I re-member Love's Body

I remember Love's body
what heart of soul was this
 you were twenty-one

I was nineteen

my child in your arms

Sitting in the kitchen
 Villeneuve  summer
going through the papers
ink blots all over  hair
long as a dog just as
straggled notice them as's
      'says Mary'
   leans into brushes
 shining glimmer happy  hippy hair

against my neck
 a neck is a word standing up by itself
'a neck is a beautiful word'
    that lets the mouth speak
reach over to its nearest kin
say I love you
I love you neck
all neck



what the h___?
lose
 you've lost
it all anyhow

 its love's body
 love
shyness daffodil
        raffle



 kidnapped by the hour
of its ointment
the ostrich of
 the long ball
hurry back assuring its
becoming   ebb flow
its rush   heart spell-bound
in the care of its  hour






it tilts
to your eyes


____________





___

'sonnet using endwords from Shakespeare xiv.'

   "Sour Neon Worms"

To thole these things demands much more than pluck,
Demands something like feral astronomy!
Darwinian chores & glorifying luck
Alike impede. I find a quality
Of sheer despair in sibyls who won't tell
And desolate days to come arroyos wind
In blindfold choices now. Our poisoned well
Will drive a few souls forth, to fade or find
Their stormy way; from this no dreams derive
That i can use; my deliquescent art
Can teach me only hermitwise to thrive...
O desert, take a solitary convert
Into your depths, whose wounds prognosticate
Perhaps but martyrdom, at no far date.

« N’écoute les conseils de personne, sinon du vent qui passe et nous raconte les histoires du monde. » (Debussy)

                                              No Image


               is a photo of my father reading an excerpt from (his friend) Michel Foucault's book about Sexuality. Professor Deleuze (my father) is
leaning a little on the coffin of Foucault
as the coffin is readied to go
 & interred _inTo earth  Put in the ground
grounded, buried . Bodies bodes
last rites funerallights
rites of passage
age pass ritual reading
eulogy .



Debussy says don't listen to the advice of others neither to
the wind passing tellin us stories about the world
about the world
the world
the bodes
its bodies
buried
across clasp grapes of bodies
by her breast

______________

Nota: 'my father' philosophically. In Deleuzoguattarian terms this might be read as a contradiction in terms, but in this case, it functions as a fictional episteme. their names as have the names of so many others 've becomea  the conduit for a line of escape that includes the fatherly brotherly the filiative alliance of movement ~Cheers, Reader.

_________________

black babe white fa ce _ening

________________________

It seems clear to me that philosophy is truly an unvoiced song, with the same feel for movement music has.

Gilles Deleuze said that somewhere in a talk he was giving at the lecture hall in  1965

'                 your black holes and white walls, know them, know your faces ; it is the only way you will be able to dismantle them and draw your lines of flight.

Felix wrote that in a book

Indeed how remove the face of mask that plasters down the skin to the oily eyes,
preventing all else from seeing. Heart beating at the rate of death.

_____________

re Ly on

Now




reanimate
those marvels.



How

this momen


contain

Chaos



No sun
No moon
playe


on the long beaches.


darkness

hostile
at every point

resist


such art as resource



And sea
Up
Down windy
He gave to each its place,

gazing

also
of the other

resound the dome

The fiery aspiratio
to the top

between
Which rested at the bottom

delicate waters

ingeni us
control

commanded
into waves
the wind
hurl s

Deep and gloomy


observe the banks to pour
their delight into earth


to roll sweetly




Humping


a pattern

between-

-

I like the wild and uneven nature of this site, how it wavers at the edge of what I might predict and that which totally knocks my surprise socks off. And sends me holiday email.

So this piece is a tribute to dead ol Ronald Johnson - wassup, Ron, you're haunting me now, its very pleasant, don't stop. The Flood re-issue of Radi os. Anselm Hollo name dropped this years ago, and now its in my hands. This is very much a mode of mine - and to see Ronald working with such deft gusto and elan ... well, my wife Sarah is giving me a blow by blow off the Victoria Secret's model-a-thon, so I better post this and go join in the christmas spirit...


(taken from Ovid's Creation myth as translated by Ted Hughes)

ignis fatuus

shadows without shadow welcome diffused reality
	forging existence to sentient monolithic multiplicity

streets of amsterdam

motu proprio

The Pope had not been infallible long
when he ceded the sax to Satan. Still,
to doubt him ex post facto would be
unforgivably Protestant.
                                       And it doesn’t
take much imagination to conjure
a vision of Old Scratch wailing away
under a window on St. Peter’s, Pius
entranced when that sultry sound
drifts in, lifts him right to the edge
of rapture before he shudders awake,
runs down to see with his own eyes,
thrust his finger in and catch his breath
before the horn can breathe it for him.

Spirit-filled, it is a Pentecostal
instrument speaking in tongues
that lifts the whole assembly
on sad tones.

                     It can hold its breath til
the world gets happy, thinks Coltrane
when it says Saint John.

schroeder

working

.

poet working

    working

                                                                    working


 when Robert Desnos was sleeping  he hung a sign on his door:




             poet at Work

poet at work  

                     p oet working

 it has a ring to it
a feel
of active
     (   a machine )

ringing
humming desire

  humming

as when a man moves his arm stays still a portrait tumbles to  earth

the neck is lighter the hand freer the share profound

And when the looking evening is a day care centre


.



Working






Try



____________________________________________
_________________________________
__________________
__________Poet Working


when analyzing a such a morpheme a morphic like meditation
is ?

what were you doing while I spoke.

'.. medicating' "I" told her.

 She was not saying her

story. She was not
poetworking.
But grandstanding.
grandstanding.

______________
))))))))))))))))))))))))))
****************
signs that don't tell
but renege
on something
looking for the word
that works the gerund



is that it?


.

Cento Double Terzanelle

  "DEATH AND TRANSFIGURATION OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY: A DOUBLE TERZANELLE"

I left her gorgeous halls--nor mourn'd to leave
The insolent race, that like a dragon follows,
Because it pleases them to have been relieved.

But for pursuit of virtue and of knowledge
That have a double life, which thus is made:
The insolent race, that like a dragon follows

Would certainly be taxed and overladen;
However, after times shall view these deeds
That have a double life, which thus is made

Towards the royal river with such speed
Through the balmy air of night
However after times shall view these deeds

If we go far enough? You have no right
Ye gods, had gifts like these been permanent
Through the balmy air of night

Beside that flood, where ocean has no vaunt?
To the turtledove that listens, while she gloats
(Ye gods, had gifts like these been permanent!),

Tarnish an honored house, and nuptial rites
May take the face and shape of certainty
To the turtledove that listens, while she gloats.

Slow it behoveth our descent to be,
And sound alone that from the spirit sprang
May take the face and shape of certainty

And ope the town, and to the ramparts drag
Of him and his employment. Let the moon
And sound alone that from the spirit sprang

Far brighter than the moon in the serene
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
Of him and his employment. Let the moon

Stand, breathless in the combat, front to front.
I left her gorgeous halls--nor mourn’d to leave
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
Because it pleases them to have been relieved.

(Lines by E A Poe, Longfellow’s Dante, E A Robinson, & Cranch’s Vergil.)