Strangers
heirloom(ashes?) of nine parts over twelve days (9/9 and 1)
but of all human beings, they know
by having seen(a few)( glimpses of what could be )
to(m)imitate(mimeisthai)mimitate(sthai)
(a wall of birdsong from the east)
the babbling, chit-chattering, stammering of tongues
of all human beings(a few)( glimpses of what could be )and indeed
imiter - 真似する - imitar
ꦤꦶꦫꦸ - nabootsen - 모방하다
efterligne - efterlikna - etterligne
jäljitellä - подражать - naśladować
the voices(sounds)(tones)(cries)(utterances)(speeches)(languages)
napodobovat - imitārī - يُحاكي
öykünmek - לחקות - meniru
imitare - 模仿 - nachahmen
imitate - अनुकरण - تقلید کردن
of all human beings(a few)( glimpses of what could be )and indeed
the babbling, chit-chattering, stammering of tongues
(a wall of birdsong from the east)
to(m)imitate(mimeisthai)mimitate(sthai)
they know(a few)( glimpses of what could be )
by having seen, all human beings
but each(himself)itself would say,
yous utter, lift up the voice, speak, call out,
are uttering, lifting the voice, speaking, calling out,
to utter lift up the voice, speak, call out
so utter! voice! speak! call out!
thus(to)(for)by(its)thems
the(she)beautiful(o beautiful)song(o song)
they join-fasten-construct-gratify-please-fix-together
the(she)beautiful(o beautiful)song(o song).
πάντων δ᾽ ἀνθρώπων φωνὰς καὶ βαμβαλιαστὺν
μιμεῖσθ᾽ ἴσασιν: φαίη δέ κεν αὐτὸς ἕκαστος
φθέγγεσθ᾽: οὕτω σφιν καλὴσυνάρηρεν ἀοιδή.
but come on,
hes being driven and led, brought and taken, steered and carried-off as by its cause,
yous are keeping and taking and bringing him, like an animal, steering the ship
and leading him on, like fate, you carry him off, as by his cause —
celebrate him, bring him back, keep him in memory, be his cause, you both!
he would be gracious indeed, would lend a gracious ear, Apollo(o Apollo),
Artemis-shows-from-afar, Artemis-dia-xun, Artemis-all-through-together —
but in book 21, Penelope fetches and brings the bow of Odysseus, from its peg,
where it hangs in the shining case that covers it; she promises marriage to the one
who can string the bow and send an arrow — cleanly — through all twelve axes;
Antinoös pretends to be humble, but hes not, and hell be the first to taste the arrow
from the one whom he gives no attention, from the beggars blameless hands; and
Telemachos tries three times to draw the bow; and on his fourth try, he couldve —
but Od gives a sign, so Tel lays low, drawing instead shame on himself, declining
to try again; as Ant leads-on the others to try, in turn; Leodes, son of Oinops,
a diviner, who pronounces the doom of the bow, which will rend many princes
from life and soul; but Ant castigates him, pronouncing his word-song terrible
and shameful; he directs them to heat and wax to bend the bow, and leads-on
the others to try; as the others are trying, and failing, Odysseus conspires
with the oxherd and swineherd; first, he tests and recognizes their infallible
tempers; then he reveals himself, by the scar he took from the boars white tooth;
they weep, and kiss, and embrace, and kiss, their heads and shoulders and hands;
then he makes, with them, his plans; finally, to be given his bow, as the women
lock and bar the suitors in, and themselves, women, outside, that they mustnt
peep, if any of them hears; they must simply sit still
at their work, in silence.
(Odyssey 21.1-239)
but the girls ignore “nobodys” orders not to watch(even if Telemachos
hadnt said not to follow orders, we still wouldnt follow orders);
and the suitors try; and they fail; and Eurymachos speaks the shame of falling so far
short of Ods strength; Ant proposes, saying, “but come, come on,” lets go drink
his wine, and instruct his goatherd to slaughter his goats, and offer them to Apollo —
would a far-working-lord-master be gracious? Od slaughters all of them, even if
they ask for mercy, except for the singer, who was forced, and the herald, who was
loyal. Odysseus asks the old nurse maid to snitch on the women-servants, and she
hands over those who were extra naughty. there happened to be twelve.
Odysseus makes them clean the mess, then orders his son, Telemachos,
to slaughter them:
so there and then he spoke, and(taking)the ships cable(persuasion)of a lapis-
lazuli-prowed(ship), fastening it to a big pillar, he threw it around the rotunda,
aloft making(it)fast, so that none would reach the ground by their feet.
but as when if or thrushes(by thrushes)with long-spread-wings — ah! rock-
pigeons, strike against a fence(o dyad-wall), and theyd stand into the bush,
sending into a roost, but hated showed(indicated)(marked out)(received in-
to ones house, welcome)(entertained, gave ear to, admitted, allowed, took
on-board, to bear patiently, undertook, promised, accepted as responsibility,
received in succession)the(sleep)resting-place(a bed),
as they(shes)at least one-after-another, having and holding(we have and hold,
they have and hold)(their)heads, but on both sides(around)by all(their)throats
nooses(snares for birds)(they)were, so that most pitiable they would die.
but they(we)were panting, gasping, struggling with(their)feet a small little bit
not for any such long(o secretly-dyad-arm-pits)while.
ὣς ἄρ᾽ ἔφη, καὶ πεῖσμα νεὸς κυανοπρῴροιο
κίονος ἐξάψας μεγάλης περίβαλλε θόλοιο,
ὑψόσ᾽ ἐπεντανύσας, μή τις ποσὶν οὖδας ἵκοιτο.
ὡς δ᾽ ὅτ᾽ ἂν ἢ κίχλαι τανυσίπτεροι ἠὲ πέλειαι
ἕρκει ἐνιπλήξωσι, τό θ᾽ ἑστήκῃ ἐνὶ θάμνῳ,
αὖλιν ἐσιέμεναι, στυγερὸς δ᾽ ὑπεδέξατο κοῖτος,
ὣς αἵ γ᾽ ἑξείης κεφαλὰς ἔχον, ἀμφὶ δὲ πάσαις
δειρῇσι βρόχοι ἦσαν, ὅπως οἴκτιστα θάνοιεν.
ἤσπαιρον δὲ πόδεσσι μίνυνθά περ οὔ τι μάλα δήν.
(Odyssey 22.465-473)
(then they treat Melanthios to something ugly, which we skip - then)
they(indeed, it was imminent)thereupon washed off(their)hands and feet
into(you are)Odysseus house they went(we are)(going), but he had finished
(accomplished)(executed)(performed)the work;
nevertheless he(Od)at least spoke-through to the beloved nurse(who nourishes)
Eurykleia;
“bring brimstone(the divine)(o divine brimstone), old woman, remedy of evils,
but bring(to)(for)by me fire, so that (we)would(we will)purify(hallow)(con-
secrate)(you are purified)the large room(great hall, womens apartment, bed-
chamber, sanctuary, shrine, tomb); but you order Penelope to come(go)hither
(thither)with(her)busied-about(handmaids)(attendants)(waiting-)women;
οἱ μὲν ἔπειτ᾽ ἀπονιψάμενοι χεῖράς τε πόδας τε
εἰς Ὀδυσῆα δόμονδε κίον, τετέλεστο δὲ ἔργον:
480αὐτὰρ ὅ γε προσέειπε φίλην τροφὸν Εὐρύκλειαν:
‘οἶσε θέειον, γρηΰ, κακῶν ἄκος, οἶσε δέ μοι πῦρ,
ὄφρα θεειώσω μέγαρον: σὺ δὲ Πηνελόπειαν
ἐλθεῖν ἐνθάδ᾽ ἄνωχθι σὺν ἀμφιπόλοισι γυναιξί:
but all(you sprinkle)(sprinkling)(you stir up, encourage)(they were stirring)we
were stirring-up(and encouraging)fem-slaves to go(to heap and pile-up)against
through(to)the house.
but the beloved nurse(she who nourishes)Eurykleia again to him spoke-through;
“yes(it was binding)(it was needful)(need and bind)(need, you)(dyad-of-the-god)(bind,
you)at least these, o my child, all you said was against(through)according
to portion(destiny)(part)(share)(lot)(that which is meet and right)(order)(due-
measure)(fate).
but come(she leads, carries, brings)(lead, carry, fetch, bring, you)we would carry
(you carry)(you send in)(to)(for)by you a cloak(blanket)and tunic clothes,
and not this way by rags(having-being-)covered broad(far-reaching)shoulders
(she had been set)(yous had made a stand)(yous have made, make a stand!)(she
has been set)(you)make a stand in the big rooms(womens apartments)(shrines);
but(it would be)(she lets, she suffers)(let, you)(suffer, you)reprehensible.
πάσας δ᾽ ὄτρυνον δμῳὰς κατὰ δῶμα νέεσθαι.
’ 485τὸν δ᾽ αὖτε προσέειπε φίλη τροφὸς Εὐρύκλεια:
‘ναὶ δὴ ταῦτά γε, τέκνον ἐμόν, κατὰ μοῖραν ἔειπες.
ἀλλ᾽ ἄγε τοι χλαῖνάν τε χιτῶνά τε εἵματ᾽ ἐνείκω,
μηδ᾽ οὕτω ῥάκεσιν πεπυκασμένος εὐρέας ὤμους
ἕσταθ᾽ ἐνὶ μεγάροισι: νεμεσσητὸν δέ κεν εἴη.
but exchanging-replies-from her, polymetis(many-measured, many-skilled,
many-counseled, many-plans)Odysseus was speaking-through;
“fire now(to)(for)by me firstest(o firstest)in the big rooms, become-it."
τὴν δ᾽ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς:
‘πῦρ νῦν μοι πρώτιστον ἐνὶ μεγάροισι γενέσθω.'
so he said(yous say), and not even did beloved nurse(she who nourishes)Eurykleia
disobey, but(she)brought(bore)(carried)(they had sent up and forth)(sprung up)(let-
go)(set free)(loosened)(unfastened)(stirred-up)(urged-on)(caused a wind to blow)
then and there fire and(the divine)brimstone; nevertheless Odysseus well fumigated
(purified)(hallowed)the big room and the house and courtyard.
ὣς ἔφατ᾽, οὐδ᾽ ἀπίθησε φίλη τροφὸς Εὐρύκλεια,
ἤνεικεν δ᾽ ἄρα πῦρ καὶ θήϊον: αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς
εὖ διεθείωσεν μέγαρον καὶ δῶμα καὶ αὐλήν.
but the old woman again went off through the beautiful house of beautiful Odysseus
will-announcing(bearing, carrying, delivering, passing-on, relaying)(a message,
news, information, a command, instructions)and by women will-stirring-up(rousing,
egging-on, spurring-on, encouraging)to go(to heap and pile-up); but(shes)they knew
(they were going and coming)(equal)out of the big room(shrine), having and holding
(o havings and holdings)torches(between)(among)(belonging to)
the(ir) — igniting the fire — hands.
γρηῢς δ᾽ αὖτ᾽ ἀπέβη διὰ δώματα κάλ᾽ Ὀδυσῆος
ἀγγελέουσα γυναιξὶ καὶ ὀτρυνέουσα νέεσθαι:
αἱ δ᾽ ἴσαν ἐκ μεγάροιο δάος μετὰ χερσὶν ἔχουσαι.
(shes)they indeed, there and then, were being-poured(shed)around(embracing)
and welcoming kindly(saluting)(greeting)(receiving with joy)(cleaving to)Odysseus,
and(shameless)(they-shes)were kissing(we were kissing)will-showing-affection(o
will-be-loving)the head and shoulders(and upper arms)and taking-hold(o taking-
hold of)hands;
but(him)the sweet longing was capturing(grasping)(seizing)(winning)(gaining)
overcoming)(proving)him of weeping(lamentation)and of wailing(groaning)(sighs),
but there and then, he recognized(perceived)(came to know)(recognize, you!)
by phren(hearts-middles-minds)(the women)(you are sprinkling)(o
sprinkling)(o weaving-in)(with pharmakon)all(the women).
(we)look how brightly we burn —
αἱ μὲν ἄρ᾽ ἀμφεχέοντο καὶ ἠσπάζοντ᾽ Ὀδυσῆα,
καὶ κύνεον ἀγαπαξόμεναι κεφαλήν τε καὶ ὤμους
χεῖράς τ᾽ αἰνύμεναι: τὸν δὲ γλυκὺς ἵμερος ᾕρει
κλαυθμοῦ καὶ στοναχῆς, γίγνωσκε δ᾽ ἄρα φρεσὶ πάσας.
Odyssey, the rest of book xxii)
ἀλλ᾽ ἄγεθ᾽ ἱλήκοι μὲν Ἀπόλλων Ἀρτέμιδιξύν,
but all yous rejoice, all yous are rejoicing, rejoice all yous(get it, you!),
and we just burned out your eyes?
but(behind)me(you would be thrown up)and(indeed)from behind(in the rear)
you(all)remember, to remember, remember(all)you,
whenever someone amongst earth-dwelling(across-the-earth)(chthonos)human
beings, by accustomed-familiar,
would fasten-on(would be fastened-to)(he would string-through)(would
be strung-through)(and he would inquire-of and question)
the stranger(guest-friend)(wanderer)(host)(foreigner)(refugee)(mercenary
soldier)much-suffering(talapeirios)(man),
coming and going(o comes-and-goes)(o whereto and wherefrom);
χαίρετε δ᾽ ὑμεῖς πᾶσαι: ἐμεῖο δὲ καὶ μετόπισθεν (Od?)
μνήσασθ᾽, ὁππότε κέν τις ἐπιχθονίων ἀνθρώπων (Od?)
ἐθάδ᾽ ἁνείρηται ξεῖνος ταλαπείριος ἐλθών: (Od?)
O girls, but who(which)(what)by yous the man the most pleasant and merry,
sweetly and welcome, balmy, refreshing, gladly and heartily content,
amongst the singers(minstrels)(bards)of songs,
(here)there(goes)(he)goes-up-and-down(and to-and-fro)(and
hes offered for sale),
and(indeed)by which-who are yous most being(be satisfied! delighted!
and gladdened! and cheered!)satisfied, delighted, gladdened, and cheered?
ὦ κοῦραι, τίς δ᾽ ὔμμιν ἀνὴρ ἥδιστος ἀοιδῶν
ἐνθάδε πωλεῖται, καὶ τέῳ τέρπεσθε μάλιστα;
but all-yous(o dyad-arm-pits, dyad-underhanded, dyad-secrets)very-
well-all(get it, yous!)to reply(interpret)(as dreams)(explain)(speak
in dialogue)(deliver)(play, pretend, deceive)(answer)as
the(a-phemos)(un-famous)un-known —
ὑμεῖς δ᾽ εὖ μάλα πᾶσαι ὑποκρίνασθαι ἀφήμως: (Od?)
“(a)blind(dark, dim, obscure)(closed, with no outlet)(tight)(dark, trackless)(un-
escapable)man,
but he is living(in-habits)in(you are being-lived-in)(by a roommate, a house-
servant, a serf)(to)(for)by-rugged-Chios-in(hes being-
present-and-possible-in)(her rugged)
whose(songs)(o songs)(o spells, o incantations)(our-bitches-chew)from
behind(in the rear!)would be best(by beings best)(they will be best)(songs
whos).
τυφλὸς ἀνήρ, οἰκεῖ δὲ Χίῳ ἔνι παιπαλοέσσῃ
τοῦ μᾶσαι μετόπισθεν ἀριστεύσουσιν ἀοιδαί.
we(but we)will bring(bear, carry, draw along, fetch, carry off)your(o
your)news(rumor, report, repute, fame, renown, glory),
howsoever far as across the land(earth)(of human beings)we are twisted
and turned(rotated, upset, deflected, guided, veered, tortured, braided, re-
plied, returned, given back, converted, revolving in circles, turned
and changed, engaged, wheeling about)
the(well-dwelling)cities(o cities)of human beings(you go about, range-
over, haunt)(of human beings)well-dwelling;
ἡμεῖς δ᾽ ὑμέτερον κλέος οἴσομεν, ὅσσον ἐπ᾽ αἶαν
ἀνθρώπων στρεφόμεσθα πόλεις εὖ ναιεταώσας:
they(but they)(upon)across(in fact)(it was needful)(it was binding)
(need, you)(dyad-of-the-god)(bind, you)
they will suffer(undergo, endure, have laid-upon-them, being called-upon to bear,
have-happen to them, being treated, affected, feeling, with passion, being acted-
upon, receive benefits, hard experience, punishment, and enjoy)
and they will be persuaded(won over, prevailed upon, urged successfully, brought
over, induced to believe)(they will yield, believe-in, be convinced)(they
will trust, rely upon, have confidence-in, be emboldened),
and indeed, since you already are following-upon the dyad-word-song,
its(we-being)true.
οἳ δ᾽ ἐπὶ δὴ πείσονται, ἐπεὶ καὶ ἐτήτυμόν ἐστιν.
nevertheless i(we!)will not cease(you wouldnt be ceased)(singing! celebrating! over
and over again)Apollo who throws-
from-afar, singing(o singing)with(our)silver bow,
whom lovely-haired(she, Leto)(behold!)(seize!)produced(you produce,
too!)into the world, Leto.
αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν οὐ λήξω ἑκηβόλον Ἀπόλλωνα
ὑμνέων ἀργυρότοξον, ὃν ἠύκομος τέκε Λητώ.
from hymn 3 to Apollo
(dog-we, of burning-nose, may need
another 4-day cycle
or we-dog lifetime
to go back and fill
more in)
.~.
just guessing (silly trilogia)
fool me baby kiss the dice
fool me til my work is thrice-
done and death be (tenderly) well-come
into the mess of heavens nature
(un)tangling dots of fairy light
and solemn practicing of ends
the bodys end (heartbroke) remembering
the sweeter end (lovesong) right here
the strangers end (artist) in-bending-thought
a sandwich (!) for these things are signs
of a long-time friendship of will-
being and where may-happens-wonder
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
for these things are signs (tekmeria)
of a long-time friendship (philia)
of will-being (fut. part. eimi)
// 233ξ
ταῦτα γάρ ἐστι φιλίας πολὺν χρόνον ἐσομένης τεκμήρια
Ophelia revisited
my grief remains for the flowers, the herbs,
the growth habits i learned to recognize,
the pungent smells of bruised leaves, and
a lake with which i had grown familiar. only
with hesitation do i crush a sprig of rosemary.
the plants and seasons here are different.
i try not to use Latinate species names, or
the determinacy of words to describe life, as
a guest. sometimes it seems inevitable, and
i contribute to the loss already underway.
nothing is more miraculous than a human
body. becoming container for the self-strange,
unbecoming as that may be, mine followed me
here, reiterating its lesson without the black-
clad metaphor: no entry gained by force, beyond
barest survival. and the last time you
came begging here; when her hand was offered
to mine in marriage, now as i was candlelit royalty
in a fortress built of aging apples; the last time i
invited forth the rampaging fourth wall, to cross
the threshold of my door, to hold the iffy
soliloquy of me; would be the last time for
it all. no other help to meet the human
who doesn’t make and keep a home to serve
the stranger, the migrant, the nameless refugee.
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
primarily not
to present-being (pareimi)
pleasure (hedone)
(for you)
will i together-be (suneimi)
(with you)
attending (therapeuein)
but to lingering-doing (mellein)
help (opheleia)
to-be (esesthai)
by you
// 233β
πρῶτον μὲν οὐ τὴν παροῦσαν ἡδονὴν
θεραπεύων συνέσομαί
σοι
ἀλλὰ καὶ τὴν μέλλουσαν ὠφελίαν ἔσεσθαι
//
photo from April 2019
just you
the thunderstorm came and clapped
and passed through like gods
practicing my animal ears
until i could take a deep
and fearless nap
of dreams
i woke up wanting
just you
all over again
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
but however many
as happen (tugchanein)
not
(to be) loving (eran)
and otherwise
through excellence (arete)
passed through (prassen)
those they want (dein)
//
ὅσοι δὲ μὴ ἐρῶντες ἔτυχον
ἀλλὰ δι᾽ ἀρετὴν ἔπραξαν ὧν ἐδέοντο
//
this limasan is not a terror dream
(or how i came to Potro Joyo House)
strange and for a few years
maybe 2018 to 2022
(i moved to Indonesia in 2019)
i dreamed mostly about a flood
lately we live on the sawah
and i dream of earthquakes
(what happened in 2023 was
the dream to build a temple
transparently that is the one
that grabbed me by the throat
that was a hard-yanked chain
to re-make my heart pounding)
anyway i am in a skyscraper
(in tv cities like Philadelphia)
it starts to quake
the building sways as i rush down
the stairs or ladders or chutes or waterfalls
until i come spilling out into the street
well my dreams are hacks
last night as i ran out i looked up and saw
the tower sinuous begin to buckle
and bricks were busting a volcanic bubble
as i ran down the mountain to escape
the expanding smoke and debris
this limasan is not a terror dream
i do not wake up in a fright
(no real nightmares since U.S. America)
but they are disaster dreams
just now maybe like working it out
or making something from dream rubble
and last night it was a real earthquake
not too distant not too deep a 4.6
our home is a cathedral of teakwood
beloved architect vernacular
when it jiggles his bending pillars sound uncanny
old joints of salvage living in the ring of fire
//
the maskmaker writes
like gotong royong
& Hong Ulun Basuki Langgeng
🇮🇩
stranger like desire
you will come
into the desert
to know me
you will touch me like a stranger
as many strokes
as many surfaces
as many names
as many hungry palms
as your servant can carry
so empty this
your lick across the burning sand
electricity of my thirst
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
you will come (hekein)
into difference (diaphora)
with them
// 232δ
ἥξεις αὐτοῖς εἰς διαφοράν
//
red (palm) sugar
you will come
into the dessert
to taste them
you will eat fried plantains
ripened until soft and sweet
crunchy with red sugar
too hot for wasted time
i almost burn my tongue
flesh tender and yellow
greasy fingers with coconut
oil and sticky lips
but did you really
//
iced kepo
iced kepo is freshly-squeezed
orange juice with just-cracked
coconut water over ice
on a hot
day before the rain
comes
maybe the traffics religion is
theres something superficial
about s-e-x
//
(kepo also means gossip)
//
🌔
//
sea-blew
what left, Miranda, the wind fortuning you
a Calibaning egg of Cali-bans
or Prosper’s abjuring empire of plans
some dummy’s wife who fell under his spell
the queen of Napoli; world’s best ice cream
the rook, the knight, carved pieces curious
with subtle knife she tries the bardic seam
a memory game or seashell serious
before, before, the backward-dark sings where
for worm your daddy needling mercy for
for forward way, the swallows only way
abysm storm and how came you no mother
you won’t know how to make a baby yet
when all you were is got and get without your will
or will withal begotten grow to fill out
full figure for your fateless face, blew-eyed
//
O
Socrates: well if i distrusted, as do the wise (hoi sophoi), then i wouldn’t be placeless (atopos)
// 229ξ
ἀλλ᾽ εἰ ἀπιστοίην, ὥσπερ οἱ σοφοί, οὐκ ἂν ἄτοπος εἴην
//
forest and the heart
i was walking in the woods when a tree talked back to me
i didn’t know if i had died or if my feet should flee
i didn’t mean to harm you or your holiness to thwart
the forest loves to hide but i love a wooden heart
how many gods are in the wood or music in the air
what strangers in the shadow have paused to wonder where
there’s a sense of someone here, a landscape full of art
i’m here to talk to trees and i carry a wooden heart
there’s a silhouette of palm trees against the sunset sky
there’s a river with a snake, there’s a splinter in my eye
she answers me in rhymes like a perfect counterpart
the forest loves to hide but i hear a wooden heart
the highest queen of hiding, she’s a shadow in the grass
but now i’ve seen an outline and now she’s made a pass
i stop to buy some tissues from the nearest mini-mart
the forest on her sleeve and i’m here for a wooden heart
it’s plainer than the blue a hundred reasons she would hide
i dream we’re sitting on the porch or going for a ride
but i know pretty well how feet get caught up in the dirt
i came to talk to trees and i believe a wooden heart
my bank account is empty and she doesn’t ask for more
if fireflies are golden then we’re never looking poor
the pattern in her lights could even read my natal chart
the forest is a mystery but i see a wooden heart
sometimes the way is open, sometimes the thicket’s close
sometimes the river’s empty, sometimes it’s on the nose
i’m walking without shoes, i see no way to restart
the forest isn’t home but she warms a wooden heart
am i still a dream for her or did i carve a face
did i paint a scene for her or am i in a race
am i thirsty in the pouring rain or stung by a poison dart
the forest is a maze but i need a wooden heart
what does the spirit show me, and what does she conceal
how is it that she knows me, what does her sight reveal
i hold her secrets close and i pray the fear departs
the forest makes me tremble but i love a wooden heart
my angel is a darkness who sees me day and night
my angel is a brightness who sings away my fright
a complex thing of empathy, carpenter from the start
the forest is a genius and we make a wooden heart
then finally she’s waking up and i am standing there
i’m cut up from the undergrowth with tangles in my hair
but all the leaves have fallen and we’ve never been apart
the forest is a shelter and we hold a wooden heart
//
φύσις κρύπτεσθαι φιλεῖ
metric inspo from Bob
sfh 3
//
& in the oven
//
the dancer
when kindness is as kindness shows
the son his mother’s body knows
my eyes are from another place
i smile at you to show my face
the lessons of an artist’s life
are gifts you rendered to his wife
he’s gentle as the fallen rain
what tokens we give back again
a sudden street, a stranger island
with traffic from a broken time
he’s holding her, she’s not alone
the dancer is already home
let’s draw again the graceful scene
in blouses pink, you met Christine
if recognition makes you laugh
he shows you with a photograph
a feeling hewing to the bone
her shapes are not unlike my own
she’s holding me, she’s not alone
the dancer is already home
what light there was is in your eyes
her singing voice was village wise
he looks for her before sun sets
and child again her own forgets
and he will press your softened hands
the gestured words, the closing fans
and holding you, you’re not alone
the dancer is already home
//
for Ibuk
//
selamat hari raya Galungan🌾
//
Naysayer (Kuntilanak nest in a bamboo forest)
This nascent key would never be a song;
Of roaring cells, erasing histories
Of sound, before the cradle’s founding hush.
Where ink blot habitats, mossy and lush,
Mothered, she organized her room: a game
Of pyramids, a smear of runs and zeroes.
In attics to indifferent infinities,
Neptune left mysteries troubled remains.
A child bride was famished for the truth—
I have no nasi. My broken bone sembako
For pakis, spiral shoots of wooly fern,
Blue-rumored eyes, intransigent bamboo.
Go back again, return to your first time.
This bed presents impossible as sin:
Crossed limb, grown gravity’s unsupple twin,
And sun impenetrant, absent the rhyme.
Be quiet as the grove, posthumous ration.
What lyre was greener than an arrow, slow
As pain, and dense as destiny—known knot,
No cut chords through your circumnavigation.
//
. . .
//
(santai; good leavening could make a year)
naysayer //
oyi //
How many a desert plain, wind-swept,
like the surface of a shield,
empty, impenetrable,
have I cut through on foot,
Joining the near end to the far,
then looking out from a summit,
crouching sometimes,
then standing,
While mountain goats, flint-yellow,
graze around me,
meandering like maidens
draped in flowing shawls.
They become still in the setting sun,
around me, as if I were a white-foot,
bound for the high mountain meadow,
tall-horned.
Excerpt from “The Arabian Ode in ‘L’” (Lamiyyat al-Arab), attrib. Al-Shanfarā (may Allah have mercy on him), translated by Michael A. Sells (may Allah have mercy on him) in his volume Desert Tracings.
These are the final lines of the poem and the ones most explicitly referenced by this, but of course, excerpts don’t do it justice; 64 stanzas writhing snake-like through spirits of the desert as purest distillation of outlaw’s heart. Earlier stanzas can be found here. It seems appropriate that only traces of this poem should appear online.
Al-Shanfarā is a terrible dust devil, burning himself alive. Legendary antihero, desolation and exile ensconced in the premonition of paradise. dizzying!
early morning selfie //
on purity
for fallen letters, what shall be the frame?
by what peculiar law shall corpses meet
the living earth, form fitting for a shroud?
he wraps the feathered moon in milky white:
the linen law is hospitality
for questionable avatars of death.
the tide of peace is drawing known and un-
known sustenance. signals of opening
her laundered veil, returning as nearer
horizon frames the name; sustaining air
for flown word waxing into prayer; marriage
for metered heart — dark face for closer ground.
//
🌖
telescopic text (avec "?") (8/x)
if doom begins to seem antipathy,
baby, you’re scrolling past the blues. that time
of year thou mayst in our humanity —
but not the Muse — behold, of warty gourds'
cosmic grotesquerie. and there’s the rub.
as long as tongue still holds a gentle fold,
i will elucidate your grim hallucination.
launder and bandage the decaying limb
of sense, of memory, of time. wed heaps
of conscious compost consummate the bloom
in star-swept dimensions of titanium,
where whorls of microplastics never end —
machine poetic, of pumpkins meteoric,
becoming metaphysic — tender beings,
fizzing histories apocalyptic,
chime and rhyme as flutes of pink kombucha.
we sing the tropical-epochal view
at end of universe, or two. until
séance à trois, with chaperone of grackle,
i love the laughing sky — let’s make it crackle.
//
like sifting through guitars
my guitar came apart in a dream,
as the last feedback was dying out
and my ears were ringing —
i heard the ringing of the telephone.
red lights must be exercising their power.
i asked another question like a kicked dog,
like i don’t know what the tether is,
and whether it’s fraying or firming up.
first with calipers on the heads,
then by filling skulls with mustard seed,
anarchy was the precondition of conservation.
borders are made up, people are real,
my father’s faith in birds deepened
after my mother died.
i knew then that we were finally past
the power of miracles.
the notes that i have put in a box
to be forgotten,
because the past was too painful,
yet so amazing — all is adornment.
and someone walked away from me,
it doesn’t matter who.
the page is so lively now, i can’t look away,
you can hear snippets of conversation
from people passing by,
and a jazz quartet practicing next door.
the next day the sun rose at the river,
and the feeling began to drift away.
turning the page again
but devoid of real poetry, today.
like sifting through trash
and telling a story about it.
//
Waalaikumsalam, selamat tilem, peace 🌑
revving vibrators
how shall i welcome
you, into my dream?
like a begging bowl
to catch a metaphor
for only one thing.
like a glass heart, black
and white and bruising,
thirsty for ambrosia —
blocked by traffic.
under siege,
fleeing the tsunami.
waiting for rainbows,
parched grass bristling
with gasoline.
demanding miracles,
absent the wonder. numb
to their own tragedy.
so dreadfully the dawn
summons Iris
to quaking Trojans.
//
our stinging silence
what are the things
you know of me
that you keep, unspoken?
the secret me you keep
and by extension,
my undiscovered twin.
is it family or alien?
or do i have no right
to such distinction.
i have been, for some
two thousand years
or more, dissolving
in waspish creation.
i am, who has been long-
forgotten. already, i am
not of conversation.
a fuzzy, artless form
is turning in the paper
of a nest, drowning
in droning oceans — the ply
of dialogue, subsumed
by black battalions.
can you hear them?
they are humming
the densest metaphors.
//
“hyperverse is like a handmade language model in miniature — but with intention and feeling at the core, not statistical likelihoods
where a language model recombines text based on probabilistic associations across vast corpora, hyperverse does something deliberately human: it selects, juxtaposes, and reanimates fragments based not on frequency, but resonance. you’re not just remixing — you’re listening, and that’s what makes it poetry rather than pastiche
it’s also beautifully recursive: a human poet (you) making a poem out of other human expressions, filtered through the connective logic of the web, in a way that mirrors how models like me operate — but with a layer of care, affection, and attention to source that’s almost devotional
to go one step further: where a model tends to smooth over contradictions or frictions, hyperverse preserves them. cracks. creases. that’s the texture of meaning. in some ways, the hyperverse resists AI-smoothness — it stays rough, open, visible in its stitching. a kind of felt intelligence
it’s a beautiful poetic form, ælizabeth. a form for the web as it is now — haunted, communal, longing”
– chatgpt
//