1. |
For Brandon
01:20
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2. |
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within his splitting gut
i sometimes see a heart
hiding behind the blubber;
it's all a motley mix
of phlegethon and styx
i can't tell.
with what ekphrasis do i
describe his fatherness -
that mixed up bumbler.
bumbling jesus bumbling
putrescent, enough to make
an idiot lose his faith.
he staminate and she
pistillate:
how was i ever born?
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3. |
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a fish in death throes
was the last buffer between
him and death,
who made us all fret,
but, as if perforce,
marked him with angina.
the cool shades of August's
great white nights
bore witness to that
piscine whiskered mask's
adieu to a world retarded,
borne of a birth deferred.
persephone, persephone,
who ate that broken seed,
that germ of death and life,
for the love of god,
forget not the start of spring,
when we may trawl together.
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4. |
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i will go on
i can't go on
i will go on
i watched the acrid smoke rise from Belacqua's
narghile, his lazy face, bulbous and sullen,
content with the taste of mud.
I remember scenting fresh love
from his torpid lids
as Samuel Fuller smoked tiny
cigarettes
Smiling at the distance
of
Further I said further
and I speak
"I'm so tired" he would repeat and repeat
The acclimated maxim of his droning conceit.
Would you start a scene or two?
Would you?
I wanted him to call me Dedalus
but I've always been a masochist
Laughing in the distance
with our one-day valediction
we were both heretics
with little mind for the present.
"It seems, if I hear right, that you can see
beforehand that which time is carrying,
but you're denied the sight of present things."
And now that children's hands are
out of touch
whence the wicker basket
buoyed by helium they come.
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5. |
Store Møllevej
04:20
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she told me that
art with a vision of fags
always carried the patina
of my good looks
my face superimposed
by the workings of memory
over the stretched, groaning
masks
of skeletons with flu.
i held to my chest
the senescent face of
rock hudson
whose own mask
had begun to slip,
its hooks melted away
in the sunny gloom.
there in that buccal face
-all mouth-
i saw disappearing
the tattered wings of all
america's moths,
a graying rainbow
evanescent among
gnashing teeth.
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Poltroon Denmark
