I had a very pleasant surprise checking my mailbox in our Himeji apartment a couple of weeks ago. As well as the usual utilities bills written in Japanese and ads for very expensive pizzas, there was a copy of Illya’s Honey, the bi-annual journal of The Dallas Poets Community. In this Spring/Summer 2012 edition were two of my poems “a cup” and “my left hand.”

It seems that the small presses are keeping poetry alive in many parts of the world, no doubt existing on a shoe-string budget and manned by volunteers giving up their own time to keep a labor of love extant.

I love seeing my work alongside of others’ I’m not familiar with – in this case mostly US poets – and I still get a buzz knowing that my work has been printed (and read) on the other side of the planet. And I’ve “met” yet another Walker poet (Loretta Diane Walker) who’s poem The Help’s Daughter I read serendipitously the day after I saw the  movie The Help based on Kathryn Stockett’s novel.  A bonus – included in the envelope was a chapbook by Budd Powell Mahan, whose work is also previously unknown to me and wonderful, being a book of poems written on One Saturday.

It was another US small publisher (The Red River Review) which nominated me for a Pushcart Prize last year.

Nothing against online publications – but let’s hope the small presses continue to thrive and support creative artists around the world!

Thanks Dallas Poets Community for your generosity.

This one was recently published as text in Illya’s Honey in Dallas, TX, USA. Thanks to my old mate Len Mosley for this original guitar piece. Len plays all the instruments on the track (and sings), all recorded live on analogue equipment. Like Jimi, Len is left-handed…

My left hand

sits on the page

resting its finger tips

silently crouching

watching

watching what

the right hand writes

writes rarely, clumsily

itself

itself subservient

to the dominant

right

always sinister

never dextrous

a lifetime as the

less-gifted brother

resentful

insecure less-fêted

self esteem deflated

silent

it squats

there

plotting its

revenge

© rob walker, 2012

First published in the biannual journal  Illya’s Honey,

Dallas Poets Community

Vol 18, No. 2 ISSN 1527-7798

(Spring/ Summer 2012)

The call no one wants…

A great remix of my poetic monologue “cold caller” by Vo1k1, part of the recent ccmixter “Flying Time” secret mixter challenge.

Vo1k1 says “Robwalkerpoet has these fantastic uploads I was unfamiliar with – it was a pleasure diving into both his spoken word and instrumental work. Each felt very expressive and personal. After a couple of remix drafts that ended up in the bit bucket, I built one around a starkly edited version of Cold Caller (Rob, I hope that you approve!), with both his and my instrumental tracks supporting (in particular, his shakuhachi tracks are gems). It’s relatively short and succinct, and I like the open ended quality of the final mix. ”

ccmixter’s editor Susan says “This track would be perfect for late night listening, in the dark, alone, perhaps drunk or maybe not. Vo1k1’s richly textured remix of Robwalkerpoet succeeds in creating an atmosphere of beauty and tension that reflects and heightens the drama of the poet’s words and delivery.”

Rob says “I like this a lot, Volk1. It’s richly-textured and multi-layered and presents my monologue in an intimate and original way. I’m enjoying hearing my own shakuhachi and slowed-ukulele samples from other works coming back into my ears in unexpected ways. All resting on the firm yet comfortable bed of texasradiofish and Sweet Noise. And your editing of the spoken word gives the poem a fresh perspective – particularly with the use of repetition and the fact that the Cold Caller isn’t even identified in this version.
It’s great to be remixed by someone who really knows what they’re doing – no surprises that it’s nominated as an editor’s pick!

Thanks,
rob”

The original HERE.

Tongues.

This is a remix of my poem Speaking with tongues and Culture Shack by Super_Sigil on ccmixter.org.  It includes Speck’s Crack the Kobe Galaxia and Super Sigil’s merging of samples of my shakuhachi in Kooler Than Kobe, my ukulele from Wheels – and some very original vocal impro by panu and ciggi burns. Thanks to all the contributors of samples used by the artists already mentioned above. As always, use decent headphones to appreciate the sub-bass.

This is dedicated to Kahil (Kahlil) Jureidini in Adelaide, the greatest wordplay wordsmith I’ve ever heard and the original inspiration for the poem which I began last year.

speaking in tongues

    for Kahil Jureidini

speaking in tongues.

i mean the way the sounds roll off that labial organ

like saliva alive alive-o… saliva alive alive-o

linger on the lingua

[franker on the franca]

the fatwah patois

videomatic idiomatic

give us a slug of the argot

of escargot

the gringo lingo

the vermicular vernacular

worming its way into the language

a blister on the Mother Tongue

it’s only words

and words are all

i have to take your heart away

(extinct as Thoracic Park)

extreme onion unction

tongue-and-groove junction

of lung removed-function

old/young luncheon at the old factory

olefactory stimulus, tremulous lips

slip of the tongue

sleep of the young

soothing unguent

balmy salve

lubricant ointments

lubra appointments

defoliant emollient

global roaming in the robal gloaming

various vagarious                 shockjock theorem                    viper serum

vituperous

blamegame

glossalalia

it’s only words

and words are all I have.

it’s only words…

text © rob walker, 2012. (Previously unpublished.)

The rest of the vocalisation is my improvised gibberish. Or I was imbued with the Holy Spirit. Choose your own belief system.