01 July 2012

come on in and take off yr skin and rattle around in yr bones # 6

dramamineFlowers in the wartimeWater

enemy artillery w/ nineteen-seventies newspaper objectivism
like a Fragonard
or a roaring BYG-Actuel aside—
everything is as it is & as it shd be in a time of happiness:
unbuttoned neck
w/ ascot, & a Great St. Bernard Pass Sidecar;[1]
a French-cuff shirt
replete w/ mismatched cuff links;
(no comment;)
a living room full of verbs & a drove of doves reading back issues
of men’s magazines—
everything is & this is Our Lady of Our Lover’s
Best Friends
(in autumn & other discrete Tuesdays)
listening intensely
to This Magic Moment by Doc Pomus & Mort Shuman as sung by the Drifters;
here, intentional fallacy,[2]
along w/ the Death of the Author & the well-trimmed
rhododendrons give a polite scent
as someone mentions
a long-lost musical from the Great Depression—
the last words spoken
as a man w/ a pocket trumpet plays a dirge against an old rugged cross
as concussion grenade
sighs “wound my heart w/ monotonous languor—”
the distant dreams
w/ All The Things You Are as my new Desire gospel;
slagging through
jazz Mass enthrallment skronk:
The Voice & The Maieutic, a song for a Breuer chair doing penance
in the corner curve
humming Nearer My God to Thee—
O’ Love Song
this is where Sheridan sais, slashing through the ballade light,
“this is a poem for ******;”
A Desire named ‘Streetcar’ where the str. light
(spindled through the window)
sais Kuutamo Metsässä;
the barricades where the strep throat smooth jazz takes five;
a song for extinct or exotic birds
Aco Dei de Madrugada
after the Hospital of the late-evening’s Goodbye’s...
a horizon at the touch
of yr voice

[1] Grand Marnier instead of Cointreau
[2] this is a story abt the hypotnenuse of a ghost


Matthew Sherling said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Matthew Sherling said...