Thursday, November 19, 2009

bad poetry? oh noetry! (re: toothpastefordinner)

[fragment of a spontaneous teamwork dream-work in the making]

A petal shower
of mountain roses,
and the sound of the rapids. (Basho)


it is still, where it really matters,
and all around it whirl the
sirens and wailing and petals
that each drift and tangle among themselves

it is the dream of the bustle
the frenetic activity
that rests, pulsing, in complementary
opposition to
or with
the silence;

activity teems and beats
so that they, still, can be
their verb is meaningless
and is the secret.

—m.m. & n.s., 2009


"of property"
our church broadcast, the stranger repeats,
come and listen. he is breathless, but propelled somehow
by misplaced devotion; zealotry.
I nod, and lag.
[forgivemefather]

the sky is the almost-effable quality
of sodden evening gown
in the heady aftermath of November rains
when leaves, ground underfoot, still bear flashes of
virgin ceasars.
it, ineffably, is the kind of blue that I imagine
runs through the veins of angels;
not the lily-tongued Seraphim, but those dangling from the lowest rafters
of a quasi-Catholic heaven.
drunk on the pulsing, heavy-lidded dusk, I crawl
through the garish decorations.

the puzzle in my bedroom
on the displaced kitchen table
is a jumble of fragments
one in particular, pasted with illegibilities
-- the kind that a left-handed eccentric scrawls on
half-finished imaginings of circulation
and skeletal dreams -- clings together,
and I stare at it. It begs for completion,
but its lonely shivers
are somehow more beautiful in suspension.

spare some change, he mumbles, monotone, again and
again
and his glasses, so black,
scream.



Smedbol, 2008.


"pagangels C: 2006"
Terra firma – they came, they conquered. Their legacy? The mile.
Castration: Chester, Manchester, Doncaster…The Angles arrived
The angles arrived
The angels...Les anges…Angelus. Christ, our savior is born – the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.You, sinner.You, pagan [the devil incarnate. burn.]

Here, we cleanse you – purify you – here, your sins are repealed.
repented. repaired.
Here, you are cleansed, and we
are your salvation. You pagan. [In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.]

Amen. Pristine – cool, and clean. Dank, opaque shrouds- who, what, where, when am I?
Why?
Rex or ritus?
(Shh…secret.)
Primordial turf, crowned in blazing green glory.
Step, step, step, step.
Wearied pacing, then hoofbeats
Hoofbeats, then a long, slow grind

Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today with [insert tour company name here.] My name is [generic] and I will be your guide for today. This afternoon we’re going to transport ourselves back in time. We ask you to please respect the natural vegetation and stick to the confines of the trail. Also, refrain from littering. What’s that? No, I don’t have an accent – it’s ‘cause I’m from Manitoba. What’s that? Hmm? Well, I’ll do my best. No, I’m afraid you’ll have to stand further back. This isn’t 1978…

If these stones could speak, would they scream?
Antlers, branches - "deep delvéd earth."
Crimson for cerulean mounts Roll.
Scorched breezes caress stone monuments – the Pagan Testament.
Seraphic wingtips graze till she’s crumbled and worn
A weathered testament to the Devil. sick with sin. [customs elevated to the rank of morals]

Each shivering blade bows before the tyranny – behold Man.
Qu’est-ce que tu pense? Est-ce que c’est vraie? And round, and round. Wizard’s monument, long heavy footsteps of giants, memorial, memorial.Redemption. Barrow, and barrow, and barrow – They have shed their tears. They weep no more.

Misted hazy horizon, soaked in blood.
Here, there is honour.
Here, we lie in wait for the tomorrow of the redeemed sinners.
[In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.]

It is supposed that the original site was first constructed around 3,000 BC (before Christ, city-states, cars, commercials, cigarettes, computers, conditioner, Cutex, Cheerios, Communism, Capitalism. Before Christ, and Caesar, and Cujo.) There are many myths and legends surrounding the histories of the circle, and even now there is very little we can say for certain about the potentially highly colorful past of Stonehenge - Sir, please stand back – and the people who rolled the massive stones – Sir, I really must ask you not to continue – to their oft-construed “magical” formation. No, Ma’am, they can’t really say for certain.

The flood – God’s precursor
Struck by a star from the heavens (before this, too, is sin. It’s Heaven.)
Millenia to rebuild, and the scars remain – never fully heal, do we?
Midsummer sunrise – unparalleled? Eclipsed.
Mystery is magic.
it says so, right here. on the label. down. look down.

A starry night waits to shine through after the sunset – it is crisp and cool.
It waits to be repealed, repented, repaired.
Purified by the Second Coming.
Cleansed, exorcised, christened. The holy land – sacred. I am that holy land. I am yours, and I was theirs.

I stand, fragmentary remnants of what was, and is.
Defiled, defaced, destroyed, but never defeated. I am my holy land. I need none of your science. I earn none of your commissions. Tell me again – why?
You pagan.
You pagan. [In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.]
You pagan(gel.)
Amen.

also c: 2006 "epiphany"
Bliss.
Euphoric; and divinely aware
A melancholic drizzle as the sands shift
Wheeling shorebirds
Silent, and aware. They dream…
Deep breaths hushed
Shifting shorelines dip and swirl.
Step, step, soar.
Sorely intense: exquisite,
And rest.
Whispers, faint and pure
[Divine. Sublime. Illumine.]
Lovers and loss, high arched pillars disguised by painstaking fingerprints
Turrets; invincible
And gone. Washed deep in memory.
A glorious tearstained note.
The laughter of soles, faeries and souls
In, and out; hush.
Hush.
Her cathartic requiem:
His stooping agéd shoulders reach towards his limp
Straining to barter peace; breath
Cerulean calm –
She watches, silent, caressed by the rain
She waits, and breathes, and this is right.
This is good. [doubleplusgood]
Bliss.

A russet swatch of spirit stops
She whispers, and they walk.
His pads graze the earth, step, step, step, step.
Glowing; and she kneels
And waits.
Secrets, and oh, so soft.
Veritas: he too knows the truth.
A moment for the soul
And the two strangers tiptoe back home.

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