Fantasy League Curbside Observations

"An ape is likely to be an angel."

“An ape is likely to be an angel.”

An ape is likely to be an angel paraphrasing Jack
His filthy hands raking over genitals break the dry
Finger off a fallen dogwood branch What we call them
Is an affront  for classification   what’s necessary of it
Is solipsism   lips ill suited for the plosive   but how they can swing
Angels at neanderthal angles   the stick dips into a
Beehive and Bob suddenly is in a world of trouble
Comprehending    no automatic   a four-limbed all out 
Sprint down the evolutionary ladder    limber resilient    breath overdrawn
He clears the gorgeous overgrown meadow and plunges
Ass first into an icy pool    Another lesson learned.

“Orpheus in Athens” by Jack Spicer

Jean-Léon_Gérôme_-_Diogenes_-_Walters_37131

Diogenes the onion-eater, watched by dogs, sitting in his tub. By Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1860

The boy had never seen an honest man.
He looked among us every night he said.
He eyed each stranger like Diogenes
And took him with his lantern into bed.
He'd probe the stranger's body with that light
Search every corner of his flesh and bone
But truth was never there. He'd spend the night
Then leave him and resume his search alone.
I tried to tell him there was some mistake
That truth's a virtue only strangers lack.
But when he turned to face me with a kiss
I closed my lying heart against his lips.

From “My Vocabulary Did This to Me: The Collected Poetry of Jack Spicer”

wikipedia poem, no. 18

Processed with VSCOcam with t1 preset

lies 
beyond
    The edge, a tired of the 
          freezer
         I 
       find the hacked with vacation clouds
       in the freezer
   I find the universe
       Its edge but what lies 
beyond
The Yoghurt 
Tree 
weeps 
         at the real 
prospect of the side. Living grapes in the asphalt’s softest
feed

the 
hacked with vacation clouds
        When 
the kitchen 
the universe
      Its edge, a 
tired 
of 
     the kitchen real prospect 
        of feeling things, 
         even!
Weep!
      Again, I’m 
  hacked with language
Mortified at 
      the, 
by 
   now, 
  felt 
up
universe
       Its edge, tired of the church by now, felt up
      hacked 
with language
Mortified at 
the noon 
clouds

I’m tired of comparing things.