Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

1.

grey skies through painted windows
timeless darkness seen as memory.
the smell is given by light.

nascence of childhood refurbished
momentarily accessed through an accident
of pure lack of light.

a tremulous backstep slips through the mirror
like a refractory silent carnival ride.

quiet of a sprinkled sidewalk
where the best way to avoid the drops
is to watch them deface a pane of glass.
same light of scant electricity daytime
can’t make it out but can’t quite get in.

collapsed in fascination
at the brightness revealed
by the dimming sky



2.

constant interrupted sleep
waits for mispronounced sustenance
delivered by mo-ped

on a rainy stoop
next to spent miracles
& misbegotten romance.

slave labor of disused umbrellas
a pageant before stuttery eyes.

no second side
could be given through jazz bassoon
concordance filled with stumbling laughter.
no walk home need be made.

a tent pitched between floors
suffices to attain a smoke ring sporadic disposition
based on light & chill & unspoken cures.


3.

smells luscious
smells dead
everyone is so near
hunched over
flavor protector
preserved shallow nerves
orchestra turned honeycomb
stirs through revolutions
the same viscosity as protein

dinner music that is not me
the blended rasp
of symbolic portions

flames translated to english
as letters

placated brown rimmed hat
crown translated to flames

even more exotic
i haven’t dared ask you
what is in what
you’ve been stirring

it’s very simple
mixed with rattles & slams
out the window
on a single hotplate burner
it’s very simple
i think you’ve heard of them

4.


four & twenty blackbirds
bask in troubled paraffin places

the only reason i came here
was to cut out the palaces
without batting an eyelash

a smile & a wink
of last night’s daybreak curtsies

special functionaries barter over the curtain speech.
dress rehearsal flag.
apology-quiet descent.

a lot of text to invent.
praiseworthy demonstration of matter.

the skipped thick consternation
i’m so sick of it.
the wind’s secret metronome.

heartslick idiot
the silence can be like a snare.
this wasn’t the name emblazoned on worth.

fortunate collapse left me to a hidden pace
crescent salvation of eggshells

same as the next walk
to the threadbare doorway.

M.B, I really like the response I feel towards this, it leaves me sort of wondering. About what, I don't understand, but it's a really magical sort of wondering.
There is a definite dance of beauty throughout that I really feel strongly.

"....backstep slips through the mirror...."

"...the silence can be like a snare....."

It's the kind of thing I could read over and over again and get more and more out of each time.
Bottomless depths.
Nice work, nice flow and feel too....

I really like your style
H

the other night i was at work for 6 hours mopping. had a couple good blisters. this guy calls as i'm walking to the train and asks how quick i can get a chapbook together cause he wants to make one as part of his next batch to be complete in two months. so i get the idea i got a week or so to pull some shit together. and the things i'm writing right now just arent for him. i'm too involved in them and they're in development. (believe it or not there's a short story book brewin in me head. right next to the pbr.) so i dug out some things that appear to be from the year 2000 of our lord etc... a while back. and here they're typed straight from the typewriter pages they were so sincerely emoted onto with edgar's beautiful olivetti 'valentine' while he was outta town and i was watching his house... also i'm starting to lay out a chapbook of edgar's poems... maybe i'll post some here for shits n giggles...

so this stuff seems so far off... but so close... encouraging in some ways... and a completely different thought but an earlier development of what i'm still doing... blah blah ...

but there seems to be some comfort in the typewriter and the page as a soft chair for a moment's respite from the overwhelming facts of well... reality.

ps- did you see i posted the conclusion of the polar bear story?

I'll look forward to that story MB. And a chapbook too.
I didn't see the conclusion to polar bear...where is it? I want to read it....
Fact, I wouldn't mind readin a whole bunch more of your stuff......

H

howdy h.

http://www.studioeight.tv/phpbb/viewtopic.php?t=2277

that's the url for the polar bear delight.

i'll keep you posted on other possibilities.

peace
aaron

Just read it M.B....
Devoured every word like I was a polar bear!

Roaring with delight...
nice work man,
H

from a Coburn to a mindburn this is serious good stuff...thanks

I've read this many times.....I get a little more out of it with each read. It's a long, intricate poem that requires some simmering, some mellowing in my mind. Loved it.

Beautiful. Thank-you.

at least 90% poetry.

& i've been looking for poetry elsewhere.

thanks for reminding me of this. & thanks for reading & apparently enjoying.

i think i'll record it this week.

i read in awe...

others have been saying it here, but this is becoming for me a come-back-to-and-revisit read...there's so much and it moves differently each time i go through it.

i don't know how to word it. i have really enjoyed your writing (and forgive me for playing back with it from my stick-up-the-butt writing). i'm looking forward to the chapbook and the stories too.

amazes me. sincere thanks.

the wind’s secret metronome.

Andre Breton might be saluting you, like from Elysium. And Nobodaddies of all types crumble.................the authentic image is worth a bad novel---and as even that hag Plath said, should hurt.......but you seem a bit cheery .........you ever read Simic's stuff? I suggest a few more splashes of Death (but poet I am not)

grey skies through painted windows

uhhh, the skay looks indigo in the east front right now!!

i think i'll record it this week

joel- thx. enjoy yr respondez. as yr own meanderambles. if ye dont take being called a made-up word slightly.

made a chapbook which caused my tendonitis which has thowed avverthin oooof. 'ursus horribilis or ernest vs. the demon bear' it's a long poem abt fighting a demon bear. precursor to the aforementioned polar bear story. it's illustrated too.

havent had any musicians around. but there's some newer stuff raw here:

http://www.myspace.com/inroadsbywaysgraveldriveways

tote- dont worry behind the chipper is plenty of despairing morosity of the disease of poetry. thank you for taking the time.

arcadia-- still grey here.