all on one line

obdurate ennui. on night's wan filigree scales, it doesn't weigh much.

quasi-antepenultimate

shudder, Atropos
the shears are blunt and useless --
someone's cut paper.

haiku & four tanka

a lava flood of
frauds, maladministrations:
archaeology.
we subside in realtime, beh-
happy Friday; bon courage.
12 sept 2014 - Lafcadio Hearn would have recognized these forms.

autumn's second wind
night sirens in October
stop counting sounds, please--
some sleep, some dance, some suffer
and you're wide awake writing.
5 oct

would you had your own
sustenance, abundant streams,
endless verdant fields.
would the world were not so dry,
every axis were equal.
18 nov:  
"nobody ever said life was gonna be fair" 
-karen lambert, 6th grade gym class, 1996 

at least, in abstract
we are satori dancing
all shy, tentative embrace...
then we go supernova
on contact in open air.
25 nov - as it burns

At night, the wind tells
only as much as the stars
cannot spell themselves.
19 oct

an enchanted sentiment

flowers I send my Valentine,
passionate, their colours deep
shout of a lover on my mind...
as long, at least, as memories keep.

appropriately, they last a week
then mummification -- the compost heap.

 2/20/14, edited 6/9/22 -- al baterista, siempre

in an indefensible place

open chest, insert javelin here --
the parade began with a cymbal clash.
the evening wore silk lipstick secrets
and hovered, leering, six inches too near.
now there's one you can trust to talk:
spitting out coffee grinds, cigarette ash,
marking out a bed in makeshift chalk
she'll recline on an earnest error and hiss
the synopsis to morning, dozy with bliss.

you mean cupid wasn't an archer by trade?
as accurate, yes, but less likely to balk.
his arm, if the arrow proves poorly made
aims naked hope at the dullest brow
those sweet, sad eyes perfectly mourning
the projectile as it leaves his hand
the graceful arc tracing the fatal line
of how much you never know at the time
but lord, don't you now!

thank god for the shiftless night,
the gypsy caravan returns to the city.
ambrosia hangovers are flippant and light
like day-old ignorance dispensed in pity.
maybe sell this all as an enthralling perfume
(for those who don't mind bee stings
or appalling twists of outrageous fortune)
but mind a light touch as you measure.
see, care didn't warn me on the pensive road back
drifted off, as usual, in a mistaken pleasure
dizzy on the vapors of giddy regret
and all the cautions that fools forget.

so. brunch in the graveyard, mid-afternoon?
I shall come with the wine, yes, but not in black.
the love I hadn't met, I heard he was dying.
first came the press of a future lack,
and then the relief, the grateful sighing --
I plan to attend the funeral, soon.
for Zack 
coepta 23 feb 2013
desita 19 feb 2014

a brief message from Alfonsina Storni

Subconciencia
Has hablado, has hablado y me he dormido.
Pero duermo y no duermo, porque siento
que estoy bajo el supremo pensamiento:
vivo, viviré siempre y he vivido.

Has hablado, has hablado y he caído
en un marasmo... cede hasta el aliento.
Tiempo atrás, en las sombras, me he perdido:
estoy ciega. No tengo sentimiento.

Como el espacio soy, como el vacío.
Es una sombra todo el cuerpo mío
y puedo como el humo levantarme:

Oigo soplos etéreos... sobrehumanos...
Sujétame a la tierra con tus manos,
que si el viento se mueve ha de llevarme.

Subconscience
You've talked, you've talked and I've fallen asleep
But I sleep and do not sleep, because I perceive
that I am beneath the highest thought:
I live, I shall always live, and I have lived.

You've talked, you've talked and I have fallen
into a paralysis... even my breath stops.
Some time ago, in the shadows, I got lost:
I am blind. I have no feeling.

I am like space, like the void.
A shadow is my entire body
and I can rise like smoke:

I hear ethereal sighs... superhuman...
Bind me to the earth with your hands,
for if the wind blows, it must carry me away.

translated 6th Nov 2013

letter to a cousin

epistles sent to dead men's daughters
quite rightly; our last names rhyme
trees with roots in cloudbank quarters
all earth gives way to air, in time.

morning noise

tuna niçoise
trituration
tiramisu
treachery
tessellated
thyroidal
tone-deaf
titillating
tulle