From Checking In II
excerpts
from The Book of Lumenations
EICHA II
She has not
dismembered her footstool in the days of her hunger
And in the
ache of asylum
I have
bent my bow
framed in
the anchor of candied dalliance –
screaming
in strung shadows, revenance
where
limning sutures, festooned in sunshift
Lie with
me
in the
illicit quiver
of knotted
conscience
Languish
through
whispered harbors’
pressed
exile
among
evening’s inheritance;
the
providence of slipped
semes
slants
sucking
twilight
of
latticed scatter
Lie with
me
in our
ash-starred silence
constellated
in the
riveted drifts
And suck
the sting of sun clung lettered-skin as I open my mouth
wide
against you; ink gnashed
in the
twinned ignition of scar-studded scripts
And
behold, the stretched vestige of sprayed hunger
whose
singing fingers devour
in the
petulance of choked zones
slain in
the scored synchrony of
slung
slaughter
summoning
as though it were a feast day
sprawled
in the dandle
of the
rippled signs
of
chorused dawn
EICHA III
Bled like
a maiden of wrecked darkness, netted inlets
of ripped
dyssemia, fleshy sequiturs, wisteria, the taste of broken bans –
Hail the
billow of campy siege, the truance of giddy travaille
And make
me dwell in the darkened wreckage of feverish dread
In the
censored resonance of pliant heaves;
The plated
shudder of my parade.
Burn me in
the binding bias in torqued harrow.
For I am
woke in the swindled aperture of fibrous light;
And I am
giddy with shaded want in the quiescence of ludic clues
Naked with
his yoke in my mouth
Let him
sit sultry for he has laid upon me
Let him
put his mouth into the dust
Let I
offer his check to the smitten
Let him be
filled with peaches
The load
is my potion to those who wait;
oh
scissored will!
of
sculpted affliction, curled indices,
lurid
creases
Who has
come
in the
undulance of unassailable labor
Come
unfenced
in the
screaming revenance
Covet me
with elastic assertions,
re-forested
signs, heaving gardens annexed
with
foaming rupture
Make me
come
in the
refuse among the precipice
in the
amnesty of opening
rapt in
the shadowed torrent
Of hushed
slaughter, peepholes
Eyestreams
In the
tell of the luring
And say:
lick dawn.
In the
frame of hushed lobbies
Suck
solace in the eros of my city
Haunted
with borders
And fine
me in the engine of our demise
And cast
satin upon me
Water my
flowing head -- and cut me
in the
dripping petulance
Hear my
vestibule in the hiding of your signatum
Drawn near
in the call of farce
You have
seen the ringing dalliance the jagged closets
You have
seen the nexus of varnished device
You have
heard the silty ode of tainted sway
Formed in
swelled speech hammered
in the
ferocity of mourning; ground with fitful defiance
As you
police me in the milk of daybreak
Grazed in
the hunger of dusty flummox.
EICHA IV
Riddled in
thick drift
and drunk
with iniquity
Whose
balletic thirst
is clasped
in the
synomymy
of their
yaysay, purer than sinew, and wet with dusk
ruddier
than choral, sapphire, milking crimson syrups
sifted
riffs of spilt surfeits
Whose skin
a
buttered
vortex of fruited
folds
fluted affinities
of ripened
whim
crowned in
syllabic aberrance
and
punctuated with ferocity?
Who’s
echoed in the disquiet of fiery salutes
as
tongue-torqued sucked cleaves –
whose
contours of thirsty flourish
lather in
the inhabitants of
herded
words?
And who
frames the humming grafts
of
grinding ligatures
whose
prophecy pressed
in the
witness of
blind
stagger?
And
through trysty cirques, censures
garmented
in letters
who’s
calling out in the fingered folly
of lasooed
swoonsay
through
frisson, flares
slips,
lapsed, mounting rapt
in the
stop-watched sap scored arias
of purring
rigor?
***
Whose
ruched ramparts
mount in
the
cradled
bouquet
whose
drenched thresholds
of pursed
favor
flutter in
whose
fluted impasse
compassed
in whose haunted walls
whose
licked chambers
kissed in
the porosity
of
luxuriant exposure
***
And
anchored in slung sun-sucked spurs
succor’s
prurience
in the
province of curled lure.
whose
chorused encore courts
as quilled
squall coils
in scarred
culled, ques, calling
And in the
raging contagion of the yoked hurrah!
You say
umlaut, I say amulet.
Is the
emolument an emollient today?
ameliorated
--
Canopy.
Canapé.
Pomato.
Mutata.
Is the
error a mirror?
*
Here, her
in mired
err
whose scar
is clear
Hear her /
here / his hire
as ire /
wears err’s
shared
prayer / where
care is
rare
in
her
vey iz mir
tears
shmear
where fear
is clear
as
mirrored ire / error
where
flared air
colored
in your
care
*
And as
care curls / in her swirled whorl’s
spurred
leurre / stirred
spur of
porous lore
whose
flurried furies fiery forêts folly, flayed fray
in the
ripped wrought
of sobbing
lot
whose
fiery fuhrer folly foray flares
in the
florid leure of lore’s floor
of soaring
horror –
in the
raging contagion
lips slip
rapt lapse sic ops
lopped
wrought / raw lot
In the
black and unyielding light
alight in
its own shivering dream
The light
of fat language.
The light
of stretched testing, widening hips.
The light
of untidy probes which smells like
gags
thievery
acrobats
dancing
bears
The light
which reeks of
the light
of the light that will not leave.
That I
cannot write; that falls in its carrying
In the
killing of its crushing, its clinging
and its
excesses and its masks.
This is
the light which lifts up and travels
from one
word to another grimaces
in the
torment of its hardening.
In its
emptiness. In its own contamination.
Buried
without madness. Drowning
in its own
inexplicable cry.
And this
is the light that does not write,
does not
speak but in nightmares.
In the
death of its enunciation
which
rises, swells in indefatigable profusion;
in
immediacy and madness. In hysterical
profusion.
This light of doors, thresholds,
capacities,
amplitudes, omissions and promises
de[p]ths
and pleasures. That trembles
with
tension. Stretched
in the
torment of glyphs.
glas.
gloss / glossary rasps lisps
in its
missing. The light of the light
of the
letter screaming
in the
nostalgia of the present
CHECKING IN II
Thin Lizzy
is watching her carbs
Fatwa is
doing a cleanse
The
Pre-Pesach Jew is clearing her cookies
Alfred
Hitchcock is using Windows
The
Smoker, the joker and the mid-night toker are wanting a vape
Old Man Beaver is wanting a 5 cent cigar
Loves Labor is Lost
Old Man Beaver is wanting a 5 cent cigar
Loves Labor is Lost
Microsoft
is getting hard
Form is
wet with Content’s Dream
This
content is not available
The Alte
Kacker is with Kathy Acker
The Spy
Who Loved Me is using Malware
The World
Wide Web is at The W
The
Cocteau Twins are at the Double Tree
The Giving
Tree is dead
Hamlet’s
Ghost is reading the Phenomenology of Spirit
Chick
Corea is at the Tequileria
Deus ex
machina is Raging Against itself
Florence
and the Machine like this
E & G
are saying F off
Happy Man
is at Friendlies
Oh Fernando
is at Nando’s
The Long,
Long Sleeper is Woke
*
The
sin-qu-a-non is overflowing
bp nichol
is sinking in sin’s kin
Lynyrd
Skynyrd is in the skin i live in
Roland
Barthes is with his exes[s]
driving
a polished lexis
Emily XYZ
is reading ex why zee
Bold
italics are refusing to move into an upright position
The
Riddler is with the Fiddler
The Saudi
is driving an Audi
Siouxsie
is eating sashimi.
Sad Boy’s
Sad Boy is playing with his enWii
Kant is
looking for Duty Free
**
Wynken,
Blynken and Nod are at Sleepy’s
Gertrude
Stein is at an airbnb
John
Ashberry is where black swansdown settles on the city
William
Butler Yeats is where the Inn is free
Yes Man is
in the Noosphere
Google is
mapping the territory
Narcissus
is using his selfie stick
The House
of Pancakes is waffling
Aer Lingus
is serving vaniglia
The
Disillusioned Lover is enjoying some secondary Orality
Ludwig
Beethoven and Ludwig Wittgenstein are now friends
Fed Ex is
totally “shipping” this
525,600
minutes are at Midnight Moment
The Sixty
Minute Man is reading The Hours
Minute
Maid is taking minutes
Time is on
your side
Copper and
aluminum are exposing their inner mettle
The
excluded middle likes this
Dirty
Concretists are overwriting
Van Gogh
is eating a mango
The
pedagogue is in the synagogue
The
luddite is going analog
and
says binary code is such a USER
The system
is closed.
