Poem 130: He Sees Faces in the Glass

I see faces of blood
faces of bone
faces of sphincter-like
aspect
horrible faces of stone

faces of meat
faces of crème brûlée
and of meringue
in an advanced stage
of decay

revolving faces
shifting melting
features rearranged
utterly the eyes
however
have not changed

Poem 129: Heat

I stopped watching
when the well exploded

not because I disapproved
but because I was tired
as hell

for reasons which have nothing to do with this poem

in any case
I had seen it already
and remember everything

Poem 128: The Earth!

it's a miracle!

a spherical miracle!

an empirical
spherical miracle!

a lyrical
empirical
spherical miracle

!

Poem 127: FRAGMENTS OF GAWAIN

   gang /gyng

GATHERYNG

here @ midnight

the devil tells his matins

while according to the Wif

it is the Freres who say their matins

these unmagical incubi everywhere

banishing marvels

from Arthur's kingdom

but in the Tale is it a knight

who rapes a maiden

by a river

abalef...

ABCDEFGHIKLMNOPQRS
...arrested

The knight as monster:

reversal of escapist horizon

      So much for Gudrun's archaeological dig!

AGAIN, somewhere

with the forest's curtain drawn

sat the Green Knight

sawing sewing his head back on

but if the Green Knight is Dionysus

what does that make the King?

(Long ago, Pieris established the song as king.)

between these heads

between these famous heads

keeping clear, at last, of their age-old

unspeakably slow

battle à outrance

    to and fro, protected

    as well as might be expected

    behind a single name

    abalef run the fragments of Gawain

Poem 126: An evening of slaughter

bunny rabbit guts
show silvery in moonlight
filling shallow pit

Poem 124: To one whom I may have frightened: DRAFT

How about this:

If I was staring at you
like a hungery bird
I am sorry
I didn't know what I was doing
and could not help it
you are such an exquisite
freak monster of nature
?

Poem 123: Ogre

to the ogre
broken hearts
taste like froot loops

dreams are like
cotton candy
which he quite likes

vermin, which make him shiver,
look like
poets :  "where do they even
come from?"
he says to his wife

who is made out of broomsticks
and balloons
she commits suicide daily
and daily is brought back to life
to care for their fucktuplets

but the main thing he does
is run his mouth:
guglelly
gah gah gah
harh harh blegg gah
gubelly

Poem 122: Andronikos

somewhere in the Cardinal's letters
is the description of me
which overtook me on the way to Paris, a directive
most dire, a warning to all that I was not to be

welcomed, sheltered, employed in any degree
for I was a monster of nature, with many an adjective
somewhere in his letters is that description of me

i don't blame him. it was 1453
i was a mess. my Latin unreflective
most dire, a sign to all i was a refugee

a condition with which I did not agree
my behavior in Rome was hyper-expletive
cf., somewhere in his letters, the Cardinal's description of me

i went  then to northern Italy
fated to write my Brescian Invective
most dire, an insult to all in that city

when They let me out of jail finally
i was hitting my stride, most effective
somewhere in the cardinals letters that description of
me most dire,
to paris and beyond preceding me

Poem 121: The last square dance

Swing your partner ‘round and ‘round,

And turn your corner upside down.

And turn your corner like swingin’ on a gate,

And meet your partner for a grand chain eight,

And hurry up boys and don’t be --

                                                                aw fuck it.

Poem 120: grail

the faceless fish arose before me in dream
his featureless brow
in full mucous coat
that was almost death to behold

what is the secret of the grail? he said.
whom does it serve?

and i was afraid

i've failed you, My King

Poem 119: Mummy

now more than ever seems it rich

to be an everlasting mummy

in a gorgeous manner

to rule over my cats

in the dark

bathed in the deep, blind un-gleaming gold
that sleeps with me

to ride my boat of sleep

in the moonlit nightmares

of alcoholic bitches everywhere

and to keep my guts in separate jars

but it is not yet time

Poem 118: Another

From the North Sea
This day hurled up
Is a second prodigy:

A double-headed dolphin
For the nones


Nature yaks up monsters I suspect
Attempting to correct each new imbalance

but she'll never catch up

Poem 117: A mystery

the faceless fish is risen from the eastern abyss
his featureless snout unveiled in death
like a prophet
torn
from his purblind
pressurized domain
and through a full two miles of bends

I dare not guess what this portends
but I am phoning each of beloved ones

I don't care what time it is

alerting them
the faceless fish is risen from the eastern abyss

6/14/17

Poem 116: Smoke signals

Let mean hot toothy mare edge off true minds
add meat impediments
Love snot love
that altar swine: it altar rage unfinds.
Orb ends with thee remover, Tory move.
Oh know it is a never-fix, said Mark,
That looks on 10 pests. Andy's never shaken.
It is this tar to ever re-wandering bark
Who's worth sun, own although his sight beat taken.
Love snot x fuel
thorough seal lips, sand-cheeks
With thin his bending sick ill scum, puss, scum.
Love alter snot
with this brief our sand-weeks:
Butt-bears sit out even toothy edge off doom.

If Thisbe err, or end up omni-prooved,
Aye, never it.
Norn, Noman never loved.

Poem 115: Like You Even Care

But, sir, yesterday's poem
was eaten by crickets

you have never seen a poem
eaten alive
by crickets?

it is like poison raindrops
hitting the new butterfly

like a lost baby
somewhere
in a city of flames

like the shriveled hippocampus
of a madman

like a grandmother's
blank stare
before during and after you were there

that's what it's like, cabron

Poem 114: Nayenezgani

Nayenezgani of the Diné people
sang:

'I am the slayer of Alien Gods.
Wherever I wander, before me white forests scatter.
Lightning scatters them, but I cause it.

I am the Child of the Water.
Wherever I wander, I leave white waters scattered behind me.
The tempest scatters them, but I cause it.'

With this song Nayenezgani
waded into battles
with wind and lightning
he scoured the earth

With his little brother To'bad'is'ki'ni
helping
singing the song
he sent raving monsters
into the abyss
devils into the flood.

That was a good song.

Poem 113: too tired

 I wish i could lift my hammer
And forge for you
in this hellish smithy
A favorable song

One that would make
Your big ugly head
Explode

But I
Am Too t
ired

I'll have to do it later

Poem 112: Sophokles, Oedipus Tyrannus, ll. 1-13, etc.

O CHILDREN
of old from the Kadmean line
what brings you even here

strewing the porches of the shrine
with laurel branches
wound with wool
and assuming the contorted postures
of supplication
?

The city's air is choked with incense
and heavy with groans
and the murmur of prayer: therefore
I must know
from you
what is up!

*
...such was, and is, a good thing
for a king to request
of his suffering people

even if the answer
will ruin his house
and cause him tear out his eyes
and send him forever
alone
to his shrivelly place

Poem 111: careers

In moves which demonstrate
bravery
and imaginative readiness
and a quite evolved sense
Of what is required

My sons today began
Training
One as a butcher
The other as a pugilist

 Surely this
Is a historic day

Surely
It is a time
of accelerated refinements

Poem 110: Well that was fast

But you know it was
a lot of pressure being
the great experiment, the
land of the free, etc.,
the shining
city on the hill

I confess it comes as a relief
to be done with all that
to be just another dodgy republic
with well-known dickheads
in charge

it was like a balancing act
that was stressing everybody out
but now it's just another
debris field

with clowns milling about
in the darkness

actually i guess I could really
do without the clowns

Poem 109: memories

Ah the stormy seashore
In June
In the South
!
And the songs of the critters
In the marsh
Their eyes that do glow
In the infra-red
!
The sound of old bottles and frail sea-shells
Crackling underfoot
Whiles  I re-explore these
Moist and moss-hung
Spots
Damn!

It brings to mind many a memory

Many a dirty memory

Poem 108: Topics

Chupacabron

Civil war buffoon

White Power mudra

A pound of foam




Discuss.

Poem 107: Space vomit

where does this strange new vomit
come from?
deeper than stomach
deeper than bowels, this vomit comes
from deeper than
the body

it comes from hell
no
it comes from space

as if on purpose
to eat your face

Poem 106: 'Shut Up!'

Listen to my neighbor
working in his garden and yelling at his dog
whenever he barks
my neighbor shouts
either
'It is unnecessary for you to bark!'
or
'Shut up!'

as if  dog could understand
shit
of what my the old man says

dog is probably yelling the same thing at him
in dog

thus I never attempt to speak to you
directly:
to spark such
demented dialogues
is a job for exorcists.

Poem 105: Shutur eli sharri, First Tablet

Go to Uruk, the enclosure,
      O Enkidu,
where people array themselves in gorgeous festal attire
where each day is a holiday
[badly damaged]
misshapen phenomena
away
[damaged]
overlapping tablets

and passages
many of them objectionable
and these by some strange logic are in Latin
to escape the notice
of degenerates

the shepherds gather around him
the wild cow of the enclosures
narrative spontaneously
erupts
from his
major malfunction

[       ]

but inspect the brickwork
see if the foundation be not of burnt
brick
see if the seven did not
lay this foundation

but in the end
the wild cow of the enclosures
must die

[the compiler rested from his labors]