Etymon

Poems by

Kick Wood Blam

Spring and Fall, 1992

 

 

 

“Walking from work”

 

It mite not hold, to reach such anxius rest,

Wer, with her lying, storys fal in breth

That was our first, wil on our last impress

Duplicity, the spasm brest to brest,

 

Wich compels my walk to stride the curving,

Like fleeing war, this work that can no mor

Cum up from out adiction for explaining

Just y we stopt our beging of wut for

 

This work was made, this walk finds us apart,

Y afternoon must grip us to our pace

To be agen wer we may never start,

Wer memry takes no part in primal chase

 

Of passions, how they ever hide at home,

As she and I erase our measurd hi

With the night’s disent, that day-labor’s loam

Thru us finds bitter ending sweet and shy.

 

*

 

I’l long no mor,

– the hart is rare –

and I hav noen its end,

wich, as a tree,

becuz it’s sound,

means to splay or bend,

and wence I long

to my sens now

is nothing but my hart;

O had I noen

it wur itself

an intimacy apart.

 

*

 

A soft, petalic natur,

used but never plukt,

in these forests riskt

for the androgyn lite,

without me consensuates

in fragmented modelings

the contested extractions

for profit at our hands –

and is suspended in the rush

to hav such evadings in us.

 

*

 

Thru the exaustion

wil U aspire,

and resting in a consience

that is ur fire,

wil U reclaim

each misst augmentation,

and retake the name

that guided your determination,

 

And tho indicted

by the cynic’s question,

nu ur temper alited

in rife suggestion

that tho they gladly dy

cheating the games of yuth,

U must never ly

to hide detaild excuse,

 

For beyond the changes ending

Wil U not end,

and fresh pains befrending

wil U brashly blend

Empowerment and bliss,

luv and incongruity,

til, perhaps in fear, U kiss

unending discontinuity,

 

Becuz U ar alone,

by creation hiden,

and U are condoned

by renuals forbiden,

that thru incorporation

of birth to reason,

spawns at last your nation,

of U makes nu seazon.

 

*

 

Y be afraid

to not be tru,

to not drive hard

at rarer clu,

and never reach

in wonder’s calm

to words nu mixt

in crazy song,

and simply let the objects spring and fal,

and let ther unlikelihood be al?

 

*

 

My hart entire

relese I wud,

in words inspire

al I shud,

and by concern

my self relate,

a man to lern,

a los create.

 

*

 

Wur I hung

outside ur eys

as luv’s memoria

to al that crys,

wud U find care

in this design,

and cry for me

who am the sign

that we must weep

for our defeat?

 

*

 

If it was U

my soro saw

swamping the cactus lands,

is al this perdition

and by-passt law

of ur hands?

And if U mixt

the sky’s uncaring

pinks incredulus,

did you thereby

excise al

craftwerk sedulus?

 

*

 

Labor or luv, as I am fit

by the unaccepting institutes

to endur and bed in profligat

austerity, in war of resolutes,

my instinct-options ar:

 

By one to execute legitimacy,

By other to maintain integrity

agenst belief’s incredibl progeny,

wich labor alwez invents

wut luv as profit resents.

 

*

 

“He wishes he wur mor gentl in perception”

 

O had wut I’ve seen, tho it misst my ey,

and held to the unlitable screen,

in hopes that, by condensation, mite imply

my unnoen words wut I wil dy to mean,

not ben had by gestur incontestabl

that into force’s loop unbinds al flaw,

but, skirting the incursion individual,

Came as the subtended to America,

In a gentlenes that moves to be emoted,

Yet so free its place is lost befor foreboded.

 

*

 

“He wishes al incivility gon”

 

Hav U, O freelans programer of the nite,

wen ridled with the undesiring shouts

of ecstasy exuding arogant blite,

not once dremt wel amidst the tears and pouts

of murder only U may perfectly do,

and by this unique flash of education,

born from just ilusions clear and fu,

erased the uncivil from ur too-lit nation?

 

*

 

“As he dys, she nears”

 

She carrys a pot of syrup

and a poplar branch in her lips.

She is coming. Hear the change

wrout in the clamoring pigeons:

They pass up scraps for starvation.

He is dying, and her last step

wil intently disturb his inevity.

 

*

 

“The sience and the shade of the tree”

 

The tree surounds us

becuz we meander and ambl.

The nolej of it shades me.

The darknes of it teaches me.

Wer is the sun

that makes the shade?

In my pen.

Wer is the hart

that craves the sience?

In my luv,

who is born of the tree

wer science and shade

bring the leves to read:

“Shade me from sience;

Teach me the sience of shade.”

 

*

 

Her I saw who is my sol,

Another kisst her hair,

Held her hands thru sitys foul,

Distrest her here and ther –

She is my soul, and so she nu

That from afar I watcht,

Yet no trase ther of this revu –

Her mind converst unmatcht.

Yet as my soul, her beuty bor

Sign of a strange intention,

As if a logic gaind befor

Our bond had brot disension

Into her vois, wich is my pese,

Tho now she rors invidius of my decese.

 

*

 

“He saw her at labor’s inception”

 

I saw U, like a peach in a munky cage,

Boyant and wet with nutrition’s arogans,

Wer the slothful elements gatherd and groand

That wut sleeps shud rule the acounting,

And but for the din and defecation of Mamathus,

I cud hardly hear ur throating rush

That came percolating to me in my final hi –

And it seemd we stood wer words cum from,

And U wur a Quaker Heron on the wind

Carying the litter of our conseptual rankle.

 

*

 

“Other-directed design”

 

We each hav lain, once

Upon that bed precipitatly drawn,

And felt the dawn deride our harts –

Who is that beside U?

Wut do U wunt wen U ask y?

Duz sensitivity hav a sensibl end?

 

*

 

“He wishes he had no notion of beuty”

 

If to the desert lands, wer sience bilds my hart,

I shud go and ask the students ur name,

Ofering these grafts as sum feebl art

For diserning the resin by ur grim flame

Left on my lips, too human for speaking,

Wud my presentiment of ur resolv,

Of wich I noe nothing, nor noe no faking,

Reveal to the machinists wut luv involvs

And cauz my imprisonment in that place

Wer freedom is the prime of ur embrace?

 

*

 

“The leaves are changing (wud our hair)”

 

Deep September is the most inhuman

of al we ar born to luv –

For like the close-woven grasses of Wisconsin

And the quartz-littered granites of Arizona,

Sumthing resists our demarcation,

Hiding its lafter in our pain:

This deciduos linen of our embroilment,

This lilting, uncombed petal mass,

Werin we dive, like just-born birds

Faling unseen onto an empty sidewalk.

 

*

 

“He wonders wut is the sound of discharge”

 

I hav tucht nothing since birth,

And now want contact –

But wut is left of the earth

To receve such long-held impact?

Perhaps such intension wil bring

An alarming gentlnes to my hand

Thru sum encapsulating sympathy

To wut composed this lump-ladened land,

And wen we meet nothing wil ocur

But the unacountabl sounds it al is for.

 

*

 

“He wishes the deth of machismo”

 

With U, woman, wud I go

To sign our interdiction;

By our division union sho

Agenst the contradiction

That our worst must mate the most

And clutter up the park,

Wile the best in silent industry

Sit lonely in the dark,

Mothering the children born to no one,

Bordering the passions aimd at anyone.

 

*

 

“Desmoralizacion Omental”

 

Wen first my body felt the abrupt contusion

Of ur ded members, O nation, unchalengable sleep

Victimized me, tho I maintaind my privleges

In the anabolic diets of ur post-poning laws –

And now my life is a waste in vengance,

Dark as filth, confused as the clipt spine,

And my words are criminal involutions

Burst forth agenst al maternal ethmoids.

I counsel utter containment of my person

And harsh, dawn-berating conditionality.

 

*

 

“Bis jetzt unbeschadet”

 

O ethic viaduct, to U my poundings pilgrim

In suprajudicial serch for the endurabl sentens,

Werin luv, that almost never dreams of us,

Just once, without stress, unpurgativly cums,

Teaching me the inverted national truths:

That the cognizant zenith is not derived

From the unlitigabl nulity of prefrens

Surging thru the unimplord roots of frangibility,

But is the extra-liminal salary of iner-comand

For the sub-fused environments we freely melode.

 

*

 

“He noes y he is mateless”

 

I am al of the open things, and I am not

But al the near-naked energant of motion’s thrall.

I seek the sleepless asphyxiant of bereavment

And parade my ignorans in the debates –

But I hav cupled with She-of-the-Cauzes,

And she bor my uninhibited offspring

Who, forbearless, like insipid, unseen sprays

Drive al coherent prospect from me,

That in the revelation I giv to urth

Only She-of-the-Cauzes wil noe my tuch.

 

*

 

I want wut she carrys –

Wer duz she go?

Al valus vary –

Her goods not so.

 

She carrys the child

The spirit must kiss

To walk thru the wild

Wen al’s remiss,

 

Trundls her holdings

Out thru the nite,

Far from the wordings

She governs by rite.

 

I need wut she carrys

If I wud mean –

Voices must vary –

She moves between.

 

*

 

U and I and jus ad rem –

Freedoms sum must us condem.

Wut we need is luv’s demise –

Law to thing, we choke our sighs.

 

Jus ad rem has us a-parted.

Wut must be is never harted.

Y this junction form us two?

How can law to thing accru?

 

We wur luv, pre-spontaneus;

We wur home, sols cutaneus;

In the gifting grass we gave

Al the endless canot save,

 

But jus ad rem now shunts our eys;

Our sole possession, lawful crys.

 

*

 

In the strivings tord my drama

Ar the insurgencys I fear,

Each karacter a trauma

That lames my wanting here

Wer I am lonely receiving

The imposed, declining passions

Of my life in its leavings

From the reasons for my actions.

And so I seek wutI refuse to see:

Ar al the serches for god godly?

 

*

 

Welth of children, waste of dreams,

Tru the raising, fals the luving,

Code desending, clash asending,

Viant splendor, jaded hemes,

Rest the children, rule the raping,

Perfect clozing, fossils yapping,

Terror tender, hung forever

Over anger, thal’mus sever.

Children burning, lerning order,

Vastly simpl, pliant border,

Dawning, doing, dying childs,

Yerning ordure flange the wilds.

 

*

 

Mammilla, wut seekest thou of me?

Y cumst thou to my brain inevitably?

Eminens round, Mammilla, y me?

Am I the last of men, to be used so frequently?

My desir so noen, pierst indefatigably?

Mammilla, wut? Hav I calld for thee?

Hav I beggd, ever, such protuberant contumely?

Al being, in toto projecting, so malmily,

Mammilla, y must ur jugling jolt me?

 

*

 

As our power delegates perfection

We ar, initial to survival’s needs,

Not the products of an evolution,

But the ocurens of our own sient greeds.

Behavur as proof canot be oferd

That natur us elicits as caprice,

But in description of our self is proferd

By us the incognition of increse;

A barely-set partition thus the line

Between these two equal, unique designs,

But stil ar we completely of the spine

Controling wut us never realigns:

The distributive centers of our y,

We imply the evolution we defy.

 

*

 

Un-united, suspended in disclaimer,

Of refrens self-ocluded and concrete,

Unto thy inovations the sole namer,

And of that substans made thyself replete.

Without a mate, extinction is thy taking,

So furthering thyself the mor you dy;

Amidst the masses livid in sex-slaking

Into thine own fals mysterys you sly.

From out thy own obvius elation

U ofer but a doctor in diseze,

A form of sience slants upon creation,

The seed that in the blooming noes no breez.

Alone, in ur concentric recognition,

U liv to of urself erase tradition.

 

*

 

Luv beyond the act I seek –

Ever noe, ever speak –

Of nite beyond the day U reek,

Scent eficient of deed’s leak.

Luv beyond the do I long –

Alwez rite, alwez rong –

Storm befor the calm my song,

Yuthing sex of plangent throng.

Luv beyond the sugar I –

Free to laf, free to ly –

At efemral safes I pry,

Lost in lush recidivi.

O beyond the rush I wud

Luv her idling if I cud.

 

*

 

“Dis the Licor”

 

Invented passion vys with thee,

Unmatcht anger, high repute,

Faith in licor, master mute,

Spirit slaking conjurs thee.

 

Burst thy licor, drowning, fluking,

Hed of gas and hart of pearl,

Lazy sols with rage unfurld

Dy to music, drinking, puking.

 

I hav drunk the licor.

I hav slammd the sours.

Dis the licor, evade the chois.

 

Dul and rust thy razors flutter,

Instruments of vengance stutter,

Sinking, crawling for another,

Masters in thee never utter.

 

Dis the licor, pace the dream,

Wince the succor, blend the heme –

Skys of licor, urth of stench,

Wasted, drunken harts unrench.

 

*

 

God of brests

Who lernt thee sculpting?

Thy deft rubys

Pulping, pulping.

God of out-ness,

Who conscribed thee,

Wut dul wage

To mold them so-ly?

For they ar luvly,

Thou art mostly,

Both the daming

Of my spawning,

God protuberant,

Dedly, greedy,

Wer the ingot

To thy crafty?

Rubric brests

Of spring suround me,

Here, bulb God,

May I perceve thee?

Thingly, bringly,

Livs my luving,

Longing, hanging

On thy flesh density,

God of brests,

Wut inurd thee

To engraft

Such mounds enshapely?

As a nimbl

Wasted kernel

Go I lafing,

Choking, gagging

After thy supreme creations –

Milions rise

In spacial nations.

U the law,

U the fleshness,

Women wear

And feel thy yes-ness!

Mongst such iner

Malconflicting,

God of brests,

Ur children nippling

Art saved by thee,

Form unloosing,

Suk of al,

Vitals drippling,

I am lost

Unto thy making,

Brests of brests

Of brests my aching.

 

*

 

As Maimonides passt me

Bleeding from the face

Iterating in jocular

Invidius stupefaction

The concepts that make

Boundarys of beuty,

I wept for the limbs

That never gru

On the undulant sea-weed

Negro hunys,

On the no-good adicts

Of yesterland,

On my life,

In which Maimonides,

The circumcogitus,

Stumbls like a legless crow

Thru the gyre of exploration.

 

*

 

Shapely thou as shapeless spirit,

Wich from space divorst itslf,

Yet, so spacely as it’s seprat,

Cal me to peruse its shelf.

Ther, less form or fomentation

(Signs of folk of space’s nation),

I see thee al disrelated,

Watelesly substantiated,

Singing without sound vibration,

Moving without congregation,

Tuch less diferentiation,

Life less deth-invagination.

But al this my mere perceiving:

Space or not, thy spirit’s cleaving.

 

*

 

“to e. pound”

 

I am thy stik conjointed,

Thy nigardly anointed,

Hi pond sadly daunted,

Yet by thee bunt invading.

Thee do I chooz madly,

Out my entrails gladly,

Rapt of clouds urly,

Pur for thy jading.

In thy leafs a-noding,

In thy jelys a-proding,

Cantist of thy madrugaling,

Thy wind my verb enthraling.

Luv and thee my scrawl,

Twin glints of the sentient bal,

Al, scion, American al,

Art thou, who weft my pall.

Bray, Pound! Air thy sord!

Slash thy milk from Gongran gourd!

Our orden militario this word –

Splinter me thou

Out the toxin hoarde.

 

*

 

Let luv leve and kil thy memry,

Seek thy genius in stupidity,

– Murderers are never lonely –

Let luv cum and kil thee only.

Let thy famly crash and sunder,

Do dope deth and dream demise,

Let luv profit wut thou plunder,

Let luv hate and hating rise.

Let life go and luv its leaving,

Let sweet lips ly of avowing,

Take thy union with dividing,

Let luv dy and end thy dying.

For living luv as thou wud wish it

Kils thy noeing how to liv it.

 

*

 

Find wel the dauters

Whose meals are numberd,

Smiles unencumbeed,

Tuch less the dauters.

 

Ministrate them freely,

Worlds waye within them,

Hold their hands ungainly,

For truth resinds them.

 

They be thy final dauters,

Ever birthing brain to brain,

Casting grace upon the slauters,

Our best minions mix these dauters.

 

U hav bled them, seeds erode,

Sleek they be for thy geode,

Now from plunderd lips unfold,

Trip their sanus on thy node.

 

Tend the dauters, speak thy wethers,

Traind and botherd in thy nethers,

Far by-passing, into dealings,

Murderd for sum other’s healings,

 

Kiss tru thy dauters, urth’s gallantia,

Lest their mandates daunt U, make U

Al sans dauters, slauters, blathers –

Luv thy dauters like no other’s.

 

*

 

“The beutiful shal mate”

 

Activ, in the relms of my exclusion,

Wer maples shade a sweeter luv

And the rivers hav yet to be damd,

Beutiful ones walk, talking of risk

And tomoro’s brite box, wer they

Wil rear the spirit’s dashing fu,

Who wil shame me abominably,

Adicting me further to them.

 

*

 

“The scum of his body in the hair of her luv”

 

Lastly, let us devise an end

To the liberty of eys –

Make unimaginable reprisal

To the invisibl she, for these wilds

(Werfrom was born our nation,

Werefom cums our preservation)

Can bear no longer

These intricately violating bodys:

The ethic’s probator,

The sex’s premonitor,

The child’s provocator.

 

*

 

Luv’s cycle nu infects the tree

Of births that claim uniqueness,

That each in total abandonry

Enters the cycle’s discreetness,

And luvs and luvs and luvs to loss

The others of tired extremes

Who let luv’s cycle careless toss

Al into normal, derivative dreams

That churn out deth, that smiling face,

An agent the cycle can never displace.

 

*

 

“Even she has need to cupl”

 

Even she who mothered me

So luvs to snugl;

Even the militant predicats

Must she so untether;

And even as I, faking my religions,

Take pain as cu of deth

And so cal sucor insidius,

Her coy and pliabl hands enclose

My vagrant desir’s morbid fold.

 

*

 

“Can we noe how freedom strains?”

 

So unpenetrated she seems –

So sadly do we invent her signs,

And so duz our repulsion claim

Minna upon her cluching,

Sik freedom of our bodys speaking,

Speaking wut luv wil tortur last.

 

*

 

“He thinks our bodys shud be coverd”

 

In that wood wer ur luvr

Changes with U, showing the face

That U had dremt for her,

In evry hunger-making contour

Of expression, evry shadowy

Blazing remnant of the lust

Werof the ingredients spil

Her aside, that her excresens

Ur slipnot nutris becums,

Sume perfectly stressing body apears

To cast ur secrets into profit,

That nothing persist in U

For acounting how many evident

Messias her less had shamed.

 

*

 

“Wut may disturb the revery”

 

Mite I once agen lean away from memry,

A lume to skim with seeing, and, fontless,

Set apart from echopraxia, revu

In power’s delusion this weakening nite

No claking of the cloven hoofs of male Spain,

No Sannyasi at my windo with ther yonder-greed,

No polination from supurating lukemic sporz,

But simply the open involvment of the quest

To clinch sum face as it flees from me,

And with its luv duresst, say softly then:

“I hav not noen emotion since my birth;

I wil not see emotion so nearing deth.”

 

*

 

Nothing wil speak wen we are dun,

Its palms upon our face, nothing –

For wen darkness flows thru our merit,

Wen al promises wilt if we persist,

And the beutiful cimas of spontaneity

Are echinat with flags of wining and warning,

A great meridian wil remain,

A great latex of pentadine specys,

Werfrom stil wil be thrushing

The nothing we speak wen we are dun,

Its ideals upon our faces, blushing.

 

*

 

Le Songe du Boiteux

 

O Clara, I wud catch and kil

The antelope for U, wur I not a Menhir.

 

Insted, I am a goat-moth wingd by children.

Wil U cup me in ur palms and pray

 

That I may nest in ur hair some day?

It is Blond, the color of Ded joints.

 

Some Sik, Geal bravura has pland us

Together, to mount, to drone in bliss,

 

And to heft our Pekid handicaps in one.

Tuch me, tho I am Bent and Basilisk.

 

Cruiz your Long, Lite fingers

Acros this parafrase of a body,

 

For I wil masticate my lims to dust,

I wil hobl thru the Sinking sands,

 

And the sun’s shadow acros my bak

Wil glyf the creases of our Lawless tung

 

Upon ur bedroom flor, our Seething

Shining fantasmagoria into dusk.

 

O Clara, do not fear my distortion,

My munky’s fist, Potato-chip teeth.

 

The Twisted neck can the Whole urth see;

A cripl livs wut rubbing only luvs.

 

 

*

 

“A step into the throwing”

 

He placed the hous upon the mountan –

in the grasses of his going

wer the moon in mosses growing

set him deep into his slowing.

 

He made a chair for her upon the porch –

to rok within the scaling

of the seazon’s luvly flailing

and the greens to greener paling.

 

He put a bel upon the beams –

to catch the breezes hewing

and to sing the pauz its doing

into shy desir cluing.

 

And they livd so hi that natur

never nue they wur dividing

from initial luv’s residing

that gave them all deciding

on the wur.

 

 

*

 

“to the mutant”

 

Evry day, a desir to resaturate

my nemonic frend into the woods

and to liv fat-naked with the plums

and to bobl nothing at al.

 

And then I see U pass me in the park,

napping or drooling on ur hands,

sum ugly, stupid woman pushing U

tords a bed wer U rot like mutton.

 

U ar useless trash to us,

yet stil, U bring me this hunching,

that I wil never filter home agen

to abound in the muzl-less mint,

 

but wil forever watch U rol

beyond my pety alurment,

curld up with ur Birth-Curs shining,

decomposing into the must I crave.

 

*

 

I wil liv Easy,

touting my dreams as doom,

runing my race alone

to a Deth that’s hi.

 

I wil liv Simply,

in luv with age’s mold,

flexing wut I loosely hold

to brag my Gripping.

 

But I wil speak Freely,

mutage in my mother’s home,

careful that my pride is gon

wer word’s un-needed.

 

I wil liv Hevy,

seeking the Sea for the sea,

hearing much beyond me

the deft and Stedy.

 

*

 

Deflorate

 

She can keep the windo shut

for her Need is at the Lake.

He wil not cum today to sing

of al she shares with grapes.

He’s camping midst the ferns, to see

wut the Sun duz on the Water.

She’l sleep today without degree

and cry to the urth abuv her.

 

*

 

Too much in things hav I exchanged,

And over-thoro in choosing out

Hav brot al to rest in luv.

 

Ded befor the passing clout,

My energys estranged from me,

The iner-mention mute –

 

No receptivity to resolute

So much in things hav I

Exchanged, and chosen out.

 

*

 

O mother, from out this brik U peer

And scrutinize my ironys,

Ther useless grin U interfere

And push me forth to industrys.

Forever in U the wailing man,

The mad, un-natived boy,

And in U thus my lax demand

Of deth my life to unemploy.

In U, my mother, al good and bad –

Anihilation and its elegiad.

 

*

 

“A prayer for damnation”

 

The thik I ask, as I am scarce –

The twich I ask, as I am stif –

Untucht adiction to caress

Wut augments needing’s indigens.

 

O day, this is our war:

To noe wut luv and deth ar for –

Be U agenst or with me now

That goverment is underground?

 

O nite, do not concede

To al that use U to be freed –

Mite U blot the sterile actions

Of the monoclinal factions?

 

Those who gapless needs bring

For the cribrose thing?

 

*

 

“Do laws hav luv of motion?”

 

As I go buying my nitely food

and reminisce on she

who bor my luv in riot’s mood

at lusting’s unsworn plea

that I wud move thru her somehow,

I hear the law’s inflecting vois

in trial of forgoten vow,

and she abuv the jury’s noiz:

“Let law luv motion, yet owe it me

the stil devotion of injury.”

 

*

 

“Freedom is a system”

 

Wut links the child’s depth

To the untrusted responses,

And loks teknology’s progress

Into a smal, grass-surounded hous

Deep in the mothering midlands?

It is freedom, that is a system –

To meet ur first othority

In ur last chans to luv

Al the intervoluting evidens

Behind wich no wish may hide.

 

*

 

“Shud you die near me”

 

The scent of your birth

Ocasionally apears in ur hair –

And now and then that lafing lite

Of labor shines thru ur ribs –

Even the original complaint

Of ur first being handled

Cums swiftly, then departs

Into the sighs of ur hypnagogy.

Such pristine melange makes me luv

The thot alone U solv.

 

*

 

“He wil alwez be adicted”

 

This gentl sensualist,

Who by her shape adjudges

Al teknology’s alter strokes,

Canot noe her extent,

As the mesures ar lost

By the ineradicabl production

Of the unfinancial in-between

We each wish to buy

To harbor the thing that livs

Only by our dedly pasivity.

 

*

 

“Her feet are not his”

 

I want to kiss the vanila

petals of ur feet’s soft arches,

slowly slip them from ur clogs

and plush their ribs.

I want to stroke each tiny

toe and rub between them,

smoothly passing in and out

with al my fingers.

But, no. Your feet are not mine,

and I luv principl more than U.

 

*

 

“It can be noen”

 

I wil conceve the continuum

of my concern, and index

the trilion tints that in ur hair

contort me as the sea distends

the refuse provocation lost; and reach

away from the parsimonius

cornering details intimacy shaped,

to feel ur mor informed composure,

wich began this strain to look –

the materia medica that only heals

who let ther sikness gro in others.

 

*

 

“He wishes noeing of the norm”

 

Had I U, O sexless level,

Who, in the sad, extraneus blasfemy

Refutation bears to beuty’s deth,

Transports the yung man into organic wage,

Then I wud be as a willo among women

As they walkt alone in elegant debate,

Contravening the plots of lost luv,

Shaming the seekers of the careless point,

Melding al their synousic difrences,

Myself so empatheticaly needless of the answer.

 

*

 

“He wonders of the fountain-dwellers”

 

These waters, that render me aside,

As I watch the sun-drencht woddl home,

Within too-human curents glide,

Yet sum strange evaporite condone,

Aporic triklings that make me ask

Wut these waters may not confer –

Wud the sun-drencht so ardently bask

Had the waters ben left wer they wur?

*

 

“He wishes his eys cud greet her”

 

She is a letter within the word

that stops my last rendition –

Twenty of my peers have herd

the pauz in my last rendition –

They strangle me that I won’t tuch

myself, as in my first rendition –

My final word in the final cluch,

and she yet noes invention.

 

*

 

“He is the renasens al hav awaited”

 

May nuthing cease, may al contention stay,

And execute our wil wer it is edjing –

This ungraft dusk descends upon a day

That saw the instamatic closer hedjing.

Our thize ar strengthles, beaten in the mel;

Our hands but frenzy dig thru ther own palms;

We luv alone wut we canot dispel,

Erecting public lines to privat qualms;

Amongst wich interloking secrets he

Is born agen with no security.

 

*

 

“He wunders of institutional efects”

 

Here is life that perfection defys

In the individual strugl agenst anarky,

That each body by contest recognize

Its own untorted eutrofy.

And tho in singular purpos each goes down

To luv in the shade of the trees,

An individual heaving of pain resounds,

And it cals the urth to our neez –

Like sumthing we had al dun together

Wud not let us in confidens gather.

 

*

 

“He wunders wut is beyond habit”

 

If U wur swiming in granit beds

Wer blu pools held no replica,

And the sky wuz an organ of ur use

To gain wage from joy’s deceptica,

Wud U once wish ur deep avoiding

Of the skils in aksident?

Those deft endowments gave U hiding

Wen ur habits counseld dissent?

And as U swam into dark, overhung retreats,

Wud U be brave to shed wut breth repeats?

 

*

 

“Wur it difernt in our room”

 

Wur our bed les in the sun

wen the hed of morning burns

or wur our cloze laid one by one

with no ownership disernd;

wur the wals mor pind with color

to shake our blinding rage,

and the air nue no dying odor

of the anti-theory of age,

wud U then, mor than now, luv me

who noes no space but wut U see?

*

 

Far evolvd the predominant exclusions

Without natural refrens to ther use,

And many ascribed to ther public delusions

That species becum to overcum abuse,

Yet in the stratification they engenderd

Wuz the refutation to progres

Based on the inspisation of the defended

And the use-valu of conscient duress,

For once the types are esentialy severd,

The manifest tokens of their similars dy,

And in recolection of wut they discoverd,

They recede and upon themselvs rely,

And thru this evolution they exemplicate

Into nothing the thot we diferentiate.

 

*

 

“Asisted Rejection”

 

This is the first nite, lifting,

lifting, luvrs wilting

from my manifold strength

to isolate the dire

from the dying,

thru wich to me

cums elemental fear,

pro-nomen to

the political position,

forever lilting, lifting,

becoming inch of passion

to nu regard,

to never see the filtering

she sifts into

degradiv gessing,

watching at the vesel

I abandon,

tucht by nun

but siltings of my urging.

 

*

 

“After studys in Being”

 

After studys in Being

I turn to need

in its balbutation

and its indext inosens

to fuse itself

to the adequating font,

yet repudiating this

hand-held diction,

graves our elipsis,

so encleft to waking,

so ineducabl agenst

its profitles parity,

that I feel my breth

directed toward it,

til my expresion gains

its external birth:

the hart is burst

into extraneus seazons,

pulsing thru the guvernans

of ther stasis.

 

*

 

“The Influens of Absens”

 

Now can I see

the altruistic hed.

He wuz in power

wut I was in him.

 

Al to him must grant

ther submision,

and ador his eyes

ther turning,

 

Drink his words

for ther severing,

burn away

the sexual printing.

 

His giving was taken –

u imagin

becuz his fury hid

in ur contention;

 

u imagin

becuz U need

wut his denial

of U engenders.

 

And sadder stil

u think he thinks

that man to liv

must kil the living boy.

 

*

 

“Hate Poetry”

 

Al primitiv in us, as it divulges

How ultra-human luv must be our end,

Al meridians convext to show our slauter

Upon the iner-compas we gently crak

Thru this hiatus agenst ignorans, al shy things

Speaking, al rare things mating, al

The cytic mesh of our ilustrius debate

With pre-placement, has posed its murmuring ly

And its acusing rendition of enticement

In our convictions put down at power –

Al rebelion popular sport, al freedom

But reflecting the pornic trend.

 

*

 

“Pan-Germanism”

 

Born to rapture in pervers plasticity,

He condones, thru indicants that snare

The tidal-spu of his generus enemys,

Only the circular, unclastic spirits

Whose ramp runs at enforst titration.

 

Wen at birth design no longer lingers

Its ploding splendor to ofer thot

The omni-cameral grafs of unset unity,

He takes the child’s soul into his turbine

Of scales chatering y nuthing wants.

 

O wut this ake to prop his hand abuv us

To tan his digits’ outline on our brests?

 

*

 

“To perform a great reconciliation with sameness”

 

In time’s register of moods rewaking,

Bent within the skeme of passing failur,

I stuk my hed, its hemi-sferes degaging

Down the skid of a mental probe to meaning.

Evrything here, in this yuth destructing,

Is preend to avoid adictiv ilusion,

And to noe this dark, worded corner,

Werto, like the return of a memory

Whose sequential histrionic power faded

But gatherd moment thru its disinclusion,

I cum agen, intent on inhabiting

The drogue of time, wer luv is valud

For its eclectic domination over mimic.

 

*

 

“U go too soon to the basic”

 

Wut if naked U stood at the sea

And let the algic, cumrcial smels invest u

Thru evry por of lim and laceration,

And at the sun sprinkling on humanity

Whose serene remark of justis u’ve forgoten,

U cast ur jaw in upward cumndation

To gestur of the end of ur delite,

And ther, an ecumenic of invisible truths,

In a languaj U beleve derived of moistur

That natur kept to heal its indumenta,

U let al sex and antigen devoid

Thru the vomitus of ur glotal impregnation

Into the stuf of ur imediat suctorial,

Wut mesur of nutrition wud U employ

To nurtur the inlets of reversion’s siege

That began this drive to dy wer no un noes?

 

*

 

“The Lucidity of the Lost”

 

I must find some joy, some symetry

In this caligrafy of sadnes,

That al the pieces return together

Forming the windo thru wich I look

Out at the same woods as Frost,

The same puritan foly as Pound,

At the same gorgeus manhood

In its tiny specs of contemplation

As Mother Whitman saw wen she

Brot down her oily palms to pleze –

To reversify the daily rutine

And to let the conversation go

Wer it expreses a singl mind

Wud bring me this joy, this symetry,

And I mite abandon al labors frantic

For the careful hypocrisy of luv.

 

*

 

“Too many desires”

 

In this season I wil not return

To my seat among the flowering;

I wil not from my bubl yurn

The gender of the yuths bursting,

And I wil not stand beneath the spray

As it fals from the clocktower’s side,

Glowering in financial sway,

Sounding the hour it decides.

This is a time made blank for me

By the erotic meld of my premonitions,

For I claim no pain or specialy,

No war against inhibitions.

 

*

 

“Is Born the Bleak”

 

To this day sum equal must be

In history, wen such glyceral man

In ease his ded thots fashions.

Solar-strews, she-glamors, he-bombs,

The nursry of verd and variant ab,

And quozed Irena, whose dance-cut shanks enjuve

Each maund of capital’s mirific grind,

Al, most, sum go mixling in the walking

Of this day, mid-May, in bunt America,

Whose sausages and shores grow scabrus

With dout and hate and miror-miror.

Sum similar must rol thru us

To aeriate this potatory rabiform,

To grow sum conjugal of our glinting rot?

 

*

 

“That my style be not advers to her”

 

O key and instigativ loling drupe,

Am I minted mute to pay contrition

For u, opiparous, dual, who elocutes

The exeunt of my fused constitutions?

This postulat I songe to dy away

At ur aubadic vois of sors and cost –

May it not stop ur wordings to convey

Wut spawned our lenis gibering at the mess.

That pointilism flex to mineral,

That ossein wet in urth and syndicat,

That U and I, tho viscius in denial

Liv hi beneath the serein speculant.

 

*

 

She has cum bak

Whom once I luvd

To sit acros from me –

Older topics,

Long difused

By our blank history

Emerj and por

Our seprat drinks

Together, yet around

And thru our tungs

We flash anu

Flows a templess sound

Of age denyd,

Genius formd,

Of luv from luving placed –

A lonely flinch

That signs the deth

Return cannot unpace.

 

*

 

“To my X”

 

Women of her sors inform her;

Thru her pain ther fakings warn her

Of the sexless, makeless corner

Femininity can be.

 

Loneliness, its proofless sience;

Hate, its infinit relians;

Our best progeny, all deny us

Her garbled conjury.

 

Beuty she wer nun can see it;

Words intone that nun may hear it;

Life condem that nun dare liv it;

Al but she wur free.

 

To find deception, her volition;

Memry met by indecision;

Unconsius but to bring rendition

To useless synkrony.

 

Men she’s noen remain her missing;

Relics mine of brood and kissing,

Her most crazy, gentl hissing –

The luv-sik Melany.

 

*

 

“The deception of stress”

 

Cycled anihilation of self

In the extenutation of style

To denigrate the genius-stamp

Cumrs laks,

And the drive to the body

As experience’s proof

Of tension put in memry

That mind ataks

With the belief in impotens

Of the intelectual prime

Agenst emotiv curvatur

Of stuf evasiv

That the crux of justis

Pain makes on power

Begins with material

That’s inconclusiv.

 

*

 

“Androgyn”

 

Wen luv is thru invading

Our child’s control,

It begins bleeding

The synopses of the inverted peeple.

 

Wut is left of a man

Wen the rubyfruit reeks of his acting

And its pout is her spirit perfecting

The deth of his plan?

 

Wen the gentl and easy are violent

In public machinery

And the uterus is silent

Of the acids it brews of his greenry?

 

Wen luv is thru enticing

It turns to music

And begins brutally splicing

Our feral forensic.

 

*

 

“Repeats of Isabelle La Vague”

 

With al dream, I invest U;

Wutever seem, I dress U;

As duz the stream, so I gess U,

Impertinent and pur.

 

As serryd as children my planting;

In U al my fancy’s infanting;

Of U al my debts enchanting,

Yet stil no cur

 

To al that I may never make U;

To me who dy but to forget U;

To models held abuv and in U

Destroying wut U wur.

 

*

 

“Hypogene”

 

As walks the man, so he luvs –

Nothing nu spins out the gears.

As talks the man, so he duz –

We ar infested with the years.

Wut he duz now, do he then –

Nothing halts wut has no front.

His preferences are dormant blends

Concoct within the cast-off cunt

That he has sot since days began,

That he wil seek wen space is stil.

As dreams the man, so natur duz –

Her drug his thrashing, aw-struk wil.

 

*

 

“Local Scenes with Therapeusis”

 

Serching the unit of justis,

By fresh clarain our fingers fretted,

She and I, Therapeusis, are strolling

The plasid spirit of cornered man –

 

“My greluchon, my Therapeusis,

Mongoloid and purple-eyed,

Take me wer the sleuths deter it,

Take me on the brij that burns it.

Limnion and Therion,

We to breed seek straws of steril

So to by the banter boro

Anti-scum to birth’s aparel.

O take me to the pron of soro,

Wash me til I shed tomoro

Build this arc of histrion –

Simply on thru ded-dawn kakl.”

 

*

 

“Ode on a woman whose luvr works in the moovys.”

 

How sad, how sad.

You are a prop

In a part-time nuisans.

You are an extra

In a visionless past-time.

 

How sad, how sad.

You are a mineral lease

To a fetishist minimum.

How sad, how sad,

And U ar constantly choosing!

 

*

 

“My father”

 

That I noe wuz not to cum

He that mixt agenst me pure

By cuming agen without alarm

To restart wut stopt forever.

 

Tho by feeling wut shud be

As never showing I nue his face

To change within wut held me stil

Far from wut nears in his cuming,

 

And as I see wer wut wuz he

Wuz set agenst my utter pure,

Wut ever has his vision’s ej

Can comand a center that never

 

Liked wut it is by noeing me,

Or so he took my cuming agenst him.

 

*

 

“Seated apart”

 

I see a man mor entertaind

by wut he cannot do.

I see a woman less detaind

wen among her contractual few.

And I see a hand wer my luv shud be,

And wen I reach for it, it moves with me.

 

*

 

If it wur imediat, wut wud we be?

The pasaj of luv is the stilness of deth.

Beuty beats but leavs no mark on me.

I can feel her breathe, but not her breth.

Y wud ilustration care to move?

Atention drives the face away.

Ther is nothing we can dy to prove.

If it wur so, wut wud we ever say?

If at our want al perfect sizing came?

If for our sake the wake of pashun passt?

If from the nameless pain derived our name?

If al around us wut we ar amasst?

 

*

 

“Song of the Mink”

 

Here I go, a nu creation

In the world wakening –

Paced by al befor-sensation

Is my sensual takening.

But here I go, here my tuch

Without impression meets

Exact renditions, probing cluch

That dares to liv defeats –

And here I go into my loss,

And here I go agen,

Out abuv the undertoss,

Down belo the overbend,

To nothing move by my ensampling,

Records of its act,

Wut with me is worldly ampling,

Wut here I go in tact.

 

*

 

“Zwei Singen Eins”

 

Wer O wer

World O world

Word O word

That I made noen?

Wer O wer

Sound O sound

Shape O shape

That I made noen?

 

To realy be, U must go down –

Go down, go down, go down.

Want the good, need to speak

To bring the peacing round.

Long the good, luv the speech

Wer we may al be found –

Even past destruction’s reach

Go down, go down, go down.

 

*

 

In my dreams, I scru my sister –

That’s the way it goes.

She is soft and I am horny,

And dreaming never noes.

I the field, in the bedroom,

As the sun shines down,

Me and sister, gettin choosy,

Brown inside of brown.

Her fresh bely takes my sizing

And heaving yanks it in –

Her blue eyes entice me inward

To change the world agen –

O my sister, wur our dreams

Wut walkt the world’s ways,

We wud luv like in my dreams

At end of sexual maze.

 

*

 

The thots of sex, she cud tel,

For primal signs wur ther –

A mumbling lip, a crazy smel

Set privat in the air;

An urgency to contemplate

The nakedness of trash;

Motly winds that motivate

The wite machine to thrash –

So her fiber feeds the signal

Of sum futur man –

Let the falus noe the oval,

Let the gap be ran.

 

*

 

Idealy, father, we never share.

You sit here, I sit ther.

If I kil, U ignor it.

If U do, no y for it.

My nu home U never see.

Ur nu wife – who is she?

Prices up – U noe y.

I just pay and never cry.

Idealy, father, U wud pass

Thru my life without a splash –

Nothing but the ideal sens

That nothing livs at no expens.

 

*

 

I can see the jakal bastards

Baking Buddha in the dark

On the overhead emitting steam.

I can see the broken dogs

That run the family council

Beneath the bone shadows

Wer the blak peeple liv.

I am in a boat, making muny.

Wut can the peeple beleve

Wen al is so disproportionat?

I am an uncertifyd doctor of brests.

Wil they use higher teknologys

Of destruction to gain their ignorans?

In dreams do I find thee, father,

Thou never-to-be-dreamt-of man.

 

*

 

Ded excrements of consciens

Squeezd by the naro margin

Into my afternoon hiway expans,

May I sleep or hang in sun,

My body naked and punctured,

Lite flasht of my brain-spice

Bursting the dark hyperbole,

Al normalcy to drink,

Al tenderness to invoke,

A turn, rescinded at the start,

To flare the ungenerus soul,

Each gloat, animal-ward,

And my inosens impertinent,

Like this sound of fires,

Discriminat save evrywer.

 

*

 

This wasted nite, radio-conected

To the destruction of my nation,

I noe no refuge, as the mesaj

From the geto brings deth and lafter.

In a blak metal capsule, my hope,

Feeling fashion’s minnows nip her,

Weeps emotionless, then sets her mirror,

Wer, once ded, I may see her.

And I do, for in the scape she spins

Of my receptions, rife with song

To rouse her name, she plays with restraint.

And she wil never dance on Wisconsin lakes,

Nor grope for coins in the dusky smuj,

Nor shal we ever synkronize agen

In luvly glares of peaceful strangers

The languages we need to prosper luv.

 

*

 

“The gloze of Marian Marley-Pye”

 

I want U.

U ar the morning.

In my due

Ur drowning.

The ded woman

Whose vois stil sounds:

“It is the morning

That confounds.”

 

*

 

“Luv that misst us”

 

Maybe ther is no luv that misst us.

Maybe the steroids of my father unchain forever.

The lengthening, neutral, tuchless rolling

Of my spirit atests to this;

As my hart is returnd to me,

Shaped to meet my luvr’s inter-space,

This givs my shoking sens:

Touted as the worthy-of-repeating,

Sext away from all cathartic doom,

And maybe, in the body that illumes me,

Straining no mor at the neglect.

 

*

 

“The Quiet Child”

 

Made within her sexant, it quietly livs.

Its transport sits directly belo it.

How beutiful it is, but nun the taking.

Time is the adenda to our comitment,

Its silens by the clamor growing rich,

To cast constant dout on our skooling,

And permanent play on our colusion.