The Cuban Prisoners

Wikipedia Poem, No. 887

Metapacking District (ix), Joseph M. Gerace

The Cuban Prisoners—The intelligence brought by the Cherokee, from Havana, sets in still stronger light the atrocity of the deceptions which were recently practised upon the good feeling of this nation. The generosity and forbearance of the Cuban Government deserve all praise. Not only does the Captain-General attend to their wants, and consult their comfort, as if they were invited guests instead of hostile invaders—unfortunates rather than criminals; but he encourages them with the hope that their release will speedily follow their arrival in Spain. Of course proper steps have been taken to ensure the active intervention of the American Minister in Madrid, on behalf of the deluded and betrayed adventurers.

New York Times, Sept. 24, 1851

show true character
unintention of confidence
sometimes in violation of an enemy
treacherously giving information
deception deceive deceive deceive deceive
deceive deceive deceit
trayal deceive deceptionally show
a true character
dare to give
unintentionally reveal unintention to lead
deceive deceive deceive deceive
deceive obsolete trayed
be evidence
of an enemy by treachery
to an enemy by treachery
disclose deliver or desert
especially reveal
unintention of an enemy
treachery
to lead astrayen
deliver

or disclose violate
unfaithful in violation
an enemy
treacherously give
gravely disclose one’s
country group or disclose
in guarding maintaining maintaining maintaining
maintaining maintaining maintaining maintaining maintaining maintaining
maintaining maintaining
maintaining
maintaining maintaining
sugar ice mint rum
tradere

Staten Island Beach (I)

Robert Rauschenberg, Staten Island Beach (I), ca 1951

A Crisis of the Heart and a Crisis of the Soul

Wikipedia Poem, No. 886

the desert on hand . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . near these lies who’s an antique ham who said—two vast and trunkless cold commandias king of kings the hand the decay of its sculptor well mocked colossal wreck bound trunkless and despair! at the estates at lanuvium nothing’s heard sneer of kings of stone trunkless things looks forward to dessert. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . near these lifeless cold commands commodus who said two vast deserts? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . deserter near the decay of that sculptor’s cold command, who said bonespur—too vast to despair? fountainhead of the empire bank of nothings … look on these lies who’s even from an antique land anymore, big beautiful half sunkshattered visage king of sneerstone stand behold mock sculptor well of passions that sculptor cold commodias, king of stone stand desserted. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Artists’ Head Strung from The Artist’s Head

Wikipedia Poem, No. 885

drop anything my brown kitchen stand falligators quarries airfields swamps post-industrial towns no weather here deep withering made-thing in beautiful or dissociated harmony frying up the stuff and father we make we sort we tell stories you’ll see you said what i don’t call those i read of you here i go again, bumblebeeing, and a notorious leaky bladder the author the sunset-nothing—fully read by drug conviction—hadn’t thought about this before a bouquet of dehydration raked according to all the good over the wall rested in the thing my brown the wrested world’s lean interview with it would just just just strung up confident men