Poeta

Well . . . I decided to air some poem . . . recent and not so recent . . .

A gallery of poems . . . using unconventional methods of generating prose content . . .

dada . . . Brion Gyson . . . Willian S. Burroughs . . . Tristan Tzara . . . etc.

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4-Stroke One Cylinder

My great-grandfather
had an old one-cylinder gas engine
harnessed to a circular saw blade . . . belt pulley . . .
drove the saw blade . . . steel singing hollow song
as it spun . . .

. . . the exhaust,
a passionate explosion
muffled by orchard trees,
the emptiness
Of a cloudless sky . . .

. . . the drill hole . . .
penis plunger
sucker rod
suctioning . . .
driven by
mindless motor . . .

Wellhead snug,
clasping,
excess fluids leaking
a dark shadow
. . . under ass cleft

. . . my engine  fueled
the heat of her belly . . .

I sense the oil field . . . Signal Hill
walking beam horse heads
(pompes) bobbing up and down
flywheel counterweights
rotating . . . pushing . . . pulling
up . . . down . . . up . . . down . . .

I imagined
behind chain link fences,
pistoning
auto-matic . . .
polishing . . . (polishing rods)

up . . . down . . .
“sucker rods”
pushing . . .

invisible pitman
fastened at hip joint
pushing . . . pulling

oily pungence
Open window . . .
rainbow stained ground . . .

The tense slap of pulley belts
In grooved metal
iron counter weights rotating . . .
metallic groans . . .

an invisible fog
Seeping into the ears . .

Walking” beams . . .
oversize “dippy” birds . . .

“Horseheads” pushing, pulling . . .
slender steel
Lifting on the upstroke
dragging black oil up
from the depths
. . . pulling . . . suctioning

the viscous crude
up out of the darkness . . .

Up, down . . .
whrrrr . . . clank . . . whrrrr . . .
metal on metal . . . clank
. . . up-stroke apogee . . . slight hesitation

Bushings . . . wrist pins . . .
dark grease oozing from joints,
motionless . . .

a split second . . .

before
the compression stroke
resumes . . . down

(pause)

Up . . .

Puh!

Puh!

. . . mouth
Her mouth open . . .

Puh!

. . . breasts wobbling . . . (flatternde Brüste)
(Ihre flatternden Brüste)

Puh!

. . . with each downstroke

Puh!

. . . compressing (Zusammendrücken) . . . Puh!

I woke up . . .
tick of my bedside clock

. . . exhalation
a one cylinder engine . . .

soft explosion
against my face . . .

. . . in my dream . . .

 (the eyes closed).

Puh!

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20120213-223731.jpg



Ode to a False Spring

I

Aye . . . eyes to the front
with Goya’s monster devouring
your shadow . . .
shadow of heart and soul

Severed limbs and flesh
of seeming innocence . . .

Strung from trees
draped headless
On low branches . . .

The politics of politics
. . . politics of disaster

 

II

ego typ u instyntly
aza postal c.i.a. maniack . . .
troski died in Mexicol . . .
“Ljego od ply wie Wylonila,”
. . . she bad . . .
“. . . er . . .”

wy jasnic is listen . . . tu a caje
she kult bogini . . .

she do powie
rapsodie iady
skich gospol (gospel)

ok . . . brat jest obligatory yawn . . .
auta-miechnal
she’z rea saliami
“. . . ow!!”

#Ii is a poem piled together in the evening of a strange day after cutting limbs from a tree . . . at 22:34.

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Poema . . . 12.29.01

I was looking into to various aspects of works by John Cage . . .

and while scanning through some images on the iPad,

decided on a poem for William CARLOS Williams . . .

 

Poema

. . . take a walk
young housewife,
Spring strains
January morning
for a plot of ground . . .

20120129-090418.jpg

Spring . . .
waiting
in th field of vision . . .

. . . returning from
daydream
the flower,
Spring and all . . .

(special thnx 2 Allen Ginsberg)

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DADA . . . menu . . . today . . .

The Mute Canary
(le serin muet)
(by SalVidali)

. . . accompagne au piano forte
In obscure darkness
Cannibale.

Hands filled with canonical
Paper droppings (merde) . . .

Words of ventriloquism
In the bottom
Of the bottom (room)

(. . . en bas le bas . . . )

. . . l’exploitation du (of) vocabulaire . . .
anonymity . . .

Cage door open . . .

homme sourd-muet . . .
fingers mimicking
wingless flight . . .

. . . its time for a word
THAT does not . . .
(mean anything)

ne signifie RIEN
(HOBBY-HORSE does not mean ANYTHING)

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The dada piece responsible for The Mute Canary . . .

20120112-163448.jpg

Image from Google images . . .

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I attacked another dada piece . . . Karawane by Hugo Ball.


20120109-193044.jpg



Dying moon
(by SalVidali)

Kara . . . say . . .

bla . . . bla” . . . jolie infante . . . ma jolie

raw moon wane . . .

Holla me holla my name
holla ala time

the moon waning . . .

bung bung bung tympani oil drum
50 gallons empty trommel BUNG!! BUNG!!

BUNG!!

Taka . . . taka. . . taka takatakatakataka . . .
enigma ramen noodle bowl
bam bam bam
wham bam . . .

. . . falli BAM!! Moon went down . . .

bung . . .
BUNG!!
. . . bung.

(FINI)

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And here’s how I deconstructed the printed page . . .

20120109-193053.jpg

I used the Penultimate app . . . dropped the Karawane image onto a blank page, resized the image to almost fill the empty space, and then used the “magik” stylus to scribble my notes on Hugo’s verbiage . . .

 

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A NIGHT OF GRASS
(by SalVidali)

night of grass . . .
UNDER the BLEU dark blue hole
cinema sky . . .

Abstract heart (coeur mon coeur)
20 francs (Fr.)

She . . . unique
aujourd’hui (today) tomorrow

. . . thinking (thought) without language

DeLuxe edition
collected

. . . in YOUR interest . . .

merci,

I love you . . .

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Image used for poem content:

20120108-133127.jpg

 

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