words" "Admonition" and "The Administrator" The West Bend News in "Spice of Life" section, Feb. 4, 1977 - "61. March 1st" "69. March 9th" "137. May 16th" (under a pen name I never used again) River Bottom Vol. IV No. 2 Summer 1977 - "105. April 14th" "106. April 15th" "110. April 19th "112. April 21st" Song #2 1977 - "Watermelon" and "The Mystery" Wisconsin Review Vol. 8 No. 3 - "Child" and "A Wall" Wisconsin Review Vol. 12 No. 4 1978 - "Michelangelo," and "Four for John Ashbery" (as by Alden St. Cloud) Wisconsin Review the fifth season Vol. 14, Nos. 2 & 3 1980 - "248. September 4th" Ramada Regular Vol. 6 No. 7 November 1980 - "The Barn Was Cold" RFD Fall, 1985 - "December 26th" The Sun: A Magazine of Ideas issue 124 March 1986 - "Saying Good-bye" "Pride" "Axiom" "Then Millicent Said" Studia Mystica Poetry and Mysticism Volume IX, Number 4 Winter 1986 * kh00030
"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
Saturday, June 6, 2009
ragged publication list
Saturday, February 14, 2009
I Cant Stand Being Human
anymore: so weak, so stupid, so full of false pride. Humans are too adept at fashioning idiotologies: I- am-better-than-you-are power fantasies: globalized ickonomies / inhumane religions / suicide deceits. If I can not be a Gandhi or a Martin Luther King-- who who-a-who who-a-who-a-whooo who who-a-who a-who-who who who-a-who who-a-who-a-whooo who who-a-who a-who-who - who who-a-who who-a-who-a-whooo who who-a-who a-who-who who who-a-who who-a-who-a-whooo who who-a-who a-who-who The rings of my life are riddled with errors. So I surmise I am an average human. Say ah. Say oh. Giants and Dwarfs is a book of essays (1960-1990) by Allan Bloom. A hardbound copy of it has been in my meagre library for some years. Recently I began reading it. Have so far read the Preface and Western Civ. He is a believer in knowledge derived from the greatest thinkers of important Western civilizations. Cultural persuasions are passing power-oriented missteps. Promoters of such--let's just say he doesn't trust them. In turn, of course, they tend to misunderstand him. Western Civ was an address Bloom gave at Harvard University on December 7, 1988. On page 18 in the book, this sentence from it: Pascal's formula about our knowing too little to be dogmatists and too much much to be skeptics perfectly describes our human condition as we really experience it, although men have powerful temptations to obscure it and often find it intolerable. From page 23: What we are witnessing is the Quarrel of the Canons, the twentieth century's farcical version of the seventeenth century's Quarrel between the Ancients and the Moderns---. . . . From page 27, however, this caution: It is a grave error to accept that the books of the dead white Western male canon are essentially Western--- or any of those other things. From page 29: Each must ultimately judge for him- self about the important books, but a good beginning would be to see what other thinkers the thinkers who attract him turn to. Allan Bloom wants us neither to be "culture-bound" nor to miss the "great dialogue". So I should read his essays, though I cannot be sure I will. kh00017
Monday, January 12, 2009
Sometimes I think
an important part of who I am is stuck in my pre-teen and teen years. Why? As it pertains directly to me I am not sure, but as it pertains to others when they are compared to me by me in particular/ it seems they are--no matter their age--more serious in their daily doings than I am. Strange. My temperament is not a sanguine one. Lonelinesses are my milieux. Yet I am riddled by a playfulness that undercuts my sadnesses. And I never know when or how it will show. Most often it enters spontaneously. It is in its way a safety valve I ought to be grateful for, but I sense others see me as silly and insincere because of it. Perhaps I am wrong as no one has ever said anything more than: "That's not funny." Of course, what I blurt isn't supposed to be funny, just goofy. My humour is of the dry British sort. Sometimes I would say: "Well, I got it from the Imp from the Garbage Universe, and when I die I am going to kill him." Poor Shakespeare, or the 17th Earl of ?. One day a coworker's remark led me to say: "I once read that Hamlet had a weight problem; so this is what I did with the 'To be or not to be' soliloquy: Tubby or not tubby, that is the question. Whether 'tis better to go on a diet, or build a kite, and fly it." See what I mean. Another day when I was with two coworkers who were talking about the movie, Amistad, and one of them said the main character knew only 5 English words, I immediately responded: "Yes: 'You stupid. I go home.'" It is for reasons such as these that I have concluded it is best to read many of my poems with an accent quite unlike one's own. The resulting angularity juices them. kh00013
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
I cannot be consoled
and so if it seems I have thereby condemned myself to a kind of eternal hell, then is does. Why? Primarily because I have made too many self-destructive choices, but angers not directed by me at me but by me at others are also part of the why. Read this vestibular homily which serves as the first page of my Venturings book. If you don't, you will not be able to properly understand the rest of this rumination. Today (2008-12-02) over at KSM's Lime Tree I came upon a link to this. One sentence in it is: "It's all a question of where you put the emphasis: on the self or on the poem; on the art product or on the shared activity of making." After all the opinions I've encountered about language these past two years, this is the one that broke the proverbial camel's back. Will get to it later. First, me. In approximately six weeks, birthday 68. I am a small human. A frail human. My physical back has been broken several years. My body has other ailments. -- I was raised in the small (30,000+) Fox River Valley town of Fond du Lac, WI, situated at the southern end of Lake Winnebago. The Roman Catholicism which I absorbed made it difficult for me to be honest with myself. Being somewhat intelligent, I allowed too much false pride to reign and not enough integrity. So the sources of my/ disruptive choices: sexual, financial, day-to-day. From this vantage, some of them prove that at those moments I was "verifiably" insane. Neoliberal Poetry Broadside. The authors of this straw clearly enough indicate what poetics they prefer though they do admit that anathema transgressions occur there too. The problem for me is that I am not committed to one way of expressing my It Poetics. Therefore, all the labels flitting about and about strain my tolerance beyond annoyance since their flip existence undermines the arguments of those who fling them. Talk about ego. Anti-I? anti-capitalist?: with that kind of hegemonic staging!? I just don't get it. Sure, those who are in with what these authors espouse, generally love what is in their broadside. Poets who align themselves with this group or that group/ do so because they feel comfortable there. It isn't easy--and scientific studies say, not even healthy--to be isolated. One of the finest statements Ron Silliman ever made was the praise he accorded the late Quietist (yet not so quiet) Reginald Shepherd. That is where we should be. Fine poems can be wrought in any style, and every day are. The more ways found to make great poems, the better. Is not each poem an experiment, an innovation. Have you not noticed how often the most loved song by a rock band is that band's quietist one? Bang, bang, bang / bing, bing, bing / trang, trang, trang / yangy, yangy. That's noisy. Oh huff 'n' puff. "Revolving door." kh00012
Monday, November 10, 2008
sullen grey
Today began as partly cloudy, and then became mostly clear, but by early afternoon was overcast. Yesterday and the day before were overcast just as large swaths of my life have been. Two minutes ago 9:41 PM passed. Earlier today I read through an AOL picture-post about handwriting. Guess I had it in my head I might find something there that related to me. Nevertheless, when I was quite young I let a sporadic question: "Can't you ever do anything right?": traumatize me; and I now suspect that most of the poor choices I have made were the result of my stubbornly trying to prove that indeed I could do things right. In other words, instead of allowing reason to guide me, I allowed emotion to, thereby undermining my efforts to attain certain goals I had set. Would I have attained those goals had I been willing to view with a colder eye opportunities I was looking at? Without a doubt. What opportunities? Not sure I want to say, but there were at least a dozen of them presented to me, and had I recognized them as worthy of a small risk--a risk I could afford to take--I would have been, if all the other events of my life had remained as they turned out to be, a wealthy person before the diseases that forced me into early retirement impacted me. As it is, it may be I am poor beyond repair, which doesn't mean I haven't made good choices or haven't been inexplicably blessed because of certain other efforts of mine. I have. I have. And yes, I am being blessed right now. Do you know who God is? No. Nor do I. But I do not go with coincidence, or with fate, or with luck; therefore, God for me is that power which makes possible everything; is that power which most makes its presence visible when inexplicable blessings enter one's life at those moments when one is most in need of them, whether or not they are recognized for what they are. Watch God moments is what I have come to call them. This is my ruminations den, and I decided tonight to hide the comments option for this location. ----------- kh00011
About Me
- brian (baj) salchert
- Rhodingeedaddee is my node blog. See my other blogs and recent posts.