BIO
Jack Foley (born 1940) has published 13 books of poetry, 5 books of criticism, and Visions and Affiliations, a “chronoencyclopedia” of California poetry from 1940 to 2005. His radio show, Cover to Cover, is heard on Berkeley station KPFA every Wednesday at 3; his column, “Foley’s Books,” appears in the online magazine, The Alsop Review. With poet Clara Hsu, Foley is co-publisher of Poetry Hotel Press. In 2010 Foley was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award by the Berkeley Poetry Festival, and June 5, 2010 was proclaimed “Jack Foley Day” in Berkeley. The Fall 2012, vol. 5, no. 1 issue of the online Tower Journal is a Festschrift for Foley: www.towerjournal.com, go to Archive. EYES, Foley’s Selected Poems, has appeared from Poetry Hotel Press, and a chapbook, LIFE, has appeared from Word Palace Press. Christopher Bernard has called Foley “a many-tongued master…one of American poetry’s essential thinkers and practitioners.” Michael McClure has called him “our firebrand experimentalist”: “he holds his torch high so the reader can have more light.” With his wife Adelle, Foley performs his work (often “multivoiced” pieces) frequently in the San Francisco Bay Area. Their performances can be found on YouTube.
Catherine Pozzi Paraphrased: NYX
for Louise [Labé], also from Lyon and Italy
O you, my nights, O long-awaited black-
ness, O proud country, O obstinate sec-
rets, O long looks, O thundering clouds
O flight beyond skies—closed—
O great desire, O scattered surprise
O beautiful journey of th’ enchanted sprite
O worst evil, O grace that flies
O open door where we enter night
I do not know why I die today
Before th’ eternal rest above.
I do not know for whom I’m prey
I do not know for whom I’m love.
1934, written shortly before her death
Longing
“Play the melody”
—Les Paul to Miles Davis
is there a place
is there a place
(a rose is sighing)
where I can tell you
where I can tell you
(a rose is wishing)
is there a spot
is there a spot
(to be in the hands)
a corridor
a corridor
(of a true lover)
where I can
where I can
(a lover who will give it)
or must I
or must I
(with a sigh and a wish)
be silent
be silent
(to his maiden fair)
is there a door
is there a door
(the rose has trouble)
behind which
behind which
(these days in finding)
I can whisper
I can whisper
(a proper lover)
is there an opening
is there an opening
(there are lovers who are all paper)
from my heart to yours
from my heart to yours
(lovers who are all perfume)
where my love can come
where my love can come
(lovers who vanish the moment)
through
(love comes through)
as clearly
as clearly
(but the deep lover)
as the melody
as the melody
(offers nothing less)
in a Les
in a Les
(than his own heart’s)
Paul
Paul
(wilding)
solo?
solo?
(blood)
I can take pictures but I think
I cannot capture
I can capture
The light that pours from you
The night that moves
As you move
In my spirit house
Through the house
In the bone that reaches
As you move through
In the fingers that touch
My consciousness as you make
In the organ that rises
A light sound that devours
At the moment of my thinking
As you move in the unforgiving
In the rich sickness
Hours I cannot capture
I explore through
Love that pours through me like a redolent river
Nothing but language
Like a sound like an odor cataphoresis
In the spore
Of spirit as it enters redolent
In the sphere
Of heart
*****
