Thursday, July 07, 2011

une ombre de la rue

(to Lee Krasner and Dorothea Tanning)

(look again look how the world is all alive with beanflies)
(start playing)

(where you used to be/clings to me)

in his or her thermosetting resins the moment throttles as though

it purhaps some placeholder for an embarrassment
when she/he is ready to be swept by the nervous heath-fire
(il fait si froid dehors)
the brownian motion upon the veldt-integument
as dough as dammit them digitigrade hoofers came all
in a swoop through the meridians beaming in their

tarsals their taste-feels like (degree)-proof in several
as though a motive now even but are you sure
you are ready for where you will go next.the cur-
tains will unravel the lights enumbrate are
you ready to see in this new place such parsifals as you may observe
through your new atavism of eyeshut skin through the breakers
and booms of the kopje drums the lift and unlike-light rings aloud
[The Door to December ... No pedestrians were out, no traffic on the streets .... Monster

what about toxicocariasis he asks might i not be infected
struck blind from exposure to such drear auto-imagery?
(the monster sparrows fall/vos peines sur mon coeur)

unsatisfied he sends himself twenty emails of the same poem
signs each one what the fuck/in the long room/behind his shade/
the drug addicts and alcoholics/always off work/gawping
in stifled delight at the 9/11 TV
like the fried Kapa Normandy negatives it's not just like some patsy
in the back room burned your manuscript
like you might reconstruct it from memory

(i can't stop right now says K can you record it for me i will
watch it later it sure looks spectacular)

it's like they erased that whole sector of you made unrecoverable
black buntings flutter on the gate

no you won't be coming back.don't ask.


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