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Saturday, July 20, 2013

RAILROAD ROOMS

D.R. Wagner - La Noche de las que Brillan
17 1/8" x 14"
Ward

This poem was published earlier tis year (in April) by Medusa's Kitchen.  I wanted to post it here because I like the way it moves.

RAILROAD ROOMS

A mouth that worked like flames.
She had a Transylvanian horse
With soft silver trappings and a blue
Flamingo that spit pure gold.  She 
Would sit in the alley and wait for
The forest to catch up to her
At least, that’s what she preferred.

And her mother had told me not 
To draw attention to those beautiful
Fires that could be seen on the hills.
Memories could be had one hell of a lot
Cheaper and you could pay for them
With your childhood and pills.

There was a broken down railroad
That once ran to Texas or someplace
That looked like Texas in New York.
And a man with a fracture that he called 
A smile who ran freight on both sides
Right through the middle of the park.

At three AM on Saturdays we would go to
The theater.  They gave away roles to those hungry
For fame.  And the aisles were always crowded
And the lights were always flickering and there wasn’t
One person who would admit it was a game.

We live far from the heartland, we live close to the bone.
The children who come visit, they come always alone.
They tell us we are crazy to live lives in these places
They tell us it it will cripple us and we will live in fear.

But the sun here, it does something that looks like a morning
And there’s coffee if you don’t mind waiting in line.
They make fires out of old doors and they keep them burning.
They have never once, never once, asked us our names.



Friday, July 19, 2013

ORNITHOLOGISTS





ORNITHOLOGISTS

They banded a naked girl
Riding a beautiful star specked
Horse with the echo of youth
So they might track her
Should she ever return.

Somewhere out there silence
Can be learned as if it were
An alien language or a card game.

See those spinning lights?
They are the ones I spoke of
In my letter.  Yes, they are
The children of of the deepest
Purest thing we could ever imagine,
But we could not realize them 
Happening to us.

Now I don’t know about the rest
Of you but I’m thinking none of this
Is done in vain.  This is the world,
Is it not?  “We are surrounded by
Enchantments.” Who can judge
Any of this? Moonlight? Lions?

We came here because we must
Come here.  We were told this is
The place. Where will love
Go better?  Where will anything
Be as innocent as this ever again?

I press my face into her hair
And breathe.  They will come
For us soon enough.  Don’t 
Even think of running.  Just
Look at that horse.  Unbelievable!
The lovely girl, naked.  Her beautiful
Back.  Look how we understand this.



Thursday, July 18, 2013

BESIDE THE SEA

John-Bauer-


BESIDE THE SEA

These flowers burn my hands
As they are delivered to me.
I must have gone out at some
Point to gather something like them.
But they became too many bouquets ,
Too many different ideas of what
Time allowed me to find.  I am
Sure it was for time’s amusement,
Just as it finds so many literatures
To poke at as one might a jellyfish,
With a stick, between tides.

This then, is between tides.
I will be patient with it all
And carefully map out the 
Labyrinths, make deliberate choices,
Find a mysterious object, half-buried
In the sand, carefully lift it, turn
It over, only to discover a perfect mirror. 




Wednesday, July 17, 2013

PULLING UP THE BLANKET BEFORE GOING TO SLEEP





PULLING UP THE BLANKET BEFORE GOING TO SLEEP

The stars pretend to show eternity.
They claim to be the cape of paradise.
They form constellations only so that man
Can talk about them and think them other
Than the flaming balls of gas they are.

Tonight I saw the stars as human skulls.
The constellations as the same and as I watched
Time came and unloaded some of its trash 
In a far corner of the universe just to keep
It expanding.  just to keep things interesting.

I took the path that went through a small wood
And opened out almost at the edge of the sea.
The tide was at neap and what were waves
Were very far away, as if one were in Maine.

I went down to where the edge of the water
Would be in a couple of hours and listened
To these skull stars in the chorus of their
Divine realms of space.  They were voices.
They were voices as the sea is voices,
As the wind is voices, as the rain too finds
The earth a place that can make rain to speak.

And I did not know the words and I did not
Comprehend the music that I heard but I
Tried to be as these things were.  I became
Naked to the night and walked across
The rocks farther and farther, on my way
To meet the water, the great ocean, the 
Endless sea, to welcome it back to the shore,
To believe as I was racing ahead of it, pulling
A great blanket up to the woods to give
The starry skulls the mirror their flaming vision wants.



Tuesday, July 16, 2013

LE MAL DU PAYS

Gottfried Helnwein


LE MAL DU PAYS


We find evening wandering among
The trees of the park: taking
His name slowly from the late
Afternoon as she slips into
Shadow, stretching a bit, easing
Her language of birds and insect sounds
Toward evening, offering them as gifts.

Lights begin to blink on
Across the valley. From here
They could be angels who, having
Heard the vespers bell, hurry
So not to be late for the last hour.

We can want no more than
To be here together, a witness.
Perhaps it is only that we have
Chanced to find ourselves surrounded 
By the hour that moves this feeling
Through us and into the landscape.

Perhaps it is a knowledge of something
We had not anticipated understanding
Quite yet and so are still unable to
Name it properly that does this.

We stand together here a long
Time. Finally it becomes so dark 
I can no longer see you clearly.
Stars begin to blow across the sky.



Monday, July 15, 2013

FRAGMENT FROM THE HILL JOURNALS

fabres-insects



FRAGMENT FROM THE HILL JOURNALS

The clouds were dark that evening.
Seen from the window they could
Have been thinking, brooding, but

Eventually the stars climbed to their
Places and waited once again for
The cool flame of the crescent moon

To remind everything its light touched
That it was the most powerful beacon
For this time, that anything the night
Might lack could be had in her light.

The table was already set when we came in.
The walk from the villages had seemed
 Inordinately long.

Water had found its way inside my boots
Making a squishing sound as I walked 
To the bench in front of the fire, removed
Them and began drying my feet with a soft blue cloth.

‘I am never coming that way again.
It looks too much like earth
With its meanness and killing.
I was struck with flying things more
Than a few times.   The houses were
Hovels and one of them, near the 
Cliff edge looked to be in a state
Of constant flame but never
Seemed to burn.  Flames out
The door.  Those horrible people
Gathered round, all talking and
Gesticulating.  I hate the way they
Talk.  It isn’t language and
That horrible stench. God.’

Ramon poked at the fire.
‘You’ll feel better after you have
Had something to eat.  This is 
A safe place.  no one has even
Ever heard of these white caves.’

I knew it was true, that if we
Had to be anywhere, this was the
Best of places to be.

‘I did manage to bring two of the horses
And there is enough food for a 
Couple of weeks in the packs.’
‘We will send someone else
Next time.’

I rose, walked across the room
And sat heavily on the bed.

The next thing I knew, i was
Waking.  She was kissing my lips
And making a little morning song to me.

‘You worry an awful lot too’, she said
‘You tossed and turned all night.’

‘These wars will be over soon.’
I said, barely believing myself.

‘I don’t think so.,’ she said.
‘It has been like this as long as
We have been here.  We keep moving
Higher and higher up these cliffs.’

‘Come here.’, I said  'I will show
You a very special dance.'  I rose
And bowed and began to move.

The smile on her face was better than
The dawn all that week, had been.