Hazuntah! Purple or Otherwise, Stated is Stated

Carried away and such. Being carried. Getting carried. Passive little baby all over the insistent here of always things. No matter where she is, she was brought here, must blame the carrying hands. I got carried away and such. Lost something like it. The novel eyes of wild conversation. Glasses clinking in the winter. It's easy to forget how far away so many things are when I am here all the time. Here in Boulder. Here on the Ship, circumnavigating the sun, a forgetful chore that gets done whether I commit to it or not. I have been looking around at Poetry. Here in Boulder. Here at the book store. Here in LuNaMoPoLiS. Here in love. Here in Boulder in love on the stairs down into the boogie ballroom. Here and there heads crested in rugged silver shroud yawps of desperation or sentience 3 of one half half a dozen of the other. I wish I could share this. I wish I could share with. Share this with. With. I can be home by then. Whenever is fine. I wish. I wish. I guarantee. With someone. Well we'll see. So strapped for time. Seven months. A good guy. He's a good guy. I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure. That's kind of nice. That's what I need. I wish I could share. They say in a loop by the windows all day long. And really I hear them sometimes. I have ears that way sometimes. It's sort of sad when I do. And I've been hearing them sort of back and forth in a thaw, too, when the wind picks up in Spring and all the good music breaks out spilling like rivers in autumn. The ghosts wander the open grasses asking for a partner to cry into the dirt with. And there is so much poetry. Here. So much that I must say something to it...

[dramatic shift] which not the broken words but the words that break the broken magnet magenta not unless you in He was touching her all during this we were digging for ghosts bones of ghosts alarming haunted ligament delighting at the hinges what new causes stirring the broke bodies tied to forgotten causes stirring eaten by the Crocodile there’s no such place as broken 6 I linger you still a while on you while still come wan der of the barren o the water wheels cobbles tulips settled into grooves a long into the long snows there to be un held 7 a spring of crying out wat evidence! of matter see: the matter wat matter to we heart the heard out crying in the evident was we is in matter was studying the surprise in the kneebone when all the spirit so entered in again wat matter vacated wat the matter was 8 if you if I quiver you I god have you quiver you wagon your tail so many nights in the vacant breath given 9 she I caught up where water seam to bend my caught light where water green caught in light low long longed for you so then I love you so then so then I love you so then caught in the carried current where the water found still and body and so and then when the wat of long was returning green where the wat of the water long went low again 10 and in the window that opens and in the glass of the dust sun and in the sunlight warmed and in the tea-stretched honey so lopes the long red leg so mane and many when wanted so simply just was now just sung out there in the window sun so carefully with a cradled wrist relate so the greeting goes it is time you knew the reaching does not ever reach the touch (you know this in your sleep) it is time you knew your sitting space they burnt ‘im there she said remembering the cinnamon bread they burnt ‘im in the city center and I leapt with such a yearning joy which made me come shy with shock and held it close savoring my bedroom shame so then if you must embrace my body do it quickly while I am still ready so then my hands will fall to my hips so then my knuckle give a backbone bend a nd clutch and chuck and try and not so then

concerning deep chess: streams on red kings: what am i doing? o god

concerning deep chess a wound inflected as woken all past property star and if I stare down pardoningly deep at possible maneuvers made marrow slow I’d ponder de nothing till nothing till severely tunicmade me I am a meadow yearning I am a nomadic yurting swollen piles of past principles asking what questions present mirrorflesh sage snaggletoothed hairlipped wise of sex stricken of lexical comparison brown brow And if I stop a moment as nice and pretty as you suppose and pose I’ll propose folded and resting at disuse on round café table Ferlinghetti as one might guess his wild dreams his beg inni ngs and I’d heave out the new as beginnings are never anything but new white saucer plate crumbles of plain bagel and plastic cup of cream cheese serrated knife balances the dissected circle the milk film rings around a pint o coffee cup puddle of espresso and steamed milk settled lingering in the bottom of the glass like the political cuss hope or freedom meaning moneypins and blue ties dangling there are mens in rows alone along walls at these tables of wood pondering on the move clock of the woodmove black ivory diagonal or pawn concerning deep chess and two stacked with papers and books slenderthin papaerbacks chap in cap and green yellow spiral seashell pattern oversize lightcoat wandering the woodfloor the woodfloor that aches that aches crooked knots out straight with his steps to tickling my tickling toes the underneath between them are vibrations states returning then thought to repulsion in negative particles and charges and if my electrons won’t press against your electrons chap then vibration is the name of this deep touch game

All This Wild Theorizing (she's a thief): [after the Metaphysics, run!]

since everything which comes into being comes from something and becomes something)-- then mash tun
ash of
th fallen
sun ash smeared
upon the sunken
white
temple
ash and milk
milk anew
fermented
and
golden
with the old
of mineral
morning ash
of Arizona

but you gotta listen to fun
because
fun is quiet

a song

which one do you think it is?
a song which is that was?
the name that was but will be?

--as in a revelation
to a quiz show begun
to become
and burned left dry coming from the North
with
want of brother
guitar

that man has
--what a life
just drink
and
play guitar
and I'l sing a cinder to a
center of ash and
something


and this is where I lose the loss of you
voices
tin and steel
tongue
which fork through broken
yoke (she says the yellow part)

broke
like all little dogs
and country hearts my yoke aches
of
old songs
and for you and for every curly-lockes I see
yes that's for you

there's a tender I'd burn to ash for
nor
turn a baby bend
nor allay alley--
conflagration of one or a thousand
I'd take it all--of them--

won't that it were free it heard nothin

nothin in that a solid sanctity
in that I'd not
f e e l
nothin nothin bout it
for it
nothin of it just a free ol think like a
means
or a
motive
those are free they just hand them out at the airport when you arrive
but I
require
a
rare
t
h
i
n
g

something which only you hold
but I cannot ask
my word is not your key
but
open is open and that's the thing I'll think I be

it's just goddammit I miss you
and my gut misses you
my paws
and my knees
--misses needs
riskin into
new voids
olduns
get
oldun guns
o
golden ones
(she's a thief in a good way yes?)

Ides of March

The death of Caesar is not about betrayal, but about what is intolerable. One does not cross a river without consequence.

Catalina Ferry On the Looking Glass (A Sestina)

She and the Red King waited for the boat,
When it arrived, the boat was eager
To depart; a hurried announcement filled the marina with echoes,
Standing too tall and too quickly, Alice
Cannot be sure which is dreaming
And which was now, such was life;


So she promised the Green Sea her short life
As she stepped up onto the boat
And it occurred to her it is the Red King dreaming—
That she must not be eager
To wake him from his dream of Alice
Lest she vanish in waves, houses, or echoes;


It is suddenly quite obvious to lose oneself in echoes,
To take one’s turn at forgetting life;
See the ocean that once was Alice!
See her white waves splashing at the boat!
See the Red King leaning off the stern, eager
To discover what she is dreaming


When she isn’t really dreaming
At all, only mentioning echoes
To dolphins; Here is land! Raise your eager
Gin & Tonic to the ring of a pledged life!
Disembark, leave this boat
In your walking wake, but there will be others, Alice;


Mirrors and kittens for you, Alice,
Who will not long stand for simple dreaming,
They require more than merry oars and a boat—
For sustenance at the very least—because they are, after all, echoes
Of a mother’s young stopped life;
No one is eager


To die in this way; no one is eager
To remind Alice,
And the Red King convincingly promises life
So long as he remains dreaming,
But it was Alice who awakes with echoes
Of sound sleep in her ear, a vague recollection of the boat.


A boat is always eager
For departure, seeks out echoes from what has not yet been; Alice,
Certain she is no longer dreaming, ( ) claims her ( ) life

It Might Be Difficult to See the Map

some mornin aisle put a period at the endya and if that were a bend


O Merlin O John the Baptist O Enkido
be a tame miser o wild woods be calm
be still and know Always—



—it was a woman that Eden ended you. Cradled yur Tarsier cock in her left hand and emptied you onta her belly. That was that is that were the iron rustin on island tables. And you had lace on yur pink pillows and the sticky perfume o lavender soap on yur thighs and prickling in the heat of armpit and crotch hairs. The deep satisfied breath of a fat gray donkey.




carrots apples dried grass tin tomato cans goat hands
black brush tail
chomps with
wide tongue saliva of a glottal clop click clop click
carryin packs o dymamite into giants’ rocky ring n

Only dragons know the language of gold
Only bridges may draw
Only heaven breaks trust
Only love is permitted to level

damn devil o Black Forest
n figs dates tobacco pomegranates
grapes maples blackberries yellow moss
red lips witch cunts Kappas salimanders
mountain cats honeysuckle groves ice on
the toes o Europa cold curve o Saturn
n Neptune’s blues r the sea strings o pianos
n guitars

Whiskey n walnuts
n black breads
n meads
n halls
n hallways
n mirrors n sun kings n mazes
n little sticky berried leaves
n white beans n plums
n sugars n
syrups n pineapples
n plantations n queens in congress
n more pineapples n
plates n presses n papers
n a man with a camera obscura in old deserts


Studies of John the Baptist’s corpse reveal his head was gnawed off s l o w l y by rodents n he’d’ve had to consent to it.

n caps n sunglasses
elephant guns n jeeps
n fake ferns n dogs
campfires n bandanas n mosquitos n fevers o dengue




n


A------AAA------A [Jonny Weismueler’s apey palindrome.]