Tuesday, May 08, 2012

the sound of a train wheel slicing the body of a cat

a nice little housewife
who'll give me a steady life
and not keep going off the rails
take your hands off me—found poem

when you see me fly away without you
shadow on the things you know—Neil Young

he leaves in a state of profound opposites
all the way home
here are the tracks where something, at night, passed

joy/unjoy/boy [at every moment the language
in collapse in freefall here we squat in the ruined city
unsure how to use the columns the arches
the rain white and wide upon the moor
great wall-builders were these giants]
what do you mean say what you mean mean
or do not mean.each with equal conviction meaning
emptiness like a fire.
say out there who were you
the people who were you
is what I/we mean/do not mean or mean

oneself one's ultimate meaning
POV that sort of pornography
the arc of the f-stop the exploitation Eastern European
heroin addiction forced into that by this
but if just oneself is it still?
looking down? the fall the Fall the all-fall
understanding/standing under
let the LIGHT etc

every day again the child alarm at 15:05
(in wartime the Ministry of Defence issues a request
that all children must gather and surrender
conkers to be cooked into acetone
into cordite into trinitrotoluene that shall indeed
rain down as trollfall that rumbles or guffaws
from yea the Heights)

don't stop just don't stop
it doesn't hurt enough yet
pet/petal/catapetl/catafract/catalypse sips upon sips unzips
another yet another trail of breadcrumbs
leading away from Present Time
oh really just don't
your form is ing ongo/ing Present Continuous
but the Future/as always/the Present
arch and gripped 
with all the shaking Past

bells slow the all night moor.(and) waterloft shrikes

(no one will ever read this poem
not this poem)


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I read it.I liked some of the poem. I didn't like the title.
Hope you're well. Its cold here, wish some warmer weather would appear.
Peace and love from Ange