Cosmos

    immaculate ooze

    until discomforts of
    deep oceanic trigger
    a sighing spring

    when the abyssal ooze
    in-twined fecundity conceived
    our dark-bodying infant

    (of constant cry)

    //

    🌗

    in just the time

    i sleep in a living bed
    its not clean but keeps me fed
    its a cradle for my head
    while i wait the one i wed

    i sleep in a shady tree
    i love rumors of the sea
    i refuse the military
    i know you will come for me

    i sleep in the bed you made
    im headstrong but im afraid
    a face could change or be remade
    in just the time i was asleep

    i sleep under miles of ice
    drill the oil melt the dice
    i sleep in a grain of rice
    for my heart you paid a price

    //

    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

    purple fast

    photo of the sea reflected dark purple under dark purple sky of pre-dawn with a rose-colored glow across the horizon and some unusual cloud formations with a tiny speck of light at the center of the horizon

    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

    //

    🌕

    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.)

    and it’s clear
    that if it seems good to those
    they will reckon (poiein) these badly

    /

    and it’s clear
    that if it seems good to those
    they will treat (poiein) these badly

    // 231ξ

    καὶ δῆλον ὅτι ἐὰν ἐκείνοις δοκῇ καὶ τούτους κακῶς ποιήσουσιν

    //

    and chickpea

    wings

    of canny
    vegan haggis

    for tasty char-
    coal catnip

    and the heavenly
    near-

    march
    sphere

    of irrepressible spring

    (of
    2d
    cold-
    pressed)

    potent-
    ate

    jostlewagging

    //

    should have been napping
    doodle

    fast miracle

    i hold out my beggars bowl
    you fill it with hunger

    i feed the hunger into my body
    whose organs translate hunger into love

    o bodyparts

    you know which parts
    you know the whole

    //

    agarwood (aged 7 yrs)

    Indras net (what belongs to the familiar)

    around her head a sardine circlet
    around her foot mortality
    around her voice a glittering corset
    around her heart a memory

    she reflected on the dawnlight
    she was setting in her place
    she looked sober in the photo
    but you couldn’t see her face

    eye for eye and cell to cell
    did you knot me to be brave
    did you tie me from a shoestring
    toss my frame across the wave

    name the garnet in my cherry
    your horizon on the deep deep wine
    as i lost count of drowning
    for the promise of a rhyme

    for your blessed rage to swallow
    i was waiting at the altar
    and a pearl was burning bitter-sweet
    when i tasted your salt water

    when i saw you in the restaurant yesterday
    and you finally appeared
    Indras net was drawing closer
    Indras net was catching tears

    when you saw that i was deadly
    when you wrote my rib in two
    i was made and i was unmade
    to make better love to you

    and every lace undoing
    to find the heart of sand
    and every mark to fill the worth of a blade
    with the imprint of her hand

    and every glass was melting thunder
    to the predatory corner
    and a little death for the purities of power
    to the mountain out her window

    to the wildflowers evening color
    to the sky and sea and weather
    to the darker voice that rose
    to the horses all untethered

    she heard it was one million
    she heard one million seven
    the circle dreamed it would be easy
    the fishes knew it would be heaven

    you know my situation
    you know what keeps me here
    you know ocean is an islands final word
    and what belongs to the familiar

    //

    lyrics for conscience round
    music and idea from angles morts

    macros

    dear dojo, forgive us; we thought that you were really
    in training, and grasped the function of macros

    which do as much account by what you don’t eat
    as what you do; therefore, there would be more

    protein in a couple of uneaten chickens
    than in a city of discarded monkey masks

    //

    oopsie, Black Ajax
    learned a word

    //

    words, okay,

    my approximate cock
    kept me up all night

    angels coming round
    and the jinn, they say

    it piques

    //

    the mallow sea

    sleeping moons in a plastic spoon
    slip them into the watcher’s tea
    undertow and the lunar noon
    float away on a mallow sea

    loo, loo-loo, the empty sea
    loo, loo-loo, the mallow

    a fooly tumbles on her head
    a froggy for the willow tree
    fall down into the green grass bed
    sail away on a bumble bee

    loo, loo-loo, the bumble bee
    loo, loo-loo, the mallow

    a fairy’s wing in every room
    a pocket for the marble sky
    fluff the pillow and sweet the broom
    softer than a glow worm

    loo, loo-loo, the marble sky
    loo, loo-loo, the mallow

    sleeping moons in a plastic spoon
    slip them into the watcher’s tea
    undertow and the lunar noon
    float away on a mallow sea

    loo, loo-loo, the empty sea
    loo, loo-loo, the mallow

    //

    🌕

    //

    mallowtonin

    &

    pour notre
    voyeur

    //

    hag-seed
    4 all

    //

    leaves like stars

    photo of a begonia plant in dirt with three six-pointed leaves in the frame, with speckled white patterning, deeper green veins, and reddish-brown fur around the edges, with red leaf undersides.

    leaves like stars

    for wonder gazers
    scrappy chasers
    a hot day, here

    the emerald belt
    for kept begonias
    weathering arms
    of atmosphere

    heart of Antarctica
    across the room
    blurry

    melting
    pinkish

    patient

    //

    selamat Natal 🌟

    //

    corvid solstish

    i saw a crow, but not a city crow
    a forest crow, gagak hutan, Corvus enca
    her smooth and perceptive, violet-black
    matte iridescence, flew over me, up to the green

    ravine; from there she turned her black eyes on me
    barely here, it was the longest day of the year
    a rain-soaked day; but the sun came out that morning
    to show her shadowing rainbow and the waterfall

    later, some kind of animal, taking a hot shower
    stars thread the clouds like icy pinpricks of rain
    legs still sore, reflection cooling skopein
    ornithologoi, a poet’s favorite color; yes, tilting

    //

    anywhere but poppies

    it’s there
    her pane of a window
    passing passages

    the passing offer to carry
    ten thousand atomic lighters
    black specks on a braid of challah

    or liberate sweet nappers proper
    a chilli-laced hotpot, shiitakis, bok choy
    garlic, in the valley of compost boxes

    loose her transportive reliquaries, poultices
    dank delicious opacity compressed of air
    silkworms for the mundane pocket

    warm pillow for docket signifiers
    fingertips heavy with tawny heads
    inky notations with nowhere there

    to fly, but into the measure, slightly high
    pitched on a dry stone wall, for her
    a pinkish reddish hazy third, with leaves

    to breathe, past purple on the milky way
    eclipse, her eyelid, her lippy friend
    seamless tracing moving core

    //

    🌗

    medium close-up photo of vertical culms of bamboo, ones on the left of the image covered with complex growing formations of lichen and fungi

    lichen et alia //

    the lost marble & spice trade

    the lost marble

    news is, bad flooding in Sumatra; so i
    put down my pen, examine my hands
    and feel myself a chimpanzee that lost
    its marble by these ten irresoluble things

    compulsion as a typhoon turns its form
    an eye that cannot hear; in filthy flux
    a child clings to the minaret of a mosque
    i have no word to turn it from its path

    is every child the same across the globe
    a digit hugging-to against the storm
    inherent heart against the deafening blow
    an act of curling tight to one held poem

    so poet-magus turns her glass from one
    true child to ten imaginary orphans just—
    as here, as typhoon where, and whether i
    was drowning in the sum of what they did

    there was a marble somewhere in the mud
    ten fingers prying ceaselessly for air
    don’t let me be the word to cause a flood
    don’t turn me like an eye without an ear

    //

    diptych
    of survival
    InsyaAllah

    //

    spice trade

    you know we taste the weather of a word
    or housewife by her sambal, like bitter salt
    this kitchen hell and getting warmer, mad
    desires to let out; adventuring to eat

    a journey to her inward, fine-tuning cook
    is converse travel whereby stirring builds
    a tragic tongue to name her worldly khas
    enchanting handfuls for like memory cast

    seduction; spice trade, her nightly shedding veil
    far-fishing season monger Sheherazade
    queen turning by tantalized infinities
    survivor storming mercy from the heat

    //

    notes from Kuningan

    morning hari raya / upacara / island turning // take the blessing / by notation / if i may // Pak and Bu S— / morning offering / shrine at home // rains a little / as we are greeting / laugh it away // i place the canangs / with lit dupa / ini di bawa, ini di atas nggih // with shredded pandan / shoo the cats away / the kue is not yours // then time for dressing / always late again / ceremonial demand // kebaya sunny yellow / olive peacock batik, gift from Ibuk / mauve selandang // polyester lace is tight / not my usual / glossy korean lipstain (bare fig) // to Penestanan / in the car now / windows down barricade // traffic pecalang / all day this way / Bali holiday // people fill the street / everyone is smiling / they recognize our face // he knows everyone / stops for everyone / a face for everyone // salam for everyone / friend for everyone / how many promises to mampir // banjar clear / on the way again / ceremony in the air // double-park the car / the cock-fight corner / across from pura dalem // at our old place / pandemi family / second home again // pass your body / around the family / salim for elders / salim from little ones // receive the bodies / moms and sisters hold you / feel you and pat your curves // meet Blih’s girlfriend / she seems good for him / marriage when // Ibuk Penestanan / enduring smiling / to see my face // she brings us coffee / kripik and kue / water from warung // and i’m too rare here / somewhat guilty / the intensity // the affection, her skin is so fair / but not too fair, she’s looking healthy / they note some extra weight // under comment / they discuss me / i endure // Bapak L— / talking death again / Mase scolding him // six large koi / in a clean but crowded pond / tadpoles nibbling at their scales // Mbok A— is here / older sister / the secrets she endures // heroic / (…) / by another woman // the delicate child / slender hand held / so as not to disappear // he takes my phone / for an interval / makes us watch a video // sea monsters suddenly / el gran maja versus the bloop / this detour for a while // softest fingers / feathering the touch screen / when he was small he didn’t talk // he couldn’t look at us / he wouldn’t speak to us / he ran away // now he’s outbound / needs to show us / sea monsters a serious event // an old mango tree / outside the home gate / branching over the street // when they ripen / he climbs to take them / no apparent fear // all day people passing / in the street below / teenagers outside the minimart // boys in udengs / girls in kebaya / all wearing sarungs // and then it’s coming / time to prepare / baskets and the flame // at the front steps / there’s a mat there / we kneel on it // kebaya itchy / sarung binding / squeeze onto my knees // off my sun hat / off my sunglasses / pale under the sky // the rain is clearing / by the rainworker / smoking his cigar // the women place the offering / burn the dupa / receive the blessing // remake the street / here come the god seat / make space for it // sound approaching / mangku rushing / the time is near // a flood of boys, boys, boys / marching sleeves rolled / red hibiscus in white udeng // here the mangku splashing water / wet blossom blessing / hands receive it // head receive it / face receive it / heart receive it, if it can // the passing concentration / bending flute line / twirling attention // pray the empty / pray the flowers / learn to pray // then we double it / give it happening / take a moment to form // now it’s coming / moving down the street / presence on the way // percussion heat / heart flame beat / bronze opening // bathe the flowers / in the smoking / fold them behind my ear // great gong agung / deep expanding / down belly through feet // make space for sesuwunan / come the barong / guardian of the street // women carry offering / towers balance on their heads / jeweled baskets overflow with cakes and fruit // see the dewa / vision loves them / eyes following // golden armor / grassy black mane / bulging eyes // then start shimmying / snapping teeth / shuffling the feet // flip-flops in the front / flip-flops in the back / shaggy with a bouncy tail // barong is dancing / attendants touching calves / steady exhausting underneath // forest guardian / body bearing sun-wheel / banjar medicine // then we follow / walk the family / take it through the street // walk with sesuwunan / holding hands again / don’t let him disappear // pray for island / pray for family / pray for banjar // boys are laughing / keep the music / challenging the air // in the made space / music opens it / opening is here // pray for earth / pray for spirit / pray down hard // see it feelingly / cracking open / then deplete // campaka blossoms / in barong beard / my favorite part of him // makes him handsome / red hibiscus / jepun ylang ylang

    the fragrance / how it follows me / into the next day

    //

    Helena at the mirror

    i want 2 read Aristotle
    with u
    in private
    in Greek

    i want 2 show u every word
    i want us 2 go slow and thorough
    i want 2 find the perfect way
    words right thru until tomorrow

    first the physics, then the ones
    that come after the ones on physics
    parts of animals before poetics
    the lost books of poetics, too

    O beloved flood of words
    can we read clock-
    wise and counter-
    at once?

    πολλαχῶς λέγεται τὸ ὄν

    and don’t f—k it up

    //

    back in her bones, an animal holds
    or is held by or stretched by
    or broken or taken or raped by
    or mended by the word

    dismembering that ended carcass
    and read like knives the one-way road
    apart, a mince of sentences
    by university of butchers

    by that unkind yet counting world
    where have they tipped the ante yet
    i tremble to look at it
    switching tabs to the deadly news

    so walking the ramparts; yes, and
    the corpses i see, or telegraphic
    trick, the Sphinx’s vexing prize
    that riddle i still can’t remember

    //

    and would we take up arms
    against the legendary walls
    of Troy, discrete infinities
    by logic of desire

    by Tyndarean oath
    soulquaking fear
    kinsplitting lust
    or unendurable rage

    and would we, trembling
    turn the word around our grief
    with blinded eyes, who work
    the catastrophes of love

    //

    and who was she, her silk slippers
    silent across the golden floor
    the guarded pit of destined apple
    lily white eye of the bloody storm

    her syllables locked in a jewelry box
    the whole word, world-ending woman
    wordsmith of disinterested tools
    worldsmith of sterile fiction

    if she could only work it through
    her desperate clarity for water
    self remembering un-working war
    a verb for herself wrung clean

    but how she loved and if she did
    then would she trust herself by daylight
    and could she stand a beautiful nude
    Helena at the mirror

    //

    and would we return true again
    victorious from Troy
    unbent, discrete infinities
    by logic of desire

    by twists and turns
    by Hades passage
    in our angry season
    and Agamemnon, dead

    and would we, trembling
    turn the word around marriage bed
    with blinded eyes, who work
    the catastrophes of love

    //

    our organism element
    our weaving waiting whom to see
    low past the meadow, nettling
    the rising and setting sun

    the leaves are falling as you love
    to be making music until sleep
    from infant inhalation through
    a rousing breath of song

    these outward limbs are turning one
    and inward twelve again, like pain
    as stirring deep the earthy cauldron
    bedroom of a virgin dream

    and see the carp still strumming nerve
    around the liquid shield for her
    a flaming champion of rest
    in the rolling river sphere

    //

    i want 2 b the brilliant word
    with u
    in the grove
    approaching evening

    she measures limbs of me by bird
    my tragedy like comedy
    she murders for imperfect love
    and laughing plays me gently dead

    as floating messengers of grass
    deliver specks of sparkling pollen
    to flutter nymphian hurricanes
    and suckle clumsy in the flowers

    do u know her now; of cursed word
    flown round, pre-history again
    swan daughter shining, self less law
    of no returns, like poetry

    ὦ φίλε Φαῖδρε, ποῖ δὴ καὶ πόθεν;

    u b her lover 2

    //

    don’t b mad
    at my posterior
    analytics 4 u

    hills of empties
    not 2 much
    & watch it thru

    //

    selamat hari raya Kuningan🌾

    photo looking upward in a bamboo forest at the bright sunlight filtering through dense stands of bamboo

    filter //

    piscean field

    i dreamed i was a carp swimming in the moat
    that runs around the bedroom catching raindrops
    and you were watching me; i was pearlescent
    moon-colored with orange spots, moving swiftly

    and my slits are liquid lungs into my ears
    my curves are cool and clear, my eyes lidless
    and i have swallowed plants and animals
    of increasing scope and dignity, growing swollen

    and fleeting undulant, your vision touching
    my sunspots flashing heat, turning fiery
    and i was fishing flames beneath the flowing stream
    my scales a watery brightness and a warmth

    nobody could put me out, the thunder, the storm
    your atmospheric range was permeated light
    and i was breathing it, my gills touching silver
    my veils a golden breeze, piscean field of pleasure

    i remember jasmine in the ghosted air
    and thicker even than the empire of frogs
    the bellows of your eyes, how they inflame
    my heart, and what catastrophes you initiate in me

    //

    🌒

    //

    O honey my
    hidden shining
    & my ovening

    //

    Phaedrus: (cont.) especially at this season of the year and hour of the day

    // 229a

    ἄλλως τε καὶ τήνδε τὴν ὥραν τοῦ ἔτους τε καὶ τῆς ἡμέρας

    //

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