Sunday, September 15, 2013

4 Prose Poetry Sketches---

i-

…in carousel/ of breath/ no nothing taken/ back fall from out of stitch/ itch of the redeem/ heart what heart/ no/ bone reclusion in soil/ emptily/ shave the air with violet/ sink again/ further still/ never yet to breathe/ it says/ ever unto the return/ climb yet/ till vast/ sudden as/ locked to the haemorrhage/or perhaps the night/ what yet/ gallows’ ash/ head struck till naught/ away again/ in some/ what/ forest of blind/ness/ culled till fitful/ it claims what claims upon/ spat out/ death-like/ shadowing/ as if to echo of it/ yet of the what till follow/ stitch of the redeem/ it asks it cannot be answered/ vacantly/ motion unto wasted breath/ again/ as if to say of it/ here or now what of the yet to follow on again/ the stench of it/ the pulse bulb closed as a fist/ a fitful grave unspoken of/ till drenched through with emptily/ murk spun/ havoc in the carousel breath/ embers to touch/ as if/ what yet/ what of the next/ laughter of the closing wound it sees it does not see it cannot/ see/ all spun together in the greater charm of none/ no nothing gained by the trickle of a word/ not a trace remaining of it/ till nothing/ ashen/ harrow else and the accord of useless final/ the teeth baring to a foreign sky/ unfelt/ cast off…


---


ii-

…heave-ho/ what of it/ it breaks the heart’s dissolve/ claimed/ yes/ ice-white as/ transparent as/ not a crack in the sky what lungs/ the given suffocate/ of spill till restive/ at the seat of some foreign tomorrow/ effortlessly denuded/ what discontinues is only of the wastage of it/ the silent mire of it/ vortices that grace the skull’s interior/ in the syphilitic chasm// blood light and the actuality of the breath inhaled/ seeking from out of which/ glimmer/ sea shake and the breakage of/ nothing to claim/ head staggered/ as if to say that/ only/ in better times/ as if there/ in a gleam of something that was never other than/ bitten by/ drowned light and the anguish of what may yet abscond/ drunkenly knocking upon stony emptiness/ the char of it/ the visage in the mirror/ the pissoir of some dreaming factor/ as if to claim/ no nothing/ claiming nothing/ the voice escaping all the while/ seeking less and less/ breathless the eye’s faint whimper before the blade/…what left/ time’s occlusion/ all the while each virginal breath escaping/ from the meat of which not known/ asked/ yes…       


---


iii-

…illumined/ no/ pull the string/ the room illuminated/ pull the string/ dark/ claim then in marrow blindness/ as if to say of it/ nothing there as before/ once twice thrice/ scuttling in the nothing/ ashen if/ murmur upon murmur/ vacant silhouettes arising/ spun at a distance what distance to take/ the silent eye roving yet/ asking of/ not a trace below/ hard scar of the maggot’s tearing/ as the bones of which arise/ settling in the chasm speech of limb upon limb of shadow upon emptily/ given more or less/ dragging from one bile retching until the meat subdued/ blood yes/ hollow the blood yes/ aching distances/ a forest of desires unspoken/ snap-snap/ into the waters of it/ shit deep/ traces beyond liquid/ claimed all the while in contract of the given or taking away/ nothing there as before/ dark/ light what light/ and the hollow stepping/ not a chance/ not from the outset/ the silent eye still roving/ bone chanceless/ marrow without chance/ as if to say were enough/ no/ broken forms of laughter/ drowned out the filament of see-ing/ knock again/ following on again/ after whom there is no question…


---


iv-

…the eye recalls it does not recall/ stratosphere of bled/ sun light of asked of promise/ spat out/ sheen purpose of the whole/ locked to the might of virulent/ a-breeze/ shattered flesh/ dead light what of it/ the half moon circus of redeemed purpose/ knocking the teeth from the broken jaw what laughter now/ fingers yet/ yet fingers hands to caress/ there is blood beneath the fingers of the unearthed/ the earth clogs the lungs there is nothing in the hands of breaking lightlessness/ as if to say/ what speech/ what of the voice that imparts the dead colours/ the tourniquet heart/ spasm/ spillage of blood/ asks of till given silences mocking the reaching purpose/ which is to bile less than ever was before/ a syntax of shattered bones/ till ever-dreaming in the shadow’s longing/ as if to be gone were the only crosshair in sight/ and yet/ subtle the change in the pulse/ here or there/ dead light what of it/ spit forth/ the raped tune of these silences that cannot be acquainted with less or more/ dead songs/ dissipatory..   
 

No comments:

Post a Comment