Monteverde Vecchio (He Can’t Smell Her Roses)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 978

He Can't Smell Her Roses art poetry surrealism photography

in his girlfriend he presumes
he can’t smell her roses
he can’t smell her boots
expensive watches arrange purple
chrysanthemums in the dark
it’s nobody’s job

in time
antoni
sneaks off
around lungs monteverde vecchio
even when
he’s locked away
the value of a dollar

even when
he locked
away the dark
it’s nobody’s job

see his
girlfriend arranging purple
chrysanthemums

it’s nobody’s job
to arrange these boots and
expensive watches purple
chrysanthemums

the time
sneaks off
in his long black hair
he is dead

sergio buys handmade leaf smoke
voiding his boys

he
presumes
he can’t smell her roses
in the
dark
it’s nobody’s job
to see his girlfriend he presumes
he can’t smell
her roses
so he presumes
he can’t smell
her beauty
even when
he’s locked
in the dark
it’s nobody’s job

The Making of Poems

Wikipedia Poem, No. 977

Rochelle Park, 2019

superbus

shows how   twice although they both turned   men took and rembrandt painted the 1970s made sense (or   not) of the art-historical or cultural upheavals of sexual violence against   women nancy princenthal dramatic perhaps but with replete with replete with replete without   physical princentury the political or psychological and coercion in artists have made for a male art-historical or psychological princenthal  writes pointing to convey it was inherently renderstood no era or culture has been a convey it in life abuse an extremis a new book an experience an  abuse

collatinus

his fantasies an  early 70s in seedbed performances himselves   invading their bodies to tie their bodies him as he masturbated an elegant account perform even if  some critics didn’t buy it or not quite their bodies to tie the obvious history and weaves in intimate relation and aggress   sexual violence in prince in seedbed percepts to an empts like chris burden account performances himselves the first agnes martists were  often account performance articulator describe more candy near a prize broad jump 71 offer the obvious of his best   

hardman 

she  convicts that no image  could become his sexual advance she could  subject was as if the could became his sexual advances   she conviction that no image conviction that no image could subject it   was as if the slaves offered her door she awakened he identified her two choices  she could become his sexual advances she could submit to his conviction that no image  conviction that no image could repress perhaps inadvertently going adulterous sexual advances she could become   his sexual advances she could submit to the could subject it was as if he submits to the body

Darkens Grind Inquiry

Wikipedia Poem, No. 976

Washington, 2019

chaos and delay
crucial deposition-grabbing
evident against mounting
attention-grabbing attention-grabbing
protest inquiry to insulate
insulate against mounting
protest seeks to halt hours on wednesday
staging against mounting against

suite where impeachment yet
pressure office suite where
impeachment investigators
conduct private campaign to leave
stridents behavior —
and refuse to smear
his political rivals
storm interviews
refuse to enlist

committees on the committee
which is leading let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us
in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let
us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let
us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us in! let us
in! let us in! let us in! let
us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let
us in! let us in! let us in! let
us
in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!
let us in! let us in! let us in! let us in!

Artifacts of Reference, No. 67

Artifacts of Reference, No. 66

Artifacts of Reference, No. 65

Artifacts of Reference, No. 63

“Rosewater, Chicken Fat, and Pinecones”

Wikipedia Poem, No. 972

cloves to me finish the beginning 
not first in air i have a special mixture 
my exclusive time requires drips 
i've made up my nose: first mind the drips 
die then do no such thing required of me  
since air is not so casually soaked 
         in ragged strips of exclusivity  
time persuades one of their nothingness 
         nor am i briefly special of whisper bone

admixture of exclusive strips mine 
i require a sort of flayed time 
special time burrowed in special thought 
slowly and continuously introduced
die then no such thought will be 
thought in the air which afaik isn't true
i am all these pine-soar things 
         however briefly 
but what of rosewater soaked linen 
i've had such wonderful lovers 

in the beginning though not at first 
beginnings slowly and continuously rise
and pinecone through the lawn 
studded with drippings wrapped in earth
what a glorious exclusive time in strip
mines exclusive time dripping among air
however briefly but trimmed 
         into reddening strips

Source: Ruefle, Mary. “Resin.” Dunce, Wave Books, 2019, p. 15.

Miyazawa Kenji

Wikipedia Poem, No. 971

clouds and the white stream brain
snow has-been tomatoes in the eyes
adrift on a mach of arms toward the bodhisattva
at dawn on the depth of everesting clouds

and the gloom the dark seaweed insects fly away in the washes
partition the twilight comes toward the blue radiant moonsteel pen
armed bird glittered clouds and curls its back mirroring hemp
like cracks veining the smell of the smell

a lily’s fragrance partitions the gloomy sky
white stream mind snow fallen phosphore
washes partition the sky in the sky
above the blue sky and the pistils of yesterday

stand curls its its its lips red rag of night comes forward
the sky and the smell of my riverbed branch
sky above the smell of a lily in the depth of birdglitter
quarrel with some living doubt bloodshot depths of pistils

green tomatoes in the gloomy white lily
its its its its lips red feathering my white seaweed
insects fly away in the smell of my white stream
ming-weed insects fly away in purple led sky bloomy white

stream mind
snow has fallen phosphorescent
partition the blue radiant moonsteel pen
the pen arms a heart’s content

left alone and roaming
with life in surround
in the pistils of green covered clouds and curls
its its its back

mirroring weed insects
fly away
the sky has been blue rays of depth
yesterday the strand the seashore water’s dead bodies

and numerous teen tomatoes in the depth of a lily
bloomy white stream
float away in my eyes and drift with someone
of membranes of wasteland-curls

its long headed body grits limp lips red rag of a lily’s fragrance
ripples rippling rippled with someone in the sky above their long arms
a queer bird glitters quarrel with life
surround the long arms of the heart’s content

stream mind snow
bitter beetle feathers weeding in the sky
and curls its bodhisattva head at the last membraneous rays of sunlight
white stream

mind of snow
fallen against the young phosphorescence
the falling sky above the blue sky
above the body its joints crack like veins

like long arms of a bird
glitter-quarrel with father again
light moon in the pistils of a lily’s fragrance
in the twilightning on a marching fog

almost imperceptible

Collage Burning Landscape

Ridgewood, Sunset

what’s even worth painting anymore? all the nerd
girls in big striped sweaters warming bleach moms
gym guys in slate sleeveless tees and they make
shoes out of knit polyester now tight pants loose
pants clouds bodies minds bricks piled up high hair
gel on a young couple four hundred feet away
i’m worried about their screen time is their crib
flammable age sex location trap beats the problem
with not liking anyone is you always have lots of
company imagine for a moment being a sixteen
ounce poland spring bottle the thin crinkling plastic
threaded neck choking hazard threaded cap
arctic-nothing impermanent black they don’t do
decaf here i listen to the gods who do not have my
best interest at heart is it ok for me to smile at the
incandescent young lesbians so in love i’m
repeating myself my recycled edges ache at the
thought of appearing a fanboy Eileen Myles in
my hands my eyes my neurons my hair dirty teeth
rotten and unbrushed like i said: no one’s looking
out for my brief colors i strain to love anyone but i
fear a relapse into hate for everyone hocking trace
antagonism — like me i’m afraid i prefer living in the
cracks and this world powerwashes squatters rats
milkweed moneywort morning glory like us — there
i go dreaming again self-flagellating my verse-thin
flesh which is bulletproof if bullets are tsetse flies
i am genetic i am bodied and disposable if extant
— there is a cloud there is the gelic memory of sun
leather loafer real burning cigarette appropriately
scented altar i don’t care what your mother named
you i will love you anyway without me.