Dirty 30 in 30

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap09 - ????

Thanks, Step.

Spottswood

No one knew then, when they asked the girl
to contribute from her allowance to the veteran's
plaque, commemorating grandpa's contributions
to freedom, no one knew that every day

after the dreaded crossing of the small wooded hill
to grandpa's house, that the granddaughter
was his victim. No wonder the girl became
master of sarcasm by age 14. Her eyes saw

putrification in the still-ripe fruit, saw the places
that would wrinkle and would not, knew
the dangers of dark hallways and afternoons
in the basement.

 

[StepStransky]

2-27

Antiviral stocks
are high. I worry about
travel restrictions.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap-09 something else

our hands xrayed
reveal overlapping bones
touching at the tips

 

[StepStransky]

2-28

Open pages; coffee.
One screen, two screens, three.
Semi-colons and park benches,
and when to use however, and
how all his needs will be met. And
how to get it just right. And
deadlines approaching.

And a whole other heap
of shit going on in the corners
we mustn't lose sight of.

And laughing about it, because
that's what we do. And
laying down shared memories.

 

[StepStransky]

2-29

So caught up was I with
wondering who or what
the muse today would be,
I almost didn't hear the
guy offer me his ticket.
The first thought I had
was to bet myself it would
only have twenty or thirty
minutes. I'll have to fake
pleasure and wait 'til he's
driven round the corner.
But this was a hardcore stub
of eight rounded hours of
parking; not only that, but he
looked like he could have
made a claim. I took it, with
thanks, and opened my trunk,
and went back to wondering
what to write my poem about.

 

[StepStransky]

2-30

Topics covered during badminton:
Catching sneezes. Washing your hands.
The debate on tissues versus a handkerchief.

Topics covered at bath time:
Ibuprofen. Paracetamol. What exactly is flu?
Will masks be given out at school? Do they work? What will they be made of?

Topics covered at bed time:
Pandemics. Closures. Where will we get food from if the shops shut?
Who lives? Who dies? Do we know anyone from Mexico?

Cinemas are places where sometimes you can catch stuff, I mention. He
considers that; finally, he has a genuine reason
not to come see Star Trek.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap-09 Forces

We count as many forces as possible on our fingertips:
mechanical, electrical, chemical, gravity . . . they fold
after we reach 10.

I reach the finger that types the first letter
of your name and I nearly blurt it--right there
amid the titans of the physical world.

Then, I catch myself, for what does it matter
to anyone else if my little light shines
in the white painted anonymity
of a rented room? Shines with
your effortless force.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Nap09 unaccountable

no I won't write a poem about writing poems, poem
poem poem, even the word makes me see
pogo sticks. No I won't
write about that slow soft fishing
for a topic with fingers open, dangling
in the pond or, in my case, the tank.
I won't write about the desire to chew gum
and pop lewdly, or just chew time out
on slick enamel. No

I won't write a poem about a poem poem poem . . .

 

[Tzara]

01

Barbara, in that Black Dress

is steamy as a Laundromat.
One where all the dryers have been opened
mid-cycle through their load.

The very air's alive
with the comfort scents of Bounce
and Downy. Of Gain. Of Final Touch.

So much warmth, so much texture,
disorients. I find I must center myself
in these soft and still damp folds.




.

 

[Tzara]

02

Ovoviviparous

It was Glenn who caught the snake. His foot
Stamped down on brown, dead grass and trapped its tail.
His older brother Danny flew in 'Nam
And taught me how to play with girls—to not
Clutch too high, too hard. Too soon. His thought
Was girls were different and needed care
And feathery attention. Dan went to war
About the time I moved away. ... The smack
The body made quite startled me, when Glenn
Began to lash the reptile on the street.
There was very little blood. In fact,
It could have almost been a rope he beat
Against the chip-sealed surface, but for her split
Striped skin, her cursive children spilt out dead.



.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

x-1

Nice, TZ!

alright, for better or worse, I'm in. It's just going to be little noodles from the journals, I suspect, but I really need to get more stuff at least in draft, and this routine helps...




Let me take the layers from it, those
nacreous charms that hide a secret stone,
though you may think their glow
was a safer choice. What I want is the seed, the sand
and syllable underneath it all
your root word, the hollow cord, that, sympathetic,
vibrates at the strike.

I want my breath to hum there
in the hollow bamboo through your center
into that floral flute until the song
emerges from your mouth.

Then you
are finally pure between my teeth
and your colored breath is real
as steam and sound. Reward me
with pearls.

 

[champagne1982]

Dirty December 01

Today's weather

So still that feathered castles
really did build from burst
angel pillows, down
upon upturned faces
of classic child beauty
full lips, apple cheeks
long, lashes of caligrapher's
mink brush chill strokes
to write how even deathly
frost can be beautiful.

 

[champagne1982]

Dirty December 02

Heartburn

Apologies would be useless;
popping up in your future
just as it turns to the present.
Aha! Caught in rumination
over bits that are difficult
to digest. Pain should hide,
coiled inside until gone.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

x-2 December 09

lookit that. I'm already a day behind. eh bien.

Wedding

Shade lit at dusk, the joyful intersection
takes its place in skin, attended
by faces and flowers, and all this wind
as if lightning, as if thunder will come
but we drum it as close as the horizon
and no closer. Did the lovers
not quite consummate before they untied
their hands, causing the storm
to hang in the west, reluctant
to roll through?

All these conjunctions: the setting
of the high sun, the rising
of this fat full moon, day and night,
and the four directions, and above
and below. We are in the betweens
of before and after, of now and soon,
and now this new intersection
has been consecrated: these two
lifelines crossing, these two hands
bound together, these flowers
joined, one to another, in a ring that lasts
beyond the breath.

 

[Tzara]

03

......

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Great to see this thread revived, and with some wonderful poems too! Look forward to reading more.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

*waves at Dora* Hi doll! You should join in. It's not like there are any rules, really...

Tz, that last made me snort. You're hilarious.

And champy, you are of course solid as a rock as always, but I particularly liked this:

Pain should hide,
coiled inside until gone.

It made my head feel funny. It's a pretty perfect little line.

I got nothin' today. I was going to write last night but then not so much with the writing thing. Soon. for sure.

 

[Tzara]

04

.....

 

[unpredictablebijou]

x-3

Sixth Solstice

The peak of sun approaches again
this razored wheel that turns around
and catches me, spike after spike
with the anniversaries and endings
all these teeth, the holidays I cannot
mark without grief. They must be
the whirling blades on which
the fierce and glowing pairs of gods
are said to unite in chorus
visible, iconic, holding their swords
and skulls. Certainly I drink
from a cup made of rounded bone.
No further defilement is possible when the body
is already made of salt and dust. The gods
watch over degradations of the valued flesh
with clear approval, knowing that in loss
of our illusions of importance or eternity
is the price of that true face
the one we see at the deepest center
of sun, of star, of this volcanic sphere
that is the breaking of the every day.

 

[champagne1982]

Dirty 03

Danish Pastries

Dream not of happy thoughts
nor candied things to taste
but now of momentous tide
a current that bodes of change,
yet draw a line in bitumous mud
and climates warming not local
but between sheets of bedfellows
who set the alarm for different times.

 

[Tzara]

05

Materialism
Written on the Occasion of My Uncle's Funeral

There is no profundity in death,
Despite what anthems poets sing or swear—
Just body left inanimate. At rest,
Perhaps—religions usually make that clear
Before they pass the cold collection plates
Among the huddled faithful. I don't care
About the hokum trappings of these rites,
The church's sleight of hand. The pastor's glare
At any unbelievers, whom he might
Snag like errant butterflies to cheer
His sallow contemplation of the Right.
What I believe is when I die, I die.
There is no tunnel, nor a light. No why.



.

 

[champagne1982]

Materialism
Written on the Occasion of My Uncle's Funeral

There is no profundity in death,
Despite what anthems poets sing or swear—
Just body left inanimate. At rest,
Perhaps—religions usually make that clear
Before they pass the cold collection plates
Among the huddled faithful. I don't care
About the hokum trappings of these rites,
The church's sleight of hand. The pastor's glare
At any unbelievers, whom he might
Snag like errant butterflies to cheer
His sallow contemplation of the Right.
What I believe is when I die, I die.
There is no tunnel, nor a light. No why.



.

I am the one to dance
on the head of the pin,
sharp, piercing tongue
and brow; an angel
whose halo exists
in foggy streetlight glow
white skin shines blue
and in the dark, blood
is black while green
does not belong.

 

[Tzara]

06

Variation on a Theme by Philip Larkin
Written in the Imagined Voice of Tiger Woods

Your friends are always by your side,
.....'Cept when they're not and sell you out
To tabloid papers, in whose snide
.....Bright photoessays they will spout

The dishy details of your trysts
.....In bungalows in Nice, Bel-Air,
And Vegas: How you tie their wrists,
.....How you pull their whorish hair.

My fault, I guess, for trusting them
.....With secrets I've kept from my wife.
The moral makes a kind of hymn—
....."Friends" fuck more than your cock in Life.



.

 

[Tzara]

07

Corporate Support

Peanuts taste of earth.
Men are forged of clay.
Mold the two together, and
Herr Nazi goes away.



Note: The poster dates from WWII, despite the WWI look to the helmet.

How corporations respond to war, and advertise during war, is interesting to me. Is Mr. Peanut really there with the troops in Normandy, or just trying to persuade stateside shoppers that it's OK to buy Planters?

How would one tell, and does it matter?

 

[unpredictablebijou]

x-4

Nice work these past few days, y'all. I'm playing catch-up. Been really busy with a benefit since last week. On the upside, we raised a bunch of money for adopt-a-family. Hail Santa!


Nothing like a love letter

this scratched page
of found words, the slogans and rhymes of the darkened mind
what happens when I am left alone too long. Nothing like
what I am used to, the heart and flesh all conjoined. Not even
raw or hungry, not even about the arms or legs, the mouth,
nothing like that. It is only mind, fierce fall into cognition
and the cursed forebrain. It is where I must begin
these days, with the phrase, with five words, with a denial.
Not loved, but backed and cornered, bared and only then raw.
Nothing of flesh, just bits of paper, typed numbers,
diamonds, not soft but infinitely hard
sharp as glass, and as considered.

I will hand feed you every bite. That I dote on you
that you’re treasured kill or die, far beyond, doubtless; you
have seen me stroke, amazed, each heated inch, drawn like magnets
to your lower lip, that perfect bow
the rounding of your mouth on my invasive hand. Doubtless. All day
I tell you all too much, and your startled eyes
refuse it, find a lie, the hole
where you should be.
But walk through this door, precious pet, my golden apple, and see
how you become the lamb.