Ithaca

("It's the same with men as with horses and dogs, nothing wants to die,...")****

Ithaca

650

There he was, on the corner, training for christ
and here I am, the son of music
finding myself at home
in the lower day
an anachronism of magnetic north
an arc where matter inherited converts itself to spirit
where admission to the forest of the orthodoxy
crosses into the circus of celibates
this life, plastic, transatlantic,
this life, interrupted, diametric,
this life

this life

Ithaca 651

the art of collapsing
is a subject of destination
an electric influence based
in restriction
and procrastination
a development of converse accommodation
imperfect in motion with a past history
of occasional acquaintance
and degrees of circular navigation.

with velocity in hand
and imperfect experience
we arrive and in arriving,

choose this domain

Ithaca 652

Space is a question of pharmaceuticals
a prepared rest compressing existence
into a dwarf stratagem a
stone a point in the darkness a
destination of hope
forgotten
Everything we received is gone at
moment of our decision
we, the men of indifferent hats
hands in trousers
pocket-less, moving on irritated pavement
feet allowed to ascend in preparation
stealing the host and
falling into nonexistence

**** Tom Waits

The Well Is Full of Pennies*

Eumaeus 635

A ladder against my night window

a peculiar gospel of forgetting

a dreaming stairwell in an electric bedroom

the simple fashion of assassination

moves me to claim safety in the storms of bliss

and carve fame from doubtful fire

and loveless smiles

to witness the wild and windblown shore

to hear the eternal itchy sirens

to finally fall victim to their expectation

and gain admittance to the waves no more.

636

Diego's king

that man of Spain

surprised by teeth

made by decency

wouldn't be so passionate

had he answered his own reflection

where he bears the glowing of abandon

of pianos and executions

and rumors of vengeance without dreaming

his Velazquez daughters

rather muddled in his pockets

watched over by that frumpy idiot

the tiny lady eyeless,

victim of gravity.

*Tom Waits- The Fall Of Troy

Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet*

Eumaeus 632

A little bitching and the plague is upon us

we fools we beat the length of our absence with a jaw

and pull a coup from the mouths of our poor

these nests of nettles and copper

they settle us as lent lords  even though we

often place our feet between our teeth

 but, nevermind, the bodies reasons will  cleverly manage

to deliver us to joy

633

who but a friend may take shelter

in rooms of the dead?

who buys our memories

and resells them at a profit?

who but man with eventual aliases

will be hurt in the market of oblivion?

who will lead us out of redemption?

634

O common bitch

you fucked up and left a bone

had you come back you'd 've

found at least one

in matters of faintest laughter

we are worse for our suspicions

we are commonplace drifting criminals

without suspicion

and lie to each other affectionately

on a boat named no direction.

* Gavin Bryars

Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet