after AD's Help: not a poem, etc.
Not a poem is not a poem is not a poem
by many other names
a poem
its licks from the impossible real
aligned without a seam
to know.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Box of Sky: skeleton poem by Amanda Deutch
After "Drowsing" by Sean S and "Not" by JKD
light comes and goes brush to blanks pre–coital drowsing in the
clatter trap door last body flirtation smack of windows winking
lovers spent as slipping though snow clouding and flutters
down below Skeletal imprints lured to only shut eyes
an indication of space traces the body a few steps
towards red lights and holding bees
how to index the days
Tactile Light by AD
after JKD's response to my own, "Help: not a poem"
an indication of space
traces her
tactile maneuvering
lured to red lights
touching bees
indexing the days
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Drowsing by Sean S
after Waking by JKD
starlings start from your banks by the seine
clouding and down again.
grass flutters
spring winds satellites winking like spent lovers
now that the snow is gone.
your drowsing steps over images of clattering
crisp october leaves slipping through with a trap-door
jolt pinprick back in your May(fly) body
a last flirtatious smack of wakefulness
before palms and fingers
the post-coital motion of that streamered flock
only a few shut-eye steps from Williamson, from K's house
brush you to blanks.
ps. you know: lovers come and go
going still so more hopeful than a drawing-room michelangelo.
starlings start from your banks by the seine
clouding and down again.
grass flutters
spring winds satellites winking like spent lovers
now that the snow is gone.
your drowsing steps over images of clattering
crisp october leaves slipping through with a trap-door
jolt pinprick back in your May(fly) body
a last flirtatious smack of wakefulness
before palms and fingers
the post-coital motion of that streamered flock
only a few shut-eye steps from Williamson, from K's house
brush you to blanks.
ps. you know: lovers come and go
going still so more hopeful than a drawing-room michelangelo.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Not by JKD
After Amanda's "Help, not a poem" (tee-hee-hee:)
FYI: the answer to her question has been provided by others in the comments section off her post, in case that can help you, too!
Help, not a poem
Not an index, space, asterisk
No indication of text
To tactile manoeuvrings
Red lights
A bee or anteater
How in her lugging
Heaps of her
Traces
FYI: the answer to her question has been provided by others in the comments section off her post, in case that can help you, too!
Help, not a poem
Not an index, space, asterisk
No indication of text
To tactile manoeuvrings
Red lights
A bee or anteater
How in her lugging
Heaps of her
Traces
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Help: not a poem
How do I put spaces/indents/tabs into the text?! George and Jen you seem to know how to do this. Thanks. Excuse my luddition.
Over My Side Walk by Amanda D, After “New” by Sean S. , “Waking” by JKD and “Piece” by Jill Darling
another rash half asleep
startling
old bones
curtain of body
****reveal and re-member
*********after**** burning**** through**** tunnels**** of days
self sinks
******back
****** into skin self
re- rooted and
bright as eyes
no longer di skeletal or hanging limp
mildew flicked off
new ground uncovered
skeleton inside skin
perennially with seasons—thick and continual, dirty
roots
reach deeper into ground
Friday, January 25, 2008
COME IN by JKD
After Barbara Beck’s “Drive-By”, “Roppongi” by « Maitresse », & “On She Sells” by Sean S
Only wishing lonely lodgers would write poems on caryatids, or construct conveyor belts for the archdiocese's overabundance of romantic poetry terms no longer allotted to speech-givers. Sign of the times, snap-up, step-up to modernism, post, post, pre next something or other, each scene bathing another in sale stock Bed, Bath & Beyond essential oils, carrying to the following place, following on, a follow-up question to stop itself from going, there, in, no, No, Mr Frost, I have not been—and would rather—well, you know the rest. Cher Dracula, cher Peter (keep your keys), counted in a cantique or canteen onstage musicality of, last night in Lyon, ce soir, leaning close to the stage, the audience, the after aftermath of, as a tourniquet signalled in the charade of lights, action, freighted words, fretted, as in a groove, a dip, a well-oiled machine would seize a man’s tongue, a gaze glazed or packed in snow, glacial, where linguists ice-pick picked a way forth. Slip (of the tongue, a tooth) or slide down, chip-chipped chickadee then glide up, azure air as in, fair-weather friend, a tail feather, a cap in your… Then tea, coffee—with cream, please, no sugar—No syrupy sweet serenades in this decade, this decadence of new start twenty-first end last century evol/devolution. Quiet quips as in a shape-shifter, a drifter in delirium tremens-dreams too scenic, too obscene (Romeo and Juliette? Julio and Ramiro? Othello meets Medea?) to pass the passage along into a maze, offer a sifter, sniff, er, uh—would you care for a drink, a manifesto? Overshoulder, tinned coils hinged fishily to the eye socket, says, sails, sales. It’s all in a homonym, a can-opener, a set of worms in a bocal, a mason jar, rather this official official stamps an O.K.!, this censor’s cantankerous about what constitutes a 'canton', a 'coven', a curious 'castration of canticles'. Between one language and the rest, what strings’ endless needles threading thinly back are broken over, up? Over this and that, this and this space, just a, or as, purgatorio, oratorio, Babylonian orange in the tinny tangy sauce of lips, spittle, tongue, larynx linked or lately to seal up moldy books, lead-painted vocabularies moulded into, onto the clay of timelike many lines, skinny lines or time travel trader traipsers along the shoals, shores, brine. Couplets. Tercets. Quintuplets. Such a barbarian in rhyme, out of, the lodgers crypt, (e-) quipped, gripped poetry atop the highrise, the heelwise, scampering squeak of mouseketeers (a crises of overpopulation) like musket-carrying card-carrying NRGers, NPRers, Nything goers. All have the right to bare, constitutionally bound into the thicket of the spa, verses barely able to cover (for) themselves. Order out, instead.
Only wishing lonely lodgers would write poems on caryatids, or construct conveyor belts for the archdiocese's overabundance of romantic poetry terms no longer allotted to speech-givers. Sign of the times, snap-up, step-up to modernism, post, post, pre next something or other, each scene bathing another in sale stock Bed, Bath & Beyond essential oils, carrying to the following place, following on, a follow-up question to stop itself from going, there, in, no, No, Mr Frost, I have not been—and would rather—well, you know the rest. Cher Dracula, cher Peter (keep your keys), counted in a cantique or canteen onstage musicality of, last night in Lyon, ce soir, leaning close to the stage, the audience, the after aftermath of, as a tourniquet signalled in the charade of lights, action, freighted words, fretted, as in a groove, a dip, a well-oiled machine would seize a man’s tongue, a gaze glazed or packed in snow, glacial, where linguists ice-pick picked a way forth. Slip (of the tongue, a tooth) or slide down, chip-chipped chickadee then glide up, azure air as in, fair-weather friend, a tail feather, a cap in your… Then tea, coffee—with cream, please, no sugar—No syrupy sweet serenades in this decade, this decadence of new start twenty-first end last century evol/devolution. Quiet quips as in a shape-shifter, a drifter in delirium tremens-dreams too scenic, too obscene (Romeo and Juliette? Julio and Ramiro? Othello meets Medea?) to pass the passage along into a maze, offer a sifter, sniff, er, uh—would you care for a drink, a manifesto? Overshoulder, tinned coils hinged fishily to the eye socket, says, sails, sales. It’s all in a homonym, a can-opener, a set of worms in a bocal, a mason jar, rather this official official stamps an O.K.!, this censor’s cantankerous about what constitutes a 'canton', a 'coven', a curious 'castration of canticles'. Between one language and the rest, what strings’ endless needles threading thinly back are broken over, up? Over this and that, this and this space, just a, or as, purgatorio, oratorio, Babylonian orange in the tinny tangy sauce of lips, spittle, tongue, larynx linked or lately to seal up moldy books, lead-painted vocabularies moulded into, onto the clay of timelike many lines, skinny lines or time travel trader traipsers along the shoals, shores, brine. Couplets. Tercets. Quintuplets. Such a barbarian in rhyme, out of, the lodgers crypt, (e-) quipped, gripped poetry atop the highrise, the heelwise, scampering squeak of mouseketeers (a crises of overpopulation) like musket-carrying card-carrying NRGers, NPRers, Nything goers. All have the right to bare, constitutionally bound into the thicket of the spa, verses barely able to cover (for) themselves. Order out, instead.
Drive-by by Barbara Beck
Mostly after untitled by Sean S
Glance over my shoulder
at roadside charades --
man seized by paralysis
child squeezed between
banks of packed snow.
Quiet starts as shape-holder
too freighted for words.
Each scene bathing
in its light, each question
a tourniquet to stop itself.
Glance over my shoulder
at roadside charades --
man seized by paralysis
child squeezed between
banks of packed snow.
Quiet starts as shape-holder
too freighted for words.
Each scene bathing
in its light, each question
a tourniquet to stop itself.
Roppongi
by Maitresse
after "Sheltered Lengths" by Jennifer K. Dick
what am I doing here in this cement garden? what am I doing with my nose-blowing and head-bobbing, offending?
such a well brought-up girl, such a barbarian
what am I doing here where the rent's high and money's low? what am I doing with him paying and me looking, away?
such a strong girl, such a wet rag
what am I doing writing poetry in a high rise, with a maid service, with a spa?
poetry's done in the street
it's done in the thick of it
seems it's also done in the thin, atop a duvet thick with money.
after "Sheltered Lengths" by Jennifer K. Dick
what am I doing here in this cement garden? what am I doing with my nose-blowing and head-bobbing, offending?
such a well brought-up girl, such a barbarian
what am I doing here where the rent's high and money's low? what am I doing with him paying and me looking, away?
such a strong girl, such a wet rag
what am I doing writing poetry in a high rise, with a maid service, with a spa?
poetry's done in the street
it's done in the thick of it
seems it's also done in the thin, atop a duvet thick with money.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
On She Sells by Sean S
After "Pertinacious" by J K Dick
into wishing lonely lodgers shove stopgaps
bicycles to wince and crease across flawed avenues
thickets swallowing towers sails weighted
misting up quiet waves frayed wind drizzling muggy hours
seastars piss a rhyme right over a hanging tongue of shadow
oh many lights brine the shoals of our handbones' promenade
muffling our eyes the taste of split in the mouths shouts of
ALLELUIA ALLELUIA YOU FUCKER of berry iambic captively opaque
pop and hiss tin fish pressed to oil thinly hinged coils on she sells
sea shells she sells
into wishing lonely lodgers shove stopgaps
bicycles to wince and crease across flawed avenues
thickets swallowing towers sails weighted
misting up quiet waves frayed wind drizzling muggy hours
seastars piss a rhyme right over a hanging tongue of shadow
oh many lights brine the shoals of our handbones' promenade
muffling our eyes the taste of split in the mouths shouts of
ALLELUIA ALLELUIA YOU FUCKER of berry iambic captively opaque
pop and hiss tin fish pressed to oil thinly hinged coils on she sells
sea shells she sells
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Waking by JKD
After "Envelope" by Sean S
Over my shoulder startling bright as snow
tight as blue corpuscles, starlings for eyes
bank hard against the squeezed rash of
ice shambles or pinpricks mistaken for a body
half asleep still in the envelope of K’s house
gum and slip, cars and trucks after cocoa
hot coals or codas, we signal one or another
through mail slots, down cables, along underwater
valleys over streamered satellites I lick
curtains of sleep from your body to let sunlight
through, a few steps from Williamson, gently
as blanks fired into the night sky spark
fuchsia silken dahlia petals in you taste of
rose as burning day smacked through us
already broken
Over my shoulder startling bright as snow
tight as blue corpuscles, starlings for eyes
bank hard against the squeezed rash of
ice shambles or pinpricks mistaken for a body
half asleep still in the envelope of K’s house
gum and slip, cars and trucks after cocoa
hot coals or codas, we signal one or another
through mail slots, down cables, along underwater
valleys over streamered satellites I lick
curtains of sleep from your body to let sunlight
through, a few steps from Williamson, gently
as blanks fired into the night sky spark
fuchsia silken dahlia petals in you taste of
rose as burning day smacked through us
already broken
New: untitled (envelope?)
by sean s
Over my shoulder the hard banks of snow squeeze
the rush of cars and trucks as tight as blue corpuscles.
The sidewalks are ice shambles.
The envelope of Jenifer quiet starts only
a few steps from Williamson.
I lick the gum and slip myself through
the mail slot of K's house.
After hot cocoa she smacks her lips deliciously.
Pulls the curtains open to let the sunlight in
starting bright off the snow.
Over my shoulder the hard banks of snow squeeze
the rush of cars and trucks as tight as blue corpuscles.
The sidewalks are ice shambles.
The envelope of Jenifer quiet starts only
a few steps from Williamson.
I lick the gum and slip myself through
the mail slot of K's house.
After hot cocoa she smacks her lips deliciously.
Pulls the curtains open to let the sunlight in
starting bright off the snow.
Friday, January 18, 2008
E-Flesh by Jill Darling
after skulture by george v. in dec 2007
contorted virtual performance
of parts
in color and dripping
like cyber images
melting my tongue
like crunchy words
linking worlds
moist love flickers fades
touch
touch
only one finger
away
contorted virtual performance
of parts
in color and dripping
like cyber images
melting my tongue
like crunchy words
linking worlds
moist love flickers fades
touch
touch
only one finger
away
piece by piece
after j. dick's pertinacious and s. chenette's shard
tin bones
shin boned
skeletal hanging glimpse
of bone dust
rusted thick and
flaking
a continual
perennial flowering
into the ground
of spring
and every season
(dis)
(re)
membered
tin bones
shin boned
skeletal hanging glimpse
of bone dust
rusted thick and
flaking
a continual
perennial flowering
into the ground
of spring
and every season
(dis)
(re)
membered
New: Travel 1 by Barbara Beck
they try out doors pretrip
for free spitting and searching
laugh at all the right places
remain amateurs waving signs
daredevil dull & experiential
eyeball the area beguilements
time-passing kind of learn
any unusual games jobs, marriages
plastic raincoats in pantomime
what to take along almost pure bonus
senses ongo same as home
is red are green
walk hard first-person together
and little beyond
for free spitting and searching
laugh at all the right places
remain amateurs waving signs
daredevil dull & experiential
eyeball the area beguilements
time-passing kind of learn
any unusual games jobs, marriages
plastic raincoats in pantomime
what to take along almost pure bonus
senses ongo same as home
is red are green
walk hard first-person together
and little beyond
Thursday, January 17, 2008
I.D.ed Nude by J K Dick, after G Vance's 'How it started'
I.D.ed nude
before a thousand certitudes
all wonder fixed
to stoned words
as if
after
an object comes in surrounded
masked
to be so un-, so under-
protected
....................presented
gets shrouded in thinged vocabularies
eve
worded
flees
before a thousand certitudes
all wonder fixed
to stoned words
as if
after
an object comes in surrounded
masked
to be so un-, so under-
protected
....................presented
gets shrouded in thinged vocabularies
eve
worded
flees
The Objects
by Sue Chenette after gvance’s "How it Started" and JD’s "Pertinacious" and "Sheltered Lengths"
Wary of words
they stood naked in limning light,
brightly opaque, perennial.
It was the bangles tempted them,
half-scrawled with the glamour
of being named,
and so they acquiesced when
jibberish held out a braceleted arm
beginning the long dance.
^^^^^^^^^^^
by Sue Chenette after gvance’s "How it Started" and JD’s "Pertinacious" and "Sheltered Lengths"
Wary of words
they stood naked in limning light,
brightly opaque, perennial.
It was the bangles tempted them,
half-scrawled with the glamour
of being named,
and so they acquiesced when
jibberish held out a braceleted arm
beginning the long dance.
^^^^^^^^^^^
New: how it started
by gvance
words
before......all wonder
after
a thousand certitudes
saidmarkedfixed asifstone
an object comes in surrounded
masked protected presented vehiculed shrouded
gets worded
thinged
flees its wonderwear: ID'd nude
^^^^
words
before......all wonder
after
a thousand certitudes
saidmarkedfixed asifstone
an object comes in surrounded
masked protected presented vehiculed shrouded
gets worded
thinged
flees its wonderwear: ID'd nude
^^^^
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Pertinacious by J K Dick
After "Shine" by Sommer Browning
the tin fish bone dislodged a shopping bag
Inscribed sentences crossed half-scrawl bangles
thick with wallowing, what tours you ailed
Muzzled tourniquets weaved to freighters
sea pasted the limelight in the shadow’s hangover
How many might shine his coastal white sand serenade
muffled eyes glint pasted over mouth, someone’s shout
This Captains’ Alleluia a forecast of brightly opaque perennial
presidents a prescience of things to come on shore
the tin fish bone dislodged a shopping bag
Inscribed sentences crossed half-scrawl bangles
thick with wallowing, what tours you ailed
Muzzled tourniquets weaved to freighters
sea pasted the limelight in the shadow’s hangover
How many might shine his coastal white sand serenade
muffled eyes glint pasted over mouth, someone’s shout
This Captains’ Alleluia a forecast of brightly opaque perennial
presidents a prescience of things to come on shore
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Ending
by gvance before JD's Pertinacious
I donno the beginning
the b-beginning
of the I donno
what beginning of
which inscribed shoppingbagsentence
muzzled by the freighted tourniquets
how they crampdown or
how
howmany m-mights
sh-sh-shone through the hangover-serenade
beginning of things-to-come, the opaque shore
^^^^^^
I donno the beginning
the b-beginning
of the I donno
what beginning of
which inscribed shoppingbagsentence
muzzled by the freighted tourniquets
how they crampdown or
how
howmany m-mights
sh-sh-shone through the hangover-serenade
beginning of things-to-come, the opaque shore
^^^^^^
Sheltered Lengths by Jennifer K Dick
After “Height” by Jill Darling posted Nov 17th, and after “After Art After Shadow” by L Mullen posted Nov 9th, 2007.
How many spaces can you take
a way
less
half-light \
growing overgrey
...............................say mislaid
among eucalyptus
cut at the root
rolled
creaking
two-quarter
body in pieces failing
to sum
flash / light
metallic
mixed up
beneath
breadth or width or, say,
take a face
between
words
a part
............round
.......................suspended
.......................under the bed
clouds (closetsfull)
of spiders
in body abruptly written
able bodied off
by the coverlet's
ledge in voice
somewhat gruffer
muffle memorabilia
reassembled in
that small glass gathering
a missing
figure
cradled start
again with the eyes
circumferences
angled
a sort of jibberish
shed
sheltering
limp or limbs
scattered
as mists
or misses
targeted galaxies between this side and
How many spaces can you take
a way
less
half-light \
growing overgrey
...............................say mislaid
among eucalyptus
cut at the root
rolled
creaking
two-quarter
body in pieces failing
to sum
flash / light
metallic
mixed up
beneath
breadth or width or, say,
take a face
between
words
a part
............round
.......................suspended
.......................under the bed
clouds (closetsfull)
of spiders
in body abruptly written
able bodied off
by the coverlet's
ledge in voice
somewhat gruffer
muffle memorabilia
reassembled in
that small glass gathering
a missing
figure
cradled start
again with the eyes
circumferences
angled
a sort of jibberish
shed
sheltering
limp or limbs
scattered
as mists
or misses
targeted galaxies between this side and
Thursday, January 3, 2008
See-weaved
by gvance after A. Deut(s)ch’s ‘From atop a garbage heap...’
take a propergander wi’ yer brain raisin’:
bell pepper bone-to-bone wi' cornpops
&
ill-eagle-eyed po’try pasted to fit in
saliva, queen’s bodygas and cornered spy’s glasses
just what-the freedumbdoc scribed on ‘s splotchymussels mag
Tuh-ride & Tuh-roo
allez! loue-yaself ‘n empty machine – mystery-priced but overcostly
keep on trainin’:
’t’s the checkout line
^^^^^^
take a propergander wi’ yer brain raisin’:
bell pepper bone-to-bone wi' cornpops
&
ill-eagle-eyed po’try pasted to fit in
saliva, queen’s bodygas and cornered spy’s glasses
just what-the freedumbdoc scribed on ‘s splotchymussels mag
Tuh-ride & Tuh-roo
allez! loue-yaself ‘n empty machine – mystery-priced but overcostly
keep on trainin’:
’t’s the checkout line
^^^^^^
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