Polyphemus in Napa

Wikipedia Poem, No. 655

W655-SM

all that mighty oneself
one sees stretch online
glassed by the trees
its easy eye
and wine glasses
lost in branches
by the pain that’s
remembered
her sea bottom
home for suede

flash stupid
save oneself
from love you
see selfless be
come classless
seawine in a park
ing lot terrible
things unfriendly
things how much love
is parking one
sees measure sees
love love
is what one sees
oneself flash io
then flash
something else
no longer seen

Pruned by Flowerheads

Wikipedia Poem, No. 470

wiki470-b3

“A map for a new respiratory system. / Nitrous oxide replaced by tear gas. / Our head and face boundaries collapse. // Now: cut across the canvas.” Theodoros Chiotis

if not changing then
flowering but coiled
around one's jaw 
pruned by flowerheads
        climbing from thoughtful
        pink illusions outside-in 
size color everything everywhere grown 
out of my heads (climbing despite
mainland macrophylla here in america    
which only grows in dangerous popular culture
the dangerous species is its own meaning 
some crumpled syrian estate 
pruned into blush red 
flowering plants in japan korea crimea
our ashen mainland

 

Wikipedia Poem, No. 333

wiki333-alt

will 
she have been tracked filling with white 
degrees a key state in both 2008 and overwhelmingly

failure of education 

       for 
trump a better 
        chance to be white voters with white demographics to 

swarm of moons

      be 
   which obama won 
non-collapse by 

the dream will not return

clinton on a 
coalition the counting iron she tracks upon 
     a coalition of how this    group 

a swarm descends from the sea

is currently more  
to be 
which obama had won 

failure of moons

      non-college-educated white 
       voters 
to be white house so what are    he is currently 

warm throb of worms

too close 
to 
      call 

education of swarms 

he is simply this  
   particular white voters 
by clinton

storm without wit now
 
  mitt romney 
  won non-college 
demographic point when tracking that now go

Veglia, by Giuseppe Ungaretti

vigil1-low

Veglia

Un’intera nottata
Buttato vicino
A un compagno
Massacrato
Con la sua bocca
Digrignata
Volta al plenilunio
Con la congestione
Delle sue mani
Penetrata
Nel mio silenzio
Ho scritto
Lettere piene d’amore

Non sono mai stato
Tanto
Attaccato alla vita

Cima Quattro, il 23 dicembre 1915

paculum-spec2-sm

Vigil

The whole night
Discarded
Beside a friend
Massacred
His mouth
Chewed up
Beside the full moon
Mashed
Into his hands
Penetrating
My silence
I have written
Love letters

I’d never been
Much
Attached to life

Peak Four, December 23, 1915

translated by Joseph M. Gerace

 

Wikipedia Poem, No. 218

wiki218-small

“We too are products … cultural products. We too will become obsolete. The functioning of the system is identical—with the difference that, in general, there is no obvious technical or functional improvement; all that remains is the demand for novelty in its pure state.” from Michel Houellebecq, “The Map and the Territory”

 

politics local reactance
previews the people and
if you will have me america

the republic changes
people under coercive society
dominate racial cultural race

change anyway times
the machine efforts younger
american society and time

those who riff endlessly rebutting
american white change probably
see movement as birth

in american changes this defines
the year americans by that america
will mean for you performance

before this always happens
as america will mean what
bit this further what licked this

paculum-spec2-sm

Source:

Bump, Philip. “The Louis C.K. Theory of Donald Trump.” Washington Post 2 June 2011. Web. 2 June 2016.

Wikipedia Poem, No. 213

wiki213

“The particular challenge in the law was one that was grounded in the fact that anti-discrimination law looks at race and gender separately. The consequence of that is when African American women or any other women of colour experience either compound or overlapping discrimination, the law initially just was not there to come to their defence.” Kimberlé Crenshaw

 

and their own minds
are not the result of
a lot of intended fragments

months on twitter
means i have within
my movement an object

new things in her life
no one says no one size fits all
shattered from the first plantation

so when ground
guise point out toward the
horizon a five foot eleven black

woman intellectualizes fragment
months she usurps this quote
feminism in various grounded tiers

on the love of no violence in the west
indoctrinal laughter back
into me who chose to converse

that i hate in the first place
the racist concept of transpired
facets multi-layered weak misogyny

average does nothing
a way to react to match
coining math from weak theory

in computer sciences of color
they should want race to bring
the keyboard and natural concepts

theories in groups are initiative
these must react match for coin
theory close inspection and direction

have already started feminist
colonies on the moon none allowed
that prescribe form diversity in software

natural reconciliation rakes the keyboard
if you are or were well as well you cannot
be wrong about a mere coin flip

if you are or were well as well generalize
and watch them discuss aims and psalms
here are out there minority radio shows

or better yet better perspective of other
out there on the moon picking systematic
oppressors to color out community

software or racial minority
listen used cities out loud
attracting theories and initiative

kimberlé crenshaw hall filled with invaluable
software loaded with time expanded
separately deep breath step away from as well

woc it’s important
of multitudes
marriage instream feminism

he used
your name
to differing cluelessnesses

as action or oppression
no matter the fourth wall
help members with the coda

to whit i hope the
old community
apologizes

the girlfriend apologized
another oppressed charge
or most of it in a pass apologized

as i understand the else
because the percussive other
cons the heart his cleaving

around nature did not provide better
my own work against casually written deletion
this is intersectionality but so much less

fails which set foot
then I am there
dozens maybe hundreds our

work matters
be wild and wide
from various concerns

in fact anti-oppress
problems maybe campaign
felt her forms and shudders

o how better those of my own
worked once and lear
that I would be casually devoid

of every level our gendered
learning I enter me as neo-feminism
free of problematic behavior ignored

political diversity racing the movement
back to feminist ground zero to
community is a women in 1959

this is a women young systems
new responding this is a woman
a divine structure or position hept

others then build bridges between
awareness and education sorted
issues receiving unique challenges

make a world concerned
study the education of critics
lines of other acquitted without

of color of think of empty tank
the cooling lance beside the egg
shelled domes of pastoral structure

 


Sources:

“The Summer’s Over, Jack Spicer!” by Matthew Dickman

And Paris, France,
is still Paris, France,
though we've never been there together
but might
if life were a little longer
and no one ever invented knives.
I am crossing the bridge again
and the city is behind me being rescued
or being destroyed 
with a leaf on the end of a branch
turning maple-syrup brown. 
The first one. The summer's over,
Jack Spicer, and I 
have turned my collar up against the wind
and health insurance, the clouds
and blue jays, against the gangbangers
and insufficient funds. It's getting colder.
We're turning from wheat beers to Stouts, becoming
our fathers again, our exhausted
uncles, bruising our knuckles
against the tavern walls
and young mothers, we're showing
up for work, we're blessing 
the promise of ice and snow and football to come
like the Israelites did with the sand, 
the gold, and the insects.
It's raining, Jack Spicer, and I miss
Matthew Lippman. He's walking 
through an alley in Boston,
his beautiful hands and shoulders, his wife and daughter
at home. His heart beating up 
his body like a heavyweight, the nose broken,
the ribs broken—
I'm not ready!
Kiss me, take your legs and make a belt
of stars around me,
be my winter coat, my sobriety and bodega.
The oceans are getting blue
and the oysters are getting ready. Soon
we can cover the table with newspapers, with the faces
of senators and crossword puzzles,
the oysters
spread out over the sports page,
we can open the hard shells
and slip the cold
soft bodies into our mouths. We can drink
white wine and make a kind of Pacific 
out of lunch. I want to lie around 
the room with your jeans 
flung over a chair. I want to eat ice cream
and have my older brother back.
The summer's over, Jack,
and all the waitresses
are putting on their black tights like a funeral
of knees, the bartenders are wiping down the brass, the waiters are drawing out 
their lines of cocaine
like long strings of silk, pure white and perfect.
I have crossed the bridge
into a Paris that doesn't exist. Really,
I'm in Portland,
the summer's over and the last of the breweries
are being pulled into the sky, becoming
lofts, getting roof-top gardens for surgeons and all their beautiful brides.

From Matthew Dickman’s “Mayakovsky’s Revolver”

Elegy for, by /r/Poetry

"The thoughtless World to majesty may bow
Exalt the brave, & idolize Success
But more to Innocence their Safety owe
Than Power & Genius e'er conspired to bless"
                             -Thomas Gray

photo

a fancy ballerina
human connection is a fancy ballerina
      human 
connection 
is littered with crystals
         How do you grieve 
  for 
a profile picture?
Life 
is 
a 
fancy ballerina
     human concept
        The 
         temperature is a fancy 
ballerina
       human connection 
is littered 
with trash.
Awake 
all 
         night in front of an open window.
        Hey it's me again
Blue skies and fresh air
        As I 
walked through the park, I 
saw
Blue skies 
  and fresh air
       As I walked through the park, 
I 
     saw
Blue skies and it is a fancy ballerina
  human 
connection is littered 
crystals
   How 
         do you grieve for a 
        profile picture?
      Life,
    I could write a songShe’s a fancy ballerina