Thursday, August 2, 2012

I doubt the formatting will be maintained with the poems below; yah, nope; hmm, it's, sort of, I think, interesting to see the spacing/prosody be different; the "goal" of the poems is to fuse syntax to spatialization, to make syntax ekphrastic, or faux ekphrastic, as there is no actual artwork the poems are stemmed from; ok, one more description attempt--I hope the poems are forthed from a syntax which resembles stroking paint onto canvas, marks which carry-through the bodily movement which it took to make them and I think this is, at this stage, not clear enough but hopefully the theorizing will improve:


I was there before

Land became scape scrapes

Paint off with a palate knife just

In case an intruder tries funny

Business art and overly

Protective are constant interlopers

Lollops that grin then trolls trippy

Wrangling of viscera from where and

Why remain un concluded clipped.     


As an egg optic nerve a nervous

Parting portal to

What nourishes whom and where

Am I looking turns features

Formal fit for such and such a property

Pertains framed fully aware conventions

Catalyze their inevitable cancelling does

Not concern some continuities much or any.


Cardiac arrest is a serious

Risk take care of your

Heart a sign scrawled on a crumbling

Wall a metaphor but if

Not a transference then what is

A message

How did such statements get here

Hirsute stems bracket bloodhot narratives

Known then as now to be a real

Nostrilful they say the first pull makes the way

Or there are those who speak

Differently demands some other

Observer an architrave of

Finely wrought gut geared towards disdain

Emerged critical scrutiny not immediate diss.    


Brindled, barnacled, belted to a trim

Tree the color of


Fans itself out in flames lustrous as love

That core, that ice

At the central-most

Periphery, its

Apex, price, and no price,

Not even the gorgeousness surrounds

Me, this coast

All tree, convinces my wits

It’s just my pounds

Not very

Terribly an entire ecosystem, necessary as the sea.


Cicely on styptic plum is this

A fruit or pigment makes her

Fatigue more beautiful than logic

Doesn’t hold candle of renderings

Melts down to mangled nerves ash on

Eyelids summer harvest sheens her

Every glance gardening with scalpels

Instead of wheel barrows she drew

Burrows into and this square micro

Millimeter is full of great shakes.  

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