Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Smorg #4

I said: "No Public Art!"
To Faulkner, of course he said: "Architecture

Coliseum jazz, at the middle is architecture
At the entrance, tabacs
buying a newspaper

In black, sat in the jazz hall
And though I said: "No Public Art!"
I put that nickel down upon the mantle
and stood at the vomitorium door
, Soundlessly smoking

Stoned, I hear the vowels more
What is broken, child?
My hand, it hurts
viz. etymological hammering
on the phrases heard
What have you hurt?
My hand, and they all were watching

--- James Yeary (from "Argos 4")

but there is a pigeon in the road too old to fly
and you cant say he is waiting for a wheel bump
or that he is waiting for a ride to the lake
like the white dove we wait
to run more like a mountain, like that sleeping man
always on that bench in the park, more and more always

we live our days wandering around waiting our death
when some hippy will come pour water to our grave
and say some heavy shit
but what if that hippy got too heavy now
like a cpr that got into your heart too far

I saw a man beating my fathers chest to breathing
beating him to life after his first death of many

and I was taken from the home by death
and went to the hospital on the lonely bus

and when the nurse came to take me from the room
I saw his heart meter plunge
and I shall never again doubt the osmosis of emotion

--- Tom Blood (from "The Act")

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