Song (Eliot Cardinaux)

  Song

    Struggling

            to break

                come back to

       switching spheres

                                                      spherical, just a shadow

                                                            of a tail

                                                                     a trail,

                                                                into the monotone

                                                                   swamp

                                                                                it goes

                            here, eager

                                spiritu’l

                                      trail

                        maybe

                                   crazy

                   mor-

                         ib(o)und

                        tail

                                           call back the old imbecile!

                                           call back!

     (the old junkyard tale)

2/05  ’11

Burdens (Sean Ali)

Burdens

Erase the past

Escape into the future

And from the burden of heaven

This is for your dreams and prayers

Your curses and your condemnations

Secretly wishing to see fire in the street

And smoke in the sky

This one is for the blind

Who can’t see where dawn ends

Melody eternal

Anguish and joy in perfect harmony

Melody unheard eternally

Drowning in endless monotony

Monotones murmur

            Through the Milky Way

            Wrapped around your hips

Our sorrow will ferment

            In wine of rose hips

Working for spare change and lousy tips

Songs and incantations

Of desperate men in forgotten destinations

I’ve been predestined for a life of consternation

One tone slides into another

Please return to your cross

For a demonstration

Of the manifestation

Of loss

Erase the plot

Forget the story

And the relentless burden of history

Brug te Arles - Van Gogh

Climate (Eliot Cardinaux)

Climate –

     slow, still, cold

   a radiator,

         heat, light and vacancy.

            lonely  lonely  lonely  lonely

         mica walls, shiny water wall,

              slowly falls

            only  only  only  only

         daydream, slipstream,

                  gardenia petal

                        on the wall

            slowly  slowly  slowly  slowly

                  see a green

            moving planet

                    on a stream

                            on a dream.




2/03  '11

Thought of Egypt

  Thought of Egypt

Distraction,

      free flow into another room

            with wide open

                        windows, frost on the edges.

            Left home when the mob

                                                started breaking,

                                          always late

                              I made an arc to fill the

                                                                   sky,

                                dark with dreaming.

                        Saw a fly, on the lightbulb,

                              exacted its meaning,

                                    something like pencil shavings,

                                          disaster miniaturized

                                                like a ship that’s

                                                      breaking

                                                      from the shore –

                                                I recognized that feeling,

                                    like an arm in the air,

                              an Egyptian greeting,

                                     a kiss on the cheek

                        where the soldiers may be shadows,

                                 keeping them dreaming.

2/03  ’11

(also) http://bsa-weeklybits.blogspot.com/2011/02/thoughts-on-uprising-in-egypt.html (a discussion)

The Grief

I am a quick thinker

the levee it broke

out poured the water

that fled past our feet

into our undesired dreams

of Guggenheim sleep

these withered hands

formed by water erosion

completely sustains

the grief

Fragment (no. 131-2) Eliot C.

  Fragment (no. 131-2)

Gulls scavenging

            on tumbled cliffs

                        of dirty snow,

where I’m stricken

            by the barren branches

                        sticking up like bones

                                    across the highway,

desolate as a plain

            where the sun strikes not

                                                the ground,

desolate as the air,

            winding with waves,

                        desolate as the stillness

      in my soul,

A sky I came apon

where once your hands,

      draped in a linen cloth,

                   held ash and myrrh,

      above this barren ground  

the lack of reflection

            and my determination

       are like black holes that twist,

                  winding shadows of the dead

’11

Return (no. 131) - Eliot C.

  Return (no. 131)

The labyrinth twists and groans

in the elliptical transgression

            of the heart,

like a train swallowed whole

in a tunnel where the wind

            is softly shown,

digression, moved alone

            and side to side,

                                    grown,

in the elliptical garden of the

                                    heart

            shone and shone,

                        brightly against the leaves.

A moratorium on light,

                        tall centuries,

in vertical transfusion

(nothingness,)                      

escapes essences

spiritual, unknown,

           

      the apothecary’s ointments

                   in grass bloom,

                        glass

                                         shaped and blown.

And wrapped around

      these heart-trees

            underground

upon which frowned

      the many smiling face

            where lost,

                  the silent letters

                        of the heart

                              endlessly in all       

                                                directions

                                          are aroused,

                                                      untied…

’11