diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/60114-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/60114-0.txt | 2097 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 2097 deletions
diff --git a/old/60114-0.txt b/old/60114-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e309f19..0000000 --- a/old/60114-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2097 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sardonic Arm, by Maxwell Bodenheim - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Sardonic Arm - -Author: Maxwell Bodenheim - -Release Date: August 17, 2019 [EBook #60114] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SARDONIC ARM *** - - - - -Produced by Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - - - - - - [Illustration: The - - SARDONIC ARM - - _Bodenheim._-- - - 1923 COVICI-McGEE CHICAGO] - - Copyright 1923 - Covici-McGee - Chicago - - - { This is a limited edition of 575 copies of which } - { 550 copies are for sale and this copy is } - - No. 559. - - - DEDICATED TO MINNA AND FEYDA - - - --They will meet under - different circumstances - - - - -CONTENTS - - -CONCERNING AMERICA 1 - -CRY, NAKED AND PERSONAL 3 - -FANTASY 6 - -HATRED OF METAPHOR AND SIMILE 9 - -TIME, INFINITY AND ETERNITY DESCEND UPON A BLACK DERBY HAT 11 - -I WALK UPON A STREET 13 - -THE INCURABLE MYSTIC ANSWERS WESTERN AMBITIONS 15 - -PLATONIC NARRATIVE 17 - -PORTRAITS 19 - -NEGRO CRIMINAL 26 - -SHORT STORY IN SONNET FORM 27 - -FEMININE TALK 28 - -THE SWORD CONVERSES WITH A PHILOSOPHER 31 - -CAPTAIN SIMMONS 34 - -MORE ABOUT CAPTAIN SIMMONS 36 - -CAPTAIN SIMMONS’ WIFE 37 - -NORTH CLARK STREET, CHICAGO 38 - -LANDSCAPE 41 - -COUNTRY GIRL 42 - -NONDESCRIPT TYPIST 43 - -CONCERNING EMOTIONS 44 - -METAPHYSICAL ELIZABETH 45 - -DESCRIPTION AND EXHORTATION 46 - -INEVITABLE 47 - -THE NEGROES WHO TURNED WHITE 48 - -EXPRESSIONS ON A CHILD’S FACE 50 - -PSYCHIC CLOWNS 51 - -DEAR MINNA 53 - -VILLAGE CLERK 55 - -REALISM 56 - -AMERICAN VAUDEVILLE SHOW 58 - - - - -Reluctant Foreword - - -_If I yield to the remorseful redundancy of a foreword, with its -bedraggled battalions of fiercely insinuating words, it is from no mere -desire to invite the ridicule of impatient time, or to rail against that -host of vacant insincerities which betrays the animations of life. It -may be that I do not look upon words as intimidating a fixed content, or -beckoning to an inevitable style. It may be that I regard words as -flexible lures seducing the essential emptiness of life, with little, -false promises--promises of emotional and mental gain and reward; haloes -and bludgeons with which a void may attain the mirage of toiling or -dancing importance. And perhaps, in the desperate hope of achieving a -proper festival of sound, I have summoned words to a reiteration of -defeated antics, without in any way attempting to gain those exhausted -futilities known as convictions and explanations. And if, through this -foreword, I can revel in a pensive obscurity--a veil that must be -carefully removed with the reading of poems that follow--I shall feel -that I have furnished the exercise of amusement to certain sterile and -over-confident rituals of emotion and mind._ - -_The poetic situation in America is, indeed, a blustering and verbose -invitation to boredom and a slight, reviling headache. When not engaged -in scrubbing the window pane ten times over, lest it prove opaque to an -astigmatic public, American poets are discovering, with great glee, the -perspiring habits and routines of sex, or naively deifying the local -mannerisms of a blithely juvenile country--a lurching, colloquial, -fist-swinging melee of milkmen depositing bottles on doorsteps and -acquiring dignity in the process; chorus-girls and farmhands telling -their troubles in a stilted slang; factory-owners falling in love with -their female employees, to the tune of delicate and novel symbolism -concerning “a longing to enter the house of her being”; ravings over the -strength and poignancy of corn-fields and country-roads--“O, the corn, -how it aches!” and “What is better than the patient and sturdy road?”--; -much roaring about the importance and hard beauty of mills and -factories--crudely smoky boxes of avarice faced by little, kneeling -poets.... Ah, the list, when extended, defies amusement. You must leave -the theater unless you desire the thankless experience of vomiting._ - -_The commercial cacophony of American lusts and greeds has borrowed a -clarinet, a flute, and a saxophone from the admiration of American -poets and is one-stepping with thousands of words, after the office and -factory have closed for the day, “Swee-et Mama, well your papa’s done -gone mad!”--the jerky, leering pandemonium of actual jazz on a polished -floor interests me far more than its more proper and adulterated -echoes--the glorious American poets of our time._ - -_There are, again, American poets who have turned their eyes to Europe, -yes, the fact is apparent--they have turned their eyes to Europe, and -they can, on occasion, become cynical animals, discovering seven -thousand different ways of describing the contortions that lead to -sexual intercourse, and displaying breasts and limbs with an infinite -amount of abandoned bravado. Again, they have heard of the European -Dadaists, yes, undoubtedly they have heard of the European Dadaists, and -they have now reduced the pronoun “I” to “i,” commenced their lines with -small letters, and exhibited a brave and startling hatred for commas and -separate words. In Europe, this literary revolution holds a distorted -incisiveness and many an original thought, heaved up from the -catastrophe of words. In America, certain poets, with great gusto, have -torn three buttons from their coats and are standing on their heads. -Yawning, we turn the page to the greyly psychological school of -poets--William James and Havelock Ellis, viewed with ecstasy behind a -magnifying glass, while someone provides a blurred replica of Bach’s -music._ - -_That tantalizing obscurity of words, luring the nimbleness of mental -regard--subtlety--and those deliberate acrobatics that form an original -style--both are waiting for the melodrama, comedy and lecture to -subside. Alas, what a long waiting is before them--pity these two -aristocrats and admire their isolated tenacity. Drop the trivial gift of -a tear, also, upon a wilted, elaborate figure thrown into cell number -thirty-two and trying to remember that his name was once Intellect. Then -deposit the lengthened confession of a sigh upon another drooping form -known as Delicate Fantasy--an elusive Liar who ravishes colors without -mentioning their names (not the endless blue, green, white, yellow, red, -lavender, mauve, pink, brown, cerise, golden, orange, and purple of -American Imagists). They have kicked him into the cellar, damn them. -Recognize the importance of his bruises. And also, spy, in the loosely -naive tumult, an agile, self-possessed pilgrim known as Irony. They have -kicked him in the stomach, these symbols of earth triumphant.... And -now, you must not look upon these words as a stormy unfolding of -conviction and explanation. The American spectacle has aroused a mood; -words conceal the essential helplessness; and the lurking emptiness -behind life separates into little, curious divisions of sound. The -undulations have ended._ - - - - - The - SARDONIC ARM - - - - - CONCERNING AMERICA - - - Agitated child, - Listening to the words of clown, - Charlatan, blackguard, clergyman, - And vainly trying to follow their commands - Simultaneously, with legs and arms - Swinging like demented Jehovahs, - The plastic shapelessness of mud - Waits to receive your castigated fevers. - And all the children whose inarticulate - Hearts smashed together make your body-- - The burly, waggish rogue - Paid to dance in your cabarets; - The shoulder-shaking girl - Who mistakes one shiver for immortality; - The roughly earnest gunman - Whose blundering insurrection - Clutches a cool device; - The man whose eyes are coins - Encased in viscous white; - The fox-like politician - Leaping on small prizes in the dark; - The farmer, lending his different costume - To the ox-like patience of earth; - The manual laborers - With minds as minute and obscure as bricks, - And softly prominent hearts; - The factory-girls who try to scold - The murmur of their souls - With one hundred slang phrases-- - All of them will lose - Their imaginary differences - In the lenient refuge of mud. - But their souls, ridiculously - Ignorant of national boundary-lines, - And amused at the physical promise - Or ruin that men extract - Tortuously from life-- - Their souls will instigate - A more conspicuous conflict. - - - - - CRY, NAKED AND PERSONAL - - - Conversation in oak trees, - Better than the talk of men - Because it ends where they begin - Futilely. - Ferns, and invasion of moss, - Waiting for the conquest of words - To dwindle with the years - And find, in the doom of green, - A mute and sprightly correction. - These trees do not proclaim - That men are fools or geniuses. - Their rustling tolerance - Does not seek to intrude - Upon the indifference of time, - And it is appropriate - That their leaves should wait to contain - The discarded syllables - Of human erudition. - - I have seen a man - Gaze upon an oak tree, - As one who hates a patient enemy. - Sensual desires and mental plots - Had marked his face not tenderly. - Combat of envy and pride - Gained the dilated prize of his eyes - As he looked upon the tree. - Then his voice achieved - The solace of admiration. - “The leaves are beautiful in Autumn. - This oak tree has a pleasant sturdiness.” - When confronted by a tree, - Or sunset prowling down the hills, - The sensual boast of men - Trembles with fear and raises - The shield of adoration. - - Look upon the oak tree - Without that simulated courage - Falsely wrung from soothing sound. - The oak tree is a living prison - Where the thoughts and lusts of men - Dangle to the whims of winds - And learn an unexpected tolerance. - Seek revenge upon the tree; - Dress it in capricious metaphor; - Fling your costumes on its frame. - Or, better still, realize - That the oak tree does not - Demolish the souls of men. - I say that all of nature - Is only the mingled womb and tomb - With which an ancient illusion - Perpetuates the religions that keep it alive. - Before I leave the oak tree - Laughter captures my lips. - Newton, a dry and wavering leaf, - Has fallen to the earth. - - - - - FANTASY - - - “Geography locates actual mountains, - Rivers, and valleys, while critics - Of literature and art - Draw imaginary maps - Small as the nail of an infant’s thumb. - Then nouns and adjectives - Are purchased and arranged - To magnify and defend the size - Of exquisite differences - In altitude, position, and direction. - Trivially vociferous, - Your geographical critics - Display their little maps to men - Whose eyes are already convinced - Or turned in another direction.” - Torban, a scholar from Mars, - Dropped his speech and laughed. - His laugh was the sound of a mountain - Emancipated by humour - And cavorting over the plains. - The mountain fled, but Torban remained, - Made gigantic by its aftermath. - For size does not reside - -[Illustration] - - In the legs and torsos - That men hug, frightened, or with glee. - He said: “Criticism in Mars - Resembles your hours of sleep. - Each night we leave creation; - Greet the steeply slanting beds; - And turn our large eyes inward - To a complicated cabaret: - Cabaret filled with relieving jigs; - Cabaret crammed with irascible magicians - Who persist in spoiling their little tricks - By proclaiming the honesty of their intentions; - Cabaret in which malice, - Dignified or torrential, - Turns creators into beetles - And slays them ingeniously; - Cabaret in which Erudition, - Tempted by emotional coquettes, - Swaggers greyly past the footlights; - Cabaret in which Lust - Defends itself with thoughtful monologues, - Stopping to expectorate - Into metaphysical cuspidors; - Cabaret in which the mind - Scorns the morphine of emotion - Until, exhausted, it is forced - Secretly to indulge in the drug; - Cabaret of toothless bickerings - That lisp like market-women - At an ancient Fair; - Cabaret in which Tolerance and Indifference - Sit on the floor below the banquet-table - And wait for crumbs that accidentally - Slip from the over-full plates; - Cabaret in which Logic - Swallows the whiskey of dogmas, - Reels to the little bed-chamber, - And gradually falls asleep; - Cabaret in which qualities, - Enlarged and beribboned, engage - In arguments with smaller qualities, - Each longing for the other’s size.” - Torban paused, and his smile, - A thread of quicksilver bettering his face, - Encouraged the purpose of my voice. - I said: “The cabaret that you describe - Reminds me of criticism on earth.” - He answered: “One difference exists. - We go to sleep before we criticize-- - An excellent antidote for truth and lies!” - - - - - HATRED OF METAPHOR AND SIMILE - - - Ta-ra-ta-ta! - The ancient horn is once more bleating - Its ephemeral plea to immortality. - Thus announced, the author of the play, - Naked, and with a scholar’s face - Ill-at-ease above the flesh, - Proclaims the purpose of the play. - His speech, long and unadorned, - Requires this concentrated translation: - - “Life is a sensual hunter - And only his trophies are real. - These protesting animals - May sometimes be cleverly scrutinized - By six or seven intellects - Secreted in the noisy audience.” - - Ta-ra-ta-ta! - The horn resounds, and its echoes - Are caught by an uproar of sounds-- - Excited disciples within the theater. - “Down with fantasy!” - “Realism and flesh forever!” - “No more lies about the soul!” - “Give us earth and logic!” - “Murder the mountebanks and butterflies!” - “Down with metaphor and simile!” - - The play is about to begin - When two unfortunate poets - Are discovered in the audience. - Morbid, grotesque, and nonchalant, - They wear involved, embroidered clothes - And smoke emotional cigarettes, - Flicking the ashes carefully - Into the rage of faces around them. - And one poet recommends - A ruffled, satirical vest for the hairy chest - Of a broad man seated near him. - With cries, in which the earthly illusion - Mounts its strident throne, - The audience expels the two poets - With ritual of feet and fists. - Unperturbed, the poets - Stoop to mend their embroidered sleeves - Tom by the frantic audience. - With this important task completed, - They stroll away. - - - - - TIME, INFINITY, AND ETERNITY, DESCEND UPON A BLACK DERBY HAT - - - Vicious and sincere, - The black derby hat flaunts itself - Upon the head of an amateur libertine. - The libertine is a nervous rascal - Asking too many favors - From one spear-point exalted by men, - But the black derby hat, - Poised and incorruptible, - Curves its black no to the senses. - To those who cannot see, - The black derby hat is only a sugar-bowl - Turned upside-down and out of place, - Or one of many crowns - Bestowing their ugly pathos - Upon the struggle of a nation, - Or the way in which a dreamer - Pitifully says hello to the stars, - Or a symbol of bulky manhood - Swaggering in an ancient trap. - But to eyes that can look beyond - The surface rites of America - Bending over bargain-counters of flesh, - The black derby hat is an alabaster - Sentinel, defending its realm - Against the pompous indifference - Of Time, Infinity, and Eternity. - The black derby hat is an outline of earth, - Bold and abrupt, remaining - Indifferent to the desperate commands - Of sex and greed, and he who wears it - Is only a helpful accident - Bringing publicity to the hat. - Uncompromising, the black derby hat - Suggests the blunt isolation of intellect, - And yet it may have been made - By some weak serf of emotion. - From the contact of incongruities - Life evolves the more perfect shape, - And so, the black derby hat, - Gliding through the frantic defeats - Of a city street, - Coolly protects its realm - Against the scarecrow-contempt - Of Time, Infinity, and Eternity. - - - - - I WALK UPON A STREET - - - Must I see a gutter - In which the hurried machination - Of water carries bits of apple peeling - To some profound, obscure intelligence? - And if the gutter is to me - Merely the masterful travel of brown - Speeding with odds and ends of red, - To lend importance to a dream, - Will this belief decrease my size - When death reproves my inefficient limbs? - - I walk upon a street - Where trite deceptions glide - Ceaselessly. - Upon this street the spasmodic revolt - Of color refuses to join - The orderly, substantial lie. - Scattered anarchists of color, - Thin and incorrupt, - Contend against the ponderous devices - Of lust for flesh and gold. - With a spiritual savageness - Colors bring their lucid treason - To ancient, shrouded tyrannies. - The knitted green of this girl’s sweater - Is a badge releasing - A cool republic of desire - Unrelated to earth. - Her famished opaque face - Feeds on sleek anticipations-- - Unconscious incongruity. - - Color alone is real, - Waving perpetually - Over the graves of thought and emotion. - From the vaster shapes of color - Small and involved broods of thought and emotion - Are born to scorn their distant mothers. - The ruffian dream recedes - Over a span of twenty thousand years, - And color, awake and supreme, - Waits to be once more divided - By another nightmare dream. - If men could see this they might kneel - Upon this sidewalk and observe - The importance of apple-peelings - Testing their spirals of red - Against the thick, brown stream. - - - - - THE INCURABLE MYSTIC ANSWERS WESTERN AMBITIONS - - - Western men, - Your life is a minor rhapsody - For flute and violin. - With sounds, now shrill, now suave, - You steal your hymns and frolics - From the surface dirt of realism - And the curves of sensuality. - Your feeble mysticism - Strains at the task of lifting tables - And placing naïve retorts - Into the mouths of spirits. - Your erudition is the vain - Gesture of your repentance - Grown over-thin and complex. - Western men, you are beggars - Devouring bits of guile - Tossed from a violent mirage. - The contours of a rose - Bribing the quiet madness of evening - With cunning promises of red, - Are more important than your sweating love - And the rushing dreads of your market-places. - The contours of a rose - Will still arrange their subtle dream - When your clever schemes of mud - Win the drifting pension of dust. - Your charts and diagrams - Are merely a ragamuffin’s initials - Cut into an ancient gateway - That guards the invisible meaning of life. - - - - - PLATONIC NARRATIVE - - - Tomato soup at four A. M. - We seemed to sit upon the floor - But, with a feathery discretion, - We advised our bodies - To make the floor a glistening fundamental - Flattened by the walk of centuries. - Continuing the advice, - We told our bodies to arrange - A variation on the floor - And give the floor a living - Reason for existence. - Our bodies, with clandestine movements, - Accepted the advice - And became the essences of Plato, - Almost tempting our flesh - To renounce its weight. - Our lifted knees were actors - Simulating treason to our souls, - With their prominence of bone. - They were interviewed - By elbows that held a light disbelief. - Our backs against the cushions - Had disappeared, and we did not move - For fear that all of us - Might rush away through the openings. - Our heads were fiercely bent down, - As though they felt an ecstasy - Of shame at their crudity ... - When we returned to the tomato soup - It was an insipid fluid, - But we drank it indifferently, - And it is also possible - That an unearthly laugh - Peered through the crevices of our eyes, - Finding no need for sound. - - - - - PORTRAITS - - - I. - - _Stenographer_ - - Intellect, - You are an electrical conspiracy - Between the advance guards of soul and mind. - Thoughts and spiritual instincts, - Profound and unfanatical, - Sit plotting against the enmity - That seeks to wall them in separate castles... - A thought and a spiritual instinct - Link themselves for an instant - Upon the face of this stenographer. - Unknown to her mind and speech - A gleam of intellect contradicts her features, - And she spies the jest of her relation - To the droning man beside her. - - This incredible news - Will be doubted by poets and scientists. - - - II. - - _Waitress_ - - Musicians and carpenters - Meet upon your trays of food: - Aesthetics and the flesh - Play their little joke upon dogma, - Urged by the rhythm of your hands. - Your rouged cheeks slip unnoticed - Through the sexless turmoil. - The rituals are hastened - Lest they become self-conscious... - I stop you and remark: - “The sylvan story of your hair - Is damaged by your rhinestone comb. - May I remove it?” Then you stare. - The fact that you have been - Greeted by something other than a wink - Almost causes you to think. - You walk away, holding an emotion - That skims the lips of many adjectives. - Confused, uncertain, scornful-- - With none of them fused together. - - - III. - - _Shop-Girl_ - - Yellow roses in your black hair - Hold the significance - Of stifled mystics defying Time. - Yellow roses in your black hair - Can become to certain eyes - The trivial details of emotion. - Yellow roses in your black hair - Often embarrass passing philosophers - Who suddenly realize - That they have been furtively snatching at color and light. - - Shop-girl, in the midst of your frolic, - Take this portrait without surprise. - Portraits are merely pretexts. - - - IV. - - _Manicurist_ - - Maudlin, hurt, morose, - Tender, angry, remote, - Whimsical, frigid, impatient-- - Compel these adjectives to become - Friendly to each other - And let them stumble in unison - Beneath the muscular trouble of life. - The careful Boss who sends them on - Holds one eye of bitterness - And another of sentimentality, - Closing each one on different occasions. - The careful Boss may be your soul, - Tired manicurist, amazing - The fragrant barber-shop - With words of valiant prose. - Ferretti, the mildly dying barber, - Loves his bald head with one finger - And whispers, “She’s crazy, I fire her tomorrow. - When customer ask her to eat with him - She laugh and tell him she no care - To pay too much for indigestion. - She’s crazy. I fire her tomorrow.” - - Ferretti does not know - That souls are not entirely unconcerned - With straining for effects. - - - V. - - _Housewife_ - - Seraphic and relaxed, you take - Your novel with uncertain thumbs, - As one who lingers over cake - And dreads the thought of final crumbs. - - Frown at my precious sorcery - And label me an envious elf. - If human beings could agree - Their boredom might revenge itself. - - O youthful housewife, weighing grains - Of joy upon your empty smile, - The total of my bolder gains - Is but a more impressive guile. - - Your serious child wins the alert - And limpid art of playing tag, - While your emotions rest inert - Like dried fruit in a paper bag. - - And yet I envy both of you - And wish that I could also find - The mildness of your fancied view, - Where feelings dance and thoughts are kind. - - - VI. - - _Woman_ - - They worship musical sound - Protecting the breast of emotion. - Their feelings pose as fortune-tellers - And angle for coins from credulous thoughts. - Shall we abandon this luxury - Of mild mist and wild raptures? - Your face refrains from saying yes - But your closed eyes roundly - Reward the luminous sentence. - Greece and Asia have exchanged - Problems upon your face, - And the fine poise of your head - Tries to catch their conversation. - Few people care to use - Thought as a musical instrument - That brings its singing restraint to grief and joy, - But we, with straight arms, will descend - Daringly upon this situation. - The full-blown confusion of life - Will detest our intrusion. - - - VII. - - _Old Actor_ - - Any minor poet can claim - That his subject resembles music. - (“Her steps were notes of music.” - “His presence was like a song.”) - You are a long-neglected - Instrument from which the player, - With over-confident lips, blows only - A jet of dust that falls upon - The damp chagrin of his face. - Moist from the futile effort - He asks his listeners to admire - Imaginary notes. - They clap their hands, and he must retire - To the slow digesting of his lie. - Old actor, you have finished reciting Hamlet; - Your pennies are gathered; and you depart. - - - - - NEGRO CRIMINAL - - - From the pensive treachery of my cell - I can hear your mournful yell. - Centuries of pain are pressed - Into one unconscious jest - As your scream disrobes your soul. - The silence of your iron hole - Is hot and stolid, like a guest - Weary of seeing men undressed. - Like the silence, I listen - Because I dread the glisten - Of a hidden humour that strains - Under the stumble of all pains. - Brown and wildly clownish shape - Thrown into a cell for rape, - You contain the tortured laugh - Of a pilgrim-imbecile whose staff - Taps against a massive comedy. - Melodrama burlesques itself with free - And stony voice, and wears a row of masks - To lure the joviality of tasks. - Melodrama, you, and I, - We are merely tongues that try - To ogle a protesting dream - Into whisper, laugh, and scream. - - - - - SHORT STORY IN SONNET FORM - - - Loud chatter in a thousand minor lines - Was your religion, and your art was pain - Disguised by phrases of verbose disdain. - You married an old man who gave you wines - Lukewarm and pink, until your tipsy youth, - Grown weary of evading sensual lies, - Ran to idiot-Pierrot whose cries - Created that delusion known as truth. - The ache of your sincerity betrayed - His awkward falseness, and he turned away, - Grinning until your bullet found his head. - Then people claimed that you had merely paid - Insanely for a tritely sordid play. - Your lyric could not answer--it was dead. - - - - - FEMININE TALK - - - _First Woman_ - - Do you share the present dread - Of being sentimental? - The world has flung its boutonnière - Into the mud, and steps upon it - With elaborate gestures! - - _Second Woman_ - - Sentimentality - Is the servant-girl of certain men - And the wife of others. - She scarcely ever flirts - With creative minds, - Striving also to become - Graceful and indiscreet. - - _First Woman_ - - Sappho and Aristotle - Have wandered through the centuries, - Dressed in an occasional novelty-- - A little twist of outward form. - They have always been ashamed - To be caught in a friendly talk. - - _Second Woman_ - - When emotion and the mind - Engage in deliberate dialogue, - One hundred nightingales - And intellectuals find a common ground, - And curse the meeting of their slaves! - - _First Woman_ - - The mind must only play - With polished relics of emotion, - And the heart must never lighten - Burdens of the mind. - - _Second Woman_ - - I desire to be - Irrelevant and voluble, - Leaving my terse disgust for a moment. - I have met an erudite poet - With a northern hardness - Motionless beneath his youthful robes. - He shuns the quivering fluencies - Of emotion, and shifts his dominoes - Within a room of tortured angles. - But away from this creative room - He sells himself to the whims - Of his wife, a young virago - With a calculating nose. - Beneath the flagrant pose - Of his double life - Emotion and the mind - Look disconsolately at each other. - - _First Woman_ - - Lyrical abandon - And mental cautiousness - Must not mingle to a magic - Glowing, yet deliberate. - - _Second Woman_ - - Never spill your wine - Upon a page of mathematics. - Drink it decently - Within the usual tavern. - - - - - THE SWORD CONVERSES WITH A PHILOSOPHER - - - _Sword_ - - The Hindoo raises his arms - And holds them level with his shoulders - Till they become still and permanent, like horizons. - But I prefer to stumble - Into abrupt harmonies - That must ever be flung aside. - With one quick slash I cut - Lips of death upon an expressionless breast, - And a vermilion sincerity - Pardons the sophistry of flesh. - It is better to make - And leave the moments of a poem - Than to erect an ingenious pedestal - Upon which blindness solemnly squats. - - _Philosopher_ - - Men’s tongues are slow, and they have made you - To avenge their hidden shame at this. - You give startling girdles to virgins, - Red beards to thieves, - And writhing necklaces to children, - Because the tongues of men are slow - And revel in your quicker rhythms. - An idiot whirls you around his head - And persuades himself that he is swift. - Imagination drenches his eyes - And he spreads himself flat on your blade. - - _Sword_ - - All of your words are concentrated - Into the glittering censure of my blade! - - _Philosopher_ - - Life wraps its layer of touch around one, - Like a haunting blanket - Smothering the taunting lips of a child. - Curving their fingers around your hilt - Men strive to purchase the triumph - Of an imagined escape. - I teach them plaintively to weave - Schemes of consolation - On the broad texture of their lives. - You tell them to slash the fabric, - Reaching into the black space underneath it. - You are not a symbol of cruelty. - An innocent impatience - Sharpens the comedy of your blade. - - _Sword_ - - Men have only two choices-- - To worship idols or mimic fireflies, - And I lend my strength to each choice, - Teaching them to abandon - The harlequin raptures of words. - - _Philosopher_ - - You bring them yearning turbulence, - And I, a quick-tongued refuge. - Silence will pardon both of us. - - - - - CAPTAIN SIMMONS - - - An arbitrary architect - Became his mind, and planned - Cathedrals, mansions, and shops - In a room enclosed by hair. - And so a crowded town - Occupied the dwarfed miles in his head, - And along the boundary-line - That separated thought from emotion - Darkly seething slums grew up. - Owing to the lack of space - Prevailing in mental slums, - Some buildings had been forced - Into the realm of emotion. - Within these structures half-breeds lived-- - Creatures whose inconsequent - Color prevented them - From being entirely logical, - And whose reeking impulses - Were deplorably snubbed by thought. - Being from the slums of mind - These hybrids loved the dirt of arguments - Inherited from centuries of men, - Stopping now and then - To order emotional brandy. - - It is unnecessary - To tell that Captain Simmons was old, - With a body like the fading dream - Of an athlete, and a face - Made womanly by age. - - - - - MORE ABOUT CAPTAIN SIMMONS - - - Captain Simmons’ legs - Were praying after much capering. - Legs can pray without kneeling - When they steal pity from city streets. - On Captain Simmons’ face - Wrinkled inhibitions were giving - Moth-eaten lace to that soft tolerance - Where memory and dying desire sleep without dreams. - Captain Simmons’ black suit - Fitted him loosely while his mind - Became him tightly, and the reason - Flickered in his smile. - For all of life he had hidden - Beneath a loose generosity - In order to escape the fact - That certain of his thoughts - Were supplied with tights and slyness, - And his smile was a lit candle held - For a moment uncertainly over this situation. - If one mentioned that Captain Simmons - Was possessed by the plight of eyes - Like pinched chicaneries of fate, - Above a face of visual penuries, - One would only hide his essential parts - Beneath the futility of explanation. - - - - - CAPTAIN SIMMONS’ WIFE - - - She moved in a calculating trot, - Relinquishing hairsbreadths of her life - With each step, and gathering - Atoms of humour and melancholy - Into one last excuse for existence. - It is true that she was playing - Housewife to her thoughts and emotions. - Her intangible household had attained - A weak and exquisite indirectness, - And she fiddled with its meager neatness; - Protected them as they stooped - Over the knitting of remorse; - Fed them platters of minced scandal - And mildly censured the relish with which they ate; - Persuaded them that they could dream best - When they were uncomfortable; - Swept out bedrooms for fear - That the talkative candour of her dislikes - Might falter in the presence of dust; - And clinked the silver on side-boards - In an effort to convince herself - That she was still robustly mercenary. - - Again, she scanned the spots - On a bridal-gown and planned, - As she had done for years - To send it to an imaginary cleaner. - - - - - NORTH CLARK STREET, CHICAGO - - - I. - - Tame and ghastly coffins - Display their shamefaced grays and reds - Against the passive vividness of morning. - From the base of these large coffins - Men and women walk, - Like briskly servile automata. - Some repentant toy-maker - Has given them a cunning pretense of life. - - A waitress hurries to her work. - Her yellow hair and face stained red - Blend into a garish mendicant - Who steals unreal composure from the morning. - Behind her tramps a bloodless Jew. - The stench of endless denials - Has wrenched his youthful face - Into a prophecy of middle age. - He does not see the lamely leaden - Shop-girl, where despair and apathy, - Fighting, produce the motion of her limbs. - She does not see this elderly laborer - Upon whose face an artist - -[Illustration] - - Lies smashed and gasping for breath, - And he does not regard - This thread irresolutely falling - From a tapestry of memory: - This slender woman in black. - The glittering indifference of morning - Divides their faces. - - - II. - - Afternoon has fallen on this street, - Like an imbecilic organ-grinder - Grinning over his discords. - Dead men and women spin - Their miracles of motion - Upon the grayness of this street. - In this old Jew’s shop - A woman bargains over calico. - With a ghostly naïveté - She reprimands the price of her shroud. - In this pawn-shop stands a man - Parting with his clarinet. - He walks away, with dangling arms, - Like a swindled Gabriel. - In a lunchroom sits a woman - Whose face is a tired sin - Seeking comfort in religion. - A young girl near her is an angel - Puzzled by streaks of mud upon her face - And asking questions of her vanity. - Outside, dead men and women - Are whipped on by the explosive magic - Of an old, resistless masquerade. - Street-cars, wagons, and motor-trucks - Rattle their parodies on life, - And over all the afternoon - Twists, like an imbecilic organ-grinder - Snickering over his discords. - - - III. - - Night has thrown his ecstasy - Of staring, counterfeit eyes - Over the torrent of this street. - Men with faces quicker - And more furtive than time - Stand motionless in doorways. - Women stride down this street. - Many fingers have pulled their faces - To a haggard lack of expression. - They join the motionless men - In the doorways and disappear. - And over them the tame and ghastly coffins - Display their shamefaced grays and reds - Against the tangled vividness of night. - - - - - LANDSCAPE - - - The countless vagaries of maple leaves, - Elastic humbleness of flowers and weeds, - The hill, a placid stoic to all creeds, - They use an obvious language that deceives - The subtle theories of human ears. - Their tongue is motion and they scorn the rhyme - And meter made by men to soothe their fears. - - Beneath the warm strength of each August hour - They spurn cohesion and the plans of thought, - With quick simplicity that seems confused - Because it signals mystic whims that tower - Above the thoughts and loves that men have caught: - Beyond the futile words that men have used. - - - - - COUNTRY GIRL - - - Your face is stencilled with a pensiveness. - Your face contains a minor lyric trapped - By dainty ignorance, and tamely capped - By hair as trimly lifeless as your dress. - You suffer from the drooling praise of old - And youthful men, who strive to win a blind - And soothing admiration from your mind, - And do not try to make your thoughts unfold. - - This comedy would fade into a host - If it were not rewarded by the dead - But unrelenting poet on your face. - Your eyes are heavy with his reckless ghost: - The trouble of his hands is on your head - As you peer out into a clouded space. - - - - - NONDESCRIPT TYPIST - - - Within an office whose exterior - Resembles an ultra-conservative mind - You battle with the avaricious words - Of a meager, petrified man. - Your face is brown stagnation - Sometimes astounded by a thrust - Of chattering wistfulness. - Bravery is fear - Effectively sneering at itself, - And you are forever wavering - Upon the edge of this condition. - Yet your obscurity - Is an important atom - In the mysterious march of time. - - - - - CONCERNING EMOTIONS - - - And if I say that pain is but - A circus barker whose loud cries - Seek to reward a trivial show, - Will you confess that I am wise? - - “Must it be emotional?” you asked, - After I had thrown - Words into a carnival-scope. - Sobriety and merriment - Borrowed the sixteenth century - Within your voice, and sought - The identity of sternness-- - Mental sternness pretending to ignore - The confetti thrown by emotion - In a carnival unique. - - Emotions can be prancing curves - Fashioned by relaxing thoughts. - Should I kiss you, Questioner, - The delicate anti-climax - Of a mental caper - Might perish on crimson vapor! - Tired of frenzies and satiations - Emotions often wander to poets - And ask for more fantastic decisions - For fire that glows but does not burn. - - - - - METAPHYSICAL ELIZABETH - - - They gave you strait-jackets to bore you. - Like an unwilling promise - Your legs were tied together. - But people can only violate - Their own conception of reality, - And your actual curves - Preserved their sculptural liberty. - Leaving their semblance on your flesh - Your lines sped inward till they gained - The center where emotion changes - To a speck of quivering clarity. - - Within you phantoms of reality - Danced with plausibilities of mind, - Seeking to be consumed - By the oblivion which is understanding. - You feared that your return to motion - Would mean a succession of disappointments-- - Tamely grazing arrows - Changed to wounds by the desiring heart - Take my hand and move. - Only two statues can stride together - In a manner invisible - Save to certain unreasonable adjustments - Of eyesight and of hearing. - - - - - DESCRIPTION AND EXHORTATION - - - Truly, this age will be known - As one of minute extremes - Courting an elderly shape - In a violent bar-room scene. - An Amazon made filthy by centuries, - And fuming pygmies, own the stage. - Thin furies of emotion - Name every color in the rainbow - Without its skillful assent, - And little mental skeletons - Stamp with clumsy weirdness - On effigies of the heart. - The pygmies often sneak - To the prancing Amazon - And the ensuing love-scene produces - Small memories of Walt Whitman. - - This age is not metaphysical. - Followers of Dada, - Weary of electron-soliloquies - And fleshly ecstasies with flat feet, - Sit in the gallery - And throw loose malice at the display, - Evading their motives with an eager creed. - - Concentrate your aim, - Followers of Dada. - - - - - INEVITABLE - - - The insurrection of a flea - Compared to driving tusks - Of elephants, is just as strong. - Stupidity need not be long. - - The insurrection of a flea - Attains philosophy and spice. - Fleas salt their eating with a creed - That warms the monotone of greed. - - The insurrection of a flea - Will leave with tense insistence till - The suburbs of eternity. - O small fanatic on a spree. - - The flea is poet in a land - That does not understand his lunge. - He makes his own immaculate laws - And awaits forever threatening claws. - - - - - THE NEGROES WHO TURNED WHITE - - - The souls of negroes, thrown into a shout, - Roll their hallelujahs out - To the flashing blandness of the sky. - The sky does not divide their cries - Into meanings foolish and wise: - To the sky all men have but one cry. - Still, amusement has often thrown - Separate shades upon the monotone, - Playing with the sleep of firm beliefs. - Amused, we give these negroes forms - Distinct and bounding under storms - Of sounds that catapult their joys and griefs. - A negro with his bald despair - Seduced by remnants of silver hair, - Converses with an old King known as God. - He longs to have his tortured stare - Rewarded with a golden chair - While other negroes thump the sod - With heavy echoes of his request. - With a cold, castrated zest - He pleads for rest, and he is bold, - While scientists and troubadours - Cling more closely to their floors. - - “How d’yah kno-ow, how d’yah kno-o-ow - Dat the blood done sign mah na-a-ame? - Yes it’s so-o-o, yes it’s so-o-o, - Jesus wrote it down in fla-a-ame.” - - The other negroes sing - With gliding fear, and swing - The child-like joke of their arms to emotions - That surge like an army searching for its eyes. - But suddenly a quick surprise - Tricks each negro’s face with fright-- - Their skins are gleaming pink and white. - White philosophers and scientists - Strike each other with dubious fists - Within the negroes’ brains, while poets fight - Like blistered urchins wrapped in gloom. - Shrinking underneath the uproar - With its bursts of phantom gore, - The negroes shriek against their doom. - With bending celebration of knees - They crush against their leader’s pleas. - - “Lord Almighty, make us black! - This strange noise strikes us on the back! - We has had enough of whips! - Calm this devil with your lips!” - - - - - EXPRESSIONS ON A CHILD’S FACE - - - Dawn?--no, the hunted transparency of dawn - Curving from the white throat of a child - And shaken in the still cup of his face. - Then a sudden dispersal of swerving light - Carrying away the defeated - Wisdom of a smile. - - Thought?--no, the persistent shudder - Of emotion that is almost thought. - The invisible recklessness of perfume - Enveloping the beginning of a question. - - Sadness?--no, the growth of a dim inclination - To delve into the rancid importance of flesh: - Then weeping, to wash away - The ritual of disappointment. - - - - - PSYCHIC CLOWNS - - - _First Clown_ - - We gaze upon a negro shoveling coal. - His muscles fuse into a poem - Stifled and sinister, - Censuring the happy rhetoric of morning air. - Some day he will pitch the stretched simplicity - Of his tent upon the contented ruins - Of a civilization, - Playing with documents and bottles of perfume - Found in deserted, broken corridors. - - _Second Clown_ - - The barbarous comedy - Lost in profuse confessions - And often described as life, - Lends an attitude of conviction - To the mechanical retreat of time. - - _First Clown_ - - Do you hear beneath the irregular strut - Of this city an imperceptible groan? - Time is turning the jail-house key. - They build larger jails for time; - He makes larger keys of blood-stained iron. - Endlessly he emerges - From complicated delusions of freedom. - - _Second Clown_ - - That desperately grotesque - Wanton known as imagination - Can plunge beyond both men and time. - Imagination slips down - Upon the last edges of thought and feeling - And teaches them to transcend - The forlorn bravado of swinging legs and arms. - - _First Clown_ - - We are two psychic clowns - Brandishing the poverty of words - Into insolent oddities of sound. - Come, men are waiting to nail us - Upon the crucifix of their little logics! - - - - - DEAR MINNA - - - Catastrophe in a bric-a-brac shop. - The proprietor lies murdered. - Pieces of cups, jars, and vases - Have attained the disorderly freedom - So obnoxious to bankrupt fanatics. - Once the cups, jars, and vases - Were symmetrical and empty, - And immersed in the task of holding nothing. - Now they have snatched a voice from fragments; - Spell many an accidental sentence; - Renounce the hollow lie. - Death, you take the stiffly obvious shapes - Of objects and crack them with your fingers-- - A shattered invitation - To curiosity and anticipation-- - And I am grateful to you for that. - My eyes grow weary scanning the living array. - Each man takes his inch upon the shelves - And will not move, until your paw - Robs him of microscopical convictions. - - Dear Minna, read the newspapers - And gloat with me over death’s industry. - Banker, Freudian, Socialist, - Knocked from the shelves and changed - To symbols that can lure conjecture. - It is well that we are metaphysical. - Death must not become - A mere black frame surrounding - The memorized reiterations. - Death must remain an irresistible - Beckoning to reckless speculations - And continue to offer an amorous arm - To the recalcitrant antics of words. - - - - - VILLAGE CLERK - - - Rabelais and Maeterlinck - Have subsided to one grin - Upon your sharply cumbersome face. - Coarseness and a psychic hope - Dominate your voice - As you prattle to women - Purchasing sugar and salt. - Then your face and voice - Alter to a serious fraud - Eagerly learning the technique of deceptions, - As you answer this dryly emasculated - Grey-beard, discussing the tendencies in hogs. - - When the night replenishes - Your store of morbid desires, - You will try to piece together - A cajoling violin - From your sweet-heart’s syllables, - Fumbling with hot hands for the unseen strings. - - - - - REALISM - - - Regard an American farm. - That jaded collaborator, - Daylight, has just arrived. - Wavy signal of smoke - From the wooden farm-house disappears - Beneath the bluely ascetic lack of interest. - Horses, pigs, and cows - Assemble their discontent. - The result is a Chinese orchestra - Devoid of discipline and cohesion, - With all of the players intoxicated. - The animals do not realize - That their voices should portray - The farmer in the angular house; - The hackneyed prose of his life; - The expanding soul of his corn-fields. - Turn from the absence of human wisdom - And see the lights in the farm-house. - Dimly circumscribed and steady, - They symbolize future events. - The farm-hand walks to the barn, - With an ox-like dragging of feet. - Black shirt, and overalls - Whose color has been removed by dirt, - Obscure the heavy knots of his body. - His cork-screw nose ascends - To the eyes of an unperturbed pig. - Love and hate to him - Are mouthfuls of coarse food hastily gulped - During lulls in his muscular slavery. - Beneath the slanting pungency - Of the barn he vanishes, - And with meaningless sounds - He pays his meager tribute to life. - Then the farmer persuades his age - To indulge in an unwilling stumble - Across the yard. - His grey beard is the end of a rope - That has gradually throttled his face. - Within him, avarice - Is awkwardly practising the rhythms - Of weak emotions benignly, belatedly - Preparing for celestial rewards. - Within the cluttered farm-yard - He stands, a figure of niggardly order. - - Earth, the men who scrape at your flanks - Can never stop to examine - The thin line of speech that goes adventuring - Where your brown hills bite the sky. - - - - - AMERICAN VAUDEVILLE SHOW - - - This vacuous, clattering spectacle - Has collected the heart-beats of a nation. - Greed, like a gorged Machiavelli, - Slumps down in the green plush seat - And wonders whether it has not blundered, - While a sentimental song, - Like a kindly infant, - Interferes with the clink of coins. - Hatred, juvenile and deformed, - Earns the smirking oblivion - Of fat women mangling sound. - The wrangling babble of ignorance - Turns to silence underneath - The opium of innuendoes. - Acrobats appear and seem - To be raping phantom lovers - No longer beautiful and fresh - But mechanically endured. - Part of the audience is also - A battered stoic clasping worn-out mistresses. - Clog-dancers enervate - The thumping martyrs of their feet, - And chorus-girls offer the lines of their bodies - With whining voices. - - Dreams are cheap, and green plush seats - Appropriately, snugly hold - The expensive hallucinations. - - [Illustration: colophon] - - _Printing Service_ - _Company_ - _Chicago_ - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sardonic Arm, by Maxwell Bodenheim - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SARDONIC ARM *** - -***** This file should be named 60114-0.txt or 60114-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/1/1/60114/ - -Produced by Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |