BOLIVIA
Enduring the hardship of late ice
together we hike up the mountain to Olympus
to make the heart beat strong,
robust in the face of pain and beauty
courteously our muscles want,
ache, give and come
under the strain of the livery of the dead.
In warm blood we defy the banner
sealed by vanquished oil and heroes laid to sand.
Committed in infamy,...
Read More
Enduring the hardship of late ice
together we hike up the mountain to Olympus
to make the heart beat strong,
robust in the face of pain and beauty
courteously our muscles want,
ache, give and come
under the strain of the livery of the dead.
In warm blood we defy the banner
sealed by vanquished oil and heroes laid to sand.
Committed in infamy,...
Read More
Today the slovenly Winter Sun grew
across the empty train platforms of cold years passed,
lonesome singular lovers hesitating before the call they should make,
the drop of silver or nickel into the cashbox beneath,
finger punched numbers run to faded numerals
etched with the memory of half-dialled confessions,
contacts,
commiserations,
celebrations,
commemorations
chill the earpiece weighted with remembrance against each ruddy cheek,
pensive frost...
Read More
across the empty train platforms of cold years passed,
lonesome singular lovers hesitating before the call they should make,
the drop of silver or nickel into the cashbox beneath,
finger punched numbers run to faded numerals
etched with the memory of half-dialled confessions,
contacts,
commiserations,
celebrations,
commemorations
chill the earpiece weighted with remembrance against each ruddy cheek,
pensive frost...
Read More
niobe:
Happy Holidays! 
Today the slovenly Winter Sun grew
across the empty train platforms of cold years passed,
lonesome singular lovers hesitating before the call they should make,
the drop of silver or nickel into the cashbox beneath,
finger punched numbers run to faded numerals
etched with the memory of half-dialled confessions,
contacts,
commiserations,
celebrations,
commemorations
chill the earpiece weighted with remembrance against each ruddy cheek,
pensive frost...
Read More
across the empty train platforms of cold years passed,
lonesome singular lovers hesitating before the call they should make,
the drop of silver or nickel into the cashbox beneath,
finger punched numbers run to faded numerals
etched with the memory of half-dialled confessions,
contacts,
commiserations,
celebrations,
commemorations
chill the earpiece weighted with remembrance against each ruddy cheek,
pensive frost...
Read More
At the end of our broken and ragged love exchange
we cordially shook hands across the departing carriage of the train
you flashed your small boutique bought shoes
once I was so easily excused of retaining any semblance of suspicion.
Apparently I never grasped the bigger themes
of passing romance or sexually transmitted disease
only those of whisky, lie and gin, vodka
and revolution enthused,...
Read More
we cordially shook hands across the departing carriage of the train
you flashed your small boutique bought shoes
once I was so easily excused of retaining any semblance of suspicion.
Apparently I never grasped the bigger themes
of passing romance or sexually transmitted disease
only those of whisky, lie and gin, vodka
and revolution enthused,...
Read More
gigondas:
Tell Tale signs then?
darkangelazrael:
God I truly miss that shit. I hope you are well and are treating yourself as you deserve to be treated. If not, then take me with you, if i am not a help i sure as hell will not be a hindrance. VIVA LA REVOLUCION!!
1989
Broken mirror blue
caught a-cussing the consequences of fear
and fragrant retributions sat in glass eavesdropping
the taught snarl of talons dug in
driving to Southport and entrails of sand
found in the size 4 baby shoe
our knees scraped on carpets
with furious ideas
fervently chemical and dangerous
Conversations until 5am
piquante cigarillos
and steamy coffee
black
I carry your spare parts under...
Read More
Broken mirror blue
caught a-cussing the consequences of fear
and fragrant retributions sat in glass eavesdropping
the taught snarl of talons dug in
driving to Southport and entrails of sand
found in the size 4 baby shoe
our knees scraped on carpets
with furious ideas
fervently chemical and dangerous
Conversations until 5am
piquante cigarillos
and steamy coffee
black
I carry your spare parts under...
Read More
A REVERIE OF THE COLD
In reverie of the cold
I feel the water soaking over my feet
those memories you stored in a box under the wardrobe
the corks from France
cocktail umbrellas from Clapham
paintings of Brighton
throw them away
let them fade into the shadows of a coastline at sunrise
riddled in the crags of stony beaches
scary monsters sit scratching their...
Read More
In reverie of the cold
I feel the water soaking over my feet
those memories you stored in a box under the wardrobe
the corks from France
cocktail umbrellas from Clapham
paintings of Brighton
throw them away
let them fade into the shadows of a coastline at sunrise
riddled in the crags of stony beaches
scary monsters sit scratching their...
Read More
OCTOBER VOICES
Tight dovetails of fleshy tongue
pestelled over the
bleakered down
blossoming
on the stones resting
in our apricot orchard
against the rim of the Buddha pond
where the trout shimmer across alkaline silvers
abrupting
Kohl blades cascade catslike
on the turn of your cheek
rolling lips
thumbing the waxy red crayon
lustful over the unfilled collagen
carved signatures of petal cloves
lay with...
Read More
Tight dovetails of fleshy tongue
pestelled over the
bleakered down
blossoming
on the stones resting
in our apricot orchard
against the rim of the Buddha pond
where the trout shimmer across alkaline silvers
abrupting
Kohl blades cascade catslike
on the turn of your cheek
rolling lips
thumbing the waxy red crayon
lustful over the unfilled collagen
carved signatures of petal cloves
lay with...
Read More
THE HOLLY DANCE
Sophia grew the first step of the holly dance
around the ringlets of butterflies in pupa
molten membranes of beauty
swaying like balls under each leaf
the seven daughters of solstice laughed free
the webs of hair boney and wild
like tropics of hope and despair
every lift and fall of foot to the tune of ukuleles
to comas and whistles
with...
Read More
Sophia grew the first step of the holly dance
around the ringlets of butterflies in pupa
molten membranes of beauty
swaying like balls under each leaf
the seven daughters of solstice laughed free
the webs of hair boney and wild
like tropics of hope and despair
every lift and fall of foot to the tune of ukuleles
to comas and whistles
with...
Read More
scheisskopf:
Shit.
This is good. Just came from the cafe, and listening to L. Subramaniam at the same time.
What a nice surprise.
Sending you a f-request.
This is good. Just came from the cafe, and listening to L. Subramaniam at the same time.
What a nice surprise.
Sending you a f-request.
scheisskopf:
Sorry to pummel you with comparisons, and this is a shitty translation, but you'll see why I have to. Ignore it by all means if you think it might fuck up your mojo here:
A Former Life
LONG since, I lived beneath vast porticoes,
By many ocean-sunsets tinged and fired,
Where mighty pillars, in majestic rows,
Seemed like basaltic caves when day expired.
The rolling surge that mirrored all the skies
Mingled its music, turbulent and rich,
Solemn and mystic, with the colours which
The setting sun reflected in my eyes.
And there I lived amid voluptuous calms,
In splendours of blue sky and wandering wave,
Tended by many a naked, perfumed slave,
Who fanned my languid brow with waving palms.
They were my slaves--the only care they had
To know what secret grief had made me sad.
(One of many English translations of a Baudelaire number)
A Former Life
LONG since, I lived beneath vast porticoes,
By many ocean-sunsets tinged and fired,
Where mighty pillars, in majestic rows,
Seemed like basaltic caves when day expired.
The rolling surge that mirrored all the skies
Mingled its music, turbulent and rich,
Solemn and mystic, with the colours which
The setting sun reflected in my eyes.
And there I lived amid voluptuous calms,
In splendours of blue sky and wandering wave,
Tended by many a naked, perfumed slave,
Who fanned my languid brow with waving palms.
They were my slaves--the only care they had
To know what secret grief had made me sad.
(One of many English translations of a Baudelaire number)
THE GUTTER FLEET
Walking the gutter fleet with
the baulk of light in a badge dug out of the weeds
acerbic
the pin of dreams
lapelled
rusted and rent
like the fern leaf to the AID of mothers
worn woozily in the breakers
with yesterdays kite torn asunder the gale winds
wrapped on the damn
a car mill
stone fingertips tracing crooked spines
needle injects...
Read More
Walking the gutter fleet with
the baulk of light in a badge dug out of the weeds
acerbic
the pin of dreams
lapelled
rusted and rent
like the fern leaf to the AID of mothers
worn woozily in the breakers
with yesterdays kite torn asunder the gale winds
wrapped on the damn
a car mill
stone fingertips tracing crooked spines
needle injects...
Read More
OLD SPITOON
Battered bucket, old spitoon
the sounding advocate of my time
with
friends
like
him
who needs
spiders down on their heel
luck-like
you know who I mean
the man with the harp tendons
drawn on hands
cripple eyes
and Smithy's lathe
Thrushy washboard
loaded drink with lime
smiling happy free
blood pool blood
by my ribcage rack
of lamb jumped back on the...
Read More
Battered bucket, old spitoon
the sounding advocate of my time
with
friends
like
him
who needs
spiders down on their heel
luck-like
you know who I mean
the man with the harp tendons
drawn on hands
cripple eyes
and Smithy's lathe
Thrushy washboard
loaded drink with lime
smiling happy free
blood pool blood
by my ribcage rack
of lamb jumped back on the...
Read More
SCOTCH
With pidgin coos
I wrote a candle of words
upon her forearm,
dialling code too
enough for a meal
and mebbes a bottle of vino
We'll get eaten by the tide of the Annan
like the fishes
no longer laying on the sand
My smile is the worm floating on the surf
tumbling into time
with tunnels of witched water
and rafts woven sublime...
Read More
With pidgin coos
I wrote a candle of words
upon her forearm,
dialling code too
enough for a meal
and mebbes a bottle of vino
We'll get eaten by the tide of the Annan
like the fishes
no longer laying on the sand
My smile is the worm floating on the surf
tumbling into time
with tunnels of witched water
and rafts woven sublime...
Read More
Silvery Green
the sweet meats
with no plates
or fingernailstent canvas over the bones
bones! bones! bones!
silently slithe yellow bus lights
lick my boots
of dust and sworn petrifications
of each of my forms from the past five days
Silhouette silk swathing
the martyr's mother's milk
in blemished calm
the bowl and basket of Germany
Annika-corristika cold on my skin
and moist warm on...
Read More
darkangelazrael:
Is that a bit of your own work? I really dig it. I wish I could string the little lines along as well as you do here. I must work on it. Anyhow, Thanks for sharing this and Cheers!
Sincerely, Ron.
Sincerely, Ron.