05 March 2011

HYMNICIDE, or helicopter rides through hallelujah

wice #6

even in eveniency, the passing of heretofore

rough draft
vacivity, etc.          a plugged nickel;

“Ain’t There Anyone Here for Love?”

      *brooke shields...


i never stopt trying to seduce my audience:
a tableau
of candor & remorse--
      oh, the persistence of romanticism

the heartbeat of a bird in velocity

( momentum did ebb
  in the ****** but revived w/ the turbulence of
  the blasé **********-- )

      ------>i interrupt yr expectations

benzedrine indifference
      a boke of escaped words, inscriptions
confident w/ its agony
arterial bleeding w/ a trumpet mute

the battlefield of a wedding ceremony
"convince me,"
she sd, i love you--
      at the same time, meanwhile, the death of

            or, LINGERIE ADS FROM THE 1920s

contemplation     calmly vociferous
the foliage of light
an argument for the implication of closure
there is this impulse to

duck hunt™

a tangle of barbed wire, disrobed...
      chapter & verse
w/ wire coat hangers, & old lace--

criticism re: baudelaire, or the melancholy of
a radiator in summer—

b/c a SLR is even more damaging than words


wm faulkner, a tumblr of bourbon
white phosphorous   & the land of the rising sun--
experimental dance w/in

couching, somewhat
winds between 64 mi & 72 mph, classified
11 on the beaufort scale

"poetry is always somewhere else."

so i became a disciplined-disillusioned
eyewitness, wandering
among the grass & the flowers & the surveillance
of heart palpitations
      contemplation is a storm front--

skeletons are there, too, in the alluring
RUMOURS           wherefore
the nostalgia of the posthumously published--
the ? of rapture

here is where i hit the delete key

...it also offers a sweeping discourse
on thorazine & art,
seconal & religion,
meth & god, and ativan & evil...

"my angels have sex w/ screwy triangles," she sd,
how beautiful
militant, even; these horizontals
w/ stiletto melancholy
this town & country is a hive of bees in unfashion
-able compassion
its most fraught, edgy, & treacherous
["it's weird how she looks dead, & i cdn't care
any less," he sd]
as if there was only this, ever—
yet, often
i am doll parts & doll hearts
a template:
say it, "baudrillard FOREVER!, you fuckface,"

then, at the pivotal moment,
i recognize
the pome’s uncertainty abt its own sentiment is probably
its most compelling argument

then i collapse
in her doll arms, coughing up blood

...throwing a temper tantrum w/ assorted accessories

throwing scissors at the wall
throwing houseplants at the wall
throwing a priori at the wall
throwing rain at the wall
throwing trapezoids at the wall
throwing fugues at the wall
throwing et cetera at the wall
throwing staples at the wall
throwing butterflies at the wall
throwing stasis at the wall
throwing velocity at the wall
throwing insight at the wall
throwing topography at the wall
throwing sleep at the wall

g'night & g'week--

27 February 2011

mary magdalene is an agnes scott grrl

pum wythnos, ffrindiau

first off, a minimalist pome:

"don't let it end like this.  tell them i said something."
--last words of pancho villa

i sd, get the fuck off my lawn.

she ran into a grand piano
and we saw her narrating –––– material intrigue...
this minute

                                                            (how we admired (her))

...little museums disrupting at the drama
our dearest penelope!

            are you obsessed w/ madeira embroidery, penelope?
transfixion'd w/ the transendence of the toy chest?
            finding ministry in old texts
& singular bibliographies

i haven't read them
if this all seems to be for crisis theology

                        no ––

there has to be something else to this milieu
into the wildflowers
gathering wilderness ––– liaisoning
w/ exequies, newspapers
triskelia'd in gasoline blooms of em dashes –––

                                    there's plenty of retrospection
                                    wiring grievances, nonsymmetrical & vice versa
                                    to the curious-leaf mosaic

the historiography of coming to terms
through sheet music

and yesterday's figures
begrudge!  bespeak!  penelope!!!

outré anaphora, a hymn to stairwells

the debris of hushed, poignant
squalid stars
innocence, romanticism; seldom (if descriptive)
it was a seamless seduction
not just a black tea
then the narration detours rather violently:
train rides & nude beaches;
absurd pathos
compassion / reflection, creaking windows
on the wherethrough of
a nightingale
w/ a Leica 35mm in reference to sightings;
abruptly, in February,
backwards, from
the worn red carpet in the living room
elsewhere, the quiet moments
subtly distorted
by the dreary precision of rec-
tangled flowers
brushwork & preliminary copy editing

sláinte, until the other week(end)