Sleepwalking on a Picnic…
Announcements

Sleepwalking on a Picnic…

Sleepwalkers on a  Picnic introduces poet Zvonko Karanović to English-speaking readers, and in the genre of the prose poem, which is extremely rare in the Serbian poetics. Poems in prose were historically written in the age of symbolism, expressionism and surrealism, however Karanović’s poetics formed during the 80s, in the poetic culture of socialist Yugoslavia.

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Laabi
Announcements

Laabi

We announce with pride the release of Perishable Poems (Poèmes Périssables) by Abdellatif Laâbi in a new translation by Peter Thompson, continuing our focus on post-colonial literatures of northern Africa. English speakers can now join Africans and Africa scholars in recognizing Abdellatif Laâbi as Morocco’s preeminent living poet.

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Cadiot at Diálogos
Announcements

Cadiot at Diálogos

Diálogos is pleased to announce the publication of a new translation of French visionary poet Olivier Cadiot. Anna Fitzgerald's translation of his remarkable A Mage in Summer (Un mage en été, original published by POL in 2010), with an introduction by Cole Swensen, is releasing January 1, 2020, with pre-release pricing until then. The book features a cover photo—which is discussed at length in the text—by the great Nan Goldin, used with her generous permission.

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Seasons greetings from Lavender Ink / Diálogos
Announcements

Seasons greetings from Lavender Ink / Diálogos

Seasons greetings from Lavender Ink / Diálogos. If Black Friday left you feeling gray, consider some gift or personal buying from an organization committed not to profiting off of quasi-religious holidays but to reinstating the sacred into the everyday. These new and recent releases are currently offered at sale prices. See what you like below or check out all our new and upcoming releases, currently on sale.

"A dream is a poem disguised as a story," says Rodger Kamenetz. "I had a practice of writing down my dreams  every night but these were not yet poems. One dawn I found the secret: instead of writing down my dream, I could write a poem instead.  A poem in the wake of the dream. That morning Yonder was born." What better form, then, to record the dream than the prose poem? This collection of "proses" from the author of The History of Last Night’s Dream, The Jew in the Lotus and To Die Next To You brims with respect for the genre, with homages to forebears from Baudelaire to Max Jacob, Russel Edson to Kafka, along with Rodger's own unique reinvigorations of the form.

Available in paper and ebook.

 

Infrarealist poet, running buddy of Roberto Bolaño and basis for the character of Ulises Lima in Bolaño’s novel The Savage Detectives, Mario Santiago Papasquiaro was one of the greatest poets of modern Mexico. This full color, limited edition, collects work from Aullido de cisne (1996), Jeta de santo (2008) and Arte & basura (2012), translated by Arturo Mantecon and illustrated with paintings by Maceo Montoya. (The black & white edition is still available also.)

Paperback.

 

This series of essays by and about Irish-American writers traces that heritage from it’s humble origins through the twentieth century. Editor Colin Broderick provides background essays on Brendan Behan’s New York, Maeve Brennan’s heartbreaking decent into madness, Frank McCourt’s rise from school teacher to literary phenomenon, and 23 of today’s top Irish-American authors—including Colum McCann, Peter Quinn, Luanne Rice and Maura Mulligan—provide personal accounts of how they found their voices in the Big Apple.  
And if you're in NYC, join us for the launch party at the Irish Arts Center, Dec. 6, where Malachy McCourt, Luanne Rice and other authors to be announced will read excerpts from the book, followed by a conversation with editor Colin Broderick and live music. Click here for details.

Available in cloth, paperback, and ebook.

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Djaout / Farès: Two New North African Releases
Announcements

Djaout / Farès: Two New North African Releases

On 26 May, 1993, Algerian novelist and activist Tahar Djaout was shot in the head on his way to work in Algiers. He died in a coma a week later. One of his attackers, a member of the Armed Islamic Group, confessed that he was murdered because he "wielded a fearsome pen…", a fact that highlights one of Djaout's more famous quotes: "If you speak, you die, and if you remain silent, you die. So, speak and die." 

Djaout's untimely death at the age of 39 robbed Algeria of one of its great 20th century voices, but not before he produced a corpus of lasting and important novels and books of poetry. We are excited to be releasing, this December, The Bone Seekers (Les chercheurs d’os) in a new translation by esteemed translator Marjolijn de Jager, whose credits include, among many others, Assia Djebar's seminal Children of the New World

The Bone Seekers is set in an Algeria ravaged by the war for independence, narrated by an adolescent boy who sets out, with his uncle and a donkey, from his primitive Kabylian village to find the bones of his brother who was killed in the war. The boy's naive encounters with "the new world" of post-independence Algeria, along with his ruminations on his and his brother's past, culminate in a homecoming that is a realization of the world to come.

We are also releasing—or rather re-releasing, since I published this book, formerly, at UNO Press—another North African title of great significance, Nabile Farès' A Passenger from the West, translated by Peter Thompson. In 1970, Farès was asked to interview James Baldwin in Paris for Jeune Afrique magazine. What begins in this book as an interview with Baldwin confronting the history of Black America leads Farès into a journey through his own past and a broad consideration of the matter of identity in the postcolonial world. The original interview with Baldwin (the only extant English translation) is included.


These two volumes bear comparison at a number of levels. They are both "road novels" that hinge, in very different ways, on the revelations that travel can inspire. And both grapple with the problem of identity (and its now fundamental corollaries of language and nation) in a way that brings to light the real costs of empire building, from the American slave trade to the sacking of Algiers. 

For this reason we would like to offer these two books in a special package deal: Order either one from our website in the month of August, and you will receive the other at no additional cost. Click here to order.

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Papasquiaro in LARB
Accolades

Papasquiaro in LARB

"In death, he is like an apparition. He shows up inconspicuously, tactfully, in a way he never did in life. No matter how deep you look into his past, you won’t find much because most of what he did was impromptu, without a script. He lived in the present, unencumbered, and he left behind a trail of anger and destruction." (From: "Mario Santiago: Infrarrealist and Terrorist", by Ilan Stavans)

Ilan Stavans, who wrote the introduction to Poetry Comes Out of my Mouth, has published an essay on Papasquiaro in Los Angeles Review of Books. Well worth reading. When you get to the end, use the fourth to the last word in the essay as a coupon code and receive 50% off the book price here, until the end of May.

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Passing of Marthe Reed
Announcements

Passing of Marthe Reed

Yesterday, April  10, 2018, Marthe Reed, beloved poet and friend to poets and lovers of poetry all over the world, especially to our community in New Orleans, died, suddenly and tragically, just before she was scheduled to attend the New Orleans Poetry Festival. The festival, this year, will be dedicated to her memory, and we are offering the two books we are so proud to have published, Tender Box: A Wunderkammer, and Nights Reading ::Burton's Thousand and One::, at a special low price, in the hopes of sharing her love and her vision with a wider audience. 

No one ever met Marthe and didn't like her. She will be sorely missed.

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Announcements

NOPF Approaching

The third iteration of the New Orleans Poetry Festival kicks off in less than two weeks, on Friday evening, April 20. It has been rewarding and heartening to organize this gathering, which threatens to host some 200 poets this year. More than 30 small presses and journals are represented in our book fair, and we're excited to have poets from as far away as Hawaii and New Zealand joining us, once again. If you haven't already, check out the lineup and schedule and do what you can to get here and add your own voice to the conversation, which will include more than 60 readings, panels and workshops, with concurrent events running all day Saturday and Sunday and features on Friday and Saturday nights.

Our goal with the fest, originated and organized by Lavender Ink/Diálogos and Trembling Pillow presses, has been to both celebrate and augment our local poetic community, bringing national and international poets and writers to New Orleans and vice versa. We have panels on topics ranging from Infrarealism to Visual Poetry to Collaborative Writing to Translation to Sex Magic to End Times, as well as a wide variety of readings, workshops and performances. More about these in the next newsletter.

To focus today on our features, the fest opens Friday evening with a reading by Louisiana Poet Laureate Jack Bedell, followed by a poetry slam featuring the award winning Baton Rouge Slam Team, followed by music from Kelcy Mae and Ever More Nest.  Saturday night we're happy to present Carolyn Hembree, Tonya M. Foster and performance poet Douglas Kearney, followed by our Poets with Bands show which threatens to reverbrate into the wee hours.

 

https://youtu.be/GNRHEJUpZ0E

 

 

 

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Magazine

Mohamed Loakira

http://www.lavenderink.org/loakira/loakira.jpgIn one of his earliest publications Mohamed Loakira wrote: "The founding space of [my] predilection for writing was, without question, the Jamaa el Fna in Marrakech. This is where, as a child, I learned not to dissociate the voices, rhythms, colors, smells of country cuisine." Those who have visited the Fna (main square) and souks of Marrakech can attest to the social intensity of the experience. The crush of food and textile vendors hawking their wares in Arabic, French and Spanish, snake charmers and tattoo artists (I was naive tourist enough to have a henna pattern applied to my bald head) is a feast of sensations, which might help to explain Loakira's desire to "decompartmentalise modes of writing, seeking fusion, cohabitation and dialogue between the various forms of expression, including my poetry, Moroccan painting, music and the aesthetics of silence." And one might add politics to these modes of writing, as Loakira has always been active in post-colonial politics in both Morocco and France.

Among Loakira's numerous books of poetry and novels, Diálogos is proud to be the first to bring a complete volume of his poems into English with publication of Peter Thompson's translation of …and the spring is veiled over (…et se voile le printemps). The Spring of the title is, at one level, the wave of demonstrations and revolts that swept North Africa and the Middle East in 2010 that came to be called Arab Spring, and the book is both a celebration of the revolutionary spirit and hope that swept the region for that brief moment and a lament for its ultimate failure.

Could this be dawn’s birth, a cloud-piercing,
tinted by flashes at the wide transoms.
A dream of what’s possible, so it seems, set free
and a route reshaped for sharing?
… 
[or]
Might it be bitter miscarriage,
insomnia’s rough-draft
or simply more of current events? (25)

The book pivots on actual or implied or's, as the alternative conjunction infects every poem like the turn of an English sonnet.

Today we present one of the poems (untitled, pages 52-3 in the text) read in both English and French by Peter Thompson. And, today only, we are offering the book at half price.


 

from …and the spring is veiled over (53)

http://www.lavenderink.org/sound/loakira53-pt-en.mp3

 

Or am I forced to endow excess,
assassinate my hopes’ dream of rebirth,
strangling the future with both hands…

Or bend my back under the glosses of preachers
and other exegetes
mutter only in my own silence
while blood flows from the eyes of the partisan dreamer…

Or await in my retiring
the echo of the explosion
and powder the bloodletting with salt that has lost its savor.

There is only unlawful taking, flagellations, amputations,
abductions, ransoms,
devastation, blood and fire.

And may the litany of heresies drone on!


from …et se voile le printemps (52)

http://www.lavenderink.org/sound/loakira53-pt-fr.mp3

 

Ou serais-je contraint à fonder l’outrance,
assassiner le rêve de renaître de mes espérances,
étreignant le futur à mains jointes ...

Ou arrondir le dos sous les gloses des prédicateurs
et autres exégètes
jusqu’à mâchonner le silence
alors que le sang coule des yeux du rêveur partageur ...

Ou attendre dans ma retraite
l’écho de la déflagration
et saupoudrer les saignées de sel affadi.

Il n’est que dépossessions, flagellations, amputations,
rapts, rançons,
que ravage, feu et sang.

Et que s’allonge la liste des hérésies!

  

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Magazine

Mario Santiago Papasquiaro

Mario Santiago Papasquiaro Papasquiaro(pen name of José Alfredo Zendejas Pineda, December 25, 1953 – 1998) was the co-founder, with Roberto Bolaño, of the Infrarrealist Movement and the basis for the character of Ulises Lima in Bolaño’s novel The Savage Detectives. Like Santiago, the Lima character is a wild adventurer and virulent opponent of the canonical Mexican tradition, symbolized especially by Octavio Paz. Santiago made enemies in the Mexican poetry community due to his vocal criticism of what he deemed inferior forms of poetry, the literary elite, and poets themselves. Gaining only slight recognition during his lifetime, he is recognized and lauded by the testimonies of his friends in the Infrarealist movement, especially Bolaño. Though always returning to Mexico City, Santiago traveled widely in Europe and the Americas as was once expelled from Austria. Years later Bolaño said of this incident:

[Santiago] could care less about Austria and Mexico and the United States and the happily defunct Soviet Union and Chile and China, among other reasons because he didn’t believe in countries and the only borders he respected were the borders of dreams, the misty borders of love and indifference, the borders of courage and fear, the golden borders of ethics.

Mario Santiago's style is as indifferent to borders as was his life. The long free verse lines, reminiscent of the American Beats, are irreverent but also erudite, and his work is peppered with allusions and homages to Rimbaud, Artaud, Pound, Beckett, Bataille, Mallarmé, Burroughs, Brautigan, Shakespeare and others. He has not been widely translated, partially because he was inattentive to publication while he was alive, leaving behind only one complete collection but reams of poems on bar napkins and the backs of flyers. Diálogos is proud to bring out Poetry Comes out of My Mouth, the first major collection of his work to be released in English, illustrated by the paintings of Maceo Montoya and with a superb introduction by Ilan Stavans. You can preorder a copy, today only, for half price.

Here's a poem from the collection, read in English and Spanish by translator Arturo Mantecón.


Implacable Song

http://www.lavenderink.org/sound/mantecon2.mp3

I shit on God

& on all of his dead

I shit on the communion host

& the virgin’s little cunt

I shit on the dead

of the God of God

on the master morality of Friedrich Nietzsche

on the trembling body on my soul

& on the exposed nettles of the atheist

on the premature death of the righteous

on the fleeting nature of coitus & its flash

On the animal verb

On rhizome-like imagination

On the texts of fully weaned wisdom

On the ass crack of the planets

I shit

Concentrating on the wildfire of my pores

on this alcohol undergrowth that thrashes me

on the infinite eye of my footprints

on the savage fury of shameful chaos

on impossible death & its offerings

On the mud of the asp that suns itself

on the rocks of the beloved

on the levitation of my skull & bones

on the lame heart of the unspeakable

On the aqueous aleph of my stigmata

on the vitreous rash of my assassin

on the hand of pleasure

on the drug wedged in his front teeth

On the philanthropic ogre & his wife

on the wretched grave of chance

on the germ of lyrical poetry / which is a turd

On the airborne horseshit

on the sleep sand in the eyes of moles

on the all-splendored cranium of Charleville

On the rats still fleeing from the Drunken Sea

on the soft

on the flabby

& on the defenseless

On the toads’ belch of ether

on boiling blood

on the shadows

on the pink phlegm of the daybreak

on the insensate glass I have chosen for a road

in the canyons of swollen Venus

On the banquet platter

in the little chamber pots of the ceasefire

on the rotten toadstool & its trident

On the genealogical tumor of the US Army

on the extensive lineage of shit

Abyss & resplendency / chance & wind

Open vein from coccyx to clavicle

Lateness of pregnancy

/ Flame of muffled harps

On groins without the armpits of God-inventorofthedead

on the suave & multiple murmur made by 2 teardrops

 : on the sea : on its deserts :

& on myself


Canción implacable

http://www.lavenderink.org/sound/mantecon1.mp3

Me cago en Dios

& en todos sus muertos

Me cago en la hostia

& en el coñito de la virgen

Me cago en los muertos

del Dios de Dios

en la soberbia de Federico Nietzsche

en el cuerpo tembloroso de mi alma

& en las ortigas al aire del ateo

en la muerte prematura de los justos

en la fugacidad del coito & sus centellas

En el verbo animal

En la imaginación-rizoma

En los textos del saber tan destetado

En la raja de los mundos

Yo me cago

Concentrado en el incendio de mis poros

en este alcohol-maleza que me cimbra

en el ojo infinito de mis huellas

en el furor salvaje del desmadre

en la imposible muerte & sus ofrendas

En el barro del áspid que calienta

en las rocas de la amada

en la levitación de mi calaca

en el cojo corazón de lo innombrable

En el aleph acuoso de mis llagas

en la vítrea desazón de mi asesino

en la mano del placer

en la droga anidada en sus colmillos

En el ogro filantrópico & su esposa

en la tumba del azar tan manoseada

en el germen de la lírica / que es caca

En la boñiga aérea

en las lagañas topas

en el cráneo todo resplandor de Charleville

En las ratas que aún huyen del Mar Ebrio

en lo blando

en lo fofo

& en lo inerme

En el eructo del éter de los sapos

en las sangres hirvientes

en las sombras

en el rosa gargajo de las albas

en el vidrio insensato que he escogido como calle

en las barrancas de Venus tumefacta

En el platón del festín

en las bacinicas de la tregua

en el hongo podrido & su tridente

En el genealógico tumor de la US Army

en el extenso linaje de la mierda

Abismo & resplandor / azar & viento

Vena abierta de cocxis a clavícula

Regazo de embriaguez

/ Llama de arpas embozadas

En las ingles sin axilas de Dios-inventamuertos

en el suave & múltiple rumor que hacen 2 lágrimas

 : en el mar : en sus desiertos :

& en mí mismo

 

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Magazine

Megan Burns Basic Programming

Megan Burns has an uncanny ability to adapt language, concretely, into a correspondent of the broken world it attempts to traverse. In her writing grammar itself becomes the "objective correlative" Eliot imagined as an abstract image corresponding to an emotional state, each trace and fissure in the language mapping a lesion in the individual and social psyche. To "program" is to incant a set of instructions to an automaton, which is then left with no choice but to enact them, unless somewhere in the process something is broken, a gate left closed, or some tiny misprision in the now antique etymologies of Basic set it off on an errant path.

Megan is no stranger to Lavender Ink. This will be her fourth book so far, and she serves, as well, as our co-conspirator at the New Orleans Poetry Festival, where Basic Programming will release this April, with the launch party Thursday, April 20, at Dogfish. You can preorder your copy, today only, for half off even the low preorder price.

Today we are featuring one poem from the book, along with Megan's reading of it. 


110   <               > 

http://www.lavenderink.org/sound/110.m4a

what I do/ bemoan loss/ my betrayal/ what’s good/ never
traveled a land of dead to get me/ would you/ never waded my city
to pull photos from floodwater stained walls/ would you/ never tried 
to pull my spine, notch vertebrae notch through back where I’m split/ spit on me/ would you/ never lowered yourself into mud spewing vomit, your lies that bile thick hanging from your chin/ or clawed your eyes out to not see pain you cause me/would you/ never put muzzle back of my head/ but you did/ never pulled trigger sending metal biting through wishes, dreams, nightmares / never put your mouth on mine & sucked out my breath or put it back in/wouldyou/wouldyou/wouldyou/ never swallowed fistfuls of pages I wrote all you choking down till your rib cage burst filled articles of contrition/ my fucking nouns/ my fucking verbs slurped/ boat me. lover, boat me shore to shore cement blocked/ love me way down to rocky flats of our muddy river where I swirl/ twirl sounds loud bubbling break surface/ my face eaten by shame/ some living/ would you/ never cut me to pieces spread far/ over bridge, down by rocks/ into basin/ interstated/ beach full of fingers & toes/ would you/ would you lick off my fingerprints/ would you/ would you lick off my fingerprints/ would you pull my tongue out to poke that wormy root/ feel it, tip of your tongue/ suckle my eyelids off/ put your fist inside/ me put both fists inside me/ applaud would you would you what’s good/ love me like you mean it/ don’t mean it & leave me here clothed/ meaning it/ leaving me able to walk away/ meaning it/ & I have my wits about me/ I’m still moving/ I’m still sounds & voice & terror/& you mean it/ I mean to be obliterated & you give me love/ love/ what’s good?

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Magazine

Mamasafari / Olja Savičević

OljaThose of you who have read the novel Adios, Cowboy by Olja Savičević, released in the US by McSweeney's in 2016, will find our excitement over Mamasafari, releasing from Diálogos in September, understandable. When Cowboy released in the UK in 2015, The Guardian and The Irish Times hailed the author as an important new European voice. And even the American reviews have praised with the usual plot summaries, ignoring Olja's ear for dialogue and eye for image and sensory detail, qualities which are brought to the fore in Mamasafari.

AndreaToday we are featuring the title poem from this book, read by translator Andrea Jurjević, and we are featuring the book on the website, with a one-day half-price deal, half off even the low pre-order price. Mamasafari will officially release in September, but pre-orders will likely ship this summer. 

In the meantime, we also encourage you to check out Adios, Cowboy at McSweeney's.  

 


Mamasafari

Olja Savičević
translated and read by Andrea Jurjević
(original Croatian follows the English reading)

http://www.lavenderink.org/sound/mamasafari.mp3

 

Some people live and die worse than their cows.

When the people were taken away, cows lowed in the fields until they died.

When I talk about this to colleagues, they turn to one another, as if I’m crazy.

How do you talk about that at conferences? That’s much too practical for conferences.

That’s too practical even for poetry.

I remember the meadow where I cry because I’m scared of a little dog, of the woods in which I get lost, and the dog finds me.

In the photographs they used to bring to us, shaggy new grass and wild onions had grown from the ashes.

Mom’s a stranger today, and she’s going on a fieldtrip, on a safari to her own country.

Are there flowers, where the two of us are going with a Gianni rental, growing from the uncle’s green vertebra. Or does someone’s tomato stake jut from Grandma’s toothless mouth.

We’ll get a rental in a nearby town.

When finally we go to our mountain.

We’ve been planning this safari for twenty years, every spring.

 

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Magazine

Lazer et. al. (The Magazine #7)

Hank Lazer's Thinking in Jewish (N20) is the twentieth notebook in his shape-writing series, drawing on Jewish traditions of text-and-commentary in conversation on the same page, this one in dialogue with the writings of Emmanuel Levinas. These handwritten poems rather problematize the notion of "line" and are visually as well as audibly and conceptually striking, as you can see from these thumbnails of pages 11, 12 and 13:

11  12  13

Click on any of these to load a high resolution version. I like to load them on my phone, lock the screen, then zoom in and rotate the phone as the poems shift direction.

We are launching Thinking in Jewish this Wednesday in New Orleans with a special event at the Bloodjet Poetry Series, hosted by Trembling Pillow Press director Megan Burns. If you're in town, please stop by and enjoy. If you're not in town and want to come, let us know and we'll skype you in, or something... And if you just want to get a copy of the book, you can pick one up from the website for half price, today only.

Reading with Hank will be a "local poet" named Lavender. He has a bad foot (I mean the physical kind) and doesn't get out much, preferring to sit at his computer and write things like this. So come see this rare in-the-flesh appearance. He'll be reading some from Surrealism, his book on our site, including a few in Spanish, translated by Argentine poet Enrique Solinas, and also from one of his (many) grossly underappreciated volumes from Trembling Pillow, Transfixion. Here's one from that book:

 

me

http://www.lavenderink.org/sounds/me.m4a

 

come taste this

fruit little gunner

he said

sailing like

a blind fool

his fake neutral air

drowned in a book

a crook in town

to repent but

it was too late

in the cold living room

to take off

his tie

to touch

the strange lumps

beneath the pine 

 

blackbirds boozy

the emperor's drunken

soldiery abed

seen over &

over same old

sea same old

sound

shrill & summery

that even in

slumber caused

his cheek to

glow every man every

woman carries

this filament

life predestined

surly & interested like

the coming on of rain 

 

I infect with

meaning something exact

as reality's dark

dream when the

lanterns go out

the matching skullcap

& map of brain

his peatbrown head 

 

music from a far off room

like these

mountains this

infinite movement

mingling with all

sound all

thought the dull

sobbing draft

that moans the

image of your public self

 

hoarse from

days drinking

anticipating a message

to the armies of

those engulfed

in black water 

 

why does his mind

envy reed & hawthorne

is it to have

a point again

arranging & changing

& placing the eye

again dehumanized 

 

he has a dozen hands

& pollackesque friends

to make germinate

language as

a choir of worms

saying names

like money spent

on misconceptions

whose silver cargo

vision banished

 

when they pulled me

from the sack

I reeked of you

I defiled you

the ways you live

your secrets of life

joined in spite

in the attics of

old houses

proud full of verse

what little town

by river or sea

gates the flaming

word that is yourself 

 

what pursuit what

struggle to escape

cuffed & clawed

but not crying

what wilderness future

light of our knowledge

yields this penelope

who would reduce

our banter to

rules of probability

 

planted on a starlit

golden bough

the necessary

the tap

the tap that

nothing satisfies

but self remembering

self its former height

its discordant strains

its brain that ink

may mark with vineboughs 

 

he lay

back eyes closed

the eyes of

youth to roll

it is a journey he said

of the curious

not to be wed forever

but like one who watches

down the row of

statues to see

the divine nimbus

a music

a rose colored

dress 

 

we took our seats

& ghosts & armies

came down

green butterflies

from the age of love 

 

shadows of

earthly vehicles 

 

the sea of air

the perfumed

agony of a trance 

 

you who gave me

my first you 

 

you where I

is a roomful of clothes 

 

flame that no

fuel feeds nor

steel has lit 

 

flame from

before the surprise

before affection &

shame 

 

your body 

 

your loves 

 

your farewell 

 

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