John Burroughs,
a.k.a. Jesus Crisis, is a pacifist, poet, playwright, musician, composer, bibliophile, and seeker in Elyria, Ohio.
Co-founder (with Dianne Borsenik) of the monthly Lix and Kix Poetry Extravaganza and the annual winter wordfest known as Snoetry, John is also the
founding editor and publisher for Crisis Chronicles Press and a regular contributor to the Cleveland
Poetics and Ohio Poetry Association blogs. Since 2011 he has served as the OPA's webmaster pro tem.
John founded a loose association called Poets of Lorain County, under whose auspices he's hosted regular open mic and
featured poet events at the Avon Lake Public Library and the Lorain Arts Council's
737 Gallery, as well as the PoetryElyria series at Jim's Coffeehouse and Diner, the Scott M. Duncan
Photography studio and other venues in his hometown.
John's work has appeared on stages in four states, as well as in numerous journals, and he is the author of five poetry chapbooks:
Two broadsides featuring his work, For Change Is and Low Kay Shun, are available from NightBallet Press. His fifth chapbook, Water
Works, is forthcoming in 2012 from Recycled Karma Press.
3/11/2010 6:38 PM
Elena wrote:
67 is a good one for this beautiful spring day: Here's the first paragraph. "Often the surface and the illusion catch me, their prey, and I feel like a man. Then I'm happy to be in the world, and my life is transparent, I float. And it gives me pleasure to get my pay-cheque and go home. I feel the weather without seeing it, and there's some organic sensation that pleases me. If I contemplate I don't think. On these days I'm particularly fond of gardens.... (That's sort of the way this day makes me feel. But by the last paragraph he makes this statement...) "But the illusion never lasts long, partly because it doesn't last and partly because night arrives. And the colours of the flowers, he shade of the trees, the geometry of streets and flower beds - it all fades and shrinks. Above this error in which I feel like a man, the enormous stage setting of stars suddenly appears, as if daylight had been a curtain hiding it from view. And then my eyes forget the amorphous audience and I wait for the first performers with the excitement of a child at the circus. I'm liberated and lost. I feel. I shiver with fever. I'm I." (If you try to make videos of every page it would take forever since there are over 400 pages you have to finish reading first. Personally I jump around and just read one or two at a time. But I picked this one on the first warm day in ages where I actually got out to the deck and garden and it was like heaven here after the bitter cold and snow all winter.) Reply to this
3/11/2010 8:36 PM
Jesus Crisis wrote:
I don't think I was home when I read those three. Anyway, I'm afraid to do too many of 'em, get into copyright trouble, and maybe have my You Tube account disabled - so I'll probably not do any more Book of Disquiet videos, though I may record myself reading some of my other favorite authors. I love the whole book so far. Reply to this
3/12/2010 12:18 PMrenkath wrote:
Love the "in bed" readings. I hope you are doing a whole series. If not, I will have to - it begs to be done! Reply to this
3/12/2010 12:38 PM
Jesus Crisis wrote:
Thanks, Ren! I think I will - but feel free to do it, too. The more the merrier! Reminds me of the bed-ins with John and Yoko.... Reply to this
3/12/2010 7:17 PM
chris wrote:
All I can say is you are very fickle Mr. B.... One week your in bed with one poet the next week another... Pessoa, Wilde, Joyce, Shakespeare, levy.... where will it all end? Reply to this
Não: Náo digas nada!
Supor o que dirá
A tua boca velada
É ouvi-lo já.
É ouvi-lo melhor
Do que o dirías
O que és não vem à flor
Das frases e dos dias.
És melhor do que tu
Não digas nada: sê!
Graça do corpo nu
Que invisíble se vê.
Reply to this
Cool...
Reply to this
what happened to 67, 68 and 69?
Reply to this
67 is a good one for this beautiful spring day: Here's the first paragraph.
"Often the surface and the illusion catch me, their prey, and I feel like a man. Then I'm happy to be in the world, and my life is transparent, I float. And it gives me pleasure to get my pay-cheque and go home. I feel the weather without seeing it, and there's some organic sensation that pleases me.
If I contemplate I don't think. On these days I'm particularly fond of gardens....
(That's sort of the way this day makes me feel. But by the last paragraph he makes this statement...)
"But the illusion never lasts long, partly because it doesn't last and partly because night arrives. And the colours of the flowers, he shade of the trees, the geometry of streets and flower beds - it all fades and shrinks. Above this error in which I feel like a man, the enormous stage setting of stars suddenly appears, as if daylight had been a curtain hiding it from view. And then my eyes forget the amorphous audience and I wait for the first performers with the excitement of a child at the circus.
I'm liberated and lost.
I feel. I shiver with fever. I'm I."
(If you try to make videos of every page it would take forever since there are over 400 pages you have to finish reading first. Personally I jump around and just read one or two at a time. But I picked this one on the first warm day in ages where I actually got out to the deck and garden and it was like heaven here after the bitter cold and snow all winter.)
Reply to this
I don't think I was home when I read those three. Anyway, I'm afraid to do too many of 'em, get into copyright trouble, and maybe have my You Tube account disabled - so I'll probably not do any more Book of Disquiet videos, though I may record myself reading some of my other favorite authors. I love the whole book so far.
Reply to this
You have a voice for radio and a visage for television!
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Thanks, Tara!
Reply to this
Love the "in bed" readings. I hope you are doing a whole series. If not, I will have to - it begs to be done!
Reply to this
Thanks, Ren! I think I will - but feel free to do it, too. The more the merrier! Reminds me of the bed-ins with John and Yoko....
Reply to this
All I can say is you are very fickle Mr. B.... One week your in bed with one poet the next week another... Pessoa, Wilde, Joyce, Shakespeare, levy.... where will it all end?
Reply to this
a veritable orgy of poets!
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