Audio

Here is Jordan Thornquest mashing up Mrs. Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel with a bit of Call Me The Breeze by Lynyrd Skynyrd outside of Ketchum Burrito on Main Street (Twin Falls Idaho) (9/27/16). Also, for good measure, he threw in a reference to Donald Trump.

Captioning for the Deaf/Hard of Hearing:

And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Wo wo wo
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey hey hey, hey hey hey

We’d like to know a little bit about you for our files
We’d like to learn to help you help yourself
Look around you all you see are sympathetic eyes,
Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Wo wo wo
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray,
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey

Hide it in the hiding place where no one ever goes
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes
It’s a little secret just the Robinson’s affair
Most of all you’ve got to hide it from the kids

Koo-koo-ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Wo wo wo
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray,
Hey, hey, hey hey, hey, hey

They Call me the breeze
Cuz I keep blowin’ down the road
Well they call me the breeze
Cuz I keep blowin’ down the road
Really don’t have no business
blowin’ down your ?road you know?

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the candidates’ debate
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you’ve got to choose
Choosing Donald Trump you know you’d lose

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio,
Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you
Wu wu wu
What’s that you say, Mrs. Robinson
Jolting Joe has left and gone away,
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey


they changed the forecast
today from
partly sunny to
mostly cloudy: not by
    prophecy:
    stuck their
heads out the window &
tho the instruments
didn't agree reduced
the gap between
prophecy & existent fact:
the direct 
yields abundance, while
calculation
drags upon the event:
I beg that my eyes that are
open
be opened, that the
     drives, motions,
intellections, symbologies
myths--lift,
       expose me
to direct
sight: seeing, I
color, alter, hide, accent:
but what is there, naked
   & nonhuman?
or here, deep &
terrifyingly human?
are we confined in an atom
with fiery nucleus? is
there too much room,
the ego under threat of
   dispersion?

you--who are you? how do
I feel about you?
do I hate it that I love
to be tied to you by love?
  untied, wd I be free
  or lost?

but for
your own sake: who
               are you?
can I help? is there any
thing I can do:
are things
working out
all right for you? what
are those black areas?
are they parts
       of you that can't
       fall into place,
come into light?
are they longings &
fears only dreams whisper?

  I love you the best
    I know how:
    encounter me with
belief:

are you getting yours?
   getting & giving
yours, mine, & ours,
are we resolving most of
the areas, are we touching
   on elation
   enough?
do I love you mostly, or
the thought of us
        together?

are you hoping that
giving will make up for
not getting? that wd
be the course of saints:
   get, too: get it
   from me: I have it
   and having
   it for you, I get mine:

who are you, deeper?
have I sounded you? was
that
bottom I struck? but oh
up in the heart & around
your breasts
   and to speak of the deep
   in your eyes, have
   I come into your
          measure? are
you getting yours? have
you been had?
You've had me: I float:
  every cell
  comes to this:
          you are
beautiful: you are
just beautiful:
beautiful: thank you:

11:16 a.m: a blur of light
     just came into
the room,
lived a few seconds, then
died away:
my crown-of-thorns,
waiting, got the benefit,
struck across the middle:
     the instruments were
     right in a way:
emphasis distinguishes
partly sunny from mostly
cloudy: if it don't
    snow it's gonna miss
    a good chancet: I'll
say that:
lagging behind the event:
running to catch up: to
    be at the
    crest's break, the
    running crest,
event becoming word:

anti-art & non-classical:
in art, we do not run
to keep up with random
moments, we select
& create
the moment
occurring forever:
     timelessness held
     at the peak of time:
(just went to take a leak:
jay on the back lawn,
hopping, looking around,
   turning leaves)

but this may turn back on
itself, motion by motion,
a continum, held in
  timelessness
  racing with time,,,,like
a napkin
burnt in the ashtray, red
beads, flameless, racing
around, splitting, dying,
turning fiber into ash:
  held activity:

let's have faith to go
   ahead & see if anything
will happen:
maybe the tape will run out:

(looks a long way off:
   Muse! Muse! fiery
   woman, what
   you got to tell me?
   tell me:
   I feel weak so
much tape remains:
my back's getting sore:
I don't sleep good
with this going on--slept
   pretty good last night:
   woke up once
   into a country of dreams:
wanted to remember them:
but mostly cloudy was
   too bright, even,
   for them: it was
a country, I think: great
many people: & no news
of my book at the pstffce
again this morn:  so I 
      don't feel
      strong about
      things: I
      need plenty of help:
      the crusty world
      takes no notice:
      Muse, what must we
      do to hit the top:
      it'd better
be good: give a little,
will you, please?) (I'm
                   bushed:)
but you can do worse
than be a singer of verses:

(I'm the biggest
fool that ever was--
   assertion's not the 
   way to the top, you're
   a little round fool--
to follow you off into
these woods:  who are you
anyhow?  some kind of a 
prickteaser?)

    & so & so & so & 
    so & so
    &
    so & so & so & so so

(some kinuva sans merci?)

lunch: hot dogs and baked
  beans again: swell:
  2/23: 11 cents a can: cheap:
  hotdogs run you around--
    oh let's see:
  this morning's coffee &
  a chocolate fudge cookie:
  maybe 30 cents altogether:
  & all
  that energy
turned into verse
will bring
you 
about
four condemnations:

  transformations!
   metamorphoses!
    mitachondria!
     hell's bells!

how my back hurts: even
by concentrating, I can't 
feel any presence
to my balls: missing:

wd it be masturbatory if
I if I
  touched the area
briefly
just to make sure?

two cool tight weights!
    thank you:
thank you very much:

if I had a flute: wdn't 
if be fine
to see this long thin
poem
rise out of the waste-
                 basket:
the charmed erection,
stiffening, uncoiling?

anyways, that wastebasket
is coiled full: wonder if
I should stomp
         in it?

in & out: weaving in & 
         out: a
tapestry, looking for all
the world
as if it were alive:

(break we that watch up)
just took a ride out
to the refuge: 100,000
birds: mallards, grebes, 
teals, herons, Canada
               geese &
two excellent flyers
  from which there is
     no refuge:
one, the short-necked,
long-tailed red hawk: he
browses the marshes &
for the little bird,
little bird
he is carefully looking:
& way overhead, turning, 
the quiet, black
vulture:
two avenues flesh
can take: the tight red
& the loose dark meat:
   red ambulance
     & black hearse,
brazen reminders: and the 
birds fly among, regarding
& regardless:

the trash collectors came 
while I was gone & 
          took the
week's waste away: we
   are purged: even
a house has the incoming & 
outgoing energies
& losses by which it
  is maintained:
the garbage truck
says on the back
  "We aim to serve,
      not disturb":
sophisticated
assonance

       & & & & & & &  

intellections are
   scaffolds, trellises
we wish some vine of
     feeling would take to
& possess
completely:
      spider build
      a circle
hung in
the squares of: bird
light on & sing from
the top of:
     we build them even
for the windsong's
tenuous life:
chance
  a vine will ramble up it
busting into leaves & roses,
giving the robin a place
& making all the air
  around
  fragrant: we build these
structures because we
have hope, at least:
              we're
  flat & lifeless, 
  but these erections,
they have hollow spaces,
room: we mean
  to change--that is,
a spouting is going 
to go on: good, bad, & 
indifferent are gonna 
clutter up all around,
   rise through the 
   lattices
   of held space
   and sing all
together, rose,
   thorn,
   smear of birdshit:
   gonna rise
right up out of the
               ground
where the dreams wait
and be red & gold
and laughing to beat the
                   band:

intellections are
bowls we hope to fill:
motions on the
prowl:
don't
cut them
down or bust them up so
    the water spills
    & the vine hunts
aimlessly over the ground:

do
not be impatient with us:
we're coming along &
      meantime
entertain yourselves with
the dry beauty of our 
  joists & timbers, slats
& designs:
if nothing ever breaks
into leaf
still we 
meant to encourage
    the vine: we like
    the call of the 
robin & his early visit &
the color of his hen's 
eggs & 
the way he stands on the
      lawn, erect--
   dressed for a wedding:

intellections have a use,
don't think they don't:
if the vine couldn't 
find a natural tree, what 
  would become of it? if
structure without life is
meaningless, so is
   life without structure:
we're going to make a 
dense, tangled trellis so
   lovely & complicated that
every kind of variety will
find a place in it or on
it: you just be
        surprised: &
        forgive us:
        who mean song
  direct & fierce:

(this day
  ended
   in spite of all
    mostly sunny)

a dark night of stars
ensuing:

help me:
I have this & 
     no other comfort:
     the song,
the slight, inner
unmistakable song you 
give me
and nothing else! what
      are you,
some kind of strumpet?
will you pull out on me?
look: I have faith: I 
have faith: come or go:
I'll always love you:
I have nothing else:
I have nothing else besides you:
will you tear me 
    to pieces?  I'll go
on without you, until
you come again:
               then
  in the flare of song
we'll make a common flame:

if it ain't one fantasy 
it's anothern:  where
  are you, reality?
  come out of there:
you drift around in the
background, drooping
like a suckegg dog:
probably I'd like you
   all right
if I could get up close 
enough to know you:
are you pieces of things
not quite fastened?
what's your face like?
     frowns &
     bitters?
     witchy?
     scrawny?
     warty?
     withery?
maybe I've given you a 
horrible mask
and behind that you're 
  beautiful: or
is this another dream,
reality's dream?
  then, is reality to be
free of fantasies, those
I hang between us,
  those I cast on you?

fact is, I'm having
this conversation with a
piece of paper!
  and "you" are a figment
of imagination and "you"
have no mask
& if you did
no face
wd be behind it:
all this is just coming
out of my head:
the factory of fantasies:
some beautiful, some
terrifying,
some this, some that--but
all, paper & thin air!
  a hundred dragons
and furies, satyrs & 
centaurs--and one
Muse!
     get food:
     get water:
     get sex:
bank account, nice car,
good address, retirement
plan, investment portfolio,
country-club membership,
monogrammed shirts, summer
home, cabin cruiser, big
living room (furnished
modern)
     Money
     Power
     Food
     Water
     Sex--and who needs
paper conversations,
words revved up in a 
fine motion and a headful
of dragons?

reality, I've got a feeling
you can be awful nice! but
if the only reality
I can get is a spare,
   hard-bought one, why
turn on the fantasies and
let there be gorgeousness,
color & motion,
red & gold fabrics
and fine illusioning silks!

the man with bills to pay
dreams with a Muse!

reality is
knowing what you want
and how
to get it:

                    (A.R. Ammons)

This is an excerpt from the book Tape for the Turn of the Year

Context: He was typing on a roll of adding machine paper. It is a book length poem. He typed nearly daily until he ran out of tape. It was 1963.

master bias leaning

The Honor of Competition by Marcus Schorzman

Twin Falls High School TEDx Event

Jordan Thornquest covering We’re Going to be Friends by Jack White

Jordan Thornquest – Mrs. Robinson plus

Jordan Thornquest covers Frankie Cosmos – Fool

What does a Lion say?

Addam Chavarria on the Street in Boise

11 Dec: (Ammons)