Sunday, April 8, 2012

Poem seven

oh yes you do
for Minnie & Seymour


if I can't speak of human love
without wincing
how will I begin to say about
my inhuman loves
what they do
how they love a human
without wince
surely their reason is above
my reason their love
conquers, enfeebling my love
their tempers for change
& unconcern humiliate
my grounding need
of affirming words, looks
I think fond words while mimicking
their little voices as if to say
you can hear my desperate
thoughts please say
that you can
my hole my kept
self mimics their self-kept
whole if I can't speak it
& they go on speaking it



Saturday, April 7, 2012

Poem six

parafacts

for us to see for us       does chasing does       in the forest forest       does it does it       mean we are mean       to seas fluorescent       the scent & flower the       thanks in the way       we are in the way       easy does it does       for us in the forest       will floor us will       mean we are we       the seas for us       to see for us       to scent for us       too mean meaning too       much makes much       to thank & think to       chase it does it easy       to say for us to say




*


mint juleps
pulling ardent
leeway little
lady get
long little
lint belly
sure ligature
leave alone
listen off
let ago
lept & bound
put layaway
on & on
garden scalp
gashed green
running red
leading lady
gin & ginger
walks away
burning brash
asunder staple

Friday, April 6, 2012

Poem five (late)

this poem is

fucking awesome
last night I had
a JJ sandwich with
mayo but I specifically
asked for no mayo so
I just wanna pay
it forward poetry
is about self-
expression right
thx for meeting me halfway

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Poem four

into the great wide

I come from a placing. up & away tree light that sun bark. we run the plane runs is it a race on your mark. wing manned. clouds of visibility belowing. someone said there was a cause another said they'd never left no one did. sheets pulled to. I'm the last bastion not of safety but offence. a word in the land birthed too in the gush. trampoline into remiss. this is terrence stuff. ginger root pulled from the wreck's body. let them wait outside. we wouldn't put curtains no one would just be allowed to look. because in the concourse. fear of the once-born quills loosen flapping molts. everyone makes generalizations um. real or perceived threats to passenger safety all well. gazed agave. be confident but don't think you're worth it. out by the roots. hair cuts skin across the pull my yes for you is like. shadow of the clouds burns the land in hush. you like her enough you'd possess her don't. zero visibility pulls to well all he wanted was. one said another says the ear gums up with too much inner. never get sick why now eye shuts think sea another said the will to. phone switch to plane mode tower of reception I am. suspension of relief the will to be possessed or land. where this is you won't be a way to say. pulling. if I have to die make it in the morning made it. there was a cause. write in thought before waking that I'm acknowledge. come back over. up & then away I come. please don't be unless & all's well that isn't.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Poem three

day cart

in the beginning porch
created the heaven & the swing
& the swing was without porch
& void; & darkness was upon the
face of the porch
& the swing of porch moved
upon the face of the swings
& porch said, let their be swing
& there was swing

I heartily accept the motto,––
that porch is best which swings least;
& I should like to see it swung up to
more rapidly & systematically
carried out, it finally amounts to this
which I also believe,––
that swing is best which porches not at all;
& when swings are prepared for it
that will be the kind of porch
which they will have
swings are at best but an expedient
but most porches are usually
& all swings are sometimes
inexpedient

the physical porch was still there
this swing that was my body
after waiting twenty-eight porches
I had still not come to my swing
I should instead say
come out into my porch
into my swing, within this dilapidated porch
this ramshackle swing of deteriorated porch
inert, as some swing with its porches
can be inert
& all these swings which run
in the huddled sedimentary porch
swingable is the word for it
––I was; & not just in some swings
but through & through
ever since first coming in contact
with this terrible porch
which I am sure had erected swings
against me to bar my entry
& since my porch there
the swing no longer seems so extraordinary
to me that I may not affirm that I was
in the literal sense of the word
porched

Monday, April 2, 2012

Poem two

ex machina

patient's hallucinations concerning       en el tiempo       approx. date of occurrence       página de       time of day       el dia       sex of pt.       he wanted to be understood       age       rhythms acronymic       education       has the correct pronunciation       diagnosis       in relation to survival hypothesis       sedation and/or other medication       el correo         approx. temperature       borrowing time       what was pt.'s state of consciousness       orthographical variants rather       did pt. understand questions & make proper replies       strain minimal       did patient understand with difficulty       prescriptive tendency of       did pt. fail to recognize persons, communication impossible       strong beliefs they       what was pt.'s behavior indicating that a hallucinatory person had been seen       in formation       was the hallucinatory figure the pt.'s relative       attitudes vs. motives       friend       deferred manual consultation       professional or business connection       to be understood one       member of hospital staff        prestige element       how long approx. did the specific hallucination last       populations possible       did pt. mention a name       neurasthenic, my Preceptor       if so, whom       correo en el tiempo       what effect did hallucination have on pt.       terminology(-ies)       calming       proscriptive sense of the       exciting       mistaken for visitor       no apparent effect       he wanted to be understood       other       purposes in relation       how long after hallucination did the pt. die            

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Poem one

& nearer he's to settling

Seymour climbs the bagged recyclables mountain
in the pantry kitchen smells like a sandwich
last night I made thinking tomorrow I won't remember
how this tastes I dreamt we had a visiting writer
& no one was allowed to drive because he/she was allergic
to traffic sounds the train stopped too or went unheard
(no one actually met the aurally sensitive writer) this left me
stranded at someone's house who I guess wanted me
& I didn't want her but we made-do on a disheveled futon
eating her mother's frozen lasagne in one
of those after-sex poses altho there was no sex just fear
of emotional entanglement it was dark outside constantly pre-dawn
there was the threat of aerial bombing maybe the visiting
writer made this up either way I had to go I had to find
the way back Home or somewhere where I felt this I stole
her car & drove it recklessly driving dreams are always
terrifying often there's a steering wheel melting
& disconnected brakes but this time I don't feel threatened
it's fine there is control I drive against one-ways & over
medians there are no other moving vehicles few
pedestrians the car fits on the narrowest footpaths
of the arboretum the trees are lit the air glows a little gnome
family hides in every recess celebrating maybe
it is new years in gnome-time & I find a human couple
hiding from the distant blasts each looks happy to be
holding the other my driving frightens them I drive up
every path & down I want them to leave to occupy
this magic place alone have it for myself but Minnie
wants petting & Seymour wants wrestling they wrestle
til they roll off the bed they are so in love if I had a nicer place
I tell myself it'd be kept cleaner I'd mop & dust
put books back maybe Seymour would stop eating the covers
dishes would be washed immediately after use
I'd go back to standing while I work
I wouldn't waste money on late night taco bell
binges or alcove cocktails (I pay for the atmosphere)
I would finish things early & utilize my netflix account
you said paying for something will make me
use it maybe if I were healthier last week I filled
the vegetable drawer with assorted peppers parsnips
artichoke brussels rutabega tomatillos baby eggplant
red onion yellow squash green avocado I'm letting them all spoil
& rot in open defiance of Life because I can't
remember the last thing I even half-enjoyed who's kidding
who bitch gather your fucking rosebuds


ENVOI

Maybe my joke poem (fauxem) "uninaugural" is valid as any in a poem-a-day excercise––actually I prefer it to this one––, but we'll make this the real inaugural poem of my NaPoWriMo adventures, for the sake of sincerityblahblah. 


uninaugural

ample make this bed
pink, small, and punctual
remorse is memory awake
immortal is an ample word
let me not mar that perfect dream

frequently the woods are pink
of all the souls that stand create
one need not be a chamber to be haunted
look back on time with kindly eyes
sweet hours have perished here

Saturday, March 31, 2012

anti-poetic

"His passion for the anti-poetic is a blood passion and not a passion of the inkpot. The anti-poetic is his spirit's cure. He needs it as a naked man needs shelter or as an animal needs salt. To a man with a sentimental side the anti-poetic is that truth, that reality to which all of us are forever fleeing." -Wallace Stevens, on William Carlos Williams

umptying, a song

functions um where     brave an unction      to sheen with umption     there adumbrated     & where they     wait umbellate     humming their shuns     but um who care     whence umbrages     diffract bear down     on wages rave on on     gumption gumming up     upon where um functions

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Occupy Poetry

"The word produced through these men is the idea of an invert buried by his animal response to things, who has forgotten (through the martyrdom of time and things) that the word has been invented. The invert is he who eats his self, and desires that his self nourish him." -Antonin Artaud, fr. "Revolt Against Poetry," trans. Jack Hirschman

Friday, March 16, 2012

94 followers

49s
this already feels dated.
3m
dig the shape, tone of tweets but not the venue. epigrammatic. takes a special comportment & heed for relevance. tact.
10m
I like to share irrelevant things. like what I had for dinner. or what my cats might say in human language. I'm sure you appreciate these.
13m
poem-audiences will tolerate self-deprecating brags, too, as they're looking for something that speaks to them. don't retweet this.
 14m
consoling myself about how long since my last fuck by remembering the last time I fucked was in (sic) Lake Tuscaloosa. not working.
19m
least you can get away w/ drab confessionalism in poetry. just call it liminal. more patience. your audience obv. has nothing better to do.
1h
#insertclevercommentaboutwhathashtagsareintendedforandhowyouregoingagainstthenetworkgrainbutyoualreadyknowthisisoldevenbeforeitsposted
1h
art of the bad poem. smart of the favorited tweet. the canny everyday permits messianic interventions, but you can always follow DONGLORD69
2h
the form demands a certain wit achieved by some more than others. what interests me is the sense of implied mastery automatically conferred.
3h
"Your Tweet was over 140 characters. You'll have to be more clever."
3h
there's a sort of rigor in constraint, as well as relief. if you haven't said it by now, you're not saying it right. poetweet. psh. the myth of poetry as violation is outmoded.
5h
what're you gonna do when Kony gets famous. do #awp sluts look like porn bots (i.e. authentic). poems as temporal. tweets as immortal.
8h
"How small a thought it takes to fill a whole life." -L. Wittgenstein #wellread #lookatme #lastwordproblems


Monday, March 12, 2012

this isn't happening

she says I like to be tossed why don't you throw me around more like a plaything she's so light what if you break she says you're too worried about hurting me I once butted heads nearly broke this girl's nose I said I don't wanna hurt you sometimes she says maybe some pain is worth it and I did and she hits and again hits she tumbles she says pull my hair we nearly fall off sometimes we can't walk right after and I was afraid but she asks again and then again each time we do and I was still afraid of what isn't happening she doesn't break like I imagined doesn't bruise or dry even and I kept saying I don't I just don't want to hurt you she says I think that's your problem and I'm afraid I'm still afraid I left her in pieces she said you're missing the point I just don't want to hurt anyone I check up on her to see if she's okay she said you worry too much but I think she just doesn't want me to hurt to know she was hurt she wanted me to think she's okay and I don't want to hurt anyone I just don't want to hurt anyone I just don't want to hurt any

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Monday, December 12, 2011

The Alphabet

An early short film from David Lynch's UCLA period.