Interstitial Zoning Laws (The Troubling Realities of)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 432

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“He watches from his mountain walls, / And like a thunderbolt he falls.” Tennyson

abuts 
          their 
bed
        beside 
        white work 
truck 
to 
the 
     suburbanating hiss
they save mend 
drooping their 
father's 
       
along their bed
      beside 
         bart 
     simpson 
    acid 
     
— $8
     
      hours later
here 
again
nameless 
women

collage 
freshmen 
       a still-exotic
          species to them mend 
          drooping their father's 

   longing 
their bed
   beside 
       
of cedarview 
avenue

sticky bits behind their bed
beside white 
iron radiator his left earlobe  

          sells 
me one hit 

of 
    cedarview avenue
         
    behind their 
bed
beside 
       
  bart simpson acid 

— $8
      
          hours later
here again
nameless 
       women

      college 
freckled
       
a 
     pigeon diamond  
    and buskers 

argue on behalf of
      their father's 
          long 
established theism

The Roar of the Slain Protect

Wikipedia Poem, No. 413

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“But they know how to pull / Arms in, a reflex of being dressed, / And also, a child’s faith. The mass of stuff / That makes the Sunday frocks collapses / In my hands and finds its shape, only because / They understand the drape of it— / These skinny keys to intricate locks.” Mark Jarman

For Bill

the roar of the slain protect the caretaker’s hut
that red clay pot portends tracks for the hunt
everything in the red clay pot belongs to the animals
though it is also fed on flour that
as a practice
belongs to those among us who do not touch bone
members of that slain ceremony
light as human gods
travel into prologues great and sprinkled with medicine
the ceremony involves deposited arrowheads emblematic
of horses and sheep and the enemy
eats our history
unlike the traditions of the keeper
the careful hunters of the ocean
traveling chosen

paculum-spec2-sm

Sources:

“The music is beautiful it takes me”

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The music is beautiful it takes me a long time to see that this is besides the point. József Lendvay is beautiful like the music masculine affirmative embracing what is sad although I do not know from stories told to me but the music speaks and I understand it. But he says it and I have heard it clearly. Then something undeniable happens as József commands the percussion the second and third violins the patient cellos stare at the black shoulder-length curls begging for some contact waiting for a sign or a nod of approval or a rebuke József walks away from his attention and checks in with the bass reluctant at first again this cannot be a mistake. The bass speaks confident plays confident the incomparable shadow of József who notices nods again. The orchestra swells rehearsed a thousand times a reckless bass bounces atop other instruments strings stinging the fret board hard leather soles delighted at the floor boards of the wedding of flames the bass is free never before. Never. Reverie reserved a shuffling now of the feet somber and the bass back into His shadow then His shadow He blots out. In this disappearing the most muscular His eyes emerge to lunch spit out bones evaporate eviscerate. He reappears totally beside the bass nods the bass inhales draws its shadow repeats fills himself in with shadow turbulent shadow bravado fragile bravado deadly bravado’d shadow recedes all swell embrace bigger than clearly music not an imitation now but a formless capital commanding József still dancing in the shadow smiles bows bravo.