Thursday, March 31, 2011

Sea Of Storms

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I had forgotten the indecent downpour
the one I so long ago sheltered from
until the drizzle of this morning
and there, unslept, I was suddenly shot
through with red feeling
and driven mad by ruthless emptiness.
Now the hollow world of night
returns and takes possession of
the tables that never really turn
but they leave me waiting, furious
and return me to something small and bent and out of doors,
lumpy, coughing weapon
staggering behind the weight of those crazy years.


Our Sistah! a whispering chant
lurching we forward toward you nymph your song
and smoke we cast outward and find you mortal
you, expected force descending,
passing watchman sleeping
veiled truth is now broken,
the flame of boughs and sunlight
my evil arms deserve you
my expected tears turn into
Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu

Monday, March 28, 2011

We Are Stunned By the Absurdity Of Our Situation

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Breathe in the hot night
take a smile for your mistress
and give into a charmed glove
in a spare bed
where you train for the end
where you look out for different dances
perhaps like a wedding you'll never attend where
the hand lectures the depths
and droops from the carrying of
maidens who wash up on the beach
to make you hard.


what's good for looking at
is a weapon for kissing
a nickel-plated instinct with your
initials carved on the side
jeweled modesty holding
gallons of you between its thighs
its accent indistinct
its knees hinting at what's to come
the dark advance of fascination
you think is for you
but you are mistaken
you are just a seam a
daring vice laid limp
to advance the night.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Nearby Catastrophes

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We join the cult of insubordination
and commit dearest marriage with our own eyelids
and teach love's lessons to
the impersonators of our sins
the shadows rise against our unspeakable offenses
as the junkman halls away the cult of the past
we are indecent instruments
courting beauty and its partner,
fragmentary light-
cruising the streets with strict martinets
looking for a telephone
we are encouraged to go out through the windows
and join the flying voices outside.


O, don't ask me how
I got this tail
you might smell thanks and
get poetry
O, go for the pleasant answer
the easy answer
these blind days
may just amuse you.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Monsters In Conversation

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Holding my breath
rustling, bursting,
what comes to pass?
standing up and finished I net a thing,
a yoke of diamonds
no more measurements need be taken
shed these blows and wait
for the larger world outside
wait at the edge of understanding
Where the sweat and silk
will be taken from your hands
and replaced with nails.


The splendid cat surrenders
to the blind pull of the street
at chilly, chilly night it shifts
its poses to small things, how it
decides its conversion
and departs the mirror,
and washes away the delicate
blackness around it.
what little second-hand
mouth are we reminded of, anyway?

Monday, March 21, 2011

It Seems Like A Dream

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enjoy the change
keeping good but held down
going from job to job
and read about some possible slaughter
the cruelty will hurt you
another hell inserts itself
and belches news
and keeps us waiting


I find enough comfort
in the curse of an eclipse
it helps to know that even fools
can kiss
where luck alone is not enough
one may pace a country of minutes
and hold us bare at the brothel door
we monsters nurse various vipers
and share infernal opinions
upturning the things we share
and having enough of proper prayer
goddamn the ear that finds this voice
buying smoke and hoping for help

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Pointing To A Different Horizon

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I promised not to cry
but could feel the weight of your fall
through the smoke and
magnificence of it all
you are falling
your excellent lies
and glorious weight
your eyes proud, disobey
now. You
you are a devourer a
piercing sign of
I admire your altitude
as you fall,
you are falling


The good word
a flute of violent correctness
the heart creeps, trembling toward safety
tender the bloom
that does not mean a thing
but gently waits its nature
a slave to all these faces
to the anticipation of eyes
to the balance of a kiss and
the good beginnings
waiting for the time
waiting for the morning
waiting for the hard word:
she's not there

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Shadows and Divots

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All things end.
before there was experience
there was a gentle hand
that tied the knot
that bent the rocks
and made the sea
this was not a life of rain
but of mail order blooms and
kneelength dreams
incredibly, even joy became unfastened
and fell like rocks
lost in time
All things end.
the young are served
their darling roads are satinlined
cause yet undecided
their finger stiff and
pointed slowly downward


Adorer of night
the royal tight
took a wrong turn
in the eyelet of Paris
hound of distinction
awaiting dishonor
how dull your eyes now
your visitor an
the dance thickens as the
head gets heavy
you mumble your orders
the sickness advances
infatuations are bungled
we lace our intentions
with voices dancing
we remain worn with luck

Monday, March 14, 2011

Cirque D'Hiver*

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I have mislaid my mustache
that merry mauve keeper of my
large insistence
its color makes me sad
my partly affected face
is now confused
now, here, a horn where once you grew
my hard eyes quickly miss
the light
or is it just the memory of such?


the angle of my life
is a faithful drop forgotten
its exhausted desire now ends in domination
its enormous skin expires
at the door of self-same slumber
clutching an abandoned letter of regulation
explains our power tapping of recognition
of all those eyes before we knew them
we have met before, our fate a
twinge of probable being
is it all the same or
are we simply dreaming?

*Elizabeth Bishop

Saturday, March 12, 2011

A Dream Of Losing Teeth

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the peeping kiss is so easter
comes as a dwarf to
remind us of the one big trick
the one that ends in blood and cabbage
the trick that blesses us with savage mercy
and imparts suffering to the heart in our pocket.

The devil sniffs around the night
shrinking from murder thanks to
the voice of the snake
thanks to the chocolate bunny
thanks to his funny little agony
his fiddle is a form that passes for a cross.
up you go!


What whore on the doorstep
could be so full of himself
with fork and overcoat he comes to
eat at the exorcism
to impel us to relax
to taunt us then object at our leaving.
a cracked cough announces his act
a ventriloquist with no mouth
he turns to conjure the day
and finally leaves in thanks.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

It Is Still Dark

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In your confidential skin you
unscrew bad laughter you
produce a flower from
under a door where
all is now lost
pushing onward toward departure
we shoulder your flying heart and
prefer farewell to gliding
here is where we exit, quacking.


doorway thumbs akimbo
our palms outstretched
we weigh ourselves down
in spoiled sovereigns and priestly agony
our captured eye is
closed tightly it is a bloated, self-important dwarf
with the head of a dog
and wearing the socks of simians
we are all god's error.

Monday, March 7, 2011

The Whole On High Hath Part In Our Dancing*

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he smothers his connections in smoke
the fatherless bastard, mothered by
the eye of Iscariot, schooled in swallowing
had convulsions then
saw god
and god was blue
and a painter
agonizing in a dry black desert
subscribed to torture
as if he never existed
yet feels the sensation of rushing air
who put you in this damn position?


messiah with burst ears
jerking apes of delight
love is in the bones
the tossed away castanets,
the polluted wisdom of ataxia
the ecstasy of dictionaries
the frozen loins of oranges
O cry of the new cynic
who gives into the night
with only a glance behind.

*The Gnostic Gospels

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Brightness and Shape As Such*

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bird of hell, tell me about your dreams,
are you singing?
do the idiots know their impatient name?
I will show you the window of hell
if you teach me the right music.
I will watch you from across the sea
if you pay my way
will art leave us
lost and unfinished,
penniless and unwell,
and an octave apart?
take note, bird-
you have been seen here before
we all have.


Yes, the priest of Penrose
shot the spirit- shot it through with
penance and ash
causing the skin to come off
starting with the tail
leaving us to only be known
by the meat
yes, we know the clever jungle
will bite us in our weakness
we know the night will explode in the sun

*Rudolf Arnheim
and joy will run out
we know what we can't hide

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

How Do You Sleep?

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Fearing cows with serpents for teeth
we extend our hands psalms upward
into the dry air
the desert floor is littered with
cracked eyeglasses and shoes
the wind stinks of oysters and
ominous instinct
Catastrophe rules
shortly, we receive our answer
and we turn back to friends
whose ideas appall us but
in whom we still find life and
an unsurpassed world


Let me issue a disclaimer
let me stare sideways against the shade
Let me take wing and be the king
of flowers and telegraph poles
and drunken strings and
underjawed, art arising
from misunderstanding
let me fill my tomorrows with sparrows and
guitar music with
winged eyes rushing
to interview the morning
let me touch spring