The hook

How do you play the game when you see

all the hooks and

the rules rip the loopholes wide,

gaping stage of dancing strings and pantomimes

"The primary and most beautiful of Nature`s qualities is motion, which agitates her at all times, but this motion is simply a perpetual consequence of crimes, it is conserved by means of crimes alone."

D.A.F DE SADE

As True As Troilus by FareWell Poetry


*

"And in our quiet hour
I feel I see everything
And am in love with the hook
Upon which everyone hangs"

JOANNA NEWSOM

*

Syndactyly

 -

"I have decided to leave Clea’s last letter un-answered. I no longer wish to coerce anyone, to make promises, to think of life in terms of compacts, resolutions, covenants. It will be up to Clea to interpret my silence according to her own needs and desires, to come to me if she has need or not, as the case may be. Does not everything depend on our interpretation of the silence around us?"

LAWRENCE DURRELL - Clea

-

Pen on paper. GIMP

*

*

By the apple trees of Anon

*

And from the train, where the tracks had slid me down through the seasons, colour burst at my pupils, 

but I could not know it. A line had been cast.

 

(9th may 2011)

*

Sealed, white

rime crisped your beard,

godless wire filigree framing

You, the selfish giant

No blood seeped the rippling

tinkle

of snow blossoms, ice encrusted

at your pores.

No child played by your apple tree

Motionless dream,

frozen at the pillow,

Where you lay woven

in your creaking bed

Of wicker willow.

Image: Jose Luís Pérez

  

""I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming," said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; "I hope there will be a change in the weather."

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none. "He is too selfish," she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. "I believe the Spring has come at last," said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?"

OSCAR WILDE - THE SELFISH GIANT

Remix - pieces of us were left on the tracks... by Library Tapes by Abdul benCamel

*

Shiver

All the birds have flown away

*

At Dawn (Vogel) by Pantaleimon


*

Cavernous Cuckoo

            In the freshness of the morning I

Feel back to the musty sheets where I left my load

Under white chasms of creased restlessness

I was devoured by a pack of dogs

rabid, with tears in their eyes

From the grey confines of that decaying

concrete window, you watched merciless

as flooded with shame I was, at the warm

smell of those dripping canines slipping

gently in, like spikes into bruised fruit

In the freshness of the morning, I.

Dustin O' Halloran - Vorleben - Compilation - 130701 by FatCat Records

"Gazing into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger"

JAMES JOYCE

*

 "I don't belong to anyone
My heart is heavy as an oil drum
And I don't want to be alone
My heart is yellow as an ear of corn
And I have torn my soul apart
From pulling artlessly with fool commands
Some nights I just never go to sleep at all
And I stand
Shaking in my doorway like a sentinel
All alone
Bracing like the bow upon a ship
And fully abandoning
Any thought of anywhere
But home, my home
Sometimes I can almost feel the power
And I do love you
Is it only timing that has made it such a dark hour
Only ever chiming out "Cuckoo, cuckoo""

JOANNA NEWSOM - In California

* 

Long weekend

Gasping for breath whilst skimming deeply through "The unbearable lightness of being"

"Sabina was unaware of the goal that lay behind her longing to betray. The unbearable lightness of being - was that the goal?"

 - MILAN KUNDERA -

" 'Idle' she writes 'to imagine falling in love as a correspondence of minds, of thoughts; it is a simultaneous firing of two spirits engaged in the autonomous act of growing up. And the sensation is of something having noiselessly exploded inside each of them.

Around this event, dazed and preoccupied, the lover moves examining his or her own experience; his gratitude alone, stretching away towards the mistaken donor, creates the illusion that he/she communicates with their fellow, but this is false.
The loved object is simply one that has shared an experience at the same moment of time, narcissistically; and the desire to be near the beloved object is at first not due to the idea of possessing it, but simply to let the two ideas compare themselves, like reflections in different mirrors' "

- LAWRENCE DURRELL - JUSTINE

Culo de mal asiento

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams"

W.B. Yeats


*

Permanence 

that unconditional elusive         
                                                            Eminence

.

****

Cocorosie - Not For Sale by holdenglass

Bad seated ass

any blood curdling

liquid bunch of

diamond chains

sip sipping

let the chimes pass

(Tread softly he said)

caked in dark flour

sun bleached

any small endeavour

to be reached

and then

sip sipping

till another one

dawns

- and among the thorns and the jagged glass strewn lawns you walked heedless and high headed; you read the story only once and fried the pages over for breakfast, another one shall come -

(Only my dreams he said)

he wove them in

threaded pine-needles

smeared sap glue from

punctured baobab skin

held them tight and

he lay them down

by the highway

***

"Riding seaward on the waves"

"And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.


(...)


I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas."

                                                      T.S ELIOT - The Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Field Rotation - Acoustic Tale 2 by FluidAudio

* 

The Uncompromising Cruelty

(The Cruel Birefringence )

Time cracked and

fell with a clatter

like a

spoon

upon the platter

in an empty

dinning-room

Bite it!

in the plumbing

voices

drip dripping

(how it haunted you the plumbing!)

shatter of

teeth, gritted

[and then Prufrock took a deep breath, and you went pale]

The

orphaned flowerpots

cigarette butts

among the gravel

tossed

ashen leaves

(like your skin was!)

bleaching

in the wind

Across the window

the curtain was always

drawn.

and you stood in the doorway

In the doorway

you stood.

- 

Clock cracks out the hours

"Wind and storm colored July. Also, in the middle, cadaverous, awful, lay the grey puddle in the courtyard, when holding an envelope in my hand, I carried a message. I came to the puddle. I could not cross it. Identity failed me. We are nothing, I said, and fell. I was blown like a feather. I was wafted down tunnels. Then very gingerly, I pushed my foot across. I laid my hand against a brick wall. I returned very painfully, drawing myself back into my body over the grey, cadaverous space of the puddle.

This is life then to which I am committed."

             
                                                                 WOOLF, VIRGINIA -  The Waves -

(Photograph: Desmond Donnellan)



Antonymes - Lost In Waves Of Light by Fluid Radio

D r i p dripping of a long forgotten tap

your ghost it dwells

along the mildew

among the empty

oyster shells

B e a t beating of a long leaking heart

your echo swells

along the stained

among the damp

alcoholic smells

(watered down nauseous waves become)

Pinpointed

in loose fingered

crumpling pages

yellowed lines

hooked

to your delirious

mazes

(and our breath sweeping along the clock cracks and the spider silk maps, stops.
Teeters over the edge, caught at the blades' tip of such an absolute. )

Smaller hours

"Writing as distraction

writing as a work

routine takes away freedom

freedom takes away restraint

restraint takes away fear

fear takes away hope

hope takes away past

past present future all in a day"

                                         Donnellan, Desmond

- Every day

one bottle

half a pint of milk:

two days

Teabags, unnumbered

your demise, steady

Every day, grocery shop

a gentleman! they said

(dead dead dead)

one packet of cakes

“loose fruit”

cigarettes

bread, sliced.

Working Dog

And in the hidden corner

of your most secret terror

your most blatant surrender

life dragged on like

a spectre

and the rotting peels dripped

and the stained tissues

festered -

 
                             

****

Small Hours

 

“I Lost my bottle

when you are

you threw your arms around me

sending you back to her

although I could never keep you

caught in the impossibility

of choice

of love

of freedom

of loss

and arms your love

feels around me”

                         Donnellan, Desmond

***

The bog that was the sink

and the leeching

brown gurgling

of days

stretching

and piling

Among the cracks

dripping

time drags

the leaking of

moldy teabags

congealed

drains, echoes

plummeting

Heavy in the air

wine only

got thicker as

sluggish, the words

tumbled

crawling

from your pen

“you lost your bottle”

****

The radical

merciless perspective

the angular change in vision

that death forces

upon the living

****

                      

****

Bedtime in the sunlight

Spring crawls towards the Arctic
like some
s l o w
lumbering
BEAR

He grumbles, sometimes
burdened as he is
by trails of birds
fluttering
heavy with song
They burst over you
fireworks
in the townlight
if you aren't

careful.

His head
does ache
with the bobbing
incessant
of pregnant buds
sowed in print
unfurling!
as he trudges along
sniffing
the thawing snow
out
and
away!

***

Per a Annia... And for you too

Refill

Stretched across rails, mires and sugarless coffee

***

25 - Isnaj Dui & Andy Nice - Bones by Arctic Circle Radio

" Il a mis le café
Dans la tasse
Il a mis le lait
Dans la tasse de café
Il a mis le sucre
Dans le café au lait
Avec la petite cuiller
Il a tourné
Il a bu le café au lait
Et il a reposé la tasse
Sans me parler
Il a allumé
Une cigarette
Il a fait des ronds
Avec la fumée
Il a mis les cendres
Dans le cendrier
Sans me parler
Sans me regarder
Il s'est levé
Il a mis
Son chapeau sur sa tête
Il a mis
Son manteau de pluie
Parce qu'il pleuvait
Et il est parti
Sous la pluie
Sans une parole
Sans me regarder
Et moi j'ai pris
Ma tête dans ma main
Et j'ai pleuré"

JACQUES PRÉVERT (Déjeuner du matin)

Electra's Congratulations

" I am accustoming myself to the idea of regarding every sexual act as a process in which four people are involved. We shall have a lot to discuss about that."

S.FREUD: Letters

"There are two positions available to us--either crime which renders us happy, or the noose, which prevents us from being unhappy. I ask whether there can be any hesitation, lovely Thérèse, and where will your little mind find an argument able to combat that one?"

D.A.F DE SADE: Les Malheurs de la vertu.

 

I watched it, opalescent dark image inkily

layered out, glistening on the bus window

And though I knew I was there, crisscrossed

by rails, seats and stop buttons

polished mussel shells,

no recognition came

And just above the plastic arm rest read

Christ, as just another dent stretching

seen on the line encrusted ruler of lead

Not so far from the 22^nd mark

I seemed and seamed

myself, allocated to.

I heard then the devilish laughter

Freud at the front row raising his

wine glass in mocking red salute

Electra's' eyes brimmed full

of satisfied ruby contempt

she may be cursed but

in this, dammit,

she is not

alone.

***

  

***

Polar sunshine

Burst forth from

egg shaped tears
                   little bluebirds.
Cut crystal spray

of shattered shells

                   filled the skies.

into painless blue

they dissolved

and Bukowski
he moaned.

***

FIELDHEAD - an arrow by Gizeh

"... there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do

you?" 

[Bukowski. "The Last Night of the Earth Poems" - Bluebird ]

(and the sound to the lines)

SLEEPINGDOG - Polish Love Song by Gizeh

Delilah till frukost

- Every morning, before he popped bread in the toaster,

even, mind you, before water touched the lime

encrusted spirals laying at the depths of the kettle

Samson sat down and with a long whetstone

he expertly, acutely and with great care

sharpened his scissors.

No wonder a slow drawn shudder

slithered down his fast-full spine

as he fished out, spoon glistening

a long hair red tresses once disowned 

from his perfectly brewed breakfast tea -

"He replied, “If you weave the seven braids of my head into the fabric on the loom and tighten it with the pin, I’ll become as weak as any other man.” So while he was sleeping, Delilah took the seven braids of his head, wove them into the fabric and tightened it with the pin."

[ The Judges  16:13 ]