Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Likened to matter by JKD

After Hypnotized Dzina's Like it Matters

It is not outside
within an unblanked

“paper deceives!”
“And ink delves?”

—what wasn’t rhetorical in this Quineauesque
production: licking, saucy, underlying Cotton’s
Matter, a substance. Chops.

Poetry got spendy.
Lovers may be paid by removal,

“I” says the page “am not prim.”
To which Ink replies: “Striptease?
strip poker? Speak easy
In your zero-sum style, but don’t
give it away.”

In the velodrome of writing prompts, I’d prefer
to hand out velamints. Anyone for cinnamon?

This is what was left in her grandmother’s mink coat.

Not some note, some noteworthy letter, embossed,
wax sealed. We are all of us going
nowhere-everywhichway. X-potentiated, the genome
is flawed, an eternal repetition 

“Form alone gives me the slip.”
“Poor paper, stuffed properly
into the envelope—‘n’ off you go!”

Pink imaginary ellipsis
no longer semi-fluid material.
I am down to the letter Y. I knows
U, knows U are over and beyond X.

Try? Trail? Even a plume
can do me better.


Sunday, February 3, 2013

Football flurry by Lisa Pasold

a rewording of JKD's Flurry

Invisible the crowds expected, nothing like Ezra’s petals on a bough—in this swamp, there’s no metro, wetly rumbling, only helicopters, and below the flowerbursts of weeds growing over broken Grand Teton sidewalks, through air heavy with potential advertising revenue, renewal, tourist onslaught, bracing snow forgotten until that homewards flight Monday, for now it’s simply a bourbon-scented hot dream of a Sunday, bowling out of the morning with no expectations and a somewhat wilted Carnival hat.