Friday, July 02, 2010

poem: twixt good

(Artwork by Rupert Shrive)

Took my face to
The Face Institute:

deconstructed it,

deep-fried it,

alphabetized it

beyond recognition:

the adenoidal collapse

of nations, justifying

the arias in my head,

a cheesebox of fulfillments

untold. Razor sharp,

this unforeseen


the battle twixt

good &

Orville, on the sands

of Kitty Hawk,

in post-cyclist dudgeon:

presumably we

tax our salvations


face the consequences

later, resurrecting

the prime as she

insinuates herself

down the dotted line.

my dots were

in blue Sharpie,

I asked for blue

instead of

monastic black,


I did

through streets of

leaven, the dotted

line my

wheel of fortune,

my desperate tag

of the future. Charismatic


Pickwickian symmetry,

gargantuan cosmetology

erogenous paleontology -

what more can one

want? - in this

the octagonal




Blogger Teresa said...

So how does the "adenoidal collapse of nations justify the arias in your head"? One would think those arias came from love and light and the smell of roses in June or something.

I love your sharp cheddar in a box of fulfillments and Orville fighting the good fight at Kitty Hawk.

I also liked "tax our salvations
face the consequences
later, resurrecting
the prime as she
insinuates herself
down the dotted line."

Those lines just kind of sing, although with your deconstructed face complete with adenoidal collapse, I'm not quite sure how...

But these were my favorites:
Pickwickian symmetry,
gargantuan cosmetology
erogenous paleontology -

What more could one want, indeed? The erogenous paleontology just tops off the tank and makes my cup overflow. With a running over cup, how could I contain more? The cheesebox is full and the adenoids are flat, not to mention the egg being cracked...

Great work, bro.

11:35 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Teresa: On the way to an evening swim yesterday, I passed a sign for The Face Institute. That, combined with earlier musings with my sister about the possibility of chicken-frying a soul, was a poem demanding to be writ. Ever the compliant (if oft indecipherable) poet, writ I did. I'm glad you liked. I thought one and all see the collapse of nations as a cause for joy (arias, at the very least). Well, maybe not the Sovereign Barony of Caux and the Republic of Molossia.

11:49 AM  
Blogger Teresa said...

As in arias punctuated by cannonades like in the 1812 overture? I was thinking of it from the point of view of the losing civilians looking at scorched earth and bombed out shells of buildings and faced with adjusting to new overlords, learning new languages, rape, pillage and all that rot.

Or are you thinking of collapse a la Marx? When the structures of government wither away and the golden age of communism is ushered in, when all will enjoy the blessings of community property with each working according to his or her ability and receiving according to his or her need.

1:40 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

T: The latter, of course; the one that, in truth, has never been tried. Save maybe for the upstate Nueva York Oneida folks. That one got a little dicey on the sexual front. They were, after all, Fourier-ists.

4:20 PM  
Blogger Teresa said...

I think Mao picked up their Mutual Criticism for his unique brand of Communism. CCP cadres since Mao's death seem to be avidly embracing the idea of Ascending Ladder for virgins, where old men initiate nubile young women into the practices of Complex Marriage, although they tend to just set the young women up in penthouses and act like sugar daddies... Of course, the Taoists from about the time of the Tang Dynasty have been practicing a form of Male Continence in their attempts to attain eternal life.

7:33 PM  
Blogger anno said...

FB has ruined me... I keep looking for the Like button. Just coming by to say hello, glad to see the writing you're doing.

9:32 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Teresa: I think the Taoists should follow the Oneidans and go into flatware for their immortality. Sexual orthodoxy, but silverware nonpareil.

10:22 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Anno: Substitute a thumb smudge on your monitor screen for the Like button. Always good to have you drop by.

10:23 PM  
Blogger Tammie Lee said...

I would have chose blue, too.
Ever changing world and life, or is it?

2:02 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Blogger being boggy presently: it won't let me publish this from Dee, so I will:

loved the poem and the comments! Good versus Orville buwahahah
"like" thumbprints all over the screen now :)

To which I reply: Clean up that screen of yours, sister. Glad you had some fun. Vacationing still on, yes? Good.

11:16 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

MizLee: Always took you for a blue one. Given your skies, no surprise there.

11:17 PM  
Blogger jsd said...

I like Anno's comment about FB ruining one while reading blogs searching for the Like button...beautiful art.

8:13 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Good morning, Texan Vermonter (or should that be Yankee Texan?): Rupert Shrive's website is certainly worth a viewing. Hope you all are getting in some swimming. Peace to you all.

11:36 AM  
Anonymous Miss Alister said...

I love how your brain goes—from the face institute to a cheesebox of fulfillments to the battle twixt good and Orville to taxing salvations on through to the streets of leaven and the wheel of forturne and beyond everything to the octagonal shrift—and when I focus and follow closely its trails, I feel like Alice, and it is so very lovely bizarre.

Did I ever tell you I played Alice in a one-act play in junior high? I did. And so it is that all of this makes lovely bizarre make all the more sense : )

2:30 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Hoolawd. Deus ex alista. And I didn't even get a chance to straighten up the kitchen first! Mess or no mess, you is always welcome for coffee and nibbles.

I was gonna say that I'm just the driver, can't help what Face Institutes I'm gonna drive by, but in truth I'm just the passenger (which, of course, gives me a better look-see).

To switch metaphors, the journeys are invariably Alician, no doubting that, and I am always happy that you are willing to make the lovely bizarre descent conmigo.

To your Alice confession, I will add that in the sixth grade I played the Cheshire Cat. We still are, don't you think?

4:17 PM  

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