1,000 Views of ‘Girl Singing’
Editor, John Bloomberg-Rissman
Publication Date: September 2009

Ordering Information at publisher Leafe Press’ site.

Publisher’s Book Description:
This book started as a project on John Bloomberg-Rissman’s blog. The starting point was the poem “The Secret Life of an Angel” by Eileen Tabios, itself a response to the poem “Girl Singing” by Filipino Poet José Garcia Villa. Bloomberg-Rissman used various transformational procedures to produce versions of Tabios’ poem, or new poems based upon it. The project was then opened to contributors, and the outpouring of creative, experimental work that followed is on show in this book — visual and musical versions, translations, reworked vocabulary in the style of John Cage; all are represented in this rich body of work.

Contributing Poets, Writers & Artists:
Eileen R. Tabios
John Bloomberg-Rissman
Geof Huth
Rebeka Lembo
lolabola
Mark Young
Ernesto Priego
Sam Bloomberg-Rissman
Robert Rissman
Sheila E. Murphy
Jukka-Pekka Kervinen
Rebekah May
Jean Vengua
Lucy Morris/Ernesto Priego
Alan Baker
Franek Wygoda
harry k stammer
Kuei Chiu
Claire Rissman-Sherr
Rupert M Loydell
Ivy Alvarez
Ed Baker
Giles Goodland
Jared Schickling
Mike Cannell
Yichen Chiu
Steve Mitchell
Cecilia Sophia Ibardaloza
Rolly delos Santos
Tim Gaze
Cralan Kelder
Aileen Ibardaloza
Anny Ballardini
Lida Bushloper
John M. Bennett
C.J. Allen
Sasha Steensen

1,000 Views of ‘Girl Singing’ has been used as a writing prompt for students of Rupert Loydell at Falmouth University. Here’s Rupert, also editor of Stride Magazine, contextualizing the new work:

“The work will be produced as part of our new WRITING AS A READER first year module on the Creative Writing degree at Falmouth University, which considers writing about, back to, from and responding to texts of all kinds (including written, spoken, the visual, aural, as well as poetry, fiction and non-fiction) including reversionary writing, collage, reviewing, adaptation, pastiche and parody, using texts as source material (literally and thematically), creative responses, as well as critical responses. It also considers genre, information content, point of view, tone and literary context.”

Here are the poems by the Falmouth University students (with, in some cases, the unique sense of humor of their age), followed by their poet-professor’s own poems:

Birdsong
By Susanne S. Aase

Birds singing. Not caring
for winter as it reaches for immortality
with a lengthening shadow

Birds singing! Listen, hear them.
They chirp like the Babaylan
to keep away the clouds.

Watch the dying sun,
milking the sky of its cobalt
gaze. It has lived many

years, and we have let it:
the ancient star who once
chose us. It’s a glorious day.

Birds singing as part of its
spell. Life is a game of survival
not yet lost, but never won.

*

Darkness
By Louisa Billingham

Girl singing. Darkness. The old man

Of winter reaches for immortality
With a lengthening shadow
Despite my skipping darkness.

Girl singing! I insist. Darkness!
I chant like the Babaylan I will
become darkness

from dimming the sun, from
milking the sky of its
darkness. He has worn many
disguises, and I have let him:
the original darkness who fell
and fell. “It’s a Glorious ride,”

he has whispered as part of his
spell. “This is a game of darkness
I have lost, but no longer wish

to play,” I reply. Girl Singing.
Day. I insist and proclaim:
“You cannot scoff, my darkness

demon. For I played with high
stakes while you only watched.”
Girl singing. Day. I risked

Everything while you hedged
so I could sing notes
only darkness can muster,

only fearful dogs can hear.
I lost myself in the ‘darkness’
But my wings unfurled

to make me rise. Unlike your
wings, mine did not betray –
unfurling as I changed my mind

for Darkness nearer than a breath away.

*

1000 Views of ‘Girl, Singing’
By Fred Ensor

Boy screaming. Night. The Young woman

of summer reaches for mortality
with a shortening finger,
despite your stepping close.

Boy screaming! You suggest. Night!
You mumble like the sinner, you won’t
dissolve like the seas

from brightening the moon, from
injecting the ground with its cobalt
haze. She has woven few

identities, and you haven’t stopped her:
the copy-cat devil who flew
and flew. “It’s a disastrous bore,”

she has shouted as part of her
equation. “This is a task of life
you have won, and no shorter predict

to work,” you ignore. Boy screaming.
Night. You suggest and debate:
“I can savor him, your well-known

angel. For you schemed with low
risks while I only ignored.”
Boy screaming. Night. You defended

Nothing while I exaggerated
so you could scream noises
only slut girls can restrain,

only foolhardy cats can ignore.
You lost yourself in the ‘mountain
of good’ but your chains coiled

to make you fall. Like my
chains, yours did not obey—
coiling as you constricted your soul.

Hell is closer than suffocation.

*

The Secret Life of a Goat
By Goat Boy

Goat singing. Day. The old goat

of winter reaches for the hay
with a lengthening shadow
despite my skipping away.

Goat singing! I insist. Day!
I chant like the Goat I will
become to keep the clouds

from dimming the sun, from
milking the goat of its cobalt
gaze. The kid has worn many

disguises, and I have let him:
the original goat who fell
and fell. “It’s a glorious ride,”

he whispered as part of his
spell. “This is a game of poker
I have lost, but no longer wish

to play,” I reply. Goat singing.
Day. I insist and proclaim:
“You cannot scoff, my secret

goat. For I played with high
stakes while you only watched.”
Goat singing. Day. I risked

everything while you hedged
so I could sing notes
only goats can muster,

only fearlful goats can hear.
I lost myself in the ‘valley
of evil’ but my beard unfurled

to make me rise. Unlike your
goat, mine did not betray—
unfurling as I changed my mind

for Heaven nearer than a breath away.

*

Death By Satan
By  Jessica Gajadharsingh

Back to the beginning. Night. fathers

In your death
With extending security
And if I go.

Screaming girl! I insist on it. Night!
I want to sing Babaylan
I keep clear sky

In the dimmed the moon,
From milking middle ground
You know. Many also enter

Posing, I do.
Satan is responsible
This increases. “A good way.”

Part of his screaming
In the manner of. “It is with Poker
I have not desired

Play, “Happy daughter Adelaide.
Night. Also, they reported:
“We cannot go, security

Ona. I went through the university
Troubles were just watching. ”
Back to the beginning. Night. In the brave

All can best compensate
Therefore, I can sing the notes
Only the eldest son can pick,

hear fearlful.
I lost myself in the “mountain.
Well, But I broke the wings.”

Let me drown. like you
Wings, and I always betray-
And break my heart changed

Satan is not a better approach.

[Jessica adds this process note: “I altered the language and then translated from English to Greek, to Arabic, to Afrikaans, to Chinese, to Hawaiian and back to English”]

*

Rhino Cloud
By Jessica Marie Tate

The girl keeps singing Day,
Whilst the immortal night sings shadow,
Two lights bleeding into one another,
The girl keeps singing Day,
Insisting Day, Day, Day
Perverting the coin into halves,
Chanting madly over his strong hand,
Keeper of the rhino cloud,
Charging her insistence into a violent opera,
Milking the sky of its cobalt gaze.

Shadow rips off his disguises,
Splicing all fearful reasoning
Bursting through the banks,
To let her have him,
Rumbling her tiny voice,
Breathing in the Dark
Girl sings Day, Day, day.

Shadow whispers gloriously,
Singing milky, quick, doom!
Girl sings her bleating spell,
Day, day, day,
All the lights get smashed away!
And he whips her in the dark
With a shrill score of black echoes.

Girl sings day scoffing her own secrets,
Chasing the smothering spider,
Like a mad bitch,
Singing DAE-mon, DAE-mon, DAE-mon,
Insisting DAEMON and smashing mirrors.
Then playing with the shards,
In the dark,
Not knowing how she bleeds,
Whilst the old man of winter watched,
Crying night in notes
only fearful dogs can hear.

Girl singing day lost herself,
In the valley of light
Clipping shadows wings,
Until all was bleached and burnt.

Unlike her,
Nights wings did not betray me,
unfurling as I insisted neither,
For Heaven is nearer than a breath away,
With a white doves beak,
In a rhino sky.

*

1000 Views of ‘Girl, Singing’ poem
By Ceire Warren

*

1000 Views of ‘Girl, Singing’ poem
By Spencer Byrne

He fell. Or rather, the heavens opened up
and dropped the morning star
from its place in the sky.

A father’s love, a frail and fickle thing
fraught with tension
like the inside of a sun,
ever pressing and pulling
turning hydrogen to helium
and bursting into light.
Gods beloved.
his favourite, favoured child,
fallen from grace, a runaway
the prostitute and drug addict and
homeless child on the street
he becomes them all.
Their pain is his own, shared
and spreading he hates them
he is them.

Falling, breaking, hating,
anger is always a secondary emotion.
The morning star, burning up inside
regret, regret, jealousy, desperation, adoration,
love

Who could love a human more than
God.

Not him.
He falls.

[Spencer notes that his ‘view’ is “based mostly on these lines within the poem ‘the original angel who/and fell’ and I wanted to explore the feelings and mythology behind Lucifer and his fall from Grace, what impacted it and why he fell.”]

*

Sings without surrender
By Kathryn Wright

Winter reaches for immortality
it sings without surrender.
Engulfing lands, glazing over them

holding them for eternity
white blankets to
keep the villages safe

protected with purity
though they tremble
beneath the weight

of snowflakes so
mesmerizing that we
do not deserve to see

them with naked eyes
but they are there all
the same, and immortal

until the winter war
is ended and the
Spring basks in glory

a victory over the
undefeatable that no
longer sings without surrender.

*

*

1000 Views of ‘Girl, Singing’ poem
By Kimana McCallum

Girl tone-deaf. Night. The old woman.

Of spring waiting for mortality
With shortening light
Despite my moonwalking away.

Girl tone-deaf! I think. Night!
I hum like the Babylon 5 I won’t
Become to lose the grass

From shining the moon, from
Drying the ground of its green
Blindness. She had not worn many

Costumes, and you have let her:
The copy angel who kept its balance
And stood up. “It’s a crappy ride.”

She had screamed as part of her
Spell. “This is not a game of poker
I have won, but longingly wish

To quit.” You don’t reply. Girl tone-deaf.
Night. I think and whisper:
“You can scoff, my obvious

Demon. For I quit with low
stakes while you don’t watch.”
Girl tone-deaf. Night. I don’t risk

Anything while you stay still
So you can botch up this notes
Only sexually active boys can muster

Only brave cats can hear.
You found yourself in the ‘garden
Of good’ but your wings curled up

To make you fall down. Like your
Wings, yours did betray –
Curling as you don’t change your mind

For Hell is not near.

*

Whispered Secrets
By Kally Gulliver

Singing.
False.
I WHISPERED a skip.
Virgin he, and when because hear.
Not lost, and the lost are darkest. They cannot sing.
The Elder unfolded a secret, only false.
“You girls a breathing. The demons.”
Winter watching.
WHISPERED when my evil angel, darkness is expanded.
“This cannot part singing, cannot the singing.”
Way to Change.
“You, you.” I answered him. “And girls, although lost, but I, and I, and so I betrayed my days. This was their wish, darkest as run am of was singing.”
He has like my fear, his singing.
Him, “only Because WHISPERED wings a so cobalt.”
I, like him, wish evil wings were only a girls secret.
“It’s dangerous only on your watching. Because stakes, but you The WHISPERED and me are in denial, but that was my collection.”

*

Ceiling Dance
By Charlie Cordt

Old immortal bladder, she sings!
I stressed the fact that this is a poker game.
I lost, but I do not want to.

Less than a stone’s throw from the sky,
you can make fun of a secret.
Unfortunately, development changes his mind.

All the time you’re with me,
just listen to the horrible dog.
It was a great trip.

The blue sky milking.
Customs included.
A monster is important.

Thick!

*

The Keeper of the Rhino Cloud
By Jessica Marie Tate

Disguises splice all fearful reasoning, Bursting lights bleeding into one another,
The smashing mirrors,
The smashing mirrors.

Playing with the the original angel,
Only fearful dogs can hear,
Unfurled to fall – “It’s a glorious ride,”
Shards in the dark,
Girl singing day lost herself,
Proclaiming “You cannot scoff, my secret”

The man of immortal winter insists neither, For heaven is burnt,
Nights wings are black echoes
Girl sings day scoffing her blood,
With an old cobalt gaze,
Unfurling as the man winter watched,
Crying night poker.

Girl singing day for Heaven opera,
Whilst the rhino sky whispers its own art,
Sounds like DAE-mon, DAE-mon, DAE-mon,
Sounds like the sun dimming the clouds,
Sounds like a girl singing Day,
Over the immortal night silent indifference.

How whispers gloriously shadow whispers on neither side,
While she sings Day –
‘Make me rise. Make me rise”
A melodic spider,
Hedging her bets like a mad bitch,
Singing halves to the coin and chanting madly!

The Angel of Jose Garcia,
Smothering Babaylan to keep the banks,
From bursting into immortality,
Rumbling her tiny voice,
Lost in the valley reflective betrayal,
Unfurling like the hand,
Of the keeper of the rhino cloud,
nearer than a breath away.

Skipping away singing violent DAE-mon,
Singing in a voice only fearful dogs can hear.

*

The Old Man of Winter
By Sarah Bridger

Weak and white and thin,
He falls and digs his nails in,
The earth unforgiving (just for now),
The wind cool.

Stretching and scratching and screaming,
He drags his feet through the evening,
The dirt obliging (for a little while now),
As bald branches creak.

Cold and careful and creeping,
He waters with his weeping,
The frost hesitant (not long now)
As the sun climbs.

Fresh and moist and delicate earth,
He sinks beneath.

*

The Secret Life of an Angel
By Elizabeth Arnold

[Elizabeth writes about her process: “I used three different text colours to create three different poems from the one original version, each with its own respective title signified by colour at the top of the piece. I used light grey to filter out any unused words or punctuation, as I wanted the original poem to stand behind the three poems that came from it.”]

*

Angel Girl
By Alex Horn

Secret angel while I proclaim: “The clouds from my demon insist Day.”
With wings sing a Life. Heaven Heaven Girl,
Hedged so only lengthening Life I whispered, “Evil.”
Cobalt gaze.
Man of the muster, only scoff, worn only will become while virgin nearer whispered, “Play.”
Your wings, secret demon, did his spell away.
Unfurled to let her sing, “Life lost, unfurled to shadow.”
The boys singing. Chant could from milking breath nearer away. Girl, hear your wings.
I make Angel Girl.
“Your poker I fell and high stakes I risked everything. I, lengthening winter.” It’s the singing.
The Secret dogs keep a muster, only of game notes, only of the singing.
Angel Girl betray.
Boys virgin clouds from singing. Insist. Singing.
The Angel Girl singing the only secret demon chant.
I make Angel Girl.
Angel Girl betray.

*

1000 Views of ‘Girl, Singing’ poem
By Eleanor King

Boy singing. Night. The young man

of summer reaches for mortality
with a shortening light
despite my walking away.

Boy singing! I give up. Night!
I speak like the Babaylan I will
become to keep the stars

from brightening the moon, from
milking the ocean of its silver
shine. She has worn many

costumes, and I have let her:
the last devil who rose
and fell. “It’s a distinguished ride,”

she has shouted as part of her
spell. “This is a game of Monopoly
I have lost, but no longer wish

to play,” I reply. Boy singing.
Night. I give up and announce:
“You can mock, my secret

demon. For I played with low
spikes while you only watched.”
Boy singing. Night. I risked

nothing while you surround
so I could shout words
only Mother Mary can muster,

only fearless cats can hear.
I found myself in the ‘valley
of good’ but my wings unrolled

to allow me to fall. Unlike your
wings, mine betrayed—
unrolling as I changed my mind

for Hell nearer than a breath away.

*

Song of Jerry
By Kevin Woodley

Jerry reaches for immortality
With a lengthening grin
Before strolling away

I chant the original Jerry
Who rises from the ground
Only fearful dogs can hear his unfurling sound

Jerry singing Jerry!
He rises into the clouds
Fingertips skimming the sun, feeling merry

The sound of Jerry
Is a sound much like Jerry
Jerry singing Jerry!

He has worn many Jerry
Disguises
On this wonderful day

For Jerry nearer than a breath away.

[Kevin notes that in this poem he uses Michael Moorcock’s Jerry Cornelius]

*

You LIFE rules mother
By Alex Horn

Multi old woman sings

Coming of winter ever.
A Long Shadow
While I jump out

Singing girl! I confirm today!
I sing when I was babaylan
To the sky

dark Sunday
The cobalt sky
He played for

Clothes, and I will.
Humpback
And fell, “this piece of driving.”

He whispered to his
Flute “is a game Poker
I lost, but is not required.

Game, “I replied. I sing.
Complex, I tested and declared:
“You can make fun of my secret.

Ginseng for playing high
Bet only as seen “.
I had a chance girl sings Iom

Although all fences
I can sing notes
One young soldiers members only.

-Only Dogs hear fearful
I think “Valley.
But Satan spread my wings

I would like to contrast.
I betray-
I changed my retirement

Down to the heavens as breathing.

[Alex’s process note reads: “This one took the original text and ran it through Google Translate many, many times.”]

*

Day
By Adriana Ciontea

-after Eileen Tabios’ ‘The Secret Life of an Angel’

Day. reaches me,
but nearer, the gods you like
keep lengthening the sky.
you could scoff me
I whispered to the angel
“I lost boys myself,

*

1000 Views of ‘Girl, Singing’ poem
By Connor Anderson

Girl singing. Day
And night. And all hours between

Stop.

Yes, Hark! The angels sing
But leave that to them
For though I’m sure the Heavens birthed you an angel
In many rights
That which seeps through my walls is, surely
From hell

Girl singing. Day
And night. And all hours between

How am I to eat, to drink
to smoke
to masturbate – oh my ears ache! While my brain is ringing
From your god-awful singing
Surely an angel would be kind
So as not to deny
a lazy man his mind?

Girl singing. Day
And night. And all hours between
I insist and proclaim:

Shut up

*

The Valley Of Evil
By Sarah Bridger

Journeying Through the Valley of Evil, An essay exploring the nature of evil as it exists in the legal system of modern America.
This article is about the character Graak from Ewoks 4: Valley of Evil. You may be looking for the Ewok Graak from Star Wars: Episode VI Return of the Jedi.
Valley of Evil – Google Books Result
The Valley of Evil v2.0 · NetrunnerDB
dialogue – Who really is “the meanest motherfucker in the valley …
Valley of evil team | Pokémon | Know Your Meme
Valley of Evil: Buy Valley of Evil Online at Low Price in India on …
Red Valley of Evil – Flying Simulator on the App Store – iTunes – Apple
The Movie Show: Ouija Origin of Evil and In a Valley of Violence …
Into the valley of evil I go… – www.tombraiderforums.com

*

BY THE POET-PROFESSOR:

1000 Views of ‘Girl, Singing’ poems
By Rupert Loydell

Heaven nearer than a breath away

I want to be swept away, lost in love for you;
my love won’t be undone, is nearer than
one breath away… Heaven is hugging us!

The boy who came back from Heaven
is just one breath away, nearer than hands and feet,
closer than breathing, nearer than my own skin.

I have found thee nearer than the farther, farther than
the near. A permanent museum may be built.
Aught else is measured by how many breaths we take.

.

The Inaudible Life of an Angel

Only fearful dogs can hear
the inaudible sound of fear.
Extreme noises reinforce the fear.

Hear the warning tone,
hear them whining,
soon to break into full-on cries.

I’m not crazy, live in constant fear
of missing a crucial sound,
the loud noise of thunder.

Just be sure that you approach me
with calm energy and leadership,
as you would a child.

.

Girl Chanting

A chant pushes up like a hushed inhale
murmuring from a hesitant corner.

A good chant focuses the energy of the crowd
on an important issue like a laser.

You chant at the audience and they chant back;
from our faith and hope springs a love.

When I plug into my source,
the chanting comes like electricity.

I want everyone to feel like they belong,
acquire a mob mentality and start chanting.

There’s only love, no judgement, an eerie peacefulness.
It’s like a moth to a flame, earthstars in orbit,

you see the only thing keeping you out of love.
Doubts about chanting are like buttermilk froth.

I chant like a team that wins nothing at all.

.

He has worn many disguises

He came as Satan, scoffing,
a seductive secret demon,
a gambler ready for high stakes
but the world wasn’t having it.
The dogs knew him, though
they couldn’t hear him,
and Heaven is not a canine concept.

He came as anger, as grief,
abstract emotions to be
sucked into the mind
and lodged there,
unbalancing each day
until we sought asylum
in the safe spaces of Hell.

He came as a lover,
as a fellow shopper,
a womaniser and clown,
a secondhand car salesman,
a financial adviser
and a friendly doctor
advising a period of rest.

Girl kept on singing,
to herself, to others,
an angel amongst the debris
sure of her own immortality,
wrapped in the shadows
of her unfolded wings,
betraying her secret life.

.

Girl skipping away

Despite my skipping away
I wasn’t quite sure why I’d come back

Despite my skipping away
there is nothing left to show

Despite my skipping away
I have forgotten my intentions

Despite my skipping away
people are getting older

Despite my skipping away
something is missing

Despite my skipping away
there are no satisfactory answers

Despite my skipping away
it has to be important

Despite my skipping away
I hoped the parachute would open

Despite my skipping away
you have to face the facts

Despite my skipping away
you are too immersed in the search

Despite my skipping away
it is becoming pretty clear

Despite my skipping away
I don’t need your help any more

It is time to leave the hothouse

.

© Rupert M Loydell

***

More recently, Prof. Loydell used this text again for a 2020 class. This time, students provided responses in not just English but Afrikaans, Klingon and Huttese (the latter being Jabba the Hutt’s lingo in “Star Wars”). You can see it all HERE.