Verses/Curses

    School Days in Athens

    // Phaedrus, 227β

    Φαῖδρος: ναί, παρ᾽ Ἐπικράτει, ἐν τῇδε τῇ πλησίον τοῦ Ὀλυμπίου οἰκίᾳ τῇ Μορυχίᾳ.
    Phaedrus: Yes, at Epicrates', in the house of Morychos, here, near the Olympiad.

    //

                Take words to it,
    he said, and words were fire. And yet, you lacked
    conviction. Crowded by black memories
    of unseen hands and uninvited touch,
    as old men’s trembling clammy kindnesses,
    their groping behind doors, our voices as
    stray syllables, or whimpering with fright,
    the muffled passage of another, coaxed
    with promises, down enforced aisles, bound by
    vocabulary’s sight. Terrible child,
    no light escaped the house of Morychos.
    So how did you?

            At nights, with flashlights,
    we stayed up, mapping tangled vacations.
    It wasn’t always hellish as it sounds.
    We were kept kids, padlocked in battery
    cages, our own best teachers, of tossed-off
    certainties, known neighborhoods, and always
    chasing some kind of slang. To spell the word
    backwards, chop up and repurpose pieces,
    or make the meaning opposite from what
    it was. We traded jabs of pleasure in
    the mottled darkness of his maze, tongues of
    soft flesh. We rearranged worlds to make our
    places.

        What would your mother give to you
    of time? Faded photos, hand-me-down jeans,
    a crayon-drawn map of paradise, you were
    a metaphor too well-worn for what you
    became, true as, it feels ugly to be
    ugly and the resolution offers
    no resolution, just this hissing in
    my ears, this chaos. Lay down in the dog
    bog. Keep trying. Keep gashing out the lines,
    edit twisting serpents from the narrative,
    and trace the tattered logic left behind,
    monster observing monster, overwrought
    and double-blind.

             History is the final
    solution for you, so go, dissolve your words
    in time. Let their bleached remains fortify
    the temple, your descendants living down
    the stupid crime. That’s what
    religion was, at home, submission to
    the uncomprehended solidarity of
    teenage desire, or something like, romance.
    On echinacea lawns, she dons glitter
    bodysuits, writes parochial poetry
    on freedom. We were such creators, in
    our nascent phases, molding plastic limbs
    to tether our volcanic bases.

                  I do
    not want to go, I beg, don’t take me back.
    In wept oceans let me clear the bitter
    savor from my eyes. Picnics in real
    places, manicures on brand, she painted party
    faces, praising God for such justice
    as could be found and leveraged there, in
    shared maps of iron laces, corset-bound,
    hound-hunted hallways exhumed from ancient
    flavors of local reason, a child’s small
    hand ghostly waving from the window like
    a metronome. She swallowed blood and sand
    to earn their graces.

              Take words to it, I said,
    and words were airplanes, it was time, and she
    was ready. She heard rumors on the wind
    of its disintegration, climbed a hill,
    and saw it for herself: the metaphor had died.
    The whole, wide world was failing beauty, spread
    beneath her like a poem in multitudes,
    legs-open bride. And still, she cried. She longed
    for absolute intelligence of who
    he was, of home, of houses on the street
    and what they hide, of where the figure’s corpse
    was buried, and what appetites for youth were
    still fed and worshipped there.

                  Take care of it,
    he said, and words were memories, to which
    she had no scholarly reply. No house,
    nor street belonged to her, no shoes or gowns
    to pack in chests, but ashes and fresh-breath
    mints lost in linings, crumpled tissues, all
    forgotten reasons why. Because you were
    unseen, you could escape the conflagration?
    Not so, although, not too far off. Because
    she took my parchment seeded in her and
    bad wisdom gained, as blasphemy of sight,
    enlightened predation.

               If words be fire,
    then seek us in my gold and burning bower:
    a clown is a bad child with adult power.

    //

    (About.)

    This is a blog.

    blog (n.) “online journal,” 1998, short for weblog (attested from 1993, in the sense “file containing a detailed record of each request received by a web server”), from (World Wide) Web (n.) + logos (n.), Ancient Greek for “word, speech, discourse, account, ratio, reason, understanding”.* 

    //

    The Logos is alive, a garden too.
    A blog is not alive. It is, at times,
    unfinished artifact.
                   InsyaAllah,
    a blog is a corpse
    with connectivity.

    The time and place
    of a blog is

    (A timestamp is
    no measure,
    but a mark
                   of irony.)

    element undefined.

    The time and place
    of a blog is

    (not) in
                   a cloud.

    The time and place
    of a blog is,

    as if,
                   not here,
                   not now.

    Then where? Chicks hunger. As a family
    of elsewhere-dwellers, scavenged absence is
    the flavor of their nutriment. They keep
    their bodies close to Grace, and Grace makes place
    of wayward-turning, gathering to breast:

    (What we desire,
                the shape of Adam.
    What we fear,
                the shape of Adam.
    What we would share,
                the shape of Adam.
    What we would be,
                ecstatic automatic.)

    Deep earth listens through thrum of Polaris,
    impregnable flame seals at southern crux.
    Burgundy rivers into sunset cup
    cascade, return as easterly promise
    of flight, and summon orphans back,

    (—not yet. In blip of night,
    we are testing,
    turning,
    always
                   in beta.

    We will be
    ten roosters
    crowing
                   in beta.

    Our logic is
    loud and in-
    fallible,
                   in beta,

    pieced from the
    scraps of our
                   falling,
                   feathered,
                   rapturous
    fight.

    We are roosters,
                inventing eggs.
    We are eggs, re-
                surrecting hens.
    What we share
            is dabbling
                   in death.

    A blog is,
          aerial interred,
                   a corpse
    with connectivity,
                   insyaAllah,)

    from rosy graves, whence armies form, of light.

    //

    *The “real”/recorded etymology, which this is not, is interesting, and if you don’t already know, you might like to read about it. The word comes by way of a ship’s log, so-called based on a nautical technique of using a floating piece of wood to measure the speed of a ship.

    Orchid and Traveller //

    Lost selves-of-sand resolve as empty time.
    As moon that disappeared, or star that failed
    to be itself, forging light like iron
    chains, and dragging dredged-up planetary
    prisoners into debtor’s knowledge. Some
    girls worship diamonds, some spilt blood. Of gods,
    gravity hallowed flings them, winged, past
    the fixed orbit of that rotten town, where
    sanctity is suicide, reconceived
    as end, turned upside-down. Which ones
    are wholesome hunger, scarlet stain, or junk
    jetsam, are judged by what rags come undone
    in passing. I come close, closer to you.
    Here quivers the pink rabbit’s nose, to taste
    on solar breezes dying destinies
    of sight. Soft lips on eye. And the breathing
    body of a ram, inside her, twin horns
    repenting tearfully the pious act
    of girls, as woman, lost for ‘swords, that shot
    their bleak comet close-as-chiasmus to
    the split-fruit sundae, cool and creamy core
    of chocolate-drizzled, measure-melting Love.

    //

    (Submitted to September’s IndieWeb Carnival, hosted by Matthew Graybosch a.k.a. Starbreaker. The topic is “Power Underneath Despair”.)

    artifact //

    (this jagged)

    wish

    (edge of words)

    lonely, and a craving for being alone

    (came out)

    why am I even

    (somewhat involuntarily)

    finished, here

    (during a moment of)

    cracking, needs to stop

    walls

    (up)

    walls

     broken

    Margaret Spoon //

    Peace is everything

    (but it makes her laugh), like

    rain showers that come and
    go, and come again, and
    the cozy sweeping shush,
    like the hug of your grand-
    mother, the sound of sand,
    and someone slipping from
    who they were into who
    they were for you.

    The Poem

    // Phaedrus 227α

    ὦ φίλε Φαῖδρε, ποῖ δὴ καὶ πόθεν;
    Beloved Phaedrus, where to and where from?

    //

    Holding (with love, and so
    gently) dear Phaedrus
    (my day, light-ephemera)
    my first and undying
    metaphor, for

    holding (with love, and so
    longing) as asking
    (as humbled-home-making)
    the perfected question
    to keep you. Pan,

    beloved, as the drawing-
    together (from the inside)
    of meaning, and lover
    as embrace (from the
    outside) of horizon, sun-
    set to sunrise, as all-time,
    is the heavy becoming light-
    as-boundary at the edge
    of a world. We are there,
    together:

            the hand
    and the what-would-be-
    held.

    ( As nature
    I am birthing and dying
    unquestionable irresponsive
    a fleeing, hiding and
    by-many-wanted thing. )

    ( As human
    I am messy, interminable
    a political and personal
    history of hysteria, making
    and remembering, desiring
    and deceiving, a restlessly
    in-between
    word.

    A fool and a monster,
    my pillaged possessions
    are images and accounts
    of war, and music
    is how I play failure
    as comedy, as a
    question for a problem
    with a deadly and un-
    summarizable sound. )

    ( As god,
    I am end (of motion),
    I am source (of motion),
    I am being (of motion),
    I am (hungry
       for motion),

              I am
       may-we-be
    love. )

    Morningtime, in a garden. And what is
    this, that was laid in my lap? That is si-
    lent but asking, that seems sent, but scatters
    leafing-out patterns of my un-formed self,
    harmonic. I need to know. Is it male
    or female, flesh-fire of creature, salad
    scrumptious and/or ambrosial bane? Shall I
    eat it, be eaten by it, become it
    or come into dust, be taken, wind-swept
    and tearful, or reborn as clean, unseen
    green, after all? I must know. I cannot
    not know its reflecting, it blooms when I
    touch it, it shivers, it is water-light,
    earth-dispersing, kaleidoscope versing,
    tongue-teasing shadow of radiant tree.

    //

    (About.)

    Pan //

    (Is it)
    the shiver
    that
    passes through your body
    (to endings from beginning)
    when
    you make the connection
    (from ending to beginnings)
    and then realize
    it isn’t you
    who made it
    (?)

    Birthday poem. //

    (A fool, having no knowledge of debt,
    does not choose their sacrifice.
    Nonetheless it is chosen, discovered
    by time and un-made into wisdom. With
    balanced account,

    )…(

    the learned-by-suffering, seeing-
    but-feelingly goes, as, making-as-
    offering heart-over-spilling down into
    the wordy-deep well of justice. And,
    the humbled source speaks

    )…(

    of w-i-l-d responsibility
    as animals apparent play wicked
    transubstantiation. Each crea-
    tor’s device is to make failure
    thus. So,

    )…(

    the crab shells were empty. They
    skittered crossways on silken sand, brief,
    funny little things. With crescent claws,
    and ivory carapace cradling
    the sacred syllable,

    )…(

    Om.)

    Last night in Penestanan // Gamelan
    strikes bronze and sounds of competition,
    jumping (on) and fending (off) the night
    time, momentum tops the kendang and
    recedes, then tries again (again) elaboration
    of champaca smoke on taught skin
    low beats call up shining
    density from darkness (Bima’s
    laughing) and his pupils
    follow moths at
    lantern light
    frenzy
    dancing

    Through it all, he promises to wait.
    The storm has passed. He opens,
    and she puts her face against the
    fragile thing. Knowledge is there,
    of the falling (apart), and the
    passing away of something loved.

    Skin palm sugar brown, limb narrow,
    face is wonder-young, the scars
    and creases deepening into
    pools of brave obsidian,
    and nothing else is worth a thought.

    Hair, like mermaid horses riding,
    silver-black and torn by wind
    and wild waves, is soft. She cannot
    breathe for hiding in it, wishing
    most of all to go with it,
    dissolving, holding, as to life,
    to leaving. Every wanting cell
    rehearses promise breaking.

    Every metaphor about the moon

    (is)

    also a metaphor about the sun.

    And a metaphor about a star.

    (And about ocean, and about

    )…(

    the crab who lives there.)

    Blue is the moon in her transparency,
    And dark the sky, when she looks to the star
    Without whom we would all be rock. We would
    Be third person, un-personed remainder
    After love, with unbound freedom, to scream
    Anything and go unheard, unspoken.
    So, blue becomes the face of unrequited
    Silence. Earth, displaced from selfhood, touches
    That, the final leaving off, so that it
    Might grow conceivable. And that being
    It, empty of form, pure as blue, still as
    Clear water, shows her, heavenly, a home.
    Indifference remains unwed, yet breaks
    Open in the absolute reflection.

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