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beat. chirp. pound. chase.
guided by mud and moon we dance
the heart’s song, the web of man,
yet cut still closer to the bone:
love, death, the beast of being,
the cruel joke, the wrenching twist-
it might remake a god in man.
under canopies of rainlight haze,
how and why we number our days,
may we for a moment stomp our seeing
limbs and howl out the agony.
“we can never be born enough”
birth me then, now, here,
projected like a tummy creature, green and gooey~
(the frequencies we found were too fierce;
fearfully we turned away-
no.
i sing the heart verbatim:
beat. chirp. pulse. chase.
stripped raw to nerves more and footsore,
fondle forever the fuzzy croptop of communitas,
collision, clusterfucktranscendance,dance,fools!
together knit we find the fibers beyond fingertips,eyes,seeing limbs-
it rose like a spaceship toward the sun.
something that once i knew,
stealthy headlong hurtling,frolicking froth
a tempest is two and not one,
a one is everything, nigh flew from sun
insatiable shadow, insatiable shadow,
and ever after tremulous.
nobody move!
i didn’t dare take a breath.
were we ready for a war?
hardly.
foolish children, fumbling forth,
into a hellish world we cannot call home.
we can never call home.
sometimes i want to peel my whiteness off
and reveal the weary rust within.
they stole my notebook.
that made me cry.
so i suppose
it’s the screen ’til another notebook finds its way
(home)
thoughts of home make me cry, too.
hardly home-cooked meals and wholesome family fun,
but far from the beaten existence of a violent culture.
it grows dark, i grow weak.
i shall nestle in my hermitude,
i shall not speak.
elsewhere, egos soar and inflate,
i refuse to play all human games and sit.
and run.
and contemplate:
i
hate
ny.
but i love you i love you i love you!
and we are alive, somehow!
(at least the dogs smile,
fuzzy like furry like funk
crunch crunk)
a patter on the pitterpane, i’m parched!
[a shot fires, babies cry, the train goes by]
(no lie)
i c generic genre
whither art thee,
with or without me?
wither
out
the
age.
this is the stage
upon which the sage
will assuage all our rage?
i call it a cage.
–
the nose knows
it is burning!
hands that handle jalepenos
should not rub noses.
salvation from this salvaged self-
i did alright, you did enough,
disembodied gestures yet garner pulchritude.
tis i who refuse the sooth
-sayer, i flay her!
dice her finely and saute her.
oh, so it goes,
add in a handful of toes.
sing: i will swallow your sadness and eat your cold clay
just to lift your long face
-joanna newsom
buoyant abeyance of disbelief,
blend me beautiful!
a ferocity to be fortified
in the quietude of the lonely night,
all trembling and fear are less now than sweet solace.
oh, call it off!
call it caw-cacophony!
it shall be ended.
stripped, strung and suspended,
marrow from the bone.
sucked out like poison from the wound,
emergence from the wilting womb.
the pure absurdity of this dissatisfaction-
nothing left, save distraction?
yet abhorrence of subtraction!
(i want
it all.)
all of you oughta view it with your
tongue and tact intact, in fact!
it sung and wrung the tears with shears,
which spread on everyone.
(ms.anthropological.com)
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