alone on earth
on a woven plastic recliner
in the garbage-strewn sand
as dawn reaches across the sea
with icy fingers of peach and violet
that my phone cant capture
not only because its broken
after seven years of coercion
i am surrounded by beach dogs
wagging tails and paws searching
me for snacks and company which
i surrender as i pat and scratch many
ears and necks and sleek black faces
and nuzzles of muzzles into my arms
they bury me in a serious welcome
the poet was blind so
hes brushed by the rosy fingers
hes drinking the wine-dark sea
the sunrise is a sweet dream
a momentary pouring out
onto me and all of these excited dogs
its shocking hot pink illusion
//
altogether yes
(he) Critias was saying
(since)(you are) (by you)(look you) and (he) is
both a lover of wisdom and
as it seems both to others and to (it)(him)self
altogether poetical
καὶ πάνυ γε
ἔφη ὁ Κριτίας
ἐπεί τοι καὶ ἔστιν
φιλόσοφός τε καί
ὡς δοκεῖ ἄλλοις τε καὶ ἑαυτῷ
πάνυ ποιητικός
154ε
ocean the willbending
if a lyre already stripped
is down to this (your)self itself
then dont we gaze upon
sheer human (im)possibility
for anyhow, somehow
he is, you are (what then)
so grown (as) being already
pleasures willing dialogue
//
what then
i said
dont (we) strip this (him)self itself
and gaze (at it)
before the form
for anyhow
somehow
(he is)(you are)
so grown (as) being
already (pleasures) willing to dialogue
τί οὖν
ἔφην
οὐκ ἀπεδύσαμεν αὐτοῦ αὐτὸ τοῦτο
καὶ ἐθεασάμεθα
πρότερον τοῦ εἴδους
πάντως γάρ που
τηλικοῦτος ὢν
ἤδη ἐθέλει διαλέγεσθαι
154ε
myth of the selfish midwife
selfish, ungrateful
manipulative, greedy
inconsiderate woman
the sea is a selfish midwife
this poem comes to me, as he
is saying something else
her puckered source of salt draws out
like purgatory the glistening thread
of all my mouthy, breezy sins
her crashing whites are drawing nearer
and bringing forth a warmer roaring
her blues will dominate the world-under
even the maskmakers handsome face
with dancing with her distance cant compete
none other would appear
(instinctively my husband takes
out the surfboard and somehow my eyes
are lost between breakers
(now the man has set up a beach office
collecting pieces of coral and driftwood
for future homes for orchids
(as he is practicing a bamboo flute
i notice his wild and silvery hair
his carving arms, his shoulders framed with care
(his body, copper-brown in the dappled shade
it could be mine and not too far away
in udeng and a black sarung . . . )
but the point of being at the sea
is being at the sea, so i give up
i leave my towel and my things behind
and i rush into her jade-blue embrace
its just me, bare and pink under the sun
and all of me belongs to her
until he follows me into the waves
where he receives
whats his
//
and somehow its (conspicuously) fitting
O Critias
(for) him(self) to be such
at least being of yalls house
but
he said
(he) is perfectly beautiful and good
too (in) these (things)
πρέπει δέ που
ὦ Κριτία
τοιοῦτον αὐτὸν εἶναι
τῆς γε ὑμετέρας ὄντα οἰκίας
ἀλλ᾽
ἔφη
πάνυ καλὸς καὶ ἀγαθός ἐστιν καὶ ταῦτα
154εf
anima lover
be
be still
if still to me
still to my body
one (releasing and binding
and needful and releasing) alone
(you) happen(s) to be drawing near
you feel my heart(beat)
its some small tempest
our little sea in a bigger sea
where there is no shallow
the light never goes out
only my color changes
you make it easy
when you open me
your iamb oyster
the sky is full of pearls
and one small cry to let
you know youre really in
if (she)(they were)(it was)i
was(saying) (you)happen(s)
well (having)brought forth
life-breath
//
if still to him(self)
one
releasing and binding
needful and releasing
alone
happens (to be) drawing near
some small (what)
what said (he) Critias
if (she)
(they were)(it was)i was(saying)
(you)happen(s) well (having)brought forth
life-breath
εἰ ἔτι αὐτῷ
ἓν δὴ μόνον
τυγχάνει προσὸν
σμικρόν τι
τί; ἔφη ὁ Κριτίας
εἰ τὴν ψυχήν
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
τυγχάνει εὖ πεφυκώς
154δ
//
psuche
american shade (lost verse)
where i wait a stranger shape
every wave is washing dry and clear
a seashell is a hollow place
an island is an ariel escape
hibiscus flowers are growing near
i put one behind my ear
taste the battle, taste the fear
and when the wind blows straight through here
salt in the chorus
//
and the others were really same-saying
same as these with Chaerephon
i, Heracles, was saying
as (one) battle-less
(unconquerable)
yall speak of the man
συνέφασαν οὖν καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι
ταὐτὰ ταῦτα τῷ Χαιρεφῶντι
κἀγώ Ἡράκλεις ἔφην
ὡς ἄμαχον
λέγετε
τὸν ἄνδρα
154δ
//
at the beach
for Cancer season
🌗
american shade
well that was a beautiful city
i think he had a beautiful tan
i heard he tried to make peace
in the tropical asian southeast
left footprints on bigfoot and a beach
made marilyn milkmaid the moon
runaway chevy fifty-seven bridegroom
the flag that got left on her face
and then he lost interest
when he lost faith in my body
i assumed it was me, in washington d.c.
my mother my father implicitly
somersaulting the scene
there were sprinklers and sparklers
and lipgloss from a rich invitee
at my eleventh birthday party
so it must have been me
was i jackie or sara
should i have offered my face
like courtney then lana and everyone else
become a magazine fiction
lolita fillers, no filters, no friction
trade a dick in for my diction
go down for an icy-hot la embrace
but i assumed it was me
i bought in, i got out, i was clean
now im your summer ambition
if you cut me down to your size
you can grab me by the waist
be the one to take me back
if you put me in my place
will you teach me willing words
will you rearrange my face
i strip naked for a tune
if you touch me like i touch me
reach for my dangerously thin body
when i put makeup on my eyes
i can still look twenty-one
its when i start to cry for him
its clear im done and dying again
but now that ai fills the sky
we could really write a hit
throw pinecones from behind a tree
and when you dont show up for it
ill cry for a squirrel
he got famous with a book
from a girl it took the look
but it will never be okay
for me to hook an iamb
i tried to be a flesh machine
i fucked the literary scene
all the women there were mean
and the fathers gave me hpv
i thought it was a dog disease
that was the shape of me then
when he lost faith in my body
and i assumed it was my face
i took ballet classes in houston
practiced lightning earns his grace
i was too stubborn, it was me
everyday a tempest fought a system
i parted so many ways i parted
the ocean
even so, most days i dont know
if i can make promises again
even for roses, violets for you
eve or the planet or my ghost best friend
for who made me, who left me, i left him
cherry-black abortion vasectomy
and he was a baby then too
and i know what it looks like now
babies having babies
he was the last american man
it was a dream and he was dead
before my life even began
face of an unsolved mystery
slid right through when previously
sleeping through history
i assumed that bob did it
but it was just he, most easily
who delivered the unfortunate news
//
nevertheless, this
he was saying
if he would be willing to strip
he would seem to you to be faceless
so all-beautiful is the form
οὗτος μέντοι
ἔφη
εἰ ἐθέλοι ἀποδῦναι
δόξει σοι ἀπρόσωπος εἶναι
οὕτως τὸ εἶδος πάγκαλός ἐστιν
154δ
as the tombstone of a dead president
oh sally, oh sally
its always been you
youve always been my one
let me sign that draft
with autopen, in-de-pen-
dence dec-la-ray-shun
did even tender roses
launder their senses
inside the wicker fences
at monticello
//
and (he) Chaerephon(you
summoned)ing me
what to you
appears t(he) young man
(he) was saying
O Socrates
(is he) not handsome (?)
154ξ
καὶ ὁ Χαιρεφῶν
καλέσας με
τί σοι
φαίνεται ὁ νεανίσκος
ἔφη
ὦ Σώκρατες
οὐκ εὐπρόσωπος
my beauty and her body (nightdiving)
i.
my beauty, a green-haired, green-
breasted mermaid, goes diving
at night, for him
the younger i become
the more my body needs him
the more of me belongs to him
as a girl, i carried a memory
of breathing (in
and out
and dying, for him
and out
and down) into the fear, i carry
my memory of you
cool cells makeout warm blackness
your fish glistens for the light
my listeners listen for
i float around your parts, so delicate
my cinammon-green lips
dont trust the stars
ii.
my beauty is a woman of middle-age
her body is a school of fish
and the (part), our (part)
the (part) yielding to (his) man
(was yielding to) the wondrous
(they were)(i was saying)
but i also for (all) the children
i(they) offer mind(fulness)
how not one at another of them
(selves)(it) is looking
nor even whoever is the smallest
(they were)(i was saying)
but all as at an idol (our parts)
are gazing at (him)self
//
καὶ τὸ μὲν ἡμέτερον
τὸ τῶν ἀνδρῶν ἧττον
θαυμαστὸν
ἦν
ἀλλ᾽ ἐγὼ καὶ τοῖς παισὶ
προσέσχον τὸν νοῦν
ὡς οὐδεὶς ἄλλοσ᾽
ἔβλεπεν αὐτῶν
οὐδ᾽ ὅστις σμικρότατος
ἦν
ἀλλὰ πάντες ὥσπερ ἄγαλμα
ἐθεῶντο αὐτόν
🌒
personal update-down pineapple bao
to all my soft and sparkling followers, id like
to let you know. our beloved balinese brother is home
for now, in time for galungan, from intensive care,
where he was treated for the justin bieber disease.
yes, its when a childhood wildness comes back
as a virus inside your ear. presently, hes some
recovery to do. american girlhood, dont miss-
understand. these capes wear existential lapses.
sometimes your favorite puppet cant just play
your pretty name. a golden raincoat needs privacy.
sometimes a badboys moves are therapy. dont let
his face diminish the sweetness of his jam.
involuntary sat at so-called ceremony, of tea or
pure-grade ubudiana bullshit,
it was with these words she introduced herself
to the zenned-out russian maha influencers.
and as i accepted a dainty cup of jade
from an old-country double, i was struck silly
by the vanillic ozone and petrichor
of oligarchic hospitality.
the tea master, in peasant-dress, pretended not
to know who justin bieber was. so i
pretended not to notice i had spilled a sin,
some dribbled period across the spotless decor.
i dig your strychnine vibe, i said, having failed
to contain the strata of my napoleon. before
the maskmaker paid for our takeout vegan bao
and whisked me out, on our way back to kasih ibu.
//
but many other lovers
(it was binding
it was needful)
and into those
were following in the rear
πολλοὶ δὲ δὴ ἄλλοι ἐρασταὶ
καὶ ἐν τοῖς ὄπισθεν εἵποντο
// 154ξ
Selamat hari raya
Galungan dan Kuningan 🌾
tendrils in a warm pumpkin patch
dancing is bondage in freedom
my feet belong (to you, to you)
my eyes belong (also to you)
so that they and i were (glutting ourselves)
having been struck out (of ourselves)
having been thrown into bewilderment
my feet belong (to you, to you)
my eyes belong (only to you)
my ears are the shape of secrets
when he was entering
//
οὕτως ἐκπεπληγμένοι τε καὶ τεθορυβημένοι ἦσαν
ἡνίκ᾽ εἰσῄει
//
changed “seemed” to
“appeared” for ephane
but (the shining of)
all the other (words)
by me at least
(it doesnt care)
it was binding
were (one-)seeming in love
it was needful
(the quiet hurt)
of (your)self
all the other (words)
//
οἱ δὲ δὴ ἄλλοι πάντες
ἐρᾶν ἔμοιγε ἐδόκουν αὐτοῦ
154ξ
(nothing measured)
nevertheless
it was binding
it was needful
even then
that (one)
appeared to me wondrous
the great and the beautiful
(you)
//
ἀτὰρ οὖν δὴ καὶ τότε
ἐκεῖνος ἐμοὶ θαυμαστὸς ἐφάνη
τό τε μέγεθος καὶ τὸ κάλλος
154β
//
🌑
little paradise inferno & the catastrophe of bees
little paradise inferno
by me then, oh
sister, let there
be nothing measured
for so artlessly
a white thread, i am
toward beautiful ones
many light threads
of wool and cotton
woven to warm you
many silk threads
of black lace and linen
an animal in pearls
a wood-burning stove
a globe of amber liquid
my body hums near yours
a whisper in your ear
asking permission
to do many things
i share a secret
at the brilliant seam
for the burning temper
i listen at the temple
i lose my inhibition
words all through you
//
ἐμοὶ μὲν οὖν
ὦ ἑταῖρε
οὐδὲν σταθμητόν
ἀτεχνῶς γὰρ
λευκὴ στάθμη εἰμὶ
πρὸς τοὺς καλούς
σχεδὸν γάρ τί μοι πάντες
οἱ ἐν τῇ ἡλικίᾳ
καλοὶ φαίνονται
// 154β
& the catastrophe of bees
your honey means
my golden bowl
unguarded
for to me almost all
those in their growth
appear beautiful
myth of a mans man
in a moment,
he was saying
(like a poem
like a planet
like a god)
he would appear —
and you will go —
you would go into —
he would send into —
you will —
you will have seen —
how you will know —
how great and gathering and grown
and of what sort
he has become.
and at the same time
(leaving a residue of salt)
by this speaking (these) itself,
he
Charmides
enters.
//
αὐτίκα
ἔφη
εἴσῃ
καὶ ἡλίκος
καὶ οἷος γέγονεν
καὶ ἅμα
ταῦτ᾽ αὐτοῦ λέγοντος
ὁ Χαρμίδης εἰσέρχεται
the meirax of moist
for nothing shabby even
then, green and golden
(they were)(i was)(i was saying)
still being (whole)child
and now i guess somehow very
well, flown and flowing
if (they) would already
(let)be of a youth(maiden)
— the meirax is (moist)fluid as a slipper
river maiden golden child
the meirax (is) slippery and loud
river maiden wild
//
for nothing shabby
even then
(they were)(i was)(i was saying)
still being (whole)child
and now i guess somehow
very well
if (they) would already
(let)be of a youth(maiden)
οὐ γάρ τι φαῦλος
οὐδὲ τότε
ἦν
ἔτι παῖς ὤν
νῦν δ᾽ οἶμαί που
εὖ μάλα
ἂν ἤδη
μειράκιον εἴη
154β
//
δαιμονίως
when god comes through (the family)
whats aorist is prologue proves
whats epilogue too poor
my past-progressive cousin turns
world future-perfect war
my uncle means the tyranny
what notes a slippery noose
what wills the wise unwilling wipes
my riverrunny nose a name of Zeus
//
Charmides
the son
of Glaucon
our uncle(godproblem)
and my cousin
Χαρμίδην
τὸν τοῦ Γλαύκωνος
τοῦ ἡμετέρου θείου ὑόν
ἐμὸν δὲ ἀνεψιόν
(i)(have seen and) know (him) of course
(flow)by Zeus
(i am)(they are) i say
οἶδα μέντοι
νὴ Δία
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
//
family tree
one
the wise only
(to be) called un-wills
and wills Zeus
name
🌘
double-bound helix
returning from battle
(i am) (they are) i say
(he) is who and of what
somehow you know
(it) says but (the other)
was not yet grown
before your going away
//
somehow you (have seen and) know (him)
(he) was saying
but (he) was not yet grown
before your going away
cakewalk wyrm
fully here, Scorpio on fire, desire
that leash, your name, the tether-flame to tie
me to it, body to my well, the tight-
rope pulling is a verdant death-rape game
of a gemstone-encrusted whether force
recoiling howl inside a leather word
inside the naked thing, and the wing will
be tipped, he will enter the gymnasium
a gnawing question, hour, what is a who
without the hollow, willing, who is the what
without a whip, feather, let my lip
suck it out, daddy, let my nerve drip
and swerving slip the girl awake, winner
enough to make her winter-tender bowl
sing, never his song enough, ever
the pelvis for a manifest parade
to lead a pussy through the willow, dance
me round the mountain, wind-out of a plum
prison, iamb virgin, i am vision
iamb-submission of a cakewalk wyrm
//
but (he) is
(i am) (they are) i say
who and of whom (or what)
ἔστιν δέ
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
τίς τε καὶ τοῦ
154α
witch piece cake
in skin prick, i fly across oceans
arrive on the lotus-letters island
of the long-lost highland kingdom
stir and spell a terrible journey
through holy wood by central castling.
to announce my flawless fingers
persuade his drawbridges lowered
which were guarded by a giantess
and cross over the lava moat.
with clean hair only do we enter
the dragon reception, a masque
of marbles clouds and berries.
here is where i will eat out
the remainder of my salad days
sweetly, sing the saffron rage of birds.
with which natural-born prince
whisper in the quartz crystal ball
an uncomplicated lover, yes —
of inexhaustible grief and faith
in these wettest, wildest dreams.
but it appears to me
indeed he
(himself) nearly
already (pleasures)
perhaps
to be
approaching —
//