Old Friends…

So…

We went to see our old friend Nels Cline with his band Nels Cline 4 at the Mississippi Studio, in Portland in the north east part of town last April (yes just posting this…me bad!) Nels and his band mates performed a stellar set, transcendental to be exact.  “Pacific Pines” and “River Mouth (Parts 1 & 2) were the highlights for Mary & I.

We have known Nels since 1978/79 when he had just started working at Rhino Records on Westwood Blvd. 4 blocks from where we lived with Michael Conner, poet and lyricist and a member of the band “Grey Pavilion” where Nels guested on tracks and such.

His talents are many, you may know his works with Wilco, but for us it is his solo works, though we do love Wilco!

 

Henry

Henry Miller’s Best Friend…

Mary and I met Emil at the Henry Miller Museum in Big Sur. We had driven up from L.A. after moving to the States in late 1986. It was a pilgrimage of sorts, and a honeymoon as well (having married 8 years earlier). We were staying at the Deetjen’s Big Sur Inn… Eating Mushrooms, exploring.

We went to the museum. Emil was there, and he was taken with the beauty, and foreign accent of my wife. He took her hand and proceeded to kiss it up to the elbow, the old smoothy. We still have a poster he signed. We talked with him for about 2 hours about Henry, and art, Anais Nin. What a wonderful person.

Great Memory!

G

https://henrymiller.org/2017/12/22/why-did-emil-convert-his-house-into-a-memorial-for-henry-because-i-missed-him/

Emil’s Obituary

Gary Snyder
As For Poets – by Gary Snyder

As for poets
The Earth Poets
Who write small poems,
Need no help from no man.

The Air Poets
Play out the swiftest gales
And sometimes loll in their eddies.
Poem after poem,
Curling back on the same thrust.

At fifty below
Fuel oil won’t flow
And propane stays in the tank.
Fire Poets
Burn at absolute zero
Fossil love pumped back up.

The first
Water Poet
Stayed down six years.
He was covered in seaweed.
The life in his poem
Left millions of tiny
Different tracks
Criss-crossing through the mud.

With the Sun and Moon
In his belly,
The Space Poet
Sleeps.
No end to the sky—
But his poems,
Like wild geese,
Fly off the edge.

A Mind poet
Stays in the house.
The house is empty
And it has no walls.
The poem
Is seen from all sides,
Everywhere,
At once.

 

 

Poesy

“Isis” – Gwyllm 2019

Behold Lucius I am come, thy weeping and prayers hath moved me to succour thee. I am she that is the natural mother of all things, mistresse and governesse of all the Elements, the initiall progeny of worlds, chiefe of powers divine, Queene of heaven! the principall of the Gods celestiall, the light of the goddesses: at my will the planets of the ayre, the wholesome winds of the Seas, and the silences of hell be diposed; my name, my divinity is adored throughout all the world in divers manners, in variable customes and in many names, for the Phrygians call me the mother of the Gods: the Athenians, Minerva: the Cyprians, Venus: the Candians, Diana: the Sicilians Proserpina: the Eleusians, Ceres: some Juno, other Bellona, other Hecate: and principally the Aethiopians which dwell in the Orient, and the Aegyptians which are excellent in all kind of ancient doctrine, and by their proper ceremonies accustome to worship mee, doe call me Queene Isis. Behold I am come to take pitty of thy fortune and tribulation, behold I am present to favour and ayd thee, leave off thy weeping and lamentation, put away all thy sorrow, for behold the healthfull day which is ordained by my providence, therefore be ready to attend to my commandment. This day which shall come after this night, is dedicated to my service, by an eternal religion, my Priests and Ministers doe accustome after the tempests of the Sea, be ceased, to offer in my name a new ship as a first fruit of my Navigation.”
― Lucius Apuleius, The Golden Ass
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So, a bit of format change in this edition. One should not get stuck in a rut, so I am changing things a bit.  For instance, trying to be a wee bit current by using video on occasion! (heaven help us all!) I will be putting together a video blog once in awhile, and doing some podcast with radio content, and perhaps a talk or two. New horizons, it is time to get out there a bit more, and be a bit less reclusive.

I have always liked stepping off into the metaphorical abyss, and this suites me nicely.
We have some great poetry this go around from Whit Griffin, some nice music (featured on the “Serpent’s Lair” Radio Show) and to cap the radio announcements 27 seconds of yers truly speaking.

Here is to a new year, new projects, and to all of us coming together to help change the world.

Pax,
Gwyllm
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On The Menu:
Radio EarthRites Updates/Thanks To Our Supporters!
The Links
Whit Griffin – “From The Universal Lyre”
Steve Roach – Bryon Metcalf “The Lair”
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Radio EarthRites Updates:

New Weekly Series, Poets & Philosophers… Featuring poets, philosophy, various iterations of spoken word, chants, spells, mystery unfolding…

Music… as always.  New shows weekly. “The Serpent’s Lair” explores a more atmospheric approach to mainly acoustic sides, with a bit of sparkle thrown in with some electronics.  Lots of Steve Roach, a rarity from Popol Vuh, along with Patti Smith, Dead Horse One, and various nouveau rock acts from New York, UK, Sweden, Russia…


__________________________
The Links:
The Digital Prudes…
Learning From The Little Ice Age
Planet Of The Apes?
The Universal Song…
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Poesy: Whit Griffin

From The Universal Lyre

Yarrow, carpenter’s weed, old
man’s pepper. Sun
opener. Meadow
fire.

Colorful broom. Herb of the Spirits.

Wild olive, devil’s wood. Lilac,
the blue pipe tree. The bluish
flame which envelopes fraxinella.

Bees to blue flowers. Blue
Deer provides peyote. As blue
is the best color for the interior
of a tea cup.

Severed penises hang from her
goatskin apron. Her liver exults in mirth.

Nemain killed a hundred warriors with her voice.

Enyo,
goddess of war. The snake
goddess who lives in our backbones.

A tiny blaze of fire at the base of the spine.

A trumpet made from a femur.

Coca spoons from jaguar
bones. The visionary
divination from burning blood.

The coat of many colors is reserved
for those who know oneiromancy. Only those

who had achieved the fourth degree
of wisdom were permitted to be teachers
of occult philosophy.

Teaism is the smile
of philosophy. Play is the chemistry of yes.

They bathe their hands and heads
in the juice of elder berries when
they are being initiated into the mysteries.

The messiah returned,
and she is Tiamat.

As Puck to the Pooka, the
little Phrygian-capped mushroom.

The sacred cannibalism
that produces ecstasy and bestows knowledge.

To fashion stars out of dog
dung, that is the Great Work.

Thou art the eyeball of Vritra.

Floating stories, floating
figures. Feel with the eyes.

Khadomas of wisdom, with
red and green eyes.

The rewilding.

The relationship between
datura and palo verde.

The persea bears fruit in Egypt
but only flowers at Rhodes. As

the persea ripens its fruit at
the season of etesian winds.

The angel that spoke to
Descartes.
Angels are heavenly whores. Saint

Paul thought demons

were attracted to women’s
hair.

You will be embraced by your angel /

demon

at the moment of your death.

Inca coca oracles. The
wonderful child with oracular
birds. A pebble

numbered 3663. Mithras and Abraxas
are gods of numerology. Wrap a naked boy in linen

from head to toe, then clap
your hands.

For an only child I request immortality.

For the earth-lion have I

obtained the boon. The negativity

placed on the serpent

arose from the dominance of
Marduk.

Evil arose with the bifurcation of the collective mind.

Evil arose from the weakness of scientific
mythology.

From solid to spoked wheels. The correspondence

theory of truth. The secret name of
Rome. Correggio’s silver-

plated crescent moon. Shinjed rides

a fearless buffalo. The clarity
of mind
erases fear. Fear

guards the vineyard.
Fear is the barrier between the ego

and the full understanding

of reality. The giving up of
the sandals

to the giving up of the will.
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Rashīd ad-Dīn Sinān – رشيد الدين سنان
‘Nothing is Forbidden, Everything is Permitted’
not
‘Nothing is Real, Everything is Permitted’
it is a subtle difference, but so much is based upon subtlety.” – Terezakis.

Old Man Of The Mountain

Happy New Year!

First, I want to wish you all a Happy New Year!

May this year shine for you and yours. Kindness and care will see us through.

Love is the answer to all questions… (I believe)

Thanks To All Of You Who Have Helped Keep Radio EarthRites Going! More music, more art, more poetry and mythology soon!

Bright Blessings,
Gwyllm