Listening to Conundrum
chunnelling duddy or diddy
there seems to be uh guepe in the text
L[ ]c[ ]n is the nume they worship
leeter un even more sucred
nume turns up uz referred to by
the letter urlso uh psycho[ ]n[ ]lyst
or shrink though uz so often
with these 20th/21st century
hominids the sucred is excoriyetied
et the seem time uz it is urdoored
urdoored? urdoored yes i sed
yes whut the bleyzes is it
text coming thru theres uh pettern to be
descried now urnother someone culled
Ozym[ ]ndi[ ]s urnother wholy figure I guess
round the dec[ ]y of that coloss[ ]l wreck
gets on your nerves doesnt it
boundless and b[ ]re
some monurch doubtless now I ken reed
some torquing of the f[ ]ther figure
on urnother lyst further
firther feyther? urnother hole
these eternull guepes in the text
seem uz with L[ ]c[ ]n sometimes its d[ ]ddy
theyre torquing of diddy or duddy? now our
chunnellers voice groning end moning ut lust
weet its in germen so trouncelight it
okeh here goes the moment of repetition
the uncunny hot summer efternoon
nehru street only peinted frowen?
no doubt wot they ur
feeces from the windows
i esceeped but noh buck in the seem street once more
ive excited urtension now
oh those feeces
got buck ut lust to the piuzzuh murtuh
I didnt touch honest to gourd pleez
im thru futter? sick moond do you heer
futti? im thru deddy
chunnelled in Lagorce Wed 31.03 00.03 romance time
the cat's tail hangs over the monitor
as she stares at the rat
who eats last night's leftovers.
it's a sign of
the interruption of
the natural order of
things. subject to
'subject' changing to
the will of Subject to
return to a definition of
the natural order of
(here we go again) things,
Jezebel the cat
must be watched
as her tail wags
in the straight talk
a tale thwarted,
editing itself into
Andrew Burke, Perth, WA
Written yesterday, edited a little today.
When it's over
I will be silent.
You will try to celebrate,
to go out with a bang,
but I will be silent.
There is no joy in death.
I will cry my tears silently.
There will be no-one to hold me -
no-one that matters, when you are gone.
There will be arms around me, flesh arms,
and I'll take some comfort from that
but there will be no-one to hold me.
I'm crying now, thinking of it,
and Bob Marley is singing "No Woman No Cry",
making it worse.
Because look what happened to him.
What happened to his special ones?
Who holds them now?
Will your spirit come to hold me
when it's over?
Will I still be able to sing?
If it is not time to cry - not yet -
then why these tears?
What is your spirit saying?
The telephone rings and blasts us all to bits.
Parkerville, Western Australia
not those poets?
what are they all
on about this time?'
he replied excitedly
dialecticical triad biosemantica
or centripetal numinous.langpo metanoia
geist. transsubstantiation phylotic simularcra
heartstrings plinking pinche hijo de la chingada.
Information Theory introjective verse glossolalia
multiple declensions litotic sprezzatura autopoiesis
Hegelian sublation cave canem! or pussem exegesis
_sine qua non_ poluphony lettristes, ultralettristes
tamegaze petroglyphs Lyotard radical horror pleni
jouissance Lacan, psychoanbalysis, heterogeneity
buttinsky terza rima and Bataille of course Bataille!'
pmcmanus 7-32am raynespark
News of the blind man
He left his country
before the army could pen his number
I knew him, half blind,
well aware of his aggressiveness.
In Adelaide, he left behind winter suits,
vests, ski boots, blood drying in the pockets
of his winter overcoat.
When I met him
he had the voice of a bell,
growl of life, a hunger to walk
inside leather shoes.
Days grew to battles he fell into,
an inheritance of family lies.
He spread the distance between us
with a bottle or two of beer and wine.
No one knew him or was informed.
He gave away his existence,
destroying walls and doors.
At times, he was a husband,
a father, absent from home.
In my sleep he’s the lion that can’t be caught
smiling from the lettuces, mortar and brick.
I’ve had this dream before
of paint sheds, lilac tins, studio of wooden toys
his children will never see,
or a face without drink.
Helen Hagemann, Perth, Wed 31/3/04
"THE UNHEAVENLY HOST"
via Lars von Trier
As if someone were on top of the lift,
how long does the humiliation go on?
In his own way he’s rather an asset,
"Here is an illustration of the brain of a malingerer!"
With sublime generosity a corpse delivers;
the dead don’t mind giving us a bit of light relief occasionally.
I just meant mind your nose,
but what are things when the building starts to cry?
Barry Alpert / Silver Spring, MD / 3-31-04 (9:49 AM)
what would Science
as a subject
as a standard
for what's going
down in an
yesterday a record
high -- plus 24
& today I woke
to falling snow
those huge white flakes
in some context/
Edmonton Canada 09:00
peeps above thick mist
last sunset in March
Larry Adler Plays "My Funny Valentine"
Adler, old commie exile
scandal of his family for
his life as Al Jolson,
wanting not the life of a cantor
but to blow the harmonica
like a backporch schwartze,
expelled by HUAC from Baltimore,
stays instead in Britain,
adopts British style and dress,
but keeps the acid tongue until
it falls upon the chromatica
the sound the sound
I hear by night in
the darkness of my car,
Rodgers' "My Funny Valentine,"
the opening melody line, key of C,
crying, bending, sobbing,
a violin, a human voice,
a Bjoerling of the harp,
and the dark indeed is light enough.
(For Larry Adler, harmonicist
Spring, sprang, sprung
days when words rest
on green beds, oval as eggs
wait to be scooped up
what is it about
hats and brick city flowers
we want to show up
scatter seeds, tear off
piece of cloud, dandelion
gets a brand new "do"
Never seen him sitting
with his feet up before.
A bullock jumped on it.
He went all colours.
It hasnt swelled
but he's on the ibruprofen.
Five hundred sheep about to lamb.
Two heifers due any day.
Lucky he fixed the ridge tiles
after last week's gales.
We've had the March winds
now we'll get the April showers.
Heaton Moor Farm, Staffs, UK.
8.45 pm, March 31st 2004.
fragment as enactment
language in motion
an attempt to settle
between potential & act--
the very ambiguities
gaps disruptions un-
contradictions of memos
secret of their power
West Irondequoit, "United States", 31 March 2004,
4:30 P. M.
end of march a
made the most of
his last breath
hurling a lame
blizzard at us
to let go
11 pm march 31 2004
Poetryetc is a listserv relating to poetry and poetics which provides a forum for poets to debate their critical and creative work. The list has over the years run a number of projects for its members, of which Snapshots has been the most enduring.
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