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.
Daily Archives: July 8, 2014
“Orpheus in Athens” by Jack Spicer
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
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.