Shiny Pencils at the Edge of Things: New and Selected Poems

Shiny Pencils at the Edge of Things: New and Selected Poems

by Dick Gallup

Paperback(1 ED)

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Overview

Simultaneously elegant and goofy, the poems in Shiny Pencils at the Edge of Things depict the quiet moments of life with both sophisticated wit and a child’s sense of wonder. Gallup’s poems often begin with household objects, or a walk down the street, but his lines leap across continents and ideas with ease.
Dick Gallup is the author of Hinges , The Bingo , Where I Hang My Hat , The Wacking of the Fruit Trees , Above the Tree Line , and Plumbing the Depth of Folly . He has taught at the St. Mark’s Poetry Project, the Boulder Public Library, and the Naropa Institute. His work has been anthologized in Up Late; Out of This World ; and The Best American Poetry 1997 . Gallup lives in San Francisco.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781566891066
Publisher: Coffee House Press
Publication date: 02/01/2001
Edition description: 1 ED
Pages: 176
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.30(d)

Read an Excerpt




Chapter One


    the return of philista


Coming down the sluice of morning, Billy the Kid
Ignites a bitter cigarette, dreamy
Dreams fill his mind: she isn't in love.
Saddling his bronco, the rigamarole of buffoons,
Please, he says, making stratiations, making squawkings:
In the quiet air of the rrible morning. A girl
Cometh to the Western water-tap: and she is in love.

It is morning, Billy says, and the morning and she is concocting
Something unpleasant for me and "Clumps,"
My sidekick. Where now is Ievski of Avila, and Alyosha?
Both just notches on the time-stick. The sly deviations
Of fate and a loose gun call him to memorising her gala occasion,
Of communicating with his white love. A girl
Is more than her color, he thinks, as she is "in love."

It is a black morning and she is "in love"
With Franz Hals, theatrical
Bitch, says Billy, lern yr runcibles, Love. She murmurs
"Always skulking around, To be
Just so! a Paloma Negra ... or some splendid king, all glory
In the flower, all honor is the love, was her dream, turned to
Shit. Alas! awaking she finds she's "in love,"

On a kiddish morning and she is in love.
Kid Love! Billy Love! The love of morning is nothing but love,
Ravelled-sleeve love, jew love, prick love! Oh! to waken so
       shackled with love!
Billy the Kid wakes up in the morning and She is not in love.


   acelebration


How many pens are there in a horse? Standing, I believe.


I. Young men starting from scratch. Cuds and farewell of weeping
     to see them go. Hens passing over the stoop. Farewell
     tokens thrown back. Ring the range and let the lemon drop!

II. Marriage drop. Bright drop. Full drop. White drops trailing
      through the instep. Step and punch, and error of "How well
      she looks!" Ring the hands and let the sorrel drop!

III. Stop. Hens waiting for Staggering Time. Old tunes stuck into
       broken arrows. Many heads of cattle on the pens. Biting the
       rims of bloodless eyes. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Ring the tub and let the
       sum drop!

IV. Three times in a very dark while. Tales of a tub who died for
      loss of pith; sum of cabals and Shep, who died of dirt; drops
      of jet and glass, who died of a broken plexus. Plenty of hens
      but no horse! Oh, the blasted purse with three arrangers!
      Ring the bell and let the music drop!

V. A destroyed drop. No cud; no scratch; no hens! Death coiling
     around the plexus, with unutterable horses. Tokens of endearment
     forever! Pens! Hovels! Sties! I cannot bear longer to
     look. I close my bloodless eyes at this last loss of the purse.
     Quick! Quick! Quick! Ring the pole and let the errors drop!


    fits of candor


It is only the orange light that brings forth the orange in things.
The eyes of the public will only produce the small talk of pilots
before action. Go forth, then, into the air of the aerodrome that
you occupy, the trussed ceilings, the telephone in the foyer, ringing
briefly, the heightened contours of social teas following hard
upon the Spitkas and The Somme. Go forth into the high life of
novel languages, or into the lowly valleys to escape your relentless
fellows. Mix with the roarings of animals your deft music or
mingle amid the skies and detours of quiet consuming fear, carrying
into whatever the sense of your wings as you fill a prescription
and you will radiate around you candor and a vacancy',
and leave behind you an orange brightness of fearful aptitude.


    out west and back east


The limpidness has a not so much
tenseness but strength outward
a pouring

There is
did you really say? a map
optimism for the jump

can't go on in
don't kick my stomach in if
subjective (my love, my dear
doesn't grow cute in fire

always the trees
such a thing as a sloppy brook

could the mind turn jade?
Ash, bark like cork

feathery behind the ears
too many

like a nexus of burning
fingers if you can; all?

dying, the knife isn't enough
the rocks must jump, quiver


    out west and back east


The limpidness has a not so much
tenseness but strength outward
a pouring

There is
did you really say? a map
optimism for the jump

can't go on in
don't kick my stomach in if
subjective (my love, my dear
doesn't grow cute in fire

always the trees
such a thing as a sloppy brook

could the mind turn jade?
Ash, bark like cork

feathery behind the ears
too many

like a nexus of burning
fingers if you can; all?

dying, the knife isn't enough
the rocks must jump, quiver

that cool water is fine when
delicious burning, clear

thrusts the mind ... to find sorrow
is not always ferns, along the bank

Table of Contents

The return of philista13
A celebration14
Fits of candor15
Out west and back east16
Ember grease18
Persia is falling beneath the blue triremes19
Some feathers21
Eskimoes again22
Mirrors23
Egg plants are not green24
Homer25
The blue icebox26
Pomp ilk28
From the beaumont series29
Mindlessly discoloring he ponders32
Life in darkness33
Hairs45
Building a house47
Death and the maiden51
Where i hang my hat52
String quartet53
Pretty beads54
The door to the future55
Out-dated poem56
Riding down grandma's driveway57
Guard duty58
Bird life59
The georgics61
Living together62
Reading habits63
Dive bomber64
The full moon of martin luther king65
Uncle cousin niece nephew aunt66
Relaxation67
Like the stars68
Maturity70
An adult breath71
Charged particles72
Watch the fish74
40 acres and a mule76
Folding cash79
Beneath the surface of the field81
Christmas poem83
Comet tails85
Private dick87
Summer morning, 194888
Above the tree line89
Marksman first class91
Bad for the glands92
Smudges of hate93
The humanodities94
Falling on a muddy evening95
Poem beginning with a phrase from 196496
There's still the possibility of being reborn98
Another chance to shake my head100
Chasing snakes with a stick101
The wacking of the fruit trees104
Life under the big top108
No planned no parenthood109
What the dickens110
Castles of blood111
Destination moon113
Life is not a sport116
Bologna sandwiches in the bologna afternoon118
For better or worse119
Gasoline alley120
Mesopotamian love song: hymn to the morning star122
Fucked open and through these rents124
Revolving door125
You aren't home much127
Whose revolution plays the mandolin?128
The planets are in their courses129
Broke anger130
Virtu131
There's a buzz on133
Two bits will get you four134
Mid-70's moral outrage136
Sounds like you had a pretty good time137
The silkie139
Nothing remains140
The well ordered mind is a thing of the past141
8 october 1978142
What happened to the last liberal senator143
Lost chord144
Anima fleas145
Empathy with a bevel146
Lack of policy147
Hey, buster!148
Apartment news149
The coherence of surfaces/an advertisement150
Language is the heart of civilization (BUB)151
The adolescent as rubber goethe152
The parable of the absent suitor153
O yes they do!154
Emotional upheavals155
Close your eyes156
Take bulgaria157
Epode to a woman of taste159
Point man160
The landlady wore blue161
5 o'clock in the morning162
Carol's smile163
No loss of appetite164
Brain stem stands up to pits165
I dream of a white world166
Confessions of a suburban philosopher168
Democracy169
Barter economy and the unconscious171
Letter from the hereafter172
Batty as the doves that fly173
Each day freckles the face of the flamethrower174
Walking back175
What, frankly, is so hot about intelligence?177
Flooded compartment178
The hourglass179
Boring fade out180
Flux deluxe181

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