Make your own free website on Tripod.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

exit / entrance

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christopher Mulrooney


Juvenalia4

more Juvenalia5

furthermore Juvenalia6

the turtle lagoon7

a nearby spot 8

the latest import 9

salon shop10

the swaying barcarolle11

all of the focus groups 12

take it both ways 13

pro forma response14

the weather mailbox15

precipitation16

terrace buffet 17

speculation18

portfolio19

labor conditions 20

no show21

of the press 22

perspectives of illusion23

ďin a sort of closed room...Ē 24

an outdoor sculpture25

trade papers 26

Morgana27

the free range of all termites 28

the family of togetherness 29

report 31

the art of mayonnaise32

orange king33

broker 34

hostages 35

outrider dance troupe36

the boulevard37

the village38

my compatriot 39

the sewing circle40

the city41

scharfschŁtze42

a park concert 43

exit 44

entrance44

what's the matter with classical music? 45

the transbarbative round pool 46

the dunce cap47

Roma Forever 48

wide-ranging areas of disagreement 49

Boho50

monumentem ad51

the sterile shoot 52

the opponent 53

town hall meeting54

jobs 55

the blank prospectus 56

the millionaireís folly57

the beaver pelt 58

absentee59

St. Narcissus 60

crowds 61

P-U62

scraps of Alcman63

a calendrical sonnet 64

the fund66

the broad house comedy67

the black box68

vista69

Postmodern golf course70

tower 71

madam secretary72

the fairy shepherd73

at a public house74

Bondís haiku75

transport 76

the caper 77

the heist 78

fairy fay79

artistic exhibition80

no surfing81

exhibition by candlelight 82

School of Athens 83

extent 84

disembowelment 85

scribe86

my hooker 87

the unpossessed88

dit dat dot 89

song90

autel 91

excuse92

an affront to the system†† 93

rain94

query95

in Rodinís workshop96


 

 

 

 

 

 

Juvenalia

 

 

 

say what you like about Rome insomnia kills you there
your guts on fire with rentlessness
root of all ill
booming wheels roaring drivers
to wake the deaf or sea lions at the Pole

 

still you might be crushed some night
high the roofs a tile heavy
defective pots go right out the window
down to smash on the cobblestones
make your will before you dine thou dizzy with disasters
tragedy is under any broad window while you're making your way at night
so pray the hussies never throw aught on your pate but merds

 

o the sodden lout dying to brutalize some fool
he rolls upon his bed another Achilles he
languishing for love of the late Patroclus
sleepless 'less he pummel summat
stoned howsomuch he'll not go near th' em-
purpled flashlit searchlighted fellow
surrounded by the vastness of his bodyguard
me on foot by moonlight schlepping
or shielding from the breeze a guttering dip
he doesnít care a fig t'avoid

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

more Juvenalia

 

 

 

firstly is this punishment that self-

judged never a no-good escapes

 

a small thing

ever and infirm the mind deriving pleasure

punishing conclude you thence that vengeance

never is greater joy than womanís


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

furthermore Juvenalia

 

 

 

whoever stood Gracchian complaints of sedition?

 

ravens fly free censure doves vex

 

Rome didnít fall in a day

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the turtle lagoon

 

 

it was on a Friday the day before yesterday

when we broke into a forest clearing and took a long look goodbye

this Tuesday we have a nice new appointment at the bank

 

the bank had all

the money we had needed

to answer the case presented unto us

that was all we needed we had no payments

for the longest time

and it came to our attention that we were

to ourselves at any rate

on our own

 

we found this out in a manner of speaking

when we wrote down this note

 

and all of a sudden there was like some birds do

a downpouring onto the lagoon

 

and all the birds sang and cawed and croaked

on the surface and dove down for the fish

with a lot of clatter and fuss of feathers

that was the downpouring of them

and we went then into the forest again

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a nearby spot

 

 

a disused building made to fit

and then opposite on the other hand

palm down the unsupported pile of works

 

it is therefore bad and cannot be disimproved

Belacqua

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

     

the latest import

 

 

it just came in

get this

you have a weird idea all right

no doubt about it

whatever

 

here it comes

I give it to you

here it is

itís precious

priceless maybe

 

you have a lumpenproletariat

point of view

no doubt about it

whatsoever

 

king of fools

on a palanquin chair

to decree the fÍte

of millions not so much

as well

not so much maybe

 

and the great town

what of that

 

a permanent installation

it comes to town like a horse

and rider

 

stays to graze

 

and the aftermath

is only the leavings countless


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

salon shop

 

what were you doing there

it is a province of duty

long trellis burnished stair

and anything but frail beauty

 

you have to remember (note

to self like Geoffrey Hill

in an English paper) rote

is milk that doesnít spill

 

but curdles like the giggles

in a teamwork fret

where the caught fish wriggles

for a tennis bet

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the swaying barcarolle

 

in came the department stores

out went the space

 

the whole history of the human race

is multiplied among the laundry room ticket dispensers

that say Madam say or that

supply the say aside or say that here we go again

palm heretoforwards

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

all of the focus groups

 

 

gathered at one point of fine concentration

really gathered together

linked up

holding hands at one together Ouija board

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

take it both ways

 

 

when the methane gas rises

there is nothing you can do

but hold a sale like the oracle

above her fissure in the earth

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

pro forma response

 

what did you say

that then

oh well

had you say then

that would be something

and then or

would you say something

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the weather mailbox

 

outside the door

it wonít fit

it wonít go over

the screen door

the gloves fit

the fingers go

over the sums

and fly away

home and dry

in the weather

by the mailbox

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 ††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††

 

 

 

precipitation

 

at a conference

on a rainy day the question is put forth

 

any decisions taken

that is made

actions are taken

any decision means an undertaking of thought

that is thought taken

not too much

enough to come to a decision

and act

 

therefore proposals are written up and handed around

some say this and others written well also

say that

which is all well and good

in spite of further protestations

on behalf of the government of the industry and the educational system

so to speak

and there is this to say about the conference

it reaches no holding place and no handling

together of thought

 

it doesnít minister to the wants of the participants

who want a decision

but goes forth into the rain unsatisfied

not finding any truth whatsoever

in umbrellas and slickers

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

terrace buffet

 

the gaggle of all children

going up

to grow links of golf

Terpsichore

and books wherein I have missed something says the critic

one of the aboveboard purveyors of wisdom

comparable to the same

wherein the flights of fancy come down to

somersault and Mom

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

speculation

 

 

how if the sordid scenebit row of technology

simply won all the awards

on the principle of every budget scraped by

scrimps for tyrants who set the mode

whereby operatives lingerlove along by the old canal

just to maunder on the state of affairs

impotently grinding whatever corn can be mined

for the great day when all men eat shit and die

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

portfolio

 

 

in his briefcase he carries

official documents

 

they prove him

auspicious in his functions

worldly well-spoken

 

he signs the paper

dictating an action

measuredly

 

as you would sign a childís report card

full of hope

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

labor conditions

 

 

the face says plainly

work is very hard and very copious

so that we have to deal with all sorts of rigmarole

to get it accomplished

and here is the reason

 

pitted against the bull

is the torero sizing up the arena

he sings a popular song of the bullfight

and goes away laughing or crying

it all depends on the matador

in his mind

 

you kill the bull

like the Minotaur

 

youíre Theseus

 

or else youíre the sad victim

flower of youth

Cretan

 

itís a system folks

good as any

with a bullís head full of pride

youíre the deciding factor

and the jobber hauls the carcass away

to the butcher

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

no show

††††††††††††††††

 

how if we do fancy

a concert hall

with a three-ring circus

overhead the pie-throwers on the flying trapeze

afterward white tie and tails in the green room


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

of the press

 

 

a folding bed

in the hallway

 

what principles are these

that govern the guests?

 

who strikes the type

for the foundry

who measures the paper?

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

perspectives of illusion

 

a steady uproar comes to me

beside us

all the way to the port

carefully analyzed by all these careful analysts

as a harbormasterís dream

the breakwater is down

a fixed installation monitors the bay

and keeps him in the basement

safely occupied

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ďin a sort of closed room...Ē

 

 

in a sort of closed room

the perspective of Cťzanne

canyons and shipyards

with a curving surface

like Caroís Saddle

weather indicated with a certain patina

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

an outdoor sculpture

 

 

a mirror of these reflections

would give much bad advice

pour out criticules and auditoria fit for spectacles

approved by colleges funded by an economy

built on private taste in this way

what goes over the mantelpiece

knocked down at heavier sums than any known to man

shall be never this guide

malingering in the forecourt

to smoke a cigarette and admire the view

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

trade papers

 

 

one could not remember

where it was

if not so why so eh

and so forth

 

a sheet of rationales was posted up

handed out

memorialized

 

all is as it was

since then

without fear

of contradiction

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Morgana 

 

she is the pledge

of all faith in vaingloriousness

and doesnít wonder

 

if in these shores the boat tickles mermaidsí breasts

gliding along in her silver wake 

 

jellyfish are doughnuts starfish Ninja weapons

and fish are schools of thought gray and mysterious

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the free range of all termites

 

 

I have this to say about all that

itís a close shave

tears the tash off Hitler

barefaced

 

thereís that fear that

we are bearded

to be dealt with

and discarded

 

the home truths

are the ones that count

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the family of togetherness

 

 

duplex A

 

 

letís drown the cat why not?

you sit or think

 

the cat thinks about things

you donít know about

 

letís go out the screen door

and make merry on the lawn awhile

 

the sky is blue the grass is green

there are fireflies in the sunset

after the housemates are gone

 

the breakfast oatmeal and milk

with apples and of course tea

the screed of any journalist

 

Wonder bread around the lunch

with the missile site on the hill

and the great expanse of tarred dirt

 

the clinging of oneís shadows

in the daylight walking to and fro

 

the city in which you are lost

and wandering or following the sidewalk

or walking on a wall to school

 

the great entertainments the baths

and pools for drowning cats in

 

 

duplex B

 

 

the singsong radius of the old gift

for treacheries comes upon one who says

encore encore une fois and do not forget

your lunch in a bag the glad times sweet times

you would have forgotten but for this reminder

 

ah the trees they are spoiled now

fruits are springing unripe

it isnít the fashion now maybe

if all this discourse were to spend itself on you

it might pass for a wood beam over the fireplace

like a movie set

 

you would have enjoyed that

you would have thought

hey nonny nonny

you would have enjoyed that

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

report

 

 

let me go figure if this

were all to remember

and the great shoals

had dampened over

enough to pass for a stream

and the canned laughter

a scream

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the art of mayonnaise

 

 

parse me this sentence now

would you please

the air full of cries

crises

 

of a Sunday will you be so good

and kind

as to children

mind

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

orange king

 

 

het me up a dingbat

for a throne

I would sit upon that

all alone

 

and survey my greatness

splendid so

that when my thralls once ate mess

they would go

 

mile upon mile to scatter

all my fame

wearing to a tatter

out my name

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

broker

 

 

 

they tell me why it doesnít why tell me eh

of course it could down to this

 

and then up to here but donít know

 

why up to me

 

it couldnít never panpipes and all

 

to a condo in Philadelphia and a farm lot out west

for the private plane and Margaret and the dogs

the worm that bit the apple

on the evolutionary ladder

good old

 

the propulsive speed at the blanched wilding

speaks courses of reservoirs in the main forests of Central Park

and the long days at the office end in

mirrored bedrooms and solitaires

 

seen it and forgotten

 

what a story get it down

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

hostages

 

 

 

I claim them up own

the first days regard me

with an uneven smile

it goes all around

you can see it from the back

 

the saintly smile

 

it goes down from the trickling streams on mountainsides

it gives a partial splash of success

in the bourbon

you passed over at the bar

wonderfully so

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

outrider dance troupe
 


sad-eyed on the peripheral vision of the director

itís loopy after the fashion of men trained for the dance

an acceptable conclusion

 

at the fence you would say peeking about

not liking what it sees


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the boulevard

 

 

 

the spindle-leg reviewers sat on the fly of a sailor's suit

and squirmed to beat the band

 

the tall ships entered the harbor

like hobby-horses in the stable of a speculator

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the village

 

 

 

roast beef and chives gone cold

the arid landscape seems already old

its hopes have flown with some new jet design

not included other plans something fine

 

the way it has to go it goes that way

no pomp and circumstance attends the rout

that lingers all the livelong laggard day

crushing every hope of question out

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

my compatriot

 

 

 

he savvies near as much as possible

the ornamental truth of any mirror

he tells them as he passes gaily

unreflective with a glint that's tiny

it might be a million years for him under the wan hot blazing sun

and then again he and his kind might rove to moon and maidens

fall back like a petal in an ass's ear and laughingly

pretend the chorus of Don Giovanni

played itself nightly around his slum with fountains

rising mightily in the air as far as possible

cascading like a pis-aller down there

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the sewing circle

 

 

 

here you have the fine old art

competes for face time on the Peeb

you make it out of scraps and rags

in which the discerning movie eye

of a born director on the sill looking out at the day

sees oh such things a roundelay

upside down a thousand things sideways something else

this too the art of making art

is stolidly discussed on telly

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the city

 

 

 

it's not a bad story really

not so's you'd notice anyways

it doesn't go

or do much

doesn't say what it wants

to have it says have nothing else

and then it walks to the corner store for something

it admires the hills you've read it before

shut up in the library

that's alive and kicking out with boots or waders

nothing else a Winslow Homer hat for rain

yellow or gray a slicker too

perhaps same color

a pulley

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

scharfschŁtze

 

 

 

he blends into the landscape

using available materials

 

he has a decoy

that looks almost human

and an observer

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a park concert

 

 

 

in the direct language one usually suggests

to assuage the public

critics no less

be it heard

on the dusty sidewalks

and makeshift benches

with a corollary in the footnotes

to wit

none like it anything forevermore

signed

a leading scholar

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

exit

 

 

the foul compadres swing a dance

your dance

on the highways and byways

you have not covered

 

 

 

entrance

 

 

here is the circus

run by idiots

there is no big top

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

what's the matter with classical music?

 

a symposium with a few matters extraneous to any subject

 

 

DR. CARLISLE CARWELL: if

SURGITE THOMPSON: did not anyone

DR. CARWELL: I might resume

MR. THOMPSON: bring anyone

DR. CARWELL: with the matter in hand

MR. THOMPSON: with coffee?

HURLA MITCHELSON: bubbles in any stream that's what any facts are

THE REVEREND DR. PIBEAU DOTTMEISTER: God bless the convocation in any or all of its many aspects

GUY THING: let's have a go all round

LIL BEAUPIPE: eep eep eep eep I'm laughing joy is what we have almost any time the cello sings

MISS MITCHELSON: with a humdrum humdrum hum drum drum

DR. CARWELL: ti-tum ti-tum now that's all settled let's deploy all things might seem to suggest or whatever you might say it can't

MISS MITCHELSON: hummy hummy dummy drummy

MR. THOMPSON: cream in my coffee

MR. THING: I'd love a very well-developed swing

MADAME BEAUPIPE: in any landscapes worthy of the condition of music

DR. CARWELL: with small towers you can say the lie of the land with

MISS MITCHELSON: oh I

MADAME BEAUPIPE: and all the little holes

MR. THOMPSON: filled with Joe

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

the transbarbative round pool

 

 

 

the scene of rebarbative transmissions

rhubarb

rebop and the hit parade

whole and entire

backwards and forwards

 

to the end in time

that forward dimension

of the newspapers

closely followed by the news

paper vendors

at the windows

hawking the bully reports

by all the reporters

betting on a byline

 

the other way

not the other way

thank you very much

goodbye and keep it

tight under wraps

like a sandwich you can choke on

at the movies in June gloom

round a tomb

wherever arises the bloom of another day

wherever arises the bloom


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the dunce cap

 

 

not till there is anything left there is thing and thing

no more and left is right to be sure only the labors

in vain to see the light of day at last and wonder

as they say in The New Yorker with a kind of half-hearted gaze

that isnít really incomprehensive but takes it all in anyhow

for just what itís worth on the open market just a phrase

to speak a word in season and have it sprout deeply and take root and so forth

with a bellcap like a mushroom or a folded parasol above the head in a tight corner set

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Roma Forever

 

 

it was no very brilliant idea at all we thought

when she moved in and filled her house with daubs

but when she sent the good ones out to match by having them touched up

we had to watch her very carefully lest she

tweak our noses while we slept

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

wide-ranging areas of disagreement

 

 

if you feel that you do not require solid foods

that do not require solid acquirements to feast upon

and if you then properly seasoned agree on a menu

formed a bill of fare itemized with several ŗ la carte items

to your credit lay a line of discourse down the road the stop sign yield sign traffic lights dividers

all the paraphernalia of the city and the artistic moments billboards and lading of all sorts

hawkers signs screens and all that

out by the farms a cherished tree

the chestnut palms and groves of coconut trees the pecan plum and raspberry leaf

the rivers closed and muddy and trifling with heat the cold ice frozen the picturesque the playful

the mountains and the hills the clouds all the natural terrain

and the buildings paid for scot and lot

you canít agree on too many points you canít even bother to be bothered

so you economize and thriftily spend your time

on small beer and potatoes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boho

 

 

no doubt but you would have come

but have you not come bidden

by such fires as we expel at long length hidden

from the mass of such men?

 

as the fresh-pressed clear juice

fills the clear bottles

expressly the rime away

from all memory dictates

nothing here

Hera

Hero

 


 

 

 

 

 

monumentem ad

 

 

passersby will read those terms and

wonder at their perspicuity

this I salvage you is not only the best way the only way

 

not for nothing are those dull terms wicked

as this day all along

the riverview piers and

transports all the evil

ways and the bloody discourse

leading nowhere at all in the long run

 

as you well know to your cost

who devised all this and yet

nothing no difference

no pained indifference to the whole matter of business conjoined on the salient fringe matters at all

 

no wonder

buy at all markets

thrift at all decisions

market at all events

swindle all the suckers

 

and a parade in your honor swells the streets

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the sterile shoot

 

 

hereís bimbo and trucks of all the nations

but specifically this one

with his grand old name

that fathered it or nearly

and likewise Yale

 

it went down to the Dig and got shovels

of inspiration loads

 

then the tweety birds

 

and small fry for the middle voices

 

lo

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the opponent

††††††††††††††††

 

his name is called down from the skybox

his position aboard ship

that had been a floating feast

he hadnít cared much to attend

 

although with some grace he had imagined

such things as in the childhood days of old

bombers flying overhead

and prominence suspect

but the fat ladies who shoot small balls

seem merely comical and the old ones

scouting down around the tables

where one hides

are subject to the slightest twinge

that halts them completely

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

town hall meeting

 

 

youíre the nut

heís the vigorish


 

 

 

 

 

 

jobs

 

 

1. market for the linen wear

 

itíll all come out in the wash

agitator and spin

rinse

tumble dry

youíre where you started

 

long threads woven

dye and weave

some lint remains

and drainwater

 

or you do it by hand

dry it in the sun

 

 

2. madhouse blues

 

stick a stamp on it

if youíve got a stamp

or know where to find one

mail it or today

skip it just forget it

wipe it out of memory

let it go right along

or like Wodehouse

fling it out the window

for a passerby to drop

into the mailbox

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the blank prospectus

 

 

 

I hear it as the bland of wings that never get there

riding along as it is now called

on the breeze

 

before horses that is

put it on a sure footing

 

the frightened sun sets

early

for the town harbor

reads about it in the papers

what there is to read

 

it is the joyous symbolism

of the signing party

absquatulates desperately just before dawn

 

the boredom of the early morning raid

it is less like this

than this even

 

the squaw-crofter from the agricultural school

flies her colors in oilcloth

it is a hopeless unmade bed

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the millionaireís folly

 

 

 

instead of abut and adjoin

in solid splendor

it stands aloof

with an air of spaghetti draped over it somehow

the architect denied it the usual dignity

knowing the market

like Sylvia Miles draining a tureen to fill up

John Simonís noodle

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the beaver pelt

 

 

 

she called me by my first name

the museum guardís daughter

to get the feel of the various furs

in her fatherís shop

I queried skunk and rabbit even wolverine

and didnít ask the way to the dam

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

absentee
 


how if I can minister

to all my wants not being there

should I reside like Uncle Fenster

with a basement light-bulbís glare?

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

St. Narcissus

 

 

a fly swatted

 

no matter how you look at it

an amusing phrase


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

crowds

 

 

Emmett met

Kelly the green insistence

just the other day

 

never was a greater liar

nor for that matter a lighter grayer

dawn than at the meeting

when the hind end was come to the fore

and what is above sure

never so like what below

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

P-U

 

 

it was the universal partnership

that gave it paramount importance

a pong

looking for its ping

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

scraps of Alcman
 


1.

 

Aphrodite never but Eros at his filthy games

like children stamping flowers and the pristine grass

 

 

2.

 

there is the play of iron and the playing of the lyre

 

 

3.

 

you lout you were never

boor nor swineherd

nor of Thessaly born nor

Erysichaia and no shepherd

but of great Sardis

 

 

4.

 

I cannot hear the sound of girls enticing

and rise would I were a seabird

above the flora of the ocean waves

on the breeze and happy blue as ocean holy

 

 

 

 

after Lattimore



 

 

 

a calendrical sonnet

 

 

high life

 

as sparkling as any day

in the universe

and then love

a trip to the supermarket

 

for the vegetables and fruits

and other gizmos

you and I need

 

beside the swimming pool

and the life

and the fucked-up kids

 

 

the high holidays

 

if a fortunemaker were to graduate with honors he would want at the playís end

another road

another row of corn to plant

and then he would say

into his cookie

I would say the lives of the saints

and others unbelievably said

 

 

the day of the bargain

 

it was a Tuesday it will be recalled

forever after and weíd spoken

but for a few minutes

and you said but darling

and I said but sweetheart

and the day ended as it had begun

 

  

high and whining

 

it came in the forecourt not a particularly nice satisfying thing

and went

 

and when it had gone

I said to myself such as it was

so are we

 

on Thursdays be it noticed

and Fridays if we recall

the days and numbers

so pliantly received

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

the fund

 

 

1.  home and garden

 

after the pleasure holds all the other treasures

fold we are being cold we are being told

the nightmare ends secretly being nightmare

 

 

2.  Manhattanite

 

the truck bickers on the avenue

we are waving at the hat check girl

 

 

3.  view of the sea from a lake

 

a horseshoe runs throughout the lane

winding down around the lane

above the lake above the sea

in the distance

 

 

4.  the politician's friend

 

an excise tax

meaning cut it out

 

 

5.  the latter end

 

oblivious nonsense

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

the broad house comedy

 

 

 

the chorus sang in the morning

at five oíclock in the morning

the bell rang on the set backstage

the curtain rung up the lights on

the pirate chorus sang

 

yo ho ho the pirateís life

the Jolly Roger and black flag

the sumptuous hoard and ratlines in the rigging

the South Seas

China isles

and a fatherís forgiveness

for shivering his timbers

such an old play

tuned for an orchestra of ten or twenty maybe

volunteers from the local school

on leave for the holidays

 

welcome then the strawberry punch and lemonade

the icy blooms fresh chilled and lilacs in the bowl

a local printing company did the programs

nicely like the church bulletins

and the advertising paper on front lawns

the kids write in

 

hot lights and voices at the go the turmoil

and drama acted out night after night

at least twice during the run

and then Groucho Marx a tribute

or a lookalike band

or some other thing

the broad house comedy

rollicking

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the black box

 

 

 

it retains the treatise

expounded unto us of silence

enjoined at all events

for the concatenation of a myriad eventualities

that happen it may come by us

and pass or focus all its strength

to deposit the world of mayhap

on our doorstep

 

this is a circus be it warned or warning

or that it fold by us its tents

and use the high poles of the roustabouts

to plant a fearsome image

as of an aerialist above nothing

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

vista

 

 

with his nose into a hole

the coyote gobbled up a gopher

baby

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Postmodern golf course

 

 

 

stone markers have the field

 

rough-edged polished fronts

like Japanese tombstones

on each hole

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

tower

 

 

 

hereís a statement of the facts

behold me here now

with a mission of Junipero Serra

jumping the tracks oxen have laid

behind them and the threescore minutes of a timepiece hour will

tell the tale of adobe bricks

fine

synergized then God and man

gave cowboys to ride the range with steers

and buckets and wagons made of sail canvas and but

for the wood what they drive today

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

madam secretary

 

 

 

on the Ethics Committee she saves face

and on the face of the city she too

is the ornament with a power of powder

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the fairy shepherd

 

 

 

he leads the flocks all adown the hill

to the rill where they suck the dry bones

fat with springs

 

and he sings tra la la

boom de ay mineís the life for me and mine

and such as think this life is fine

 

I met him on a day

very far away

a sort of stump crowned with moss

and all the frogs said Boss

a day now very far away

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

at a public house
 


nowadays Iím always drunk

and never worry for my soul

but since everyoneís a sot

why should I be sober?

 

 

 

 

 

Wang Chi

ca. 700

after Waley


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bondís haiku

 

 

 

you only live twice

the first time when you are born

then when you see death

 

 

 

 

after Ian Fleming

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

transport

 

here you can exchange

anything for anything

out the back door

to the Oriental Lanes

and Spanish colonial times and buy a college course

in wallpaper hanging

the muscular tissues come in sample cases

so you can decide

before you paste the whole port for the salts

who never go anywhere

only ship the goods

unbought unmade

untaxed

and all the while a comical parade of yes men

a defile

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the caper

 

 

the panel discussions engender a species of reflection

ready for the next move just the opposite

a likely maneuver then you string up all the locals

install your own people

thatís when the strings get pulled

you have clear sailing

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the heist

 

 

the format is in high dudgeon

first smash all the windows

and gut all the buildings

subdivide to keep up appearances

sell the lot in blocks

and now you have an income share

that drops off in next to no time

right next door

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

fairy fay
 


among the stones

prized by sculptors

it haunts the mushrooms and the table lamps

of the poor crews sent from the city

to carve them away

 

what city blocks of mountains wear away at the last

what cold dream is this

fata morgana

 

disprize me says the equestrian specialist

I work in molten brazen metal

all the better says the fairy fay

it is the dust the air

I clamber toward

 

toad on the mushroom

Greek onomatopoetics


 

 

 

 

artistic exhibition
 


like missionary in the stew

resolving slowly

and with difficulty

on the scene around him

here are the choice morsels

the good bits you have left behind

 

he had not so much stepped forward

as the others took one step back

 

picture if you will if you but will

the last stand

set up hopefully

on the strand

the last easel

 

over the river and through the woods

a kind of delimiting stratagem

the forewards

but we shall come to that

and the rear guard

 

the swimming pool

perhaps jaded

after all these years

 

Comstock and the minersí daughters

singing a cappella

 

along the steep hills of chaparral

the lighted towers for a sign

 

the regulation aqueduct and fonts

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

no surfing

 

 

we sculpted out the city for a niche

we could camp out in

at our face trees froze bees died

the whales came ashore and so forth

not to stroll

 

we took the colored panels out

the wisdom and the architecture

and settled on equality of vision

a corps of actors where not one stands out

and guest stars suffer

new regime

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

exhibition by candlelight

 

 

 

it flickers

and there is the truth

o silhouette

hand

cast

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

School of Athens

 

 

it all comes out this way

says the majordomo

 

reporting on high

kicking teats and testicles

 

the fulminating rebuke

issued silently

and all but deadly

 

in the green park


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

extent

 

 

we leave the ruins

a tourist attraction

 

ignore the boulevard

a lackluster harem

 

head for the hills

and the plains

 

as expected


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

disembowelment

 

 

cut the guts out

leave the rest

itís a tough bout

for the best

 

if you speak the lingo Iíll tell you all about

the fairy evanishment

flowers and cream

from the cud


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

scribe

 

 

 

alas here is another poet

who plays the bone flute and rocks

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

my hooker

 

 

 

she sticks out her head

in a passing limousine

screaming at the top of her lungs

Iím getting mine now baby

 

out West she rides in a police cordon

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the unpossessed

 

 

 

writhing in the cucumber

of corollary pain

like sunlight

kept for a wintry day

in a book

on the childrenís shelf

in a library

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

dit dat dot

 

 

 

the flotilla of colony

Abel Gance

wrote me once this

telegram saying

hey Barabbas!

signed Costello

elegant stance

wolves baying

cut the baloney

saucy fellow

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

song

 

 

 

Barkley sang to me

from the dead studio

out of the sales department

decrying

 

the whole Polish situation

or solutions

thereby derived

 

it is a musically

uttered

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

autel

 

 

 

factures expressively spoken

spark further discourse

written down in hands

at the ready

 

slighted down the years

like ears of corn

oxen tread down

throughly sated

 

it canít be just

the one thing

jellied

for no scones

 

the English breakfast thyme

and Sinclair paints

in the garden shed we wonder

if that is all anything does that

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

excuse

 

 

 

my dust

 

the road sheís the one

in the sun

the dusty old oak

leaves it behind

 

the rosy odors

evaporated

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

an affront to the system

 

 

 

she smiles

at the other end

in a mirror

not at this

the realm foils

all picnics

and Yogi is a Bear

kept in preserve

 

o holy Jesus

of the nature mystics

receding from the city

wandering roving

using the telephone

at the top of a pole

or straight to satellite

and Roma

 

whither the swallows

tend garment

and domicile

never ever ever

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

rain

 

 

 

the celebration of a country mile

on a Sunday in the park

at sunset by the seaside

 

a gazebo a placebo at the horizon

no galley whatsoever

shreds of cloud

 

normal Norman norms

right as you please

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

query

 

 

 

the thumb-twiddler

at the fiddler

answers my question

 

what did music ever do to her

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

in Rodinís workshop

 

 

 

the little weak-kneed figurine

on the bandstand the palette knife

wheels and turns

the breastplates of WalkŁren

the figures of Archimedes

et voilŗ the chicken is soup

 

I have a man made

it will have to love me

no better than a shit in a snowstorm

but itís a start

 

the grand patineurs on the ice

axe me with a new siphon

framboise and chocolates

do you Terry and Cherry

I do