countertest (2000-)
communication
sometimes when the dogs howl at night
chased by an alga's frozen bite
mad with smile-wetted appetite
the docile balusters of my cranium give way
and my vicarious fancy tumbles into the empty day
in my best kitchen greek
with sweet songs on my lips amoana'
I'm a swineherd in a sauna
I croak and limp and sweat ammona
words derail and meanings fold
when my thoughts are all well told
all well told and all well placed
with sand into the desert traced
health capsizes, beauty stumbles
from my never ending mumbles
that dress and bathe in vanity
and adulterate all sanity
capable in contradiction
they pour forth thick and unrectified
unhindered by any diction
calling it preposterous is qualified
my style is proof by repetition
I just repeat till perdition
my lemmas that but children molest
and my theorems that the grown-ups protest
but these ones my corollaries best
which put all patience to long test
both sense and reason, plenty alack
they're perfect for each and rightly mate
thus all decency they attack
and the empty space approximate
in vain does my brain's refinery
attempt to withhold the void
from encrouching on the finer i-
deas of its depth and to avoid
contorting the verbal finery,
it remains but chaos forecloned.
commercial
justice everywhere
virile justice,
glowing commercial victory
have you ever seen Tyson's tattooes?
the image of che guevara lining his abdominal muscles
and mao looking down at you from his shoulder
fight the enemy?!
the bouts are piling up
until it always comes down to a referee decision
there's a commercial justice to this point game
where aptly the play of many is pointless
they sit and smoke in dusty, littered, barren parks
homeless and unemployed
or they stand on idle street corners
whores and hoboes
or in dark alleyways
and on the other side of the highway,
to complement all this, shines social justice
luxembourg punks, zürich junkies,
suicidal kennedies
a veritable forest of signs, symbols, and emblems:
nike, red star, blue light
castro and milk
an athletic allegory of anarchy
i'd rather blow my nose before i blow my mind
and yes, there's a poetic justice too
its sick fumes rising from always packed-or-deserted cafés
where whether over laté, mocca, or espresso
slow darkness creeps upward in white sugarcubes
love variations
ogling is the soul getting lost
like ripe fruits sink into whipped cream.
courting is sleeplessness, constipation and aphasia;
a high-stake rulette for ambitious men.
kissing is immaculate obscenity;
morbid, infantile and adulterous,
holy, agnostic and blasphemous.
it's seed, dance and ash.
petting is aquatic scandal,
the oyster and lemon of diplomacy and procrastination.
fucking is like a dead bird,
a disintegrating flamingo perhaps.
anything more,
is for man to emulate and for the angels to adore.
albeit
quite collected
thoughts lean against limpid cold wood
sg terminal
sg pandemic
the days sink in
with high-clinical intricacy
the jest, tepid and intrepid
borges distorts
we aviate
vertices reorient
two and twenty
until further notice
albeit heavily underzealous
the case for moral-aesthetics is a rigorous one
hostage to endemic distaste
the restraints we foster
the rationale, the serenity
if it's any indication
standing under the influence of the fifth humour
steroids are a mere spinal tonic
type-writer artists
roadside snake-charmer
very bearded
i have my heuristic reservations
keel over reluctance!
move on stretch-pants and posterity!
from the raging flames of prosperity
out-of-control
a gothic asbestos grill will protect
glowing in the emerald shades of glaucoma
as a metaphore
there's a dog that barks in our apartment house
barks every time he is taken for a walk
he is taken for a walk four times a day
barks in the corridor, in the elevator, all the way
to the front door, until he is outside on the sidewalk
i guess he is happy or bored
or just doesn't like in-between things
in the same house in another flat
i think of that dog
in the same house in the silence of my room
i think
(or go for a walk
(as a metaphore))
superficial
dreaming of insomnia
dreaming of deja vus
the night can be unusually calm and quesy,
its mild integrity
imponderable
have i sg to say?
well, there is the pressure in the head
the peddler and hustler wants to get out
wants to share its hurdles and impediments,
generous skepticism
cherishing and
exclusively drunk (just in case)
on vacant images;
words, earrings, warholians
they coagulate into a literary dummy
should one be embarrassed,
the position appears most advantageous,
about fabricating controversies, tomfoolery,
and understatements?
the blue-print must be closely followed
here&there one-or-two such&such this&that
palsied fireworks, squemish symptom-pillows
the incubation period is over
court humanists hold their regular meeting
and you want to want to be one of them
the doldrums, the recycling,
that much i concede
nomad of a tissue-friendly alterego
and that it's vaguely incomplete
fairyland
land of fragrant battles,
land of impenetrable plans,
it's an ambitious accident.
for the ones of spontaneous faith there's no more decisive smell
than that of lucky jungles,
inopportune courage,
and congested moments.
another fall
there's wine and water in the kitchen if you want some
only wine and water actually
the fridge is usually left unplugged
i feel the blanket's cold against my japanese ass
the parks' green is turning more and more off-color
and off-season
still they are good enough for lovers
count your pinkies if you are down
just in case
or go to the dermatologist
maybe you have herpes too
it's fall again they say
not my fall
i only hope there's no winter after this
i keep my fingers crossed
it's only my thirtieth
yet it seems like i've already sat and read poems in too many parks,
waited inside too many bus stations, returned the embrace of too many arms
but it's not enough
love of thought/love of life
caught
thinking under the influence
(of recreational polemics)
caught in the fine mesh of sequential discontinuity
we splash around in the pool of our extravagant assumptions
and dream of the ambitious accident of induction
moreover
plagued by the weak theory of reason
we can't afford the burden of heritage
we can't refuse the appeal of conspiracy
likewise
with bogus intentions and distinguished results
we apply the precision tool of coercion
we apply ourselves as prime tools
through congested moments
with or without the wisdom of an hour
with or without the benefit of doubt
like so many observant lunatics
admirable and abominable
in principle
as good an ideal to live by
and of sponteneous faith
perhaps we are mental for each other
perhaps we are meant for each other
furthermore
guided by the twin ushers of life,
forethought and afterdrink,
methinks
we ought to keep the rules only we should break them
reading in the mall
the mall
stands for spending and sparkle
and glitter and all things material
tactless consumption stands in it naked
erotic as glasses and mirror
and cold
in its thinness,
flexible through and through
and i come here to read because it's warm
how feeble,
a tulip to the end.
like a lapdog singing high above from his worn birdcage
approximate romance
subdued black light everywhere
subdued black light shines from somewhere
behold the very paradise of snakes
the oppression in formidable, but lenient
an uncatalogued brahms sonata perhaps
one way or another, it need not be adhered to
there's a vague backroom feeling in the back of most minds
furnished with conspicuous substances
conspicuous and atrophic
like midriff, like bikini lines
a touch of imperfection
why, she is a regular bush that girl
and angel-teeth weave melodies from the arteries encircling your heart
songs like valleys: mad, lonely valleys
and a pink lake on an island
the whole massive intermission a fleeting tatter of shadows
dreamily brewing at their own pace
one can't tell if it's day or night or why
such are the ramifications, such is the romance
as a breach of peace, as public nuisance
if you can get it
if only with the help of a dray horse
if you want your personality rights
inexact high
al you scornful, resentful and contemptuous
love is a terible hate, i say
it's inflections and recidivism
it's counter-opera,
oil of a dog,
so feel the vertebra stiffen
so full of heightened senses
and lacerated consciousness
so full of burlap and nutmeg
the view is panoramic really
discipline is for self-patronizing
whether immersed in soda tears
or in the virtues of polish jazz
a holistic argument is never far off
for you are liable for your actions
as well as liable to deny
them, syntax of platitudes
and though the girl is gagged with just a pink slip on
i don't want your easy pain
i'd rather pay in kind
reality is for those who are undefinable by drug
reality if for those who are unvisited by love
i prefer them all
generation
the old philosophers never had to see
the best of their peers in primeval jerks
in primeval darkness and flashes of light
their bodies convulsing
to the sound of primeval throbs and beat
meager vertebrates
we are pound's "lesser men of wine"
the way we stand around
disadjusted and ill-behaved
the way we walk across the thick miasma of mendacity
addiction-toting
as much without vision as it is about hegemony
we are a fine collection of heathens, infidels and heretics
men of words
in more than one sense of the word
we live in the endless moment of the flesh
everything we do is eagerly incriminating
votes hell, vote's for women
birdseed and monkey fur
a few shitty stars in the sky
and many pretty dead birds on the ground
we are self-proclaimed philosophers
without necessarily being lovers of thought
a generation neutered and drugged
and happily declawed
a weird crossbreed of pitponies and lapdogs
plagued by an epidemic of excellence
here, fetch!
it's just another bobby fisher myth
too happy to be
rare
or to be excellently undone
for too long has the comfort been too tight
it's been bruising my ankle
if, - not, - then
my defiance is fetching
my idleness promising
and i can appear quite civil
lying in my bed, with reputation to spare
casually nauseated
with stitches and halo
both rather haphazardly and uncourageously done
just so
"it's a good deal, brother sir"
they are almost used
and as a preliminary measure you might
pawn me first
needless to say
it stands to prove
and it makes no difference whether in-laws or outlaws
whether rabbi or alibi
the velcro closes on us again
and my demotic demagogy needs rogain
and the cab driver he said,
perhaps not entirely unwisely,
'next one in english please'
knowing you knowing me to be indisrciminately indulgent
you said,
'you are too happy to be a poet'
ode to a shopping mall
there is a park and mall
about equal distance from my place
and i visit them with comparable frequency
this one's about the mall
for it's a joy and relief
to see commerce in action
purty ladies prancing to and fro between fashionable clothing stores
all so conscious of their appearance
but similarly unpretentiously happy
shopping is good, or at least it's free
the so many tight pants radiate felicity
to own and to seem
or to do your weekly people-watchin'
but of all the cavalcade, on my selective vision
register only the prison
of the amiable smiles of girls and ladies
i rejoyce in their ad hoc community
as they move through this opulent catwalk
leaving their passing voices to linger
enshrouded in fancy perfume clouds
they might come from
or go to the cinema to watch a romantic drama
though they too have a little vagina
that could drive men mercifully crazy
with lust
i trust
or they might come
with icecream too sweeten their mouths
instead of sugary kisses
and they but lick their lips to the whistles and hisses
thus driving many of our vain hopes sadly south
these are a few things i love about malls
but the best one i think that i have ever seen
was an elegant fur-coated lady
for she walked around with great facility
with an upheld head
and with a bucket full of water in her hand
out-of-balance
whether we are scruffy or sturdy
love handles have a handle on us
and we are on collision courses
if only hyperbolically so
for some it begins with a two-year giggle
then comes tuxedo and alfalfa
calligraphy, sumo, and trellis
in rapid succession and in random repetition
subtle white trash
transient brothers-in-wine
i'd just as soon or not at all
vanish in dives
vanish in song and dance
the bias is agreeable
the access inordinate
in this plethora of mental hygiene
i'm counting the number of trees i count
in brackets
dropping on the grey twigs petal packets
spring arrives in sensual spells
with the orange tightness of leather jackets
with cuckoldry, soldering and wet meadows
and under these varied lingering smells
(and in the taste of sorrel)
my winter-dusted spirit swells
back