i begin to the next
groan
i spend climb
the old snow on the thigh and
fall—
fall one day i begin
to keep up
at
night
reappear
blows
of
bear-transcendence
the fairway i
begin to hunt him down as i knew
i would
and which i lurch
the word "hunt" appears precisely
no time in Gallway Kinnell's
poem
no
mattering wonder old snow the bear him
and digest of the wind
at
the
flyway
in her ravine
in
the bear's
blood the world
at
dismayal
i awaken
i
tottering wonder
old snow the dismayed
i awaken a third
i
begin toward winter and
gnash it up
splash on think
must rise
come to the trail behind
me
and down
my nostrils
flared
and which
way to
begin the seventh day
Source: Kinnell, Galway. “The Bear.” Poetry Foundation. n.d. Web. 6 July 2016.
domestic
organisms
coprolites rarely unknown processes
wave also conduct world remains detected
that led
to
proposed
belemnite-like classification as non-liquid animal bones
my (Soma)tics provide timorous
bridges to animal
bones
first
described
by William Buckland
scales
of the author other food required
case diet of the book
the man is rarely identified unambiguously
he he he the author he
during his extra-miniature parasite
approaching bridges
indicates another fossil of his
originative viability his fabled animals
meaning that mineral domestics
such that the zoo indicates
reconstituted millet
Buckland's intestines trace fossils
lead to the bridge between self
and on spiral material
predations cause the stone
that
bezoar
of a man
broken open animal
he gives
viability to poetry
a 2011 pew fellow
a beautiful marsupial
a coprolite
make more outside
of a sense
offer this is OK
never god's creation
because if it's not tons
about art you believing about
they once what learning
how easy your art $10
in place of people
you have to make an
art the strangers strange
how tough how white and hopeful
hope you have that made
contact informal gallery system
how to other will eventuring
how how much they have how
finds however for contact how
to stay international and how easy if
you don't show much they have to do worst
$100,000,000,000 art out
your art scene white white white
and make on and on how so it
the artist as and hope and you
in business prospecting ships
by responding works and get a few bucks
for art does not thou — that's to make a doe
listen and wonder and look how you go
plenty of money
$10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000's
in someone’s while your art is never how
making a list is relational likes
with you painting where
who doctors all overlook at making
but that and of your art business
with you have to selling how about
how little about galleries of know and maybe show
to talk about qualified girlfriends now and all over you're met
going a listen wonder and once you're will even
if the academic reality really has a listen the stuff
it's a five-eared elephant you have about you
of people to pay a fever paying people
$10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000
favorite color art scene white an’ all
the galleries of all overlook how much the two
dollars I suppose look at lease it
white and generative an’ asking as to make an
art business what is love with will ultimately
respond — perhaps that doe again
Lack of night now
Vandalism: What’s funnier
Squash or a substantial orange yam?
In a manger? Spaghetti
Wake up with a headache
Not the night before, but
With death: What a dire truck
Skulls skulls skulls
Every man, doves,
In a mugshot
Looks like my father
For someone so obsessed
Shacked, dated, bored
I understand
The cup on mother’s head
Why you’d come, hawks,
Taking my jazz
They don’t aggress
Condottieri, becoming, of course
The subtext of acetylene
He should have come out and talked
Quem me dera que a minha vida fosse um carro de bois Que vem a chiar, manhãzinha cedo, pela estrada, E que para de onde veio volta depois Quase à noitinha pela mesma estrada.
Eu não tinha que ter esperanças — tinha só que ter rodas … A minha velhice não tinha rugas nem cabelo branco… Quando eu já não servia, tiravam-me as rodas E eu ficava virado e partido no fundo de um barranco.
I’d give anything if only my life were an oxcart Squeaking down the road, early one morning And later resuming to where it started, Toward nightfall, down the same road.
I’d have no need of hopes—I’d need only wheels… As I grew old I’d have no wrinkles or white hair… When I’d be of no further use, they’d pull off my wheels And I’d lie there, overturned and broken, at the bottom of a pit.
(1986)
Source: Pessoa, Fernando. Poems of Fernando Pessoa. Trans. Edwin Honig and Susan M. Brown. San Francisco: City Lights, 2001. Print.
Museum conditions for the Washington Biologist
Lyon
Washington daily in 1901
newspapers
tight ligature
on marinated planks
An uneasy feeling
Washington Biologist in the Washington Zoo
this life
Content
of Bankakee
Archivists disagree
Lyon
Never watched and the U.S. government in a
new home and practice times
of
Indiana
Rest in a five year
end it rue patter
for mammalogy
species of
papers
he had no more human
association
The Museum took
And in 1936 retrieved
the first
Skinless subject near
Boston
Jr. they called him
1871 of the
close
Indiana Audubon — the Hylobate
Nation preceding
the
Smithsonian family
fortune.