brown round rocks lie all around like artifacts of an ancient archaelogy age to ageless cratered creviced chipped ice cracked like cherished Chinese Tea Pots &Cups MING? perhaps but still it is interesting to note how time acts
somewhere a Belle Epoque Cloche chimes its celebratory bell ringing A Wedding? yes, yes that’s it Virginal cloud sails drift by & I watch complacently from the stream bed I AM A TROUT watching for the SKY PEOPLE CANOES to pass
O Illusive Elusis long lost logis ancient home page of our formidable foundation we yearn to return to your altar sadly we altered our course drifted away got caught down stream wind ward when we hauled our soul ships ashore on a fear flawed forgettable foreign firmament
there we were aliens didn’t know all the protocols & so were force fit fixed in some forever NOT of our chosing made to practice to perfection perpetually purposeless painful proceedural papers of processes in progress We cried out: ARE WE INSANE? NO: Said our Masters still we were whipped with Violet Violence our natural/native logos became as useless as Velvet is to Iron
Given we are given vision of what in a certain way are scale models of potential & kinetic energys cognitive understanding of content an intuitive sense of context form & function we should see ordinary events as inspiration for new combinations If we did amazing insights would flourish some Divine Purification would lead us to uncommon thought the perception of painters would be ours and perspective would become an exercise of progress in process Disbelief would suspend as all our notions are now: Outside The Box & we would come home no longer aliens
Stars intertwine form a relationship a woven portrait of actual fragrant acessories a public uprising would occur hard stone amphibians would be cornered night club twinklers would delete ardent Papal messages snarled toads deaden the steamy spring cheaply made bullring cheers give enthuisastic magazine title ending for 7 numbers model sagas Rumanian coins slang fires this object staple alternative fold in disco skirt sect bonded septa rented C.P.A.S some real requirement & not destiny or other another name for outer auspices the sound of air escaping an apiary tiny bits of smooth&shiny change are suggested magic
On Olson’s Maxim:
“No ideas but in things, doesn’t mean ‘no ideas.’ Nor does it specify: ‘No ideas but in everyday things, modern things, urban things’ No! it means that: poetry appears when meaning is embodied in the figure.” We need a poetry not of direct statement but of direct evocation: a poetry of hieroglyphics, embodiment, incarnations; in which the personages may be of myth or Monday, no matter, if they are of the living imagination.”
What I Want
Wht I want is/an impossible language/1 that is/im
probably translatable/&then I want/this
language/2 b/a language/so full/of/&/in/love/w/itself
that when spoken/will/kiss the ‘mind’s eye’/while ‘French Kissing’ the/’mind’s ear
What I want/will wipe/clean/your neurons/to make you/let you/see
hear/a new/speak emotion/in/motion/Anima as animated automatic/automotion/atomic in effect
I want/us 2/’brain’ wave/surf/’Dudes’/I want/a tongue/so intense/interconnected/forming an/internet/a web woven/by a
what I want/is/an all action/traction/terrain vehicle/a transcendant train/2 transport us
I want this/2 b/real/live/ALIVE/a fresh Winter in Hell/I want us to/
row/row/row/our drunken boats out of the steam room/of/the old world/of/old words
What I want is this-A language that/cries out/to/all hands/on/deck:
“Damn Rimbaud, Full Time Warp/Light Speed Ahead!
I had my
my shoulder today.
I carried him
through a swamp.
It was a return trip
for both of us.
Though different, this
round, than the time
we walked together.
Now, it was, just me.
Mystery in The Swamp