Tuesday, May 08, 2007

after reading agamben and the dictation of poetry

wintered visions with sundials doing all the talking
the little take precedence by moving in pairs - a tat - a tat
tiny steps, consistent like teeth markings on the edge of
a salamander from the overspill of too many breeds
she mem drills the cabinets together the "L" shaped
into the non-conformist (directions from the subway map)

taking the dream vision to somewhereland she martyrs
in the Cool Whip like a Target commercial waiting for
the red lights to sign off and the on-air button to cease

out the window fourteen lines packed into parallel
packed into parallel – a tat – a tat it makes the music
sound less electro punk and more melody for strumming
doing all the talking little pairs work with the sundial
visioning blackened teeth and line breaks all in the wrong
it isn't just poethical wagering it isn't just memes cavorting


Hayes said...

Yeah, I love it! I guess I gotta go read that essay?!?!? Was it in man of content...er, a different one?

Here's one for you Celeste! This one's after ingesting tons of Stein and Spicer!!!

A Dancing
A moon glide, a cantilever frantic syllables, a cantilever "mune" grass madness.
Ocean that is in wood. Hold the ground, hold the unworldly, hold in the things, make the trees.
A shape of tide. A wind, in a wind that is madness there is no growth to say that there was a tree.
A moon ocean going. A morpheme maid is the image milking, an image of syllables any of hem in words is so death.

celestual said...

i think the book is the end of poetry - i really like the last line in this piece