Tuesday 31 August 2021

#608 - invisible man

 




1.ix.21

608

2.243

invisible man

I am doing it for posterity again

it’s just the two of us now

 

selfless acts!

 

I push the work out of my little orbit

resume dream from afar

 

all, of course, echoes of the known, the done

 

I donate more words

pictures of nothing

 

I am unplanning an afterlife

tune that goes like this

 

posterity is a cruel master

still billions and trillions to go

 

the chances of revival

out here at the arse end

of the spiral arm

have to be rated

exceedingly low

 

am I inimitable?

the invisible will always ask that

 

for the time being, at least

you know where you can find me

 

 

 


 

 

we the gods of here now

 

how fragrant sweet

the flowering

night’s brink

bats do

birds will

 

hoofly so the track

 

in mulberry leaflight too

put on beyond summer

so frogs sing

I’ll call it that

 

whoever comes to my window

sees the world  making

but wouldn’t need to know 



over the rainbow

 


first revision of yesterday’s:

over the rainbow

I am learning the language

to make a poem

 

there is no minimum of words

I think you know the tune

 

I have to be wrong

a lot to be right

a language is another country

far and wide

 

wraps you in a flag

you fall through

to find your feet

 

.

 

a poem is another world

spins on its own – on how many wheels?

 

you go there when the cupboard is bare

 

remember this room?

place furniture where suits

 

one cannot help but tell a story

there is no animal less than this

nor tree, nor stream, nor stone

 

a language is a philosophy complete

has its own geometry

swallows religions whole

 

.

 

poetry is like talking to a dog in a haystack

 

and past perimeter limits

the colours come

who’ll name them?

 

each one after a cloud

I once knew

and how we caught the sun

 

a language is all in your head

the obverse reverse

standing army

 

truth is made of pure intention

some days there’s no one at home

not at all

 

.

 

consider the idiomatic hutch

and everywhere-luggage

brought you so far

 

I break a rule until it’s gone

they won’t try that again

 

shall we approach

to press the skysill?

 

there’s nowhere else to make a poem

 

we must have dreamt a way

 

.

 

a language’s loyalty is assured

furthest galaxies obey

 

I am committing to heart

these lines

an echo after

pond

drop

tear

 

place of birth

the all-ancestral lamps to light

and appetite

then mirth

 

.

 

 

write with a mirror

work wrong-sidedly 

 

a language

yet to learn

is the bag of tricks you are

I am learning the world

to make the words

 

I have brought my passport of poetry

 

.

 

to make a language as I go

I have to write the poem

that cannot be helped

you must know it

 

I am spreading out

dust, wings

road long as life

 

no moments the same

but here we are

make up it all up

from what’s to hand

 

I greet you with beginner’s luck

(take off one head

screw on another)

replace tongue too

tune heart

adjust a landscape

 

it’s these funny spectacles we wear

 

.

 

where things have no name

no seeing trees for the wood

 

but here’s my pot of gold

meaning – yes, and you know where

 

I am taking the words

just as they go

to tell you

we use all the light that there is

 

.

 

I learn the rules by breaking them

like stones

it’s what they’re for

how to make a world whole

 

set out no clue who

but words are the way

I will find where I am

where we

where you

 

notice how into the future

everyone comes tumbling?

you can call that the conversation

 

I’m telling you

because you might want to know

 

and here I cannot help but wonder

will I ever be believed?

will I be understood?

I work with words

to make a world

where else is there to go?

esperanta serio #24 - forlasante tiun ĉi mondon

 




24

forlasante tiun ĉi mondon

 

estas afero, kiun homoj diras

diraĵo

estas parolfiguro

 

krom se vi pensas

de esti lanĉita en la spacon

aŭ kiel blovas la polvo

dekstre ronda supro al fundo

kaj fine - faras

la etoso

fordoni kiel mortinta haŭta?

 

ne vere ... polvo de la komenco

ankoraŭ falas

 

la Tero estas nur pli malpeza

ĉar la amuza voĉa gaso iras

 

mi ne certas, sed mi havas senton

plejparte ni malsupreniras

profunde kaj pli profunde

ni estas kiel ŝtono en la fino

ni vere estas ŝtona

 

la mondo neniam forlasas nin

kaj finfine

parolo ne plu figuras


 




 

leaving this world

 

is a figure of speech

unless you are thinking

of being launched into space

or of how the dust blows

right round top to bottom

and finally – does

the atmosphere

give off like dead skin shed? 

 

not really… dust from the beginning

is still dropping in

 

the Earth is only lighter

because the squeaky voice gas goes

 

I’m not sure but I have a feeling

mostly we sink deep

deep down and deeper

we’re stone in the end

 

the world never leaves us

and in the end

speech no longer figures

 


Monday 30 August 2021

#607 - a language is another country

 




31.viii.21

607

2.242

a language is another country

 

wraps you in a flag

let’s say the one you’re in

fall through a few times

to find your feet

 

it is philosophy complete

swallows religions whole

 

has its own geometry

loyalty assured

furthest galaxies obey

 

all in your head

the obverse reverse

standing army

 

place of birth

the all ancestral lamps to light

and appetite

then mirth

 

it is the idiomatic hutch

and everywhere-luggage

brought you so far

 

shall we approach

to press the skysill?

 

this language

yet to learn

is the bag of tricks you are

 



 

a poem is another world

 

spins on its own – how many wheels?

 

go there when the cupboard is bare

 

remember this room?

place the furniture where it suits itself

 

there need be no wicked witch

 

my duty is to do there

only what cannot be helped

 

in the poll they ask ‘have you been before?’

everything automatic has to be turned on its head

 

this is the place of start again

 

like talking to a dog in a haystack

 

truth made of error, pure intention

 

and past perimeter limits

where the colours come

who’ll name them?

 

each one after a cloud

I once knew

and how we caught the sun

 

use all the light that there is

 

words are the way

I will know where I am

 

conjugants and lost declensions

 

set out never knowing who

 

I work with the words

to make a world

where else is there to go?

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

two, three

over the rainbow

do you suppose, Toto…

a place where there isn’t any trouble?

 

I am learning the language

to make the poem

 

I have to be wrong

a lot to be right

 

take sky

spun from chaos

or leave it

 

I am learning the world

to make the words

 

the words to make a world

 

I have brought my passport of poetry

so much as this horizon

(makes everything foreign to me)

 

I write the poem

to make the language

                          apt

 

I am taking the time that is given

I am spreading out

dust, wings

road long as life

 

no two moments the same

 

the surface of the pond

a drop

tell tear

 

I greet you with beginner’s luck

(take off one head

screw on another)

 

replace tongue too

tune heart

adjust a landscape

 

where things have no name

I cannot see the trees for the wood

 

but here’s my pot of gold

 

I am taking the words

just where they go

to tell you all

what you cannot yet know

 

can’t help but wonder –

will I be believed there?

will I be understood?