Past language, this writing

by JKD, after Jill d's pass, or

fierce unarticulated
you
hanging
air strung
out or
seethe now
glare
i

i
firmly unwriting
underbelly of
each
letter
this you
and what is not
printed
here

hear
the i between
consonants
consternation blending
into that which
was said
to be
you

you
overheard
scratched out
impulse
matter forms
of i
instants without
beginnings
unformed
of

of
the informal
matters taken out
of contexts
i remove(-d)
from you
blank
page(s)
uncovering mumbled
stretches
equal

equal-
distanciation for footing
as in cursive
ink undone
you
glimpsed
past beat
which i
was it
as sound
once
a bee

a be
-ing back
in this
red
word
this one you
flat i
between the slip
of yes
this page
spaced before
the next

pass, or

by jill d. after sean s. how to write

you are telling me
hanging over
seething
or glare

i dislike
i disagree
you firm unspeaking

each letter
un-mattering
doing other than what
matters

seething
or a fierce
impulse
(not)articulated

each (un)word
(not spoken)
fierce quiet covering

like a blanket of
(the insane mumble a search
for balance
or listening
to the unsaid)
covering
each
beat

how to write by sean s.

[new]

Since you told me you hate
what you write, I've formulated every trite
or profound encouragement as bait,
hooks for your mind or heart.

Such:
Hate is distraction. You must
love where you can, love
what you can. Hate is untidy
love. Hate is
half-hearted. Find your beautiful burning
hands in your memory's wick.

Tricks. Everything so
much simpler. What
I really want to tell you
is there are words here, waiting for yours.
On this page, on the next.


(for H.)

Another P.O.V. by JKD

After Geo Vance's Point of View.

not concerned enough with each bright
inside not the same
as outdoors this
semblance of self-contained seen
apart the striated panoply
roundabout seeing seen
as within a tube of lightning
contained others and
their rules

not unlike looking deeply at the bereaved
a no-thing in turn without
its twofold absented sense
of 3 years scent traced later
peer into the interned (twined)
twin of… and then to
apply rules to memory
this affect(ed) (ing)
motion... rapacious
attenuated (delineating) contexts

exact or exacting
gaze grazed
this fallout
glimpse

Point of View by Geo Vance

concerned with the inside not the same
as outside
the self-contained seen part of a many-parted panoply
seeing roundabout that panoply and its
other rules

not unlike looking at a deeply loved thing
2 years later
the rules that apply ...memory...affect...(e)motion...(s)pace
attenuating contexts

Exacting rules

Sighting by JKD

after "The Tin Temple" by Lisa Pasold

beware the tin temple
the silver-tongued, the brazen,
behold the falling ashes
city new-sprung, light reigniting
people nearer positions close
to never scatter to scamper to
fly forth green, seascape beyond
moat, their voices wings in
flight attempting with each bat
to catch up, behold that cave-shadow
beyond and farther still the tin sound
growth a whispered rush crawling
close now in the dusk squint to
see clear the onslaught shimmers

New, fragment after Forsythe at Chaillot by JKD

What is this pulling this she what pulls at her outside she is that is what she is pulling outside her inside of her self this pulls at or away from as what is of making her pull her pulling what’s it supposed to hurl her help her seal her away this layer out farther not to touching pull against what to pull what from her this is this inside outside in this as her voice bounces her body bounces away in what form of her deformation this is a beginning of a perchance a formation her formed her what from this former self pulled forth this pulling a begging out from form what of it?

New: the tin temple, by lisa pasold

beware of falling ashes:

the city is new but the people will never

catch up.

unequal-librium by jill d.

after Small Variation by Miranda and Grounded by jkd

glass in her mouth from her past, her throat is a mess.

that once-timed destruction
of place encounter
revisited like
vomit lingering
against the backdrop
of olives
classic greek style
the sea (grows old)

of place or encounter
destroyed against
individual waves erasing
a finger
a forearm
a history (is in the details
ready to surface
in an instant)

the taste textured
scarred(scarring)
against a place
undone

Grounded by JkD

After Small Variation by Miranda

Beached angel, wing-split wrung round Mediterranean

balconies, spinning Flamenco pink as thighs, a dress or

vision—my sister’s? Stretched space between

her shoulder blades, stubble-stumps, a scrapped message:

we’re in the mood for faith. Alms pressed to arms, to

what revelations? The dangerous need to go home.

Now her wings fold, she has no seeds incanting

constant motion. This luminous filled space betwixt strangers'

hips, elbows. Then to kneel, a keel evened to stay with

vehicles to assume futures post-2012 Mayan calendars.

Plead with a green strip, sign from a jungle. Epochs’

derailed demise, thwarted, accosted we draw straws

and signals, speak in tongues, say be here! keep quiet!

go forth! Flight patterns’ tired pride. Trials she

can’t counter to count upon this book, the good red

throat raised in glass gasps, limping, the tattered

wing’s emargination, to drag us forth as a dead limb

against dust. She is just the sort of hissing angel

that won't go away for good. It's what we wanted, weathervanes

in the waning light. Lifted up, whimpering among the pews.

Listening ear close to shoulder, transept’s marble tiles crossing

themselves. A foreboding whispered to us all along...

why didn’t you think of it before her fall?

constricting by lisa pasold

after train passing by jill d., after missings by jkd, after cull by sean s.


she named her car Godzilla Greed, a monster in demise, plummeting but pragmatic, the cost of the fucking mileage already slowing her across countrysides. she as Medea, the sorceress who ate her children, or was that the spider-witch, how she'd always been suspicious of motherhood. wind hissing through the mouths of her snake-hair, or was that Medusa, who could bear no children and was so beautiful, turned good company to stone whatever hero approached from the horizon. frozen by a reflection. how she tried so hard not to be self-reflective, to escape self-analysis, knew where it would lead: suicidal, writhing luggage like dreads. another premium price for the damn tank, the scent of gasoline on her fingers lighting his cigarette. running from her demise or the child's while the snakes try to be good company along the shattered seats.

after after a train passing by jill d.

after missings by jkd after cull by sean s.


a train on fire catching
cascades [falling falling turning over]
like monsters in demise [plummeting or blown apart]
cascades pragmatic
and nutritious
moving across countrysides
borders
lean left
toward a sun temple
[monsters blown apart] [a hero approaches from the horizon]
writhing [suntemple][fire]
caskets mildew in the mist
hero jumping the train
shattered seats
writhing luggage
[fire and demise] [plummeting] [at high speed]

Small Variation by Miranda

after Slippage by JKD and Cull by Sean S

Mediterranean balcony, Mother spinning,
pink Flamenco dress around her thighs. My sister's
dangerous mood, arms stretched, reveals
the need to go home. Now her wings
fold she has no need, but she shouts at me, be here! knowing
I can't be. Constant motion fills space between
shoulder-blades, strangers' hips and elbows -
knees. To stay with vehicles is to assume future
movement so she stays with beached
boats, derailed trains. Keep it quiet,
was once said and she agreed and tries,
but she can't
when he riles her. Glass
in her mouth from her past, her throat
is a mess. It's the red sort that won't
go away despite
or for good weather.
It's what we wanted,
she whispers to me,
all along... don't you think?

Lies Bastion by jkd after Sue Chenette

After Sue Chenette's Libation (click her title to see her poem), posted in April. (+See comments for process note on what I was doing if you are interested.)

Jeweled scythe. Hurl. One apricot poured and pores
framed fallow waning, off flux lithe, tape-ends
*****
boiled mourn-signs, witch trolling wrung drowned
tea howls two darned! Agean – armfulls grumpier.
*****
Watch heathered, saloon-porched (bliss) we concurred, un-
waning slathered grasped, a gain in Even spatulas
*****
circum ambulations, stilled futurist I can’t! nations. Wept.
(I’m told, gruel?) I’m bold, you? Flashlit into spam
*****
thorough hazed arms spin less Motrin as a grin
prayed for her nose hair, a dozy sways, to camp can’t
*****
see you, she says. It strikes ant draws off hits iron plight.
Horror halls in daisies eye, mustard piano pique (pianissimo).
*****
Pro-miser in Faulkner saucy griddled halls. Chrirrup sparadas
the ‘n’ in christalisation. My groan (silver burlesques,
*****
cockle spells). Spear reason slit entire draught
hits parched rabbit (fungus and fungal, sigh lad, her

*****
larder knot rites i-ching green sleepy brunches,
bracken-flung, ravines post-host, fur, flora for depletion).

New: and then nothing by jkd

It’s the sound of a cat not the mewling but that heat-aggravated ground haunches into the throw rug boiling over inside the magenta thrall of her throat from which no song escapes but that growl that wakes her into the day reaching out to scruff to scabbard to scratch at the fur-lined or furry balled up whiskered thing and then past she is reaching and reaches beyond it to the fridge from bed from here in the slim spaces she is already opening the bottle and the fizz and the relief and the yowling she is reaching a point of no returns on the fees and the cat pressing itself into the floor with all the wanting she wants of the bottle touching her lips and the relief coming into her like the cat’s wailing and rolling over and over underneath the incoming tidal relief and retching relief and roiling relief and meowling she says and says and then nothing

a continental obligation by sean s

after A Love Note Left Behind by DJ Whistle Punk

About Paris, jaundice
turns her cautionary eyes
toward the smoke-filled doorways
and the customs agents' hisses and
the lick of wounded monsters,
a wet of ethics,
not of morals.

Missings by JKD after The Cull by Sean S

All missing about writing a train on fire a woman derailing scheduled leaves leaving all remember missing monsters under the terminal roof fire cascades of glass pragmatic leanings toward a missing leaf a bugle railing against all eyes heavenward seated borders and second class missiles aboard leaves muse musing that mumbling about travelers’ hats a left bolero the soaked beret in doors recalled remembrances of a house on a schedule held over mediterranean suntemple writhing fire the derailing terminal sliding waves that mossy missed missing means all aboard the whistling writing firebrands on capped caskets pulling out over deer railings tracked leaves leaning mildew under felt featherbands catapults shatter-glassed fronted window or aisle seats the luggage lumbering leafed through missings about a trail on fire a man scheduled leaving pragmatic borders kissing