5/09/2010

Part I (IV, III, II)

And what assortments made by chance dwell with actuality

.....a car red turns around a corner back with sunshine
.....floutist inside new leaves plays welcome back Sam
.....on effete roads beholden to curves laden with asthmatic grids
.....spaced below these that are welcomeed native tourists

and quick signifiers remaining in there as well as simply here, avocado
placed to where it can give the poor chap a bone. What it seems is
starting, avoidance of sleep, time for an enjoinder through verbal gills

operable as breathe underwater, beneath understanding completions
and bleating cosy with obdurate laughing. Its hot molten rock
you know, curls steadfast and rolls about tropics of philharmonic

longitudinal latitudes in spheres, but then smooths out into a sail
towards notions on a new edge of a treasure map. Embedded
off the side in a singular place. Is being. But only an element

augmented by those that want to toy wire with a Destination X,

to explore closer to the fray of what surrounds slipping frigidity.
Also include the pointillism found in the rain of her skyward down,
dropping tones of the broken clouds upon that imagined shore

overlooking the sea from a frail window. A wharf of condolence
first felt in the mutuality of a glass hand singing collapsed anthems,
washed up flotsam. Conjecture, then move inland, towards

both the heart and stone. Just how did we end up in this world
from single cells to primates? Chemistry of open waters,
where presence emerges which is yet another aspect of absolute white

leaving as matter returns in the forms of spring, a vernal marvel

.....chrome on the tailpipe shine as much as the new was
.....turning around the manhole covers below is the water
.....and above is the air or even an airplane towards Chicago
.....blues melding into one blue of the turquoise run of sky

and now we have singular options of choosing, maybe candelabra
because what is placed onto today is not quite the same
as what was had yesterday, possibly more fiddle about the corner

running from the side of a mannequin. They really can come to life
and not just at nighttime. Like with that fateful rib and caught
up with an insouciance, innocent of being entirely understood.

That will tie to the corrosion of pink flowers into a land of blood.
If seismic enough, all the commuting traffic will come to a halt
and the pattern of consult stops. A blank array of quiet, translucent

forming specter. And then a peace filling back in over the diagram

and under flowing its own options to demonstrate curlicue
distinctions in coils of rope, their royal ends dipped in red wax.
Which are hardly beginnings or endings but from one molding

bound to another in sculpted moments of liquid zones. Oriented
to only what’s also being devoured. Too quickly, only scant
remains that continue to take their toll as early as 9:00 a.m.

to the remaining observer. Poll bearers for a dour agenda
in changes of rain, sun, warmth or cold. Again it can be said
that this is not like yesterday, barely can be known as today

while finishing a tree’s bloom of nascent greens, the adoration

.....harsh wale of sirens and pull over of cars to side
.....a retaining wall leaking moist as a healthy wood
.....accruable with the bleeding repairs left off of a
.....bike on its side under a quick air of bird chirps

reviving with a tragic placement of something, like comfrey.
A sonorous entanglement. At the tips of your fingers. Hanging
in the field or a garden that sprouts reaction. No one knows

what that might be for you, but it is yours and is espoused
and at the same time ignored. Traceries only. Confiding
only to the sifting shadows colluding impenetrable night

before the sodium chance disappears in the pruning
assimilate of multiplied fracture. Open in a reduction
of the strain which is extensive meddling. Spiral from lung

base that signals to the nerves. Taken with a hands on

walk in field below the brigands’ view of Etesian wind.
Not to ever suggest it isn’t about the purity of texture.
That’s where its most commonly lost, answers wanted

through a platitude of medication to arrive at significance.
Poppycock of the most (un)desirable kind, such as money
and head mongers. How about the spindling importance

of meagering process? Which won’t leave out the sonorous
trumpet of the declarative, grand as the old oak that made
a piano, only that it can be cordially modified to temper

bitter tastes which surround withering isolation, like a
feathering of pliable skin structure upon rings of osteoblast
before any arthritis, the still new hands atop a table

wide spread as bloomed reflections on the apartment’s patio,

.....daily lunch crews as well as workers and shadows
.....still in the wind of honky-tonk radio red beaters
.....core farting from mufflers over slick backed Euro
.....five speeder running over mannered cross-walkers

which brings a brute trampled innocence up on the stage.
Wise up and pay more attention. A god will save you eventually
but not anyway that you would want it to. Holy coriander

and sassafras tea will drape cool as shade over the yard,
where you think finally a rest begins. Thanks, but not until then.
Wound as a degree of bravery with bits of slight knowing

that means next to nothing, outside of a cultivation
to continue. That I refuse to deny, only it would be nice
if completed harm could be kept to the diet of a garter snake.

It won’t though and why we are back to the broken window.

Children in the yard already start to fade into experienced haze
and the sun within the eye. Their feet are wet and they don’t
even know it. A mind tarries itself off towards adventures

of distraction, with haunted ghosts and all the fears running
rampant in the night, born from rigid anxieties of sightly day.
What withers in both the recede and confronting advancements.

Perhaps insomnia isn’t so bad, your face in the ceiling
not unlike your face in a mirror. Step outside and the face
scatters in the unfathomed reflection of countless stars

out of brumation and into a standing dream of somnambulance

.....mail box while passes the brown clothes of a courier
.....there and hovering the red stop sign and stout tulips
.....replacing yellow daffodil pollen coating windshields
.....with someone remembering a frail hello from morning

in the parking lot, the only jewel in the pocket that’s really
nothing but a stone, with what are many stones and sitting
down for no reason making each precious. Beyond naive.

The world possibly never asked more than this. Spice it
with something healthy, maybe even tempered a bit
with what it is not. Regions of slow ruin flow with austerity

in time, damn craggy, windswept on a mountain hermitage.
The garden is the scenery and framed with quick black
brushwork across a menage of rice, straw and bamboo.

Sidewalk cafes in France; doorless observance in China.

Benefactors and alms were the means while also alone
in order to fly skyward. The sifting clouds lose
touch but they won’t constrict even if sliding outward

in the forms of killers. Stare into the roil long enough
and the threat eventually resolves. But again, maybe not
quite the way you first wanted it to. And if that matters

than one wonders what the implication to physics would mean
if both momentum and presence were taken from the equation.
Big Bang in reverse accommodated by pertaining backwards,

absurdly going towards the center into a prance of dense troika

.....rails of gravel friction crack potholes loosely filled
.....with rattle in the wheel wells bouncing hub cap
.....discus for inventive children spun dizzy on plastic
.....yellow sheave about a utility pole’s humming guy-wire

reined by guided projection and injection and it’s the loss of one
of these that unbalances the mystical thread. Rather keep a balance
like with a bed on a southern wind, blowing curtains before and after

cotton rest around the ephemeral loneliness following apotheosis.
How it slopes towards sadness. Not excruciating, we’re stronger
and much too selfish or selfless, like being head-smart for what

is to be the guided core approaching anteriorly, hard on a back wind
down the mountain of being, upon which were placed ragged sights
effaced to new winds and floods, rock slides that are maelstrom

churned while sitting and sipping from a brown coffee cup.

There’s no reason for the fanfares exploding from envelopes
piled and mistaken as common letters. The pledge never asks
itself to exist. Just a pitch of mild conflagrance upon a door-

step to place dog, cat, man, breathing anew, ripening fresh
air of the return-again season. The seeds begin to be filled
in with verdancy, liquidescence, new found elements of Celtic

romance that play along with lifelong thoughtful utterances
intrinsically augmented through what embroiders rare silver
onto a process of footsteps. A point of impact that’s landed

upon the ground pace with slow evocations of laboured beauty

.....myrtle shoots thick growth over tarred railroad ties purple
.....dapple flowers cardboard cup soggy flat and swept
.....and still there a sparkling on a curb from green glass
.....black smudged tire skids drawn long and from sudden

pictorial treatment of an end commingling unfathomed geometric.
So line a few angles. Ponder somewhere between the tip-
top of your head and the red flamenco of your wonderful pelvis.

All of that is classic with an infinite knot of tension. Having to be
lived in, exceeding ourselves and one reason for the verge
brought to a life of stories, expansion of looping lemniscate

sceneries. Like a block of roads, painted backdrop with sun
colors oiled above couples of figurines, flowing the ceramics
universally and iconic as they become while realistic visage

influences by one another, privately back into a brass spittoon.

The menagerie stopped specific. Then back out to field open
our possibilities, keeping alive, multiplicity being the only truth.
That, and singularity from which there’s composition. Monsoon

of philosophers and tablet arraying gallantry, beggars
from mass transitions that impregnate tendencies of cellos.
These dimensional waters filling a white bathtub vibrato

from the surface down into a loveliness of drain. Elements
are out there and a whirlpool when the cork is yanked
for the dark matter in the center of another star’s galaxy

where there’s birthing between, an entering and lifting of a big toe

.....exhaust pipes infant leaves and dot flower petals
.....pink tint in motor oil and fry grease from last year
.....street fair still there upon rubber wheel strollers
.....self powered wheelchair forward with leather hands

towards a bedroom or a bathroom. Again, the fluctuations
that began with A and ended at B, all of those X’s feebly
destined with a grain of sand’s significance. Have a party

and the next day there is either the bird’s call or the cat’s
jump to wake you up. Land the wooden floor, preferably still
warm with last year’s summer so you can inhale

the grain rise through toes resembling snail heads.
Infinity of the gastropod’s conchiolin can be a wild
protective onclave defending through accommodation,

integration, configuration, an assimilate of bright nebula.

And all of that started in the soil. Square inch fecundity
of rain forest exponential to an abandoned quarry.
Though, fill it with water for late night skinny dippers

and some humanity continues to stir, if not based
in science fiction acquired from the scent of used
paperbacks piled with sliver fish. Caught in the rings

of Saturn on a piece of moon is stationed the used book
store with the sickle of an aesthetic found in words, ideas
and fantastic stories, the tabby cat that’s always at home

curling about purveying feet with a purr of consensual yes

.....swaddling paper bags that blow above fallen
.....branches dropped from wind storms patterning
.....fallen cherry tree fuschia petals all more piled
.....beautiful moldering in a place where they should

no longer effuse in juvenilia, that brief scratch of time,
after each tintinnabulates off ends of projected branches
to lay within collages lain to pass onward. Scarcity

that makes us hold onto dreams or return to the table.
Benjamin Franklin discovered his new inventions
when sleep deprived and sitting on an uncomfortable

chair. Inspiration summons you when ignoring what is
followed while you still follow, the entry into the room
which is accepting as it is, despite wether or not it fits

your latest fantasy, a bejeweled lingering apparition, that.

On horseback it gets trailed by a rider and his donkey
to transverse harsh functions of landscape, undergo series
of strokes and gasps however they might hit. Also a yawp

to shake the ground for series of compassionate resolutions
denying nothing. Its a step in both directions that tears
the conflict apart liked hatched seedlings in a dense forest

germinated with natural consonance, limitative burrows in endless
outcomes, the array of choices. We are allowed existence
found in sublimations resulting whenever there’s thought

in this dilemma, feeding in the hidden corners of a restaurant

.....new off of Division Ave. eyed by helmetless biker
.....passing a Honda parked on a hill frozen up to railing
.....and concrete steps alone towards the walkout
.....deck green lunch and backdrop of Mac diesel fumes

that float beyond one and two, as does southern May wind
undergoing clarity of pondering wonder, clear in confabulated
outcomes that make of the heart a semi-tropical sea sponge.

Keep it immersed and it stays heavy in the flow of currents,
dry it out and it flies outward between autumn and winter,
encrusted, cellular membranes, permeating worlds

with perpetual exfoliation of the spring of desire beneath.
No wonder skateboarders joined the return of the robins.
Skinned knees and red breasts. Sunrise in sycamores.

Active songs in the fully leaved trees from hollow throats.

Preservation in the rolling hills with a very nice niche
melding drone of long tones as log rhythm feedback,
the quirky endings to cawking squeals of animals

at play in the distance of next month. While still here though
with the interpenetrating changes. What was thought of
quickly returns to a house pet pleading for more attention,

a nose filled with pollen (the grains deflating to preserve
spermatic moisture until landing on their destination).
Damn how the nose does flow, eyes water. A head as flower?

Sensual body blossom, emotional color beneath cerebra root

.....“Post no Bills” stenciled broke yellow on new blue paint
.....copper column patina above the moisture of dog urine
.....tissue kleenex thin after rain now a patter of shoed feet
.....over repellent concrete sustaining volume of mesh voices

with each as a bagatelle. Concerns could be taken to a mechanic
with a book of coupons when your laces are untied. Unstrung,
yet somehow fed up. Not the tired adage of being more patient.

Accentuate rather into blatant unexpected directions, for volume
that ties the formation of new artwork in the hospital’s court
yard. Test and response time shows new life in what was near

fatal, a gownless Arcadia from the wooden planks of Arne Quinze,
a forest of survival while as rounded as Rousseau and craggy
as Herzog in all that is ‘erotical’. That makes me think of a ride

on a bike that is its own parade, flushed with terriers of flowers.

What about done up? That’s even worth a nap after, to bring
a let down. Grass driveles moist promise and retains nothing
more than what it created and lost. That is all that is kept.

A sense of what sometimes might visit late at night, after
waking suddenly from a dream you didn’t want to end
in prophecy. Days always begin with an unconscious slope

of increments, where next you’re walking for designated relief
around the next corner in an ornate fountain newly turned on
to first sparking water, enumerated blue with inlaid crystal

while dark clouds in the horizon rumble the walls of the kiosk

.....construction protective fencing stacked vinyl windows
.....new condos fined for code violations like parking meters
.....with extended cranes front end loaders tabulated ladder
.....atop a Chevy exhuming cigarette and a head light

polymorphs the anthologized histrionic into new amendments,
like hysterical lilac ambrosia that originates from sea floor abyss,
painted now with names like Caspian, Baltic, Labrador and Black.

Such massive conditions atop the surface. The fuck bubble
from dark heavens. Asynchronous wonder projecting thorny threat
that smoothly accommodates transmogrification. Tuneful sequence,

so why still the concern of a resultant? What can never be gained
anyway, liberated as you are from tyrannies of the definite.
It was a long curse, as anyone knows, and the bacillary horns

hurt last September. But now you ride bare-back on the leviathan

irradiating new logic of discordant bravery. Arias in the health
of crude panaceas bombarded with conception, over thought,
thrown and done towards a grown hackle of blistering contentment

that’s an idea that is now lit like a morning star and more freakish
forever brought down to earth. Everywhere something is
the stuff of creation. All burning with a most insidious freedom

within the belly of the goring verdant basilisk. The power
that has shot from the ground, broken open the crisp air
with a birthing melange of condoning spectrum. This hosts

your continuation for what is being grown in the bower

.....off center behind a wood fence atop crumbling brick
.....ivy melting lime towards sidewalk spotted chewing
.....gum sticky stains groove treaded with sole tires
.....under traffic signs below phone wires sopped with birds

above our heads. At the first break of even earlier sun rise
their brazen timidity shot from the silver maples and azaleas.
Foliage engrossed lazy southern breeze sough. And you already

began to rise. Not quite necessary numerous asides
and birthright sits like a cup of green tea beside a cracked
window. Too much sudden action and reversals in the pane.

And going? An uncontrolled endearment sways the outset
of the first flirting glance, perhaps giving away too much.
Not so, not so. “Let it control us”, as Henry Miller says,

retouched while we find ourselves, empathetic recognition.

Regardless, it always carries a presence, just different
as the gravity and a brass lamp, empyrean with a weight
of scapegrace wedged out with a smile, quick smidgeon

with tips of laughter despite the absence of any petals.
New seedlings in the garden went to water imbibition,
to lag phase, then radicle emergence into heartier stuff.

A heartier green thick skinned and readily absorptive waits
after the rainy season.The truer stuff with new rings of bark
after the courtship. A readily stiffened vertical aqueduct

twisting turgor pressure for a bountiful crop of pistachios.

2 comments:

Annotated Margins said...

Wonderful to read this. I enjoyed it.

mark said...

well done; and well carried for such a length