folklores of the farthest future, unite, invade the present, take us over, somersault us over, let our stomachs regurgitate all all pasts, let there only be a dizzying flat horizon-talness infinity of the present spreading its tentacular nerval electron-i-cities wider and away and inside into the grand (to a billionth, or nano, power) child's gut and spinal song of opened outward surging meta-electronic post brainal multi galactic money
a dream i had, recently: mayawati as seshnag, fist on chin at pralaya/ floating in a sea of statues in hardbeating rain that made the ocean roil over & over gurgitating her & her statues up & up into the painted clouds, vedic moments are made of such
Monday, December 29, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
(on genocide in Armenia)
imprinted in claylike canyon
picking by finger by finger
8 decade old death, fibula and socket
femur & skull
only a little
killing field, only 50000 here,
holocaust-in-miniature, genocide in proto
resettled in sand, unfortunate tragedy,
gendarmes and pashas
eyesockets and teeth, men rounded up and taken to market
tied by their feet to the tail of a horse and galloped up a ravine.
___
the caravan advances the creeper on the white bull rhyming its bells
she in saffron as the evening-hour behind are children and the younger maids-
all riding on the mountain deer the clouds fill water from the valley’s dew
the child urges his mother to recount the legend
of fire and fever, scorching up the mountain’s skirts. the mistress then puts out the fire with her imploring tears, made it green, made the lucid lake of blessings placid again.
nectar in the vase. the heat, the labor, the pain of journey all reconciled-
by the sight of the Silver Mountain- and in its vale, florid clusters-
the world seemed small, five pointed as a star. birds and animals twitter on the glassy surface.
the moon asleep, her hair catching stars, her skirts the valley’s flowers. the sun had rolled down the other side. the mountain now in a crimson of sunset, seeming to itself meditate-
swans sing in the water. enfolded palms hold votive marigold.
the bees-buzz echo, animative. the stranger outlines himself in her chest.
memory’s forgotten lunar wavelet planets and stars are abubble in this auspice of consciousness-
the night’s eyelid closes, the journey is over- a passing, fleeting sorrow,
the wrinkles in her lip help play the flute the water below is both crystal and golden with the reflection of all the dispersed pollen this is heaven’s yard, the dance of flowered plants,
each branch with a hundred blown buds hang heavy. the snow light is golden too, the moon is diadem
sportive, simulative-
_______
this skull collapses in the palms into golddust
this word is not worth the breath it consumes.
food for pomegranate lips, only a handful of earth is needed
to cover this corpse ( & there are mountains all around)
empty desert cisterns piled high in mangle
(I dig graves for one, two, seven … but how many?)
the desert sun blotches the nude to olive
(6 months naked in the desert, walking behind the horses)
(in abandoned railway quays and yards, closeted with gun machine fire)
human redness, malarial marsh
the reich is not yet warm in its ash, nor the nineteenth century
leopald’s congo
________
no more buddhas-
sitting upside down speeding down-
ward underwater deep into the emerald, miniature
legs rousedly scissoring the blemished dream-grain
shearing the liquour-ous surface, scattering fishworm eyes
four arms unwaving, limp, aniconic, mind lost in some damp interior
intestine not dream nor metaphor nor language not
trombone can save this undeft,
clumsy enlightenment, this waking
______
imprinted in claylike canyon
picking by finger by finger
8 decade old death, fibula and socket
femur & skull
only a little
killing field, only 50000 here,
holocaust-in-miniature, genocide in proto
resettled in sand, unfortunate tragedy,
gendarmes and pashas
eyesockets and teeth, men rounded up and taken to market
tied by their feet to the tail of a horse and galloped up a ravine.
___
the caravan advances the creeper on the white bull rhyming its bells
she in saffron as the evening-hour behind are children and the younger maids-
all riding on the mountain deer the clouds fill water from the valley’s dew
the child urges his mother to recount the legend
of fire and fever, scorching up the mountain’s skirts. the mistress then puts out the fire with her imploring tears, made it green, made the lucid lake of blessings placid again.
nectar in the vase. the heat, the labor, the pain of journey all reconciled-
by the sight of the Silver Mountain- and in its vale, florid clusters-
the world seemed small, five pointed as a star. birds and animals twitter on the glassy surface.
the moon asleep, her hair catching stars, her skirts the valley’s flowers. the sun had rolled down the other side. the mountain now in a crimson of sunset, seeming to itself meditate-
swans sing in the water. enfolded palms hold votive marigold.
the bees-buzz echo, animative. the stranger outlines himself in her chest.
memory’s forgotten lunar wavelet planets and stars are abubble in this auspice of consciousness-
the night’s eyelid closes, the journey is over- a passing, fleeting sorrow,
the wrinkles in her lip help play the flute the water below is both crystal and golden with the reflection of all the dispersed pollen this is heaven’s yard, the dance of flowered plants,
each branch with a hundred blown buds hang heavy. the snow light is golden too, the moon is diadem
sportive, simulative-
_______
this skull collapses in the palms into golddust
this word is not worth the breath it consumes.
food for pomegranate lips, only a handful of earth is needed
to cover this corpse ( & there are mountains all around)
empty desert cisterns piled high in mangle
(I dig graves for one, two, seven … but how many?)
the desert sun blotches the nude to olive
(6 months naked in the desert, walking behind the horses)
(in abandoned railway quays and yards, closeted with gun machine fire)
human redness, malarial marsh
the reich is not yet warm in its ash, nor the nineteenth century
leopald’s congo
________
no more buddhas-
sitting upside down speeding down-
ward underwater deep into the emerald, miniature
legs rousedly scissoring the blemished dream-grain
shearing the liquour-ous surface, scattering fishworm eyes
four arms unwaving, limp, aniconic, mind lost in some damp interior
intestine not dream nor metaphor nor language not
trombone can save this undeft,
clumsy enlightenment, this waking
______
Thursday, December 25, 2008
poems from c s giscombe's class-
first poem-
kettledrums and wrestler elephant and elephant keeper
tighten your waistband fasten your curly locks
sovereign of elephants, seized (him) by his trunk
--- slipping the hold darting between pillars of feet
the elephant smells the sweat, he slips free
grasping him by his tail as an eagle a snake dodging
left-right midst twirl of hips as boy with calf
then suddenly forward Wham on the head
and still more feints and more and hits.
by. now. furious gashed
elephant
a final gore with its tusklips blood phlegmed yellow each separate tooth
goaded.
but he lifts him by the trunk hurls him to the ground stepping like a lion he tears the tusk
& then also breaks the skull of the elephant keeper.
holding tusk as ripened fingernail aloft as trophy he enters,
rut and further elephant fluid on his muscle
lotus face,
kettledrums and wrestler elephant and elephant keeper
tighten your waistband fasten your curly locks
sovereign of elephants, seized (him) by his trunk
--- slipping the hold darting between pillars of feet
the elephant smells the sweat, he slips free
grasping him by his tail as an eagle a snake dodging
left-right midst twirl of hips as boy with calf
then suddenly forward Wham on the head
and still more feints and more and hits.
by. now. furious gashed
elephant
a final gore with its tusklips blood phlegmed yellow each separate tooth
goaded.
but he lifts him by the trunk hurls him to the ground stepping like a lion he tears the tusk
& then also breaks the skull of the elephant keeper.
holding tusk as ripened fingernail aloft as trophy he enters,
rut and further elephant fluid on his muscle
lotus face,
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