Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Strange Gnus: Jazzable Sweet

Still riffing*, but these are mine:

[can evasive dust]

can evasive dust—
warp the strange new body
boast her pretty words
pride her happy tears
smell the chilly rumble

in the darker spaces
in the darker air
in the darker whispers
of the dark dark darkened snare.

[delusions of escape]

no proper names
no foreign gold
no clumsy gifts
no rough-cut wood
no tuneless songs
no happy years
no crying bench
no centered lives
no field of tears
no sprouted wings
no rebel wind
no high-pitched worry
the thick and chilly white—

[more far at night]

evasive, the cold
so little clear,
this strange new body.

chilly whiteness:
God is dead:
almost made, almost empty,
the names
that dare not follow.


estuary between my teeth
slowly paddling
the true way out

to let her go / the grey way
to let her think / the blue way
to let her flood / the trailing red

*riffing off Larkin, D. Parker, Bukowski, Ondaatje, & Wanda Coleman

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Blogger San said...

Can evasive dust sprout wings on this strange new body--despite the death, almost made?

Can high-pitched worry fly by night through the spaces between teeth?

Or will we be bitten?

1:51 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

One word: "Yowza." Bitten indeed.

4:46 PM  

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