Friday, December 2, 2016

Maria Morisot, Poetry

Stultifera Navis, image by Irene Koronas

French cut, homogeneous melting pot; the muddy black
gut of American subcultures.                          Candidates
do not ‘’comply,,                    do not reciprocate     tense
terse phenomenon                   it isn’t what signs     come
in waves of fatigue;                below the threshold       of
modern pop-culture                 seance; bring me to   your
                                                bit by binary bit      bucket
                                                seven is the new nine,  six
                                                cradles the cat, does     not
                                                define soliloquy as    death
                                                what once said       Hamlet
                                                to Ophelia the tie is     broken
                                    and shattered are         the principles
                                           of modern            mathematics
                                      so many sainted        men     all
                                    wanting not, waiting not for the
                                        Holy Ghost to let them in; all
                                    white   ‘’like ghosts themselves,,

A third of these sobriety tests;                        and prayers
unanswered, ‘’is there a God,,??        adjusted
medications play at the                       background
            of a holistic surge meant for backlit
            garbage collection; like in the Java
            kits they brought to us in school
            what a ‘’hoax,, my fame; my so-called
            screaming army of transcendentalisms
nauseous so-called hyper-active thyroid malfunction
So the birds in my vacation home can breed; falling
out of their nests and getting trampled under foot

A heritage                   of little pets
dreamed a                   horde of cats
no oxen or                   fornicating pigs
unmarried                    mares; swept
linguistics                    beneath the rug
            binary, trinary; quaternary
            six pence none the richer;
and in her                    song, I feel
reconnected                 with your violent
storm, a suicidal          outburst of creativity
but even the kiss         is unrelated
I want to birth             your condition
give life                       to your mess of
film and                       aperture;

‘’Sorry for the sleep that took me under,,

                        Catalogue plain white
                        pages turning through
                        blackened night; I can
                        only make out our faces
                        a predictability of concert
                        and shame; no more control
                        just a fixated point where
                        two bodies hover, waiting

                                                for the end.

Diseased feral cats walk through walls
substance         could curtail the driver’s
formulaic reciprocation of posture and
identity; the heartbeat with                 several
reconstructive surgeries foretells

[[ Closing the doors to my enhanced sensory perception ]]

‘’This is his body; and blood,,
in one small disc of consequence; take it or leave it,
the identity of mid-upper class white male homicidal
tenacity, pitched forks water cannons

‘’I’m not a Nazi,, she says,
hanging up her vote in the closet
but the pressure is on to redistribute
the pinions and the gear shift makeovers;

Harangue at the audience of clusterfucks;
‘’this is my diocese,, deliver me from
everlasting hellfire; knock the doors in,
claim I bleed several heliotropic guernseys;
mockery at Standing Rock, to place
monastic pipelines which bleed black

The Second War for the Fountain of Youth

A-symmetrical geo-political bastardized forms
of cardiac arrest;
turpentine cosmology packed with blazers &
interested propaganda short order home cooks;
                                                imminent demise
                                                corruption of a
                                                headlong mainstream
                                                commitment process
How I long to                         necessitate
hypothetical                            reactionary foreclosure;

‘’With this wheel,,      I now pronounce you
man on wife; crushing, bleeding, self-inflicted

—Maria Morisot