Poems

  • Do I Contradict Myself Very Well

    Large I contain

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  • Body and Soul

    Commend each day the agile tongue
    The trilling thrills from the tip of it
    The liquid resonance that runs wildly around the edge

    Raise applause for the lively ear
    That wakens to answer to vibrate sympathy
    In the corridors of its spritely architecture

    Appreciate forever the glory of the hand
    Shaper of useful objects
    Shaper of objects sublime in their uselessness

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  • To a Loved One in Pain

    Rainbows blossoming
    From the white-hot core

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  • Bad Hands

    These bad hands start dropping things
    The pills have scattered on the floor perhaps for the last time
    People are yoked to disobedient appendages
    That lack the capacity to concentrate

    The violinist struggles against weak intonation
    The watchmaker strains to apply the tiny jewels
    All note but none think to mention
    The difficulty of actions previously so convenient

    I can no longer grasp the simplest fact
    The tendons of my intellect degenerating
    Porous curiosity declines to probe
    And I signal defeat in gestures of tremulous ambiguity

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  • I Delight to Imagine

    The sages in the stone
    The sense in nonsense syllables
    The state of true peace
    The fusion of sound and sense
    The origin of the inexistent species
    The real flying cape
    The song of the griffins
    The opening of a cedar box
    The names of those who have ever suffered
    The unity of all being
    The ineffable grace of consonants and vowels
    The correction of errors made in ages past
    The A minor arpeggio beyond the limits of the audible
    The brazen cars
    The wingèd boy
    The derangement of the senses
    The indisputable argument of a child’s caress
    The articulation of the unutterable
    The virtuosity of a yellow and black spider
    The flight of angels
    The fall of angels
    The reincarnation of Socrates
    The sublime thoughts of scrubby plants
    The victory of the underdog
    The superfluity of victory
    The laurels having been cut
    The dominion of good
    The roasted manningtree ox with the pudding in its belly
    The distortion of space and time
    The forgotten chord
    The stars loos’d from their sphere
    The dales of Arcady
    The poems written by executives of large insurance companies
    The tales of mystery and imagination
    The ride of putti astride dolphins
    The world evermore about to be
    The world of perpetual intimacy
    The allegorical masque
    The exhaustive list of things
    The beauty of inflections
    The tiny woodpecker perched on my sleeve
    The ten-foot sphinx
    The ranks of immaterial armies
    The maiden’s tenderest hope
    The flowers of evil
    The taste of remembered delicacies
    The utterance of the inarticulate
    The garden of earthly delights
    The first conscious fantasy
    The sleekness of an otter without the otter
    The digits of pi
    The derangement of the senses
    The poems written by unemployed medical technicians
    The slapstick procession
    The fictive landscape in total darkness
    The fly’s buzz when I died
    The great unveiling
    The hilarity of the letter C
    The solemnity of the letter O
    The Pmist effrent melniciana
    The prince of love in the sunny beams
    The saprophytes of Thermopylae
    The wild guitar
    The purification of the mind
    The improvised modulation of unheard melodies
    The lost sin of Gomorrah
    The propinquity of the beloved

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  • Titles for Three Volumes

    The Age of Containment

    The Age of Remorse

    The Age of Darkness

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  • Upir & Iupir (Apygerm)

    Upir & iupir
    Chrans & methochrans

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  • No Drama No Conflict

    It is certainly true that without conflict is no drama
    If Vanya and The Professor work things out like responsible adults
    No shot will ring out and no tickets will be sold

    But is it not equally true that without drama is no conflict
    For do we not agree to play when hostilities erupt
    The intransigent ruler tormented idealist or put-upon ingenue

    We live our lives in a veritable commedia
    Behind the mask of zany or ballerina
    Or dashing swordsman or melancholy bourgeois

    No script but only the true disguise
    The dance raises a sigh the blade cuts the flesh
    The keeping of accounts makes Pierrot sad

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  • Composition of Time in Dimensionless Language

    Elsewhere everyone tastes the fruit of harmful gestures
    Tersely the movement across the plaza costs much
    A filament broke upon the occasion of the hanged man
    Porters forebear to deny the attribute pulled apart
    Inevitable ripples seize the implications of erratic rhythms
    Viewing the flight a sinister audition will linger
    A command to leap at bins bearing forward
    Peristalsis and urban traffic patterns viewed from on high
    Once more into the rut my dear conspirators

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  • Objects of My Affliction (A Rhyme in the Ancient Manner)

              With apologies to Emanuel

    Reflection or refraction seedlings in an opera cache
    Red cat decrypt an aerodynamic morsel
    Blisters from mustard gas a dispute about authorial intention
    Perestroika soothing intimations of static verbs
    Father said the child The gate is damped
    Drive to enumerate wrought unto the outer darkness
    Plague and the king who jams the plague
    Do I expose myself very well
    Right now right now persuade right now right now
    Particle or viscosity residue of the strategic capsule
    Stair-stepping transparency its erotic harmonies
    Finial emplacement gouge atop these mumbling bards
    Mangle-iron rapid-digited fiber trial
    Because they will have forded in forth
    Touch and capture self-described minimum
    Their emblem athwart the galley proofs which flex precipitously
    Gain regain never revenge his grease his determinants
    The chair recognizes the takeout rifle casket
    Search and search again in the defective territory
    Porters mock the hatted agronomists
    The lath exposed by some fallen-away coronation
    There must be some trick claimed the uniformed diver
    Passenger or stowaway renunciates for discord flower
    There is no compulsion nevermore to rove
    Infant parasol greens the putrid fancier
    Pale in comparison wan iupir delight
    In sorrow or in vain steep the tresses in the container
    Purse the wastrel mince in cystic encumbrance
    Dosed with incarnadine e replete with enjambment
    A touching derangement is here much amiss
    Omnibus derangement kind of an entrepreneurial cult
    The last turbulence embarks even timely the decline of disco
    Running of containment apart effrent days foolish and less wise
    Academic ruler south beyond inborn truth
    Two mere exempla thus cramp a broad voodoo
    Past the cantering leaves too much emulation for novices
    Blame upon blame keep upon keep
    Lift up your kindling starbeams you troubled tardy
    Facts and the lodgers who predict the facts
    The architectural females testing the tastes
    The command came down among the oenophiles Start making sense
    The beleaguered option to decline the asphodels
    Emboldened charactery facile dimension the one true facet
    Pantomime or audit dirges through a various tag
    Do I conceal myself very well
    Repetition the one nuance unavailable to manifest
    Shadow tumble for grey dusty institutes
    Aurochs Lennon precipitates the ungainly monument
    Indisposable shaft indisposable tipping
    The portcullis has failed

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  • Experiments, Continued

    In a pub well after midnight
    Two students finally got to the bottom
    Of The Seventh Seal

    A small speckled woodpecker hopped about outside the window
    And because it could not hear me through the glass
    It did not fly away when I spoke to it

    The watermelon
    Had chilled in the stream
    And it was good

    A young woman in a kimono
    Greeted the taxicab
    As it arrived at 27th Street

    A small boy opened the kitchen door
    And announced aloud or in silence
    Now it is spring

    Nothing remains
    All is change and falling away
    Thus was it ever and ever shall be

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  • Faerin Ko Terr: Jui Inlesht

    Faerin ko terr tin durst ma durst
    Denspiit npla dhsucs foleran
    Ninfnats cyr teldedlers lochtra
    Mi srowes biurte Alveshlist
    Mi jui Anugermardiclu
    Blisit jmundel
    Sit elles hich sit ey veaurx siites

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  • Experiment

    I will write a cheerful poem
    A poem free of self-reproach
    Free of reference to universal sorrow

    My father strolled in the garden
    Sang a song about Violet
    And whistled when he forgot the words

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  • Quiet Time

    We’ve felt this way before
    The celebrants
    Exhausted
    Continue their revels
    Persist in the riotous acclamation
    Of their champion

    The antagonists again
    Raise their fists
    Their weapons
    Their voices
    Uninterrupted
    Now is no time for reason

    We’ve felt this way before
    The quiet few withdraw
    Defeated they slink away
    Relinquishing defense
    Perhaps a protest
    Perhaps merely a gushing wound

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  • Who Wants a Rewind

    Who cares she said
    Just before the conclusion
    Of a narrative the burden of which
    Was that I care

    In table-talk banter I was lamenting
    The loss of thou
    Stolen I averred by the Puritans
    To crush intimate address

    To give all discourse even that of lovers
    The formality of the signing of a deed
    The regulation of a business appointment

    And the very voice of the beloved
    Punctured the smug clowning
    Of him who talks too much too enthusiastically

    Never give vent to feelings Dear Reader
    Except behind these hidden pages
    Concealed like a purloined letter

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  • Against Multitasking: The Case for the Defense

    But is it not true sir
    That you called yourself a sack of shit
    Only after the saucer had received its chip

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  • Against Multitasking: The Case of the Chipped Saucer

    I can’t put away the dishes
    And call myself a sack of shit
    Simultaneously

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  • Praying Hard

    I can pray hard
    I learned how to do it
    At the age of 7
    I moved with my family
    From the city to a small town
    And I prayed hard
    Please please please please please please please please please
    Let me move back home
    But all I really said in my mind
    Was please
    I couldn’t have called
    The city home
    I pleaded for restoration

    And I can’t say
    My prayer was hopeful
    I already suspected
    That God would not reward
    My prayer
    Which was merely mine
    That God was angry with me
    For my sins
    Which were wholly mine
    Which I could never remember
    To renounce
    For in the event
    They were too pleasurable

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  • Epigram XXXII

    A child until 52
    Then an old man

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  • Proje: U Maincep Aacion

    Uns lenip Saarl turst swevunt teor sndep
    Pus larnadop cin ceen sin daw
    La hust flaln ntons yy dop nu larna dop
    Fris meb tra nve dops koenlu var nufun
    Duemsibimdiv jerrip asd mes amkrout nredat
    Ua nejnurdarme muros muros muros
    Pleznemden gwarood uy daardin
    U y daardinca seb uns crey
    Chu giiv oun quucheld tsagk vreoriridh bleh
    Muros bleh dop bleh sin daw sin tra sin jerripon

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  • Art’s Response to Life’s Baleful Mystery

    A man in a monster costume crushes the power lines
    A cat upright on its hind legs heaves a brick striking the canine police officer
    From inside the team mascot a woman extends sparklers
    A little man with a hooked nose whacks his wife with a flat stick
    A well-dressed woman hurls herself under the wheels of a passenger train
    For turning an angel away from his door a farmer is incinerated
    A Great Dane speaks English albeit with a limited vocabulary
    And a systematic replacement of initial consonants
    A spectral librarian shushes the intruder in the stacks
    The gods themselves countenance their imminent dissolution

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  • Epithets upon His Beard: Tarred with a Navy Brush

    The Biped
    The Churl

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  • Intermezzo

    Delightful to imagine that this might suffice
    Dog monkey orchid goat leopard snail nightshade

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  • A Disguise Is an Alchemical Infusion

    A disguise is an alchemical infusion
    For a golden disguise can materialize only
    In the realm of cultural signifiers
    Where merely to assert a transformation
    Is to effect a transformation

    Take for example the driver
    Of the undeniably beautiful tan Mercedes
    A joy forever but an irresponsible expenditure
    If that’s not jumping to a moralizing conclusion

    So one must proceed patiently
    And perhaps even methodically
    The driver is a person with a personality
    And doubtless with an identity
    A place on the sexual spectrum
    And other psychographic determiners

    But all personalities are multiple
    And hence a certain personality disorder
    Is endemic in this mobile age
    Or put more mildly identity shifts
    With shifting social situations
    Which technologically enabled have grown complex

    There was a time there still are times
    When social situations were small and interactive
    Crowds were rare and governed by stern prescriptions
    And the faithful in the cathedral showed a certain stasis
    Uninflected by display except from on high
    For the masses lacked the resources for scenic presentation
    And now in this modular age
    All the world’s a portable proscenium

    All is performance and ever was
    All that has changed is the scale
    But do we in the role of spectator possess
    The interpretive skill to make sense of it all
    And what is interpretation anyway

    We can’t know motives
    But to place an expensive object in a public place
    To move it from place to public place
    Has to be some sort of sumptuary display

    It has to be an aggressive act
    Or at least an unappreciative act
    Unappreciative both of beauty and of persons
    And their will to respond perhaps variously to beauty

    But here all interpretation is forbidden
    And you shall know only I am a rich man

    How profoundly different from the acts of that sickly youth
    Poor small unacquainted with the world who cries
    Oh for an age so sheltered from annoy

    I am not Keats I am not Blake I am not Wordsworth
    Not Yeats not Dickinson not Whitman not Wilde
    Not Hendrix not Keef not Wolf not Muddy
    Not George Eliot not Thomas Mann not Samuel Johnson
    Not Bessie Smith or Bob Johnson or Bob Dylan
    Or Habermas or Parfit or Kant or Socrates
    Definitely not Socrates

    I am the dirty monk who owns things
    And has no pride of ownership
    The overweight ascetic who does things
    And doubts their rightness or efficacy

    That hell is other people is a banal thought
    True only insofar as each person is a demon
    Myself am hell says the true prophet of the age

    We demons love to shift our shapes
    Dog monkey orchid goat leopard snail nightshade
    You don’t have to buy a Mercedes

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  • Deadly Masonry

    Hard and heavy
    Adaptable but only in fragments
    Or in conjunction of fragments
    With much larger fragments
    The organism much weaker in structure
    Mostly liquid
    Saline solution
    Acidic solutions
    To see the gush
    And in between
    Emblems logos
    Random signifying forms
    And outside
    The buzz of organic
    Buildup and breakdown
    Marrow and excretion
    And beyond that
    The network of utility
    Redox reactions
    Finicky circuitry
    Signifiers organisms and implements
    All weaker than
    The gravitational fall
    And crush
    The invitation
    To activate
    Already perhaps accepted
    Unveiling
    An intrinsic defect
    All one way irreversible
    Like the folding of a protein
    Under great force
    No great achievement
    Merely an event
    An obtrusive cliche
    A coward’s cry
    A concave mirror
    That great simplicity
    Mercifully shattered

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