lorsy jr (1999)

unpoem

a blossoming tree-branch above
against the blue of the sky
so calm
so complete
the eyes keep drifting back to it


        taste

I use a microscope for a dumbbell
he likes the sugar salty in his coffee
and some favor the introduction of masculine-neutral gender into french grammar
with great abandon
tomorrow it will be one day ago that I had my last one
the gates of ice-cream cemetery
private histories crowd yellow corridors
the bright eyes of sewage rats
sleep came in the disguise of oversleep
she had a predilection for predicaments if she weren't one actually
give me sugar vitamins, give me fat vitamins
tales of anarchy
the employer employs the employee
you can't fool me dubious skepticism
we want to be loners and want to have like-minded friends
want to write neo-complex morality plays
we want cigarette-flavored ice-cream
and rats for pets
and cars of VIPs to be hijacked
call it friendship, call it quits, call it what you like!


	objects

against the warm colors of the living room
a white tube
fat and from the pharmacy
only five words on it
in red letters
ointment
for external use only
I believe it’s shampoo

cool light bathroom-green water bounces in the tub
without a sound
flooded in dim fluorescent light
I stand there still dripping
and the water bounces gently
the whole scene lost in the vastness of the room
it’s 2.30 in the morning

the rain’s coming down hard
lightnings illuminate the courtyard
the yellow tiles of the hanging gangway
the green of the plants somewhere down below,
arranged in the quadrant division of paradise,
the arches and yellow walls
it all smells of 19th century france
and the soothing gurgling of the rain-water pipe


one summer

between two layers of rayon the summer is cool, cool
between jobs life is sweet

social umbilical cord hangs around or necks
a sheep is a sheep is a sheep is you
on the way to work
crossing streets; through overpasses; through underpasses
we follow each other
or the other way round
like so many bodiless contours of orphans

eat the iron pig, drink the iron wine,
trust some eclectic vision to pepper your days:
lodestone, air-liquor
matrix of five birches
parliaments and marbles
green grapes in innocent laps
stainless body jewelry
so many bouncing boobs for the eyes to follow
so much life for the true prospector's mind

thus the two sides, or if you add it up
the moral's unsealed:
nothing's revealed


one heart

emotions swing rapidly
back and forth
by the week and by the second
between all-encompassing meaning
and isolated bodies in the swirl of acausal events
between carefree swimming in the confort of learning
and tedious wading in the fine-grained despair of futility
between the blossoming branches of people's park
and the suffocating embrace of an unwanted lover
between universal harmony
and pairwise mutual discord
the heart races ahead of itself

swinging
on a threadbare emotion
when when you close your eyes you see nothing save darkness,
     no shapes, no colors spring to mind
eclipse of reason
humbling the senses
and paranoia joins insomnia in your bed
keeping each other accompanied
keeping you alone
in the grip of the cement block of the night
in the cement cemetery
of a vague hopeless yearning for the first sign of daylight
as the heart drops behind itself


the yogi and the commissar (A.K.A. Pasadena)

from ostentatious obscurity
silk acacia
the days pass
pierced with bright rays
laced with bright laughs
palms and pines
at other times
chaos friendly
the head spins wild
in thew fuming alloy of prosthetic relations and catalytic acquaintances
never ready to reject or miss an indulgent
look at life
stuck in cultural osmosis
by the side of postmodern fountains
constructed according to the natural laws of social criticism
somewhere further afield
vodka vulgar
the yogi and the commissar sand-glassing time
oh female india
throw your white mud at me
or are we
at the foot of a new acropolis?
and pamper to underdevelop those homing-insincts


autumn sun

the light is sharp and unvibrant
so different from its summer cousin
she's still powerful but no longer insistent
it takes hours for her to cut through the morning mist
hers is but a thin sharpness
wrapped in the subtle smell of falling leaves
the wind can blow through it easily
a moody teaser
she soon wins my feet over

down to the river
late dragonflies hover a few inches above the rain-soaked
     and sun-warmed wheeltracks of the road
a bit lazy, a bit tired
hurry has passed from nature's movements
a river of the plains, its slowness
reminescent of mikhalkov's russian rivers
just as deserted, and locally majestic
half-asleep on a landing stage
the thought of mark twain's mississippi heroes
drift through the haze of powerful tranquility
is quiet joy
is to be alive


meso-etude

fragrant balls of guelder rose
be i more very and there
leopard leaps
through eol harps of some ancient greek ware
powerfully lazy and happily prophylactic
thirteenth
          peace
thread, button, zipper, curtain, bedlinen
wine-steamed and bifocal
Beria's cartesion witnesses
coveting the covenant
put on your cardigans, sue the ministry, display your prodigy
our collective artificial enthusiasm for the planet
something conjunctive
and wayward
sestinas and villanelles
a wood made of hemishpere bounces in a green tarn
backlash and discharge
department of self-ignorence
night-train nights
release your rat-lion cubs
and graft your paraplegic souls with quince


            words

i crave no sense to lace my words
        and no foresight need dwell in them
but let them race like roaming herds
         to idle grace they should be alien
thus echo nature's own absurds
         bricks and thorns layer life's ham


peacock and hogs

among stray currents and wandering brooks
should you to see
tedium trivial de luxe
of the color of that black brew, espresso
my only rodents
waylayed cheers resonate in the distance
the agony of ecstasy dying slowly
and in serial format, produced for tv-audiences
burning phosphorus quickens the nose
peacock and hogs
i hereby certify
but whether to credit or temper
while the very camel thersites picks black currant
i dabble in creative abuse 
diatonic syndicate
light-purple monochrome
segregation caters to our sedentary needs
any such
truffle and thrush
thrush and truffle
peasants nibble
the white of fermenting curds
thrice-hot
may you suck on your own underpants
or deviate karelin
wicked and curser
haystack vision descends on us
in a haze of new diminished thirds
some sit and sing
of bricks and sea and splinter and ham



             Trees
           (excerpts)
	
Is that a Hun, a Khazar, or a Mongol roaming the steppe?
He rides by a small grove of birches, dreaming of the world, 
The enigma of infinity in his eyes.

…

An old Chinese man climbs the rocky path of the mountain.
As he reaches a small projection he finds there a 
wind-tormented juniper tree.
He sits down to contemplate the art of poetry, painting,
		philosophy, and old age.

…

Sunday dinner on a Balkan farm.
The whole family gathers under the mulberry tree 
Where a table is set up laden with six courses of heavy food.
Kids run around the table picking up and eating the fallen mulberries.

…

A young painter and a lady are walking in a Parisian park.
He is talking of the pattern on the trunks of plane trees they pass by.
He is falling in love. 


Large walnut tree in the center of the village, between the tavern 
		and the church.
Old men smoke pipes in its midday shade while youngsters brave
		the maze of its thick branches.
Soon, they will be sitting in its shade.

…

yoghurt and snail

blue flashes, blue sparks, blue comfort
and written in runes
i stand indisposed
swimming in the ocean of valium
dill-honey driiping from my skin
red-brick and tarred-wood taskhouse
learn me the bottle!
vulcanize me!
with tangy membranes and tentacles
light draft brings the smell of suede leather
there's cobweb on the landmine
slaking quicklime
some intimate nuisance shines through
the strength of a nylon fishing line
through the white of a bad eye
my ladder is high-tech, it has keyboards for rungs
but where do we fit in between sarayevo and adidas


the case of the midwife toad

experience acquired by rote
and set to musical score
balkan empathy leaks
cucumber and cantaloupe
tang poetry of space
steeped in intemperence
the spirit of a nigarian railwayman of great strength
sedate me, civilize me!
fill her up!
against the fresh smell of uncut books
there's a flaw in the flow
liminal group-dynamics
slaloms through the devotional loops
of fiber optics
sexy bruise under her eye
pragmatic literature
let's let the colf out of our lukewarm


november bagatelle

brown and yellow patches on the sidewalk
them leaves pattern the asphalt
the air is wet through and through
cold and warm sharpen each others' outlines

and the white patches arrive into the old
brave green of parks and street-islands
the clear thin air is ready to be saturated
and the dogs look greyer every day


facile synthetic

some are drunk in their dreams
others steeped in the conviction in proletar renaissance
i just let my saliva flow
and travel me to the ground in happy gobs
has anyone ever,
painstaking ambivalence,
gently challenged by the hassle of logistics
she just stood there, twiched
and broke her g-string, didn't she?
spontaneous wednesday.
dear alpha male,
please turn on the electric oil-burner
full throttle
pretty non-design
here and there
kind illusions hustle
themselves
into the well-groomed forefront of cultivated leisure
the tip of my tongue burns,
with sweet nothing
willing prompters form a queue
maybe is a gross exaggeration
pink-overalled janitors vacuuming water from the vision


ambiguous lesson

the morning news is a popular newspaper
half the workers in the factory are idle
they did not recognize the new president
they are expected to arrive at seven
it's a very cheap newspaper
the teacher insisted that his pupils did their homework regularly
she was driving on the right side of the road
he didn't appeal to me
she was a very funny girl
he might have phoned
she like to entertain people
he took advantage of his friend's knowledge
she's a curious person
he's very fair
she was very jealous of her husband's reputation
john should know the answer
my grandfather was a very powerful man
i thought he was rather suspicious
john should know the answer
i'm afraid i'm not prepared to leave yet


     

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