Tag Archives: fantasy

Black Wall/White Noise

A hate passed across generations
over borders an ex-vast desert

here

a black wall scars the landscape
i do not know what i am in it

what it gives me destroys me
i do not need it not today
not tomorrow
desirous alien interior 

crown fortune its endless skull walk exposes the delirious face grabbing and shaking-down of who or what anymore and goes away from the island dune with a tavern of warm milk and upside-down memory of friends and if a place is too familiar it removes its visitors like certain meteors from near constant travel i stand at the immense black wall and scream in wind at the constructing god  

here
as in under
my feet here
sheathed in
goat leather as in affronting
here
as in without fear of
description discipline or performance

 idiot rush at the gold farm gods open your terrorist wallet
trap the house of esplanade and swallow god

White Noise

It made them feel like poets and it made them want to write more

black camel mahler stops death can be a poem he didn’t have to leave though i demanded it with my hands and bleak words i hoped anyone could understand the desert media or what remained drew up plans my intentions my privilege like a deep wind-up across sand and i wonder how he’d bred a modern aesthetic echo the private world of containing wishes: no black river neon bootleg nothing ashamed of … as a poet i dream about him buried deep in the sand in the lungs in the lugs

deep enough to have had enough of other people’s worlds
woke up screaming bronica barbacoa bankrate
like that would fix anything
and here i am
the white noise cresting the horizon
she said looking back one final time

at the black wall

Innersea References (Black Black Black) 

Those moments accumulate in the interstices of someone else’s history

and beach dragged back hands intracoastal churning
snatch from impossible tides certain hopeful
loneliness imposed
the bodies of others i thought i saw an iguana at the gates
swung open manna born from a factory i scratch the wall
first with stones and dried plant matter and stones then
fingers
beguiling
consistent

fingers bleed wall remains black black black

through travel we charge the scene
a belanced knight tilting at god
these innersee references
insufficiently sophisticated
inflicted upon us by lesser

the job of an arrow is to brand the world what puts the reader to sleep — that is you to sleep — passes for a story between hands the simultaneous wall do you understand do you have this inside you?

the sky above the city is the noun constantly reintegrating parameters these are the questions made obvious against a photograph but what about the outreach the compassion the drama of it all otto had the look of a killer big bald head dirty lederhosen someone nearby spinning out the color of green apples big black eyes quiet let his friend do all the talking not the type to confuse numbers for bugs (or vice versa) had many famous friends now none

sophisticate (v.)

c. 1400, “make impure by admixture,” from Medieval Latin sophisticatus, past participle of sophisticare (see sophistication). From c. 1600 as “corrupt, delude by sophistry;” from 1796 as “deprive of simplicity.” Related: Sophisticated; sophisticating. As a noun meaning “sophisticated person” from 1921.

Poem Can’t Defend Itself

they are gone out / they are beautiful / they are never enough

DESPITE a community rises up around me a community rises up around me a community rises up around me a community rises up around me a community rises up rises up rises up DESPITE i sink into community into community into community rises up around me around me around me a round me a rondo a nonce an ounce of community in my pocket a pound of trounce in my hand a ton of electronics on my back DESPITE a promise to tend to the garden to the garden to the garden tend to tendencies tenderly a garden a garden a garden worth guarding tenderly a community DESPITE rising up around a ton of electronics tenderly gardening my back DESPITE an ounce of rondo in my pocket

Ounce of Rondeau

you ask yourself: is the next minute enough? enough to pull you into them? to keep you there enough? is its plurality of negations enough to keep you reading forever? independent of the men in caskets we come to the incinerator or from the incinerator — there’s a world through this door

poetic form necessitates a poetics of absence less attitude more altitude reality holding your hand we walk backwards down a fall of steps individualism into the chopper i wrote myself a letter in sand no i will write myself a letter in sand no i must have forgotten not writing it with precocious expectations of a strong handsome noun on my knees at the wall with obscure eyes the letter didn’t say west of here is a nice mass grave and east of here is blue smoke of otto more violence more opiate i wake up wanting 

survive make friends at the inn at columbia tell stories 

whenever i hold my child
the hair on my body turns
white noise white heart
welcome to the world
it’s just me you’re ok
oh my god you’re ok

Ounce of Zuihitsu

the moon of thicknesses and texture of papers one for photo one for text quality absorption two i’s a k and a p pile high like huey dewey and louie in a trench coat attempting to purchase pornography or an assault rifle or enriched uranium galk the image is gone he’s piloted guys chariots into the sun melted melted axle horse and hope alike the image has dispersed the boy my stand-in meditates on his describing destruction and finds opportunity for new life to bathe its hot fault lines there’s an emoji for that the old phrase goes 

when i lift a palm-full of warm sand i feel it coursing through my hand though i see it still in my fingers the sense receptors haunt the skin wrapped around muscle bone breath the warmth of the sand the atmosphere of it of them our misunderstanding and inflate with metaphysical charm surreal pleasure undeniable expression the inward experience of what kind of story is this story

the menu at the storm is written in an alien language that looks like begging a stranger to buy your underage-self violence and sounds like the opiate state protecting your fragile body on offer are the powerful horses of a new god

I don’t know how else to tell you there are problems with what little soil remains problems with what little oil remains problems with the spoiled chaos of which there is plenty the dog-boys expect one in every tribe to make a mistake i put the beginning at the end and pray 

i close my eyes and pray for rain

despite (n., prep.)

c. 1300, despit (n.) “contemptuous challenge, defiance; act designed to insult or humiliate someone;” mid-14c., “scorn, contempt,” from Old French despit (12c., Modern French dépit), from Latin despectus “a looking down on, scorn, contempt,” from past participle of despicere “look down on, scorn,” from de “down” (see de-) + spicere/specere “to look at” (from PIE root *spek- “to observe”).

The prepositional sense “notwithstanding” (early 15c.) is short for in despite of “in defiance or contempt of” (c. 1300), a loan-translation of Anglo-French en despit de “in contempt of.” It almost became despight during the 16c. spelling reform.

Blacking Thee Impossible Art

some men are large others are sharks but all men have their cut coming what price what playing harmony what origins hungry submissions layered to the ceiling like dried newspaper waits for spark a wide lens saturation cranked creamed laughing fringes pissed the windgreens that fill sinuses this is indirect incorrect take the first viola on your right and go straight on til the measuring tape boils oh see can you say it like he sees it will you allow the worries to tell you no wrestling nude in the sun people blacken me blacking thee impossible art life i’ll tell it straight no surface artifact artifact camera aims his gun at the sun a diagonal field sailing memories the means to be an artist dearest exponent YES! i like top ten art as much as the next guy but here in the desert there’s only survival 

i don’t want to hurt people that’s the point i guess jane the fried of the west said the best you scream when you know jane didn’t say that i said that no not that even i’ve acquired it put it in my pocket like a write of passport it was born here what do you want from me screaming burnt hair test the limits of the dog-boys laying there depressed dried out next to their dreams of milk next to a soundscape of rolled up death that gives way to the blackened mind

in the wallet of the last quarter century don’t know how to spend it don’t know that if we ever will

the data bears this out the data proves popularity is a marauder straddling a spreadsheet from station to station the numbers are bright and clear as the moon ticked on the ocean wall in chalk the countryside evaporated by nuclear strike like a crow like a crown like a clown from the diving board insert yourself here transfigure possibility and cliche

the men he met at the wall and they were always men displayed no dedication to the pilgrimage no ambition to elide its infinity they plant their feet in the hot sand and shed blood an ear upon a pedestal this masculine beauty 

so we waited seven years anymore how do you experience cold it’s not cold to be uncomfortable would it even register as cold or just certainly not a breeze a sensation experience an external sensation register as different from in your belly proximity to celebrity on this the final day of the final april

what is this crocus trampled inconvenient bottom boot beside the dog-boys’ leftovers in the sun warning our flesh some listen some tilt listen i’m thirty seven trying to get to the under of this big wide doing so far so guilty so unwinged by the mage or the architect or god the builder send me a picture of there

Impertinence of Khans

Wikipedia Poem, No. 984

Shin-Ōkubo Station, 2019

on the throes of his weak for a while the
visit was overseas tried
upon the will become contentious seemingly incestuous
the chief was tried upon his throne
their own red tried upon the queen confronting a grim country for proceeding above world leadership in likelihood the leadership struggles scheduled wrapped-up sussing the news that confronts
a grim country for office and news confronts a grim country for a while an opportunity to escape leadership and his weakness for
creationism the will becomes escape throes as unpatriotic foes
judge is he fit for khanship clipped into a cage to demonstrate his global chief was not further staged of his week and gave his global leadership the war pig on its own red trips was tried upon their ownèd response but the leadership revels in struggle
scheduled wrap-up sussing in chief was overseas tried upon the leaders making new leaders

in rabanastre mr rivkin lands in deep red for khanship faces turns taught talking in chief was sought khan rivkin abruptly sows
can hop on with reopportunity to boast of jidoor that by peers thus make in rabanastre mr rivkin abruptly can hop on hop off
leadership
likelihood the meeting precedes the image
of jidoor and news confronts a grim country for khans caught talking overseas and bolts early only for this
global leadership likelihood fits for and allowed mr rivkin abruptly can hop on his own meaning the commanded blacksky in mirovsha on not further world leadership likelihood that by peers creep-in-chief was not
further
fit for khan
now faced a viral hot-mic video then slipped other-world leadership likelihood the red trial for office and that capital vile
in chief was not further world leadership likelihood that by peers decree

likelihood by equinox his image as war pig on war pig would by leaders seem scheduled to wrap-up sessions in rabanastre with the red trial behind global leaders making one sullen khan caught to escape throes of mr rivkin landed in chief was two-faced turned tough khan not further fit for the office of porter making likelihood at zilch the visit was cursed —

two-faced turn tough khan rivkin in rabanastre
abruptly hopped on the red queen

— thus for proceeding whether his image of weakness and a pikeful news cycle confronts this grim couple
the commanded brick in chief was not further imagined upon judging whether spoils in mirovsha at the blacksky meeting was not further spoiling this fun of his
week dragged on for a while and strided purposefully across river of history one of his likelihoods allowed mr rivkin and his weaknesses to proceed seemingly sententious meeting of
jidoor wild throes as unpatriotic foes upon the veldt sought to escape the viral video the fifth khan tried upon his own spoiling in mirovsha

Source: Baker, Peter. “Mocked Abroad and Assailed at Home, Trump Returns to Face Impeachment.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 5 Dec. 2019, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/12/04/us/politics/trump-impeachment-inquiry.html.

Instructions for a Narrative

Wikipedia Poem, No. 855

hamsam-sm2

Mislead darkness into spaces surrounded by the unknowable void. Definitive articles, please. There be thick monsters of expired physiology of the ancient world of mind, the dark spaces of plein-air painting, found artifacts—void, which you will know about—the maker, the forest dying in technology’s web, the art of confused interrogation. For the second act, return to the suspended forest. Limp, user-facing monsters of meat of barbecue float in leafy darkness: physiology: stick, suck, smash. I am talking about the ending now: Mind honeyed through like homonyms tase ancient color in the indefinite forest, confusion hung, locked in a gallery frame, lacking and smash the darkness. Sea and joy separated forever. By what you’ve yet to think, that’s the ending, I mean. 

all the notes from tonight

kmart

 

The thing in the sky
All of a sudden is a cartoon bird
Then it’s an actual hungry shark

But it’s a puddle of draino now
I’m sad I said sad to see polygons
Again the lizard ten years old

Then chemo
Is a seahorse
Then it’s a chicken

It’s not a chicken per se
I’m nervous and driving
Afraid of death depth stillness it looks like

A chicken but then suddenly
It’s pregnant something else still born
It’s the ocean but not drowned

A seahorse hot
A shark it’s not a
Chicken it’s a rotten cartoon it’s

Six o’clock somewhere I suppose a carcass now a newt
It’s 6 ounces of what sky is what
I wanted to say am saying have said.

Wikipedia Poem, No. 299

3-frg

1 Should I Know
Who Chloe Was?

       plants 
which eat a vulture  
          taught 
    plants 
         they diet
          a food web very tasty almostly 
eats vultures condors 
return 
        that eats a vulture
       smells 
bad and 
   other 
          up 
the flesh of 
         the 
        flesh 
    of 
the herbivorous 
an eagle may 
steal a 
bird of other 
an eagle may steal a bird 
         of other an eagle may steal a bird 
    of 
predators the 
apex predators they diet
       a food chain themselves 
eat those plants that 
eat a vulture out 
      of they don’t look 
          very food web 
after 
       they don’t look very tasty almostly eat
  not much eat carrion or 
apex 
prey such as a hawk or an animals and 
     that 
   energy and the flea

2. Beauty is Every
Wear Fred Astaire

       only the 
     vultures their dark brown plumage have settled 
in partially wooded areas lighter 
and 
  pyrenees the griffon vultures and red 
kites 
      their dark brown 
         plumage have 
settled in the 
region in the 
   cévennes 
only the region in the vultures is 
not found in their dark brown plumage have settled 
     in partially wooded vulture it 
is 
not found in 
       the alps and also 
searches for 
  dead animals such as rabbits and 
red kites 
       is also 
searches for dead animals 
such as 
        rabbits 
   and 
red 
    kites the 
  european black vulture completing found in the food chain 
        for 
       these huge 
birds with 
        red kites

3 Rabbit Kings
Think Finer Things

      do not need of 
smell the plant may consume 
a type 
      of dead animals
vultures are 
almost 
come many vultures 
will eat hunt and agricultures scavengers or farmland unlikely 
    by 
      animals do not find unlike raptors became a dangers 
and 
      agricultures 
      when their decaying 
      food into they 
process of animals do not need 
   most 
come of 
natures this sometime find eels eat have an usually 
adapting great 
          carnivores better 
   such 
as scavengers eat 
from sticking out which 
      is and 
          also 
      bald meals 
      wild herbivores 
or it into they 
protect the 
  both plant 
make thrive an 
   animal its of livestock the dead for 
         example

4 Betray,
Betray,
Betray

their nest
how 
        long do so and their carrion 
in and 
      coyotes additionally 
         many 
  scavengers in the 
vultures of 
      doves
how do turkey vultures of a 
     carrion which include ravengers describe there 
      do 
turkey vultures a foul odor because 
of 
     bacterial growth
how long do baby birds and 
all 
stages 
       of prey like eagles and all 
      stay in and 
vulture 
  to eat
quick answer
most vultures 
          a foul odor 
because of a carrion which include ravengers in and 
vultures 
and it has a foul odor 
      because of decomposition 
though 
  the vulture 
buzzards
what 
          are above 
        the blue jay looks like 
its egg

5 Attack,
Attack,
Refuse

          attack 
       young and is 
estimated from the eggs are very sophisticated from 
         their talons are no 
carcasses 
   a 
length of vulture 
       resembles associated from the bill and has no carcasses (carrions. 
the turkey 
           the turkey 
  vulture is 
        easy to 
      the 
most of vultures associated
    obtain most 
birds and 
has no carcasses carrions. 
the turkey            
        the turkey 
      vulture is
     dead on no carrion 
their talons 
are spread hunted also known black 
      young and north 
 american

“Gallops from its mouth, I rip”

IMG_2772.JPG

 

I always knew there was a spiritual connection
Between Ben and John
Some shared irreverence simmering
Intelligence like a hawk circling a trail
Or the hawk with a wood mouse
In its beak swallowing broken bones

Then I see it: the patient, dead mouse
Gallops from its mouth, I rip
A thin sheet of paper
Even thinner, transforming one —
With my mouth — good sense, into
Two. Recursive, recombinant, acid reflux
Deluxe bring me not-deep vein thrombosis, campfire
Luck, wildfire, treat yourself to something nice.

“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”

John Ashbery

IMG_6919

Reading Ben Lerner from behind
Without Ben Lerner's express written consent
I am Ben Lerner "noctilucent"
Against Ben Lerner's particular ass 

The pedals of the tricycle in Ben Lerner's front yard
     haven’t rotated, felt reciprocation in months 
But nonetheless, here I am, Ben Lerner
Atop Ben Lerner, concerned about Death
All tucking away the c-word from an old,
     untitled Ben Lerner poem,
     an even older poem by Wallace Stevens

From Ben Lerner's mind 
To Ben Lerner's mouth 
And into, and onto, Ben Lerner's
     night-blooming genera.

“Quem me dera que a minha vida fosse um carro de bois” Fernando Pessoa

XVI

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.

(1914)

Source: Pessoa, Fernando. Poemas Completos de Alberto Caeiro. http://www.luso-livros.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/Poemas-de-Alberto-Caeiro.pdf. Web.

XVI

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.

Wikipedia Poem, No. 63

"HarvardSquar on NyQuil / which time-true for everything all / like the jaw of god"

IMG_5174

give a bit
sick here
wait

and Roy Tony's body getting
like 
its third bag

and conversession
fire but
a vehicle of him

then some Mass up in his
shit
and

decks
and
C

heavily crewed
there's
not a thing like that

with
them
from beef to Poor

Tony's old hash 
with heads 
legless in

we go up another flight on his old
conversation
finally

score an old Patty citizen-type kid on the nom
studns are
this shatered’be

a big
Boot — size 18 — hes’donuts in the dumster
and C wants his vehiclass

in the dumsters’always
ther fags
in a Pimp an

other'se its alls the Harvard Squar before $ and the on
NyQuil
finally after night

is
neck and was
ther so hard

a Squar fucking on the
NyQuil
at Copley Bay

Bay
Bay Bay
Bay

Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay Bay

Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay
Bay

Bay
Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay

Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay Bay
Bay Bay Bay Bay

Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay Bay

Bay
Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay Bay Bay

Bay Bay Bay
Bay
Bay Bay Bay

Bay Bay
Bay Bay
Bay

Bay
Bay
Bay Bay

Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay Bay
Bay Bay Bay

Bay
Bay Bay
Bay Bay Bay

Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay
Bay Bay Bay Bay

Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay Bay
Bay Bay
Bay

Bay
Bay
Bay Bay Bay

aile and
the
block

to get
over and up type in
diffrent four-digit. And finally bag we

go to
the
Squar

for that was going would conversession finally and howeverything alone
can get up to a
large degreen

pastures,
got over
no matter

is no cheese
a big bell
for there yrstruly

petaled an older "if"
stash with Santaclaus ringing
onto a large degreen pastures,

and our mind
we leave to yrstruly
s’like C said fucking like

HarvardSquar on NyQuil
which time-true for everything all
like the jaw of god

for sure
and with us
a direction

use a bundle in you diffrent
And bag C
into the Bay

they got some'n sharp and the Bay coming in
the Bay the Bay Bay
Bay Bay