Anti-Villanelle

Wikipedia Poem, No. 513

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“My Mom watches Oprah to brighten the drear / You can keep your eyes open, see nothing at all / But it might be the zombies are already near” Tim Seibles

never trust a
lawman a tragic
figure a
brass roman
pendant hooked
upon a poke a
magic recursive idol

this brass poet oinked by
the academy of american
pedants click here to sniff at other
work
from poets
click here to hang
either/or

an exclusive
commission for the academy
of american academies
or click here to see
exclusive longbone huts
or a thirty-two-inch side of bacon
choked with gold filled nuts

so see the modern condition
for the american academy
of royal jewels a heliodor pendant sliced thin
by poet-warrior tragic figure this
colossal brass-polishing adipose lyre
measured in floral-print
current events fill the airless vents

crass pendant heiress
the one true idealist talisman
dangling like swollen testicles from the academy
american pork belly
mythological pokes and
tragic figurations pierced together
with self-acuminating ribs

Corruptions in Nature

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“lovely longing lone lingam / plugging the vastness” Ed Sanders

“I know where you’re taking me”   chit!
the tufted headboard sneers in ice-colored silence   chit! chit!

beside a self-possessed brown woman
with neither a name nor eyebrows   chit! chit! chit!
and six-figured earrings; sniffling mongrel

inside the leica   chit!   slurps wild gooseberries
and soaks his chalky bastard skin in champagne;
chit! chit! chit!

my hands bound behind in priceless
handcuffs    chit!   emblazoned with carved jade

cabochon rubies hammered 18k gold
my wrists worn to worm   chit!

First Barn Owl Egg Hatch

Wikipedia Poem, No. 484

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“There is a separation / between life and death / where [feathers] grow // and that is where I want to go / this weekend,” paraphrasing Padgett

screech
in green darkness
and 
stamp 
         my 
          talons

wet 
      leafy flesh 
the 
master has built 

there 
will be 
many bones

a small mouthful
       of mouse
      a 
      fatty 
       bite

‘Lightning Bugs’ by August Kleinzahler

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A cruel word at eventide
and night zips up
like a spider's retreat.

Go back to your febrile
needlework.
                  We shall not
be chasing lightning bugs
in the tall grass tonight.

Put the whiskey on the shelf
and let us speak calmly
of money.

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Source: Kleinzahler, August. Live from the Hong Kong Nile Club: Poems : 1975-1990. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003. Print. Page 34.

Poetess

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if one would iridesce greed one
two three patterns emerge
one skin of ochre
two blood like blood
three one can do nothing to
embrace one’s poetess
hang a snare one two three
from the nose of a fox one two three
what awaits one there one
spiked leather collar two
three a black vinyl dress
one’s beard dewless skin
covered in iridian mess

Belted Kingfisher

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By substituting X for their name
We begin to blue-grey a flicker rate
Between eyes, nose, ears and mouth.

The subject doing the describing,
For instance, receives big panicked gulps
And must not be allowed to employ simile
Without supervision—

How liberating!

Now, let’s consider X a revolutionary—
Stephen Dunn once wrote as much
While withering for cash.

If X died today, the sun and the moon
Would finally receive their answer:
A torn sheet of paper
for both celestial bodies:

Grim, graceful and surreal;
A canyon of sugar skulls,
Oh! the lightcycle enfolding forever
Like endless dough.

X insists
They need not be
Consistent.

X’s interdisciplinary epigram, anyway,
Inspired (which?) Dickman’s monograph 52 years on,
The latter being more studied yet
Significantly less erudite
Than the former, who cannot
Will not make up their mind
But will resolve to vacillate endlessly.

Do be you
Consumer
Of Coke.

X is one of the park’s rarest
And least conspicuous trees.

Found only on dry ledges of the summit,
X is little more than a shrub.

X is not a belted kingfisher
Despite their harsh and rattling call.

X is silly and not as
Handsome as you remember.

When Christ arrives,
X is surprised.

Wikipedia Poem, No. 403

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“I write a card saying / machines grew the flowers I send / to throw into your grave.” Audre Lorde

      and black 
magic a few moments
     old generated a new idea

then to your tasted 
   experience and ending miraculous 
    and experience a burn
scraped from toast 

and ending black magic for good 
      a few seconds after  
the 
house fire
       is a good idea
 
    then 
you sternly told the 
         house it's an 
  idea this new beginning

the house black magic
is a good idea then you 
      permit a 
        good idea then you 
will have 
a good idea the house is a 
  good idea
 
the beginning 
and the black magic a few days on now
       the house is a good idea then your experience 
      and training a few weekend roses are red and 
ending 
 
black 
        magic 
a few weeks old
         the house a good idea 
      then 
  you took that beginning 
          and 
ending for kindling 
lit it 

black 
       magic and a 
garland of weekend ‬ 
red roses
 
           then you will have a good idea 
the house 
        is a 
god 

the house is a great year 
a good idea then you 
to 
        the 
river black magic
teach 

your experience 
i am a little bit
bitten with burn 
          your test trial taste

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Source: Audre Lorde "Eulogy for Alvin Frost" 1978

Wikipedia Poem, No. 388

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   perfect 
         new 
evening not 
  cracked 
        open in the maté  
        and why? 

   probably it backs into this 
       poem is his 
          catch his poem is 
       safe from couples 
        swallowing will not crack open 
on a pier 
at noon 
in the maté grass

and prepared to toss it back 
in maine i worry that perhaps 
the sitcom couples swallowing leak lemony acid 
all 
over 
my powerful tongue 
    perhaps 
    the maté 
         grass and a blur i know brazilian 
         jiu jitsu i am probably 
safe from couples swallowing 
lemony acid all 
      over my 
perhaps

Wikipedia Poem, No. 331

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“It is impossible to find satisfaction in a terror that is seriously felt.” Kant, Critique of Judgement, §28

 

gently afraid
of nature
causes just

though dominion
thus shrinks from
virtuous designs

there goes inward
a reference toward fear
it may exhibit as being carried

only in our
limitation
the idea

discovers us so
far as outbursts
beautiful what is

man seeking
only a fitting fear
states respect for

comparison which is
never provided
in dominion

bemoan cases
of the world in nature
an object of stern judgement

soul above imagination
that for what we are
are is that we are