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Wikipedia Poem, 875

atropos

imagine koch met another koch
what brotherless friendship
othered even these plants’ music

the moirai graduates shack up on center street
and sap wondersided all three conversing for
many years with any living man

append the loose fringe of life
three-story building wits growing seemly
never the end of the world war

and for many years
it was a centered king living white hairs
divided into three-story buildings

and for many years
it was a quarrel
overrule eating anyone

seeds seem imagine
seeds seemed from kralupy
there was a giant that could grow seeds inside himself

from kralupy he stood
on these places
dry and wondersided a peerless wit

sap graduate lit out
her nerve expected rigor
on the book of the bad queen ananke

in white hairs divided in 1948
after places painters use white hairs
skin conium the back scars white hairs

divided into white hairs on hungry green leaves
three-story center a graduate street
a painterly fact the sprite in her oval eyes

every sap wondering about aeschylus’ life
the back scars were made
freilicher brought daucus candlestock to lower manhattan

her life in three-story buildings
in aeschylus’ life small atropos
in white hairs shell-case of destinies

dry and even third avenue at sixteenth street
a painter’s taste of three-story building anyone?
seems imaginable so much beautiful writing

in 1948 a graduate student travels to greece
and never returns it stood on top of a spool of thread
in my life three-story buildings imagine fact

beauty in bullet form imagine kenneth koch
met aeschylus and the bad queen
nature’s fate seems by comparison its power

fact: the case of places
dry and very small
atropos in our life

he powers
the center
of hope

four inches in aeschylus’ life
three-stories at the center of a poem
fringed many years’ white hairs

skin conium their family book of brunette
with oval epitome and strong seeds
seems a comparison koch met giants who live for men

append friendship and very funny poems
imagine kralupy it was a quarrel overruled
eating graduate students’ exceptional epitome moirai

group of genealogies
the fates lick ash
nature family their family ween

ananke in aeschylus’ life powers a quarrel
overrule eating it seems from the potion of the parcae
yes, we muddle language probably because fates best god

but later the giant allots lachesis
in her english way it’s clear to fate
the book of destinies from each into each

his eating of the fates their brotherless friendship
and even the word hector all atropos inflexible
never a moiragetes but man’s appellation of hope

four inches long
seeds seeds seeds
dry and euripides’ poison hemlock

conium that centers fact
the end of places
in this dry medical form

Reacting to Springs

Wikipedia Poem, No. 727

w727

 

quests in-gameplay
progressible in themselves
as themselves
as the influence of all events
this timeline fondles the progression
of all events this does not include questions
unasked eidolons and so much more
the in-gameplay progression of french poets

K describes his timeline
within his timeline
a combination clashes with stable updates
his story does not include crusades
bloody world alerts
nor current events

“be frank (if you can’t be frank, be john and kenneth).”

be frank

From “The Last Avant-Garde” by David Lehman:

[Frank] O’Hara’s ironically self-deprecating tone was much imitated. “I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love,” he wrote. He kiddingly called his own poems “the by-product of exhibitionism” and wrote constantly about his daily life. It was O’Hara who initiated the policy of dropping names in his poems, a habit that became a New York School trademark. O’Hara peppered his work with references to his painter friends — [Jane] Freilicher, [Larry] Rivers, Mike Goldberg, Joan Mitchell, Norman Bluhm, Grace Hartigan, Al Leslie — with perfect indifference to whether readers would recognize their names. That indifference argued a certain confidence in the poet’s ability to make the details of his autobiography-in-progress so irresistible that the reader feels flattered to be regarded as the poet’s intimate. O’Hara s celebration of friendship in poetry represented an ideal that second-generation New York School poets, such as Bill Berkson, Ted Berrigan, Joe Brainard, Ron Padgett, and Anne Waldman, emulated in the 1960s. Everyone wanted to be, as [Ted] Berrigan put it, “perfectly frank.” James Schuyler has a marvelous rift in a letter to Berkson urging him to “be frank (if you can’t be frank, be john and kenneth). Say,” Schuyler continues, “maybe our friends’ names would make good verbs: to kenneth: emit a loud red noise; to ashbery- cast a sidewise salacious glance while holding a champagne glass by the stem; to kenward: glide from the room and not make waves; to brainard, give a broad and silent chuckle; to maehiz, shower with conversational spit drops–but I said friends, didn’t I–cancel the last. To berkson and to schuyler I leave to you.”

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Source: Lehman, David. The Last Avant-Garde: The Making of the New York School of Poets. New York: Doubleday, 1998, print, p. 73.