Ceremony
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
its likely that lovers (eran)
supposing others
to be jealous (zeloein)
even as they are (jealous) of others
// 231ε
εἰκός ἐστι τοὺς μὲν ἐρῶντας οὕτως ἂν οἰομένους καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν ἄλλων ζηλοῦσθαι ὥσπερ αὐτοὺς ὑφ᾽ αὑτῶν
//
golden ooze
i did not know until i tasted your honey
it made me ache to feel everything you did
it made me stutter to say nothing but grace
when the belief took me for one moment
that your spun-gold had been made for me
it made me forget myself inside myself
was i the honey in your cell
your glass jar of honey or a thought
in the stomach of a honeybee
the sweet up-welling had dripped everywhere
i wept to taste it over everything until
the sky set me down in tethers and drizzles
//
miel japonais
i cannot lie the bit plum
is perhaps uncomfortable
yet her blossoms are close-pure
sour soft easy undressing-me cool
her love-notes strewn across the floor
like slipped-off shoulders of honed wood
light anarchy my never lonely reason
to lend her tart my sweet-tipsy vibe
(i inhale)
these golden hints of spring
seems so promising
//
hungry
4
a japanese jazz record
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
and if you fear
the set-down law
(ton nomon ton kathestekota)
lest by humans hearing of it
reproach (oneidos) for you
is produced (gignomai)
// 231ε
εἰ τοίνυν τὸν νόμον τὸν καθεστηκότα δέδοικας
μὴ πυθομένων τῶν ἀνθρώπων ὄνειδός σοι γένηται
//
original ooze
this nights business
sheer sky-falls of memory
your willful ooze is
teasing my soles your
frothy ooze my
salt-bedded indiscretion
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
so that there is much more hope
among the many
of there happening to be
one worthy of your friendship (philia)
// 231δ
ὥστε πολὺ πλείων ἐλπὶς ἐν τοῖς πολλοῖς ὄντα τυχεῖν τὸν ἄξιον τῆς σῆς φιλίας
//
lipsblum and parfum ooze
the cherries fell and placed their fingerprints
between my feet like small mouths of a month
of its here its a bloody wee well of a red whale
her fluke-petals strewn long the grey and white tile
and smudge of a moth in the blossoms to clear
but im always her hem and im on the sore brink
of love with the let-jet and inky-bruise style of it
like my pussy would write her own un-willing book
would underwear-stain me an avant-garde blotch
of enfant terrible for primordial brood
elsewhere wind-egg dramatic and lithe acrobatic
some brown-wise residuum to raging en rouge
sex-flowing battle and kiss-knowing cramp
my blew-brewing worm of verbage vole-damp
a crescendo howled in my bowling-ball clamp
and how you offered to switch off the lamp
so i wouldnt need to move at all
so i lie lust-fallow-unfastened at last for now
and i shower near the violet melati that you grow
with slugs softly tucked in a wet toilet paper roll
//
🌖
//
after
the easy way out
saucy
like a bruise
cherry
&c
& the maskmaker
who called lip balm that
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
whereas if from the others
(you wanted to take
the one) most fitting (epitedeios) for you
(your selection would be) from many
// 231δ
εἰ δ᾽ ἐκ τῶν ἄλλων τὸν σαυτῷ ἐπιτηδειότατον ἐκ πολλῶν
//
fast flight
in the smudged aftermath of a hijacked plane
a bird sits in wonder
at the swift
heart
after so fast years
her beat so hard believing in
so locked in by the loaded spring
like a poem punched out through the windowpane
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
and so then if
from lovers (eran)
you wanted to take the best
your selection would be from few
// 231δ
καὶ μὲν δὴ εἰ μὲν ἐκ τῶν ἐρώντων τὸν βέλτιστον αἱροῖο ἐξ ὀλίγων ἄν σοι ἡ ἔκλεξις εἴη
//
purple fast
you caught me on your pleasureline yesterday
a warning on the sounding sea-bruise of night
at the global brink of your vaporous flight
into the tiniest vessel of my flecked resistance
and what would my hydrogen-burning father think
when my limbs shudder to lie next to yours
when i slide my fingers across the plum-skin sky
my rose-thread-hooked by your star ungoverning me
who steals the scene from the full face of the moon
who steals my dream to die until another spring
i am awoke at noon by iambs falling like the rain
like pain or like war until the poem is written about it
until the martyr says i was just a child in love
and now you will repeat my morning for me
//
🌕
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
so how then
when understanding (phroneein) well
would they (still) suppose these to hold beautifully (kalos echein)
about which
being affected (dia-keimai) in this way
they deliberate? (bouleuein)
// 231δ
ὥστε πῶς ἂν εὖ φρονήσαντες ταῦτα καλῶς ἔχειν ἡγήσαιντο περὶ ὧν οὕτω διακείμενοι βουλεύονται
//
mere eidolon
at sundown when you disappear
like death is an unbroken sound
my dark thought into your empty pockets
an oyster swallowed
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
and know (eidenai)
that they are understanding (phroneein)
badly (kakos)
but don’t have power (dunamai)
to rule themselves (kratein)
// 231δ
καὶ εἰδέναι ὅτι κακῶς φρονοῦσιν ἀλλ᾽ οὐ δύνασθαι αὑτῶν κρατεῖν
//
my pretty ear
foolocracy (city fast)
clapped-clouds a-harpin angels
and rude jinn
as chooks a-cluckin pluck
my messy ear
but though hung up-side-down
for-tune a-ruin
loves featherin-lid ne’er-feated
by mere fear
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
for they themselves agree (homo-logein)
they are sick (nosein)
more than of sound mind (sophronein)
// 231δ
καὶ γὰρ αὐτοὶ ὁμολογοῦσι νοσεῖν μᾶλλον ἢ σωφρονεῖν
//
alt title “juicy fast”
katabasis on an intact plum
as the violence of my storm
on the exquisite valley like a stem-snapped blade
draws her meandering twin
along the vein of your virginity
by whose volcanic seam the black
and greening scar is welded between
rivers
until the bottom of her exhalation
where dreams our deepest lake
(orchards of wantlessness)
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
which none would attempt (epi-cheirein)
even being experienced (empeiros)
to turn away (apotrepein)
// 231δ
ἣν οὐδ᾽ ἂν ἐπιχειρήσειεν οὐδεὶς ἔμπειρος ὢν ἀποτρέπειν
//
previously i wrote a poem called “Δ” that performed my severance with social media; it was also a faceoff between monsters (?); i wont link it because i havent read it in a while but the search button usually works
the inward prospect of a delta
once upon the oceans day an open secret rode forth
enrobed in sheer sunsets and sunrises to say
it is always and regardless of the weather okay
to not be okay on a winged word
she said in my opinion like roses aflame
poetry is never okay
poetry is the doing deed
poetry is a metaphor for the mishap
and it might have worked but that beachgoers assumed
she plied postcards for the impossible
well she spoke quietly to her own heart
ive seen worse ways to circumnavigate this black earth
//
🌔
//
Halcyon cyanoventris
seems nesting nearby
very loud
and yet so blue
omg the genealogy of OK
cries out
via improbable speech
babel bobber bauble bubble
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
and further
how is it likely (a good idea) (eikos)
to give over such a deed (pragma)
to one having (echein)
such a mishap (sumphora)
// 231ξ
καίτοι πῶς εἰκός ἐστι τοιοῦτον πρᾶγμα προέσθαι τοιαύτην ἔχοντι συμφοράν
//
the implied “mishap” remains erotic love; the “deed” is never specified.
