Pieta for Tala Madani

display in gruesome on
performance in gruesome at
performance their shadows mingle
bottom reach for one
their shadows above gush
for one another of
gum pink above gush
french’s classic yellow of
gum above unintentional of
classic yellow constellation above
can you see? the
above two men can
see? odds two men
by the woman odds
come here to know
by the woman dancer’s
you’ve come here to
drip but dancer’s legs
what they need to
drip but repetition repetition
say what they need
say can be its
language repetition repetition repetition
of grey shadows can
its own language perform
of grey shadows gruesome
perform display gruesome display

Stuck Tight Old Boy Stuck Tight

“My word / Hand caught in the door / Stuck tight old boy stuck tight”

‘Safety Lock’ by Louis Aragon

My word
Hand caught in the door
Stuck tight old boy stuck tight
In other words
Or
The password please
Many thanks
Now I hold the key
The bolt begins to twist like a tongue
Therefore

Trans. Michael Benedikt


Source: Aragon, Louis. “Safety Lock.” The Poetry of Surrealism, edited by Michael Benedikt. Boston: Little, Brown and Co, 1974, p. 151.

Photo: Gerace, Joe. “Stuck Tight Old Boy Stuck Tight” Nov. 14, 2020. JPG.

‘Halo’ by Ailbhe Darcy

It was late last night the dog was speaking of me,
and the gulls speaking of me, out over the field.
You were drawing water from the tap in the kitchen
and a moth was speaking of me, beating for light.

I was raising delft from the sink to the aumbry,
while they spoke of you in loops, over the waves.
I reached for a switch; sunlight coalesced
about your reflection, helmet of bright coils.

Outdoors was a blankness peopled with black angles;
waiting for the water you caught your own glance.
My eyebrows bustled, you submersed in my dressed;
then you were speaking of me, just a word, in response.

All the dogs in America have sisters of their own,
all the birds have sisters, out on the highway.
Moths have moths for sisters, beating out for light,
and I am speaking of you here, to everyone I meet.

Source: Darcy, Ailbhe. Imaginary Menagerie. Tarset, Northumberland: Bloodaxe Books, 2011, p. 31.

Day Tradition Shade Bridge

Wikipedia Poem, No. 683

colors-and-flesh2-sm

baume du doge
moira egan
mark strand
venice
aperitivo
orange
one
drinks
vitamins
truth
conversations
grand canal
cinnamon
cardamom
spice trade
shade
sky
day
saffron
poetry
language
tradition
san marco
carillon
gusts
myrrh
frankincense
city
elegance
silk
velvet
benzoin
vetiver
night
permanence
day
saffron
poetry
language
trade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
sky
day
saffron
poetry
language
traditions
grand
venice
aperitivo
orange
one
drinks
vitamins
truth
conversations
grand
venice
aperitivo
orange
one
drinks
vitamins
truth
conversations
grand canal
cinnamon
cardamom
spice tradition
san marco
carillon
gusts
myrrh
frankincense
city
elegance
silk
velvet
benzoin
vetiver
night
permanencese
city
elegance
silk
velvet
benzoin
vetiver
night
permanencese
city
elegance
silk
velvet
benzoin
vetiver
night
permanencese
city
elegance
silk
velvet
benzoin
vetiver
night
permanencese
city
elegance
silk
velvet
benzoin
vetiver
night
permanencese
city
elegance
silk
velvet
benzoin
vetiver
night
permanence
city
elegance
silk
velvet
benzoin
vetiver
night
permanencese
city
elegan
mark strand
venice
aperitivo
orange
one
drinks
vitamins
truth
conversation
san marco
cardamom
spice trade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
sky

day

saffron
poetry
language

tradition

grand
venice
aperitivo
orange
one
drinks
vitamins
truth
conversations
grand
venice
aperitivo
orange
one
drinks
vitamins
truth
conversation
san marco
cardamom
spice
trade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
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shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
sky
day
saffron
poetry
language
trade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
shade
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shade
shade
shade
shade
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shade
shade
shade

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Source: Egan, Moira. “Baume du Doge.” The New Criterion, Dec. 2017, www.newcriterion.com/issues/2017/12/baume-du-doge.

Empedocles Buried Over the Stoa

Wikipedia Poem, No. 630

w630-sm-r1

of disease friends 
of disease friends 
of disease friends among you
terrors by the terabyte
whatsoever illustrious stoa has man 
today blooms for redemption
some ask for deliverance though
others entreat the king 
but beg first at good deeds
who thirst blooms 
with holy diadem

equal authority 
for attempting himself 
in sights    poets and painters 
you will scream ill    scream ill
like the savage coupled bird

Personal Poem

personalpoem1
“I weep for all of these or laugh.” Ted Berrigan

i meant to say something about light
i raze light not your light and
not artificial light    what of the artificial then?
an ungainly freudian monolith
gargantuan simple fleshy    constructed
of shit found in the tv street    about light

input output welding welded expository writing    damaged categoricals
empathy    but     there's always a corollary-but with men
who lick their long waisted fingers    clean of light
let's not talk of chivalry or boyhood    manhood    let's don't mention
one's compensation for time lost
    while mistakenly incarcerated
me daffodil lazy under laundered blanket   you baseless and imaginary

i meant to say something to you about lightness in chaos
clutter razes light not your lightness   aloof
a poof    proof of what makes one    the fleet-footed slave of truth
i meant to say something outloud    but i sank into the ocean    to you
with the rowers and singing maidens and maidenchasers
and the mist which unnoticed        by anyone not me    unmoored
    flares eternal
guides the way home

spacer1
Source: Berrigan, Ted. “Words for Love.” An Anthology of New York Poets, edited by Ron Padgett and David Shapiro. Random House, New York, 1970, p. 61.

Erotic Possibilities in a Dark Theater

Wikipedia Poem, No. 414

wiki414-sm
“magic, knot / black or core // unknown known only / by flit of absence and its // hard creak senses / bleak” elena minor

          there was no 
    down time 
in his hard eyes
  keep 
in mind 
      the 
darkness for shaded lively 
      space 
and what an interior 
where it is hard to prosecute
         if no complaint offers the possibility 
     for remaking both the dark 
ideal and safe 
shaded lively rows 

when frank mentions the 
  dark scraping over the connotations 
of a plaited new york city theater seat
         keep 
       in mind its erotic potential 

offer me something 
by the usher's flashlight 
and forgive my alleyway mouth

paculum-spec2-smSources:

  • Porter, Fairfield . Portrait of Larry Rivers. 1951, oil on canvas, Colby College Museum of Art Museum, Waterville, Maine.
  • Minor, Elena. Titulada. United States: Noemi Press, 2014. Print.

Three Poems

Dan Flavin

in me he is
sequestered and afeard
in the farmost
angle im
possible im
aginable
his back behind his back
the implication
of darkness
elsewhere is blood
red pitch
you see what you want
in the light

paculum-spec2-sm

Cy Twombly

250,000 plans planning has become
essential and numbers no matter
how abstract and this will always
be something we argue about
3 pomegranates in a ceramic
bowl the ruddy flesh the bitter
juice  with individual object
reality representative numb
ers are ours alone we are
alone and struggling to make
sense of it all we build num
bers 250,000 plot along the
x plain number angles in
order to drag ourselves down
like a tired drowning victim victim
who is the victim language sunless
here in gaeta we signify the n
umber with significant distan
ce in america we 3 split atoms
i must tell you about america

paculum-spec2-sm

David Hockney

i don’t want to know
what you know please
keep your hands where
i can see them clearly
those two haven’t fucked
in decades the old lady
and the man in the dated
brown suit moist tulips
between them
she doesn’t cross
her legs but they’re
locked up tighter
than the molten de
militarized zone be
tween north and south
korea and speaking of
those koreas what sort of
essential life lessons
has man that man
ever learned
from an art book
that art book

“The Struggles of Words”, 1928, by Pierre Reverdy

Torment wanders into the light beyond the roof. At midday, without sunlight. The walls are covered with snow, against a gray background. The eye stops and vainly seeks a better path.

They’ve rubbed away the designs that gave life to the crumbling walls. Some words raise themselves affirmatively. And the flood, too high, carries off the shore where the grass smooths the bank into well-combed hair. And while across the bluish rays turbulences whirl and slowly rise, silence falls heavily on the ground, without breaking.

— Pierre Reverdy (1889-1960), trans. Michael Benedikt