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

Orpheus Charming the Animals

Wikipedia Poem, No. 646

w646-sm

“How each child finds that it must deal with / the intolerable // becomes its fate.” Frank Bidart

A note for readers: Each occurrence of an asterisk in the following poem represents one slow, deliberate breath in through the nose (at least three seconds) and out through the mouth (at least three seconds). Silently count each inhale and each exhale. You are permitted to think about anything at all during that time.

washed 
the boy
    around 
photoreceptors the 
      charming  
audio 
the particular order of a baroque story 
gathered beside hair 
around such magnificent 
photoreceptor density
the forestage animal-watch 
these animal sounds through hyper-baroque storytelling 

*

gather boys 
the effects of living 
          blue eyed doves and such 
      as such 
as ammonite political sweetness 
my wings perceive something blue eyes he twists 
   listening 
on the boy in fancy dress the poet 
expects listening blue eyed doves such magical upheaval 

upheaval upheaval upheaval 

* * *

english 
       fancy 
dress symbolism panel justice boys used on the air sounds
photoreceptor thighs
que story gather round boys 
use the crickets bloody death outspreaders 
don't be shy 
who are these animal cruelties among you
orpheus such 
      magical 
      upheaval english fancy dress 
my wings perceive something blue 
eyes 
     twist like political 

upheaval 
upheaval 
upheaval 

* * * 

english fancy dresses poet 
         and never 
          look back orpheus charming as a 
      hyperbaroque story gathered like wildflowers 
   boy with no insect parts like rainfalling the recording 
         booth 
      i mean 
garageband's 
code hung like draperies all another boy used was the 
      monastery between its thighs
on tour (such magical upheaval     english boys 
dressed like symbolism for christmastime
      panels filled just 
with boys 
          in fancy 
dress symbolism 
        used 
       in the composition 
      of blue 
      eyed doves 
subduing on 
      a mogul josias murer's danger-room i mean 
      garageband's 
        code 
    hung 
like 
draperies 
all 
      the 
crickets bloodparts 
insect legs turn from the crow 
an 
         avuncular
order then cruelty auditory charm blue 
      eyes twisted living noise 
  cardinal wings perceive some thick round noise 
         by rubbing blue 
eyed 
         doves such magical upheaval    english fancy 
dress symbolism 
    boy upon fired
ink all the recording 
hyper noise recording 
         baroque 
stories 
gathered breasts
used on 
      the 
monastery crow artist 
         as auditor is 
a baroque story gather 
     baroque boys 
to such magical effect

upheaval 
    upheaval 
        upheaval 

* * * 

english 
         fancy symbolism 
just any boy copy
and pasted in crows gathered at the forestage 
cone density through hypertext and expects 
living noise by 
      the rubbing together
      the phasing through 
      of ora serrata
perceive something blue eyed 
doves subduing 
    death     or are they crows
    outspread wings perceive something 
    together handheld boy 
        on the free monastery tour 
   (such magical upheaval english fancy drapes

 

On The Media

Warm

warm we link arms before the brawl breaks our ranks
we touch again     ineffectual   fist to ineffectual face
we are touched again to be peeled apart    sprayed 
toward sobbing   and held again in rapturous pain   do you remember
now   singing by torchlight?   do you remember the strange sounds
of which we are capable?   the moan the mutter
the laugh around campfire and when campfires tamp
and glow   and our bodies   just cool of a blister
kind and momentary   sister to sister
brother to brother   all else like a staircase rises up
or helps us descend   in time
it is a struggle   to keep cool   to fight with
one's own fire   the necessary stoke and recoil.

“Mocha Panties” by Arielle Greenberg

locallymadepanties

You have your skinny pants that you never wear
but that are the barometer. You have your fat pants
that you wear more than you need to. You have your
period pants that are dark and thick and forgiving
and comforting.

You have your period panties.

I have a new resolution not to wear my period
panties at non-period times. I have gotten into the
habit of wearing only my period panties and pretty
much never wearing my other panties, my nice
panties. My resolution is to wear nice panties every
day, even the days I don’t think l’m going to have sex,
even on the days when l’m going to ride my bike.

Once, in the locker room at the YWCA after tot
swim class, I saw another mom who was wearing
beautiful, chic mocha panties and a matching bra
even though she had just come from swim class and
had a kid. The panties and bra looked French, and so
did the mom. I swore right there and then to wear
my nice panties every day, even though my nicest
panties aren’t as nice as those panties were.

But then I got pregnant again and never felt like
wearing nice panties.

So that was three years ago. Exactly three years and
I am finally hoping to make good on my promise of
nice panties.

Thus far I have kept my nice panties promise for
about a week and a half. It’s been difficult. Almost
every day I reach for my period panties but I haven’t
relented. It does feel good to wear nice panties,
though it pains my heart to get on a bike or go to
sleep without sex when I am wearing them.

Even when the nice panties are not two-hundred-
dollar hand-washable silk tap pants, nice panties
are a conundrum.

spacer1

If you enjoyed this poem, please support the poet and purchase Arielle Greenberg’s fascinating, honest, nuanced and insightful book “Locally Made Panties”.

Family Happiness (Nondidactic)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 572

W572

“Overture of my voice like the flash of bats. / The hyena babble and apish libretto. // Piscine skin, unblinking eyes. / Sideshow invites foreigner with animal hide.” from Cathy Park Hong’s ‘Zoo’

they move today as was written   hold that sound
against one of

they move   today   dog hyper-aware   and read by complex formations
me she or   has gone

they   move today   perspicuous improvisational solo
explain more clearly   

they move   today it is being written   
hold it against one's   patience

they   move   today   for difference radiates 
one of us   curious dog

“The Sausage Master of Minsk” by August Kleinzahler

        I was sausage master of Minsk;
young girls brought parsley to my shop
and watched as I ground
coriander, garlic and calves’ hearts.

At harvest time they’d come with sheaves:
hags in babushkas, girls plump
as quail, wrapped in bright tunics,
switching the flanks of oxen.
Each to the other, beast and woman,
goggle-eyed at the market’s flow.

My art is that of my father:
even among stinking shepherds, bean-
brained as the flocks they tend, our
sausages are known. The old man
sits in back, ruined in his bones, a scold.

So it was my trade brought wealth.
My knuckles shone with lard, flecks
of summer savory clung to my palms.
My shop was pungent with spiced meat
and sweat: heat from my boiling pots,
my fretful labors with casings,
expertly stuffed. Fat women in shawls
muttered and swabbed their brows.
Kopeks made a racket on my tray.

But I would have none of marriage:
the eldest son, no boon,
even with the shop’s renown, was
I to my parents. Among mothers
with daughters, full-bottomed, shy,
I was a figure of scorn.

In that season when trade was a blur,
always, from the countryside, there was one,
half-formed, whose eyes, unlike
the haggling matrons’ squints, roamed
and sometimes found my own.
And of her I would inquire.
Before seed-time they always returned.

Tavern men speak freely of knives,
of this, of that. Call me a fool.
For in spring I would vanish
to the hills and in a week return,
drawn, remote, my hair mussed,
interlaced with fine, pubescent yarn.


Source: Kleinzahler, August. Live from the Hong Kong Nile Club: Poems : 1975-1990. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003. Print.

Ariana Reines

Wikipedia Poem, No. 530

W530

“I felt very human.” Ariana Reines

Driving 80 down the Turnpike, I begin typing into my iPhone:

I’m obsessed with petri curls
UV fancy s longways
Transfixed a Paver
Sears zebrawood w they do but know
What babe brand r u
Burning steel
Fine particles panicked began priests
W us Celine too

They do fast response day
Evict to satisfy Rhys speedster cat us B
Are white judges like war paint
Revved into nz taxes to pick up frenzy navigate
I have Mercedes Benz C 240 black
Is detected bet I hate the NRA

Quartet

Wikipedia Poem, No. 525

W525b

“What is in those railcars is also inside my head, / or I imagine it so—no, not imagine, know.” August Kleinzahler 

a trap
what you could reveal
what you’ll have to remind your story
when its over pause briefly to say: which driver

a trap? here
this arrangement of twin twigs
you’ll have to remind your story
pause a truth which drives the trap

what you could reveal
what’s your pronoun?
how deep does its ample
upholstery stop a medical

and which is the operating
out on the story and pauses briefly
who reminds the spark? you
which drives at twigs snap over-efficient dust

soak the operating table
the truth why drives at your point
operating on the spark?
to what you are rigidly bent upon