Category Archive: WRITING & LITERATURE
No There There
Ascent of the Blessed by Hieronymus Bosch
Rabbits would explode as we paused to reload, Blown to the winds their marrow-bone jelly, Now I’m sitting on my own somewhere Admiring the stained glass windows. Sick light, in single shafts On cold concrete floors. My eyes bled as I turned my head And dreamed of a time When the wind is a raw, guttural laugh And slaloms through the streets like a press-gang. Bouquets mean nothing to the man Who was clinically dead for five minutes – He said to his friends when they asked How it felt, that the next one to ask, well, he’d show them……
Continue Reading →Would You Like a Lift?
It’s dark, cold, and good folk are in bed Dreaming of what the blue noise said, maybe about them, Such old and shrunken people, smiles at the ready, Toothless and with balding hearts On which of course you dote – Let them be, I’ll take you to the pictures, Just get my coat. Wait, something is missing, a lacuna in the room, See the mirrors on the ceiling reflect a face of doom, Excuse me, are you sleeping, let me wrap you up… These old shrunken people, no teeth, When proposed to or accepted, relief! Coffee and cigarettes lay waiting…
Continue Reading →She’s a Blue Rose
(photo by noumenon)
She ignored the blow upon the door, Resisted the telephone’s siren call, In dead of night she’d run and hide And never guess what awaited her. She waxed, she waned, she symbolized For a moment, everything, And in the next irrelevant second She swears she saw a meaning. What one remembers of these things, The singing, I suppose. She has heard nothing to perturb her, No cloud or shape forms in the sky beyond; No gestures, murmurs, hisses of complaint Disturb the frothy songs of which she’s fond, The angels grew a lawn over all The world, to break our…
Continue Reading →The Boys in Brazil
[At the anti-celestial Palm Court Café, São Paulo] Bromide: Welcome to Concepcion! Whoever you may be, Surrender any weapons, set where we can see, In classical tradition we will not ask you your name Until you have sat down and eaten, nor from whence you came. Hush. From the city of dreams with its one-man-armies, Coloring by numbers a land of glass and bone, Only fire cleanses for the rain does not wash Away those who abet these activities; not yet. For those men with a brain to wash, With announcements to make and facts to ignore Force be the…
Continue Reading →The Ontological Argument
(NASA)
The object is a mighty wood, full of sound and light, It might be moving Birnam, making life complete. At the very least, the image caught within our sight Is possible, sees mere dreams retreat. A busy day for the Flight of God And all who comprise his smoking train — Making off for icy pastures, wearing wool that smells Of rain; turn the pages ever over, while the jet Refuels in Spain — tearing paper into pieces, Scattered ashes on a plane… Windswept, bony, lonely country — See the earth stretch out its hand. The object of all thought…
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