On Negative: Illumination

as you have eyes (to see) set focus over this expanding scene

look [as the sun sees testing the neat edge of dawn]

this light presses hands

with splayed fingers

firmly over the

" ancient solid ground having been before existing and now birthed by knowing {a new world} one broken from the whole -first the sands .uncounted. spilling inwards to the (2.) shoots of long leafed grass and trace up the vein to the tips tinted silver and higher over the field and up (3.) the length of the tree who's boughs feel out towards his brothers where leaves brush inquisitively the leaves of (4.) another this one similar (but distinct) and the same for the rest - unique by grace of similitude - this forest of separate trees leading further and thinning (separating) at the plains "

...and when the sun ceased to climb [resting at centre] the universe wound tightly its cog and the heavy tick followed the click screeching...

...when counting destroyed eternity

......when measurement necessitated lies

...

this thing is not the other

this moment gone; this moment still to come

http://www.eratiopostmodernpoetry.com/issue14_Dutton.html



on negative: everything I am not

At Curtain: the sound uttered (nasal and with inflection) was the first name given [and adjectival preceding all nouns] and he named it before any other had provided for him the same appellate significance and so predicated [this thing] without predicate (non-no thing).

and before having known the second distinct from the first all had been [singular] he had not known himself apart from the scene and this narrative a retrospective conceived long after the exposit groan the cry that began all time comments in full knowledge that its facility is fallacious its facticity a lie.

And yet we are compelled to let the story {tell / choking} peel itself from infinity (where not knowing time) and bind itself tightly to inception ab demise.

"so he (the first to be our lord)

\substantiating without substance/

came hunched and naked from the litter 

that rolling mass of whelping soul(s)"

each lacking definition : each preceding being each 

and...

thus the words of the lord: words never said (not heard) having none (not spoken) for our lord has no tongue and his flock empty ears so he lifts his head (upwards) creating there the sky and dropped his gaze down where the earth came to be here at the beginning with the eyes of god cast towards the ground and the bleating fold screaming silence - soon to make a sound.

~

these and many things did our father bring to be before he himself had being before he had need of he when the light drained slowly from the fresh blue sky when the first day ended 

having finished

(ended)

finished before it began

the great god became darkness

the unknowing deity

soon to be (a) man

http://www.eratiopostmodernpoetry.com/issue14_Dutton.html

on negative: the argument

what is most clear
[penned neatly and follwed by elipses]

~had become a constant of concern deep beneath these sinking brows~

that some image or thought might scream from its own device

.its very want for wanting.

                                           and the foolish demand [some function]

                             and the loved assume the same

the loved - those loved    (and wanting)

and the foolish - the very same.

so so between these pregnant strides

(these being to strive and to be deprived)

sits constant 

having been.

constant .(resting?). constantly .(resting in between).

lament as follows o filling cup     ;     dry beneath the drip

http://www.eratiopostmodernpoetry.com/issue14_Dutton.html

house of fires

01. traced caustic. traced frail. and withheld in dissolved refrain these sometime wishes caught fast in a flame let loose of the prayer and hollowed their theme to follow up this hopeful spire and utter fiercely

{to their dreams}

I once held these in cares these once were my replies

and fell out this purpose for the lack of regard I stained graciously the mast feigned hopelessly the bow

}and grasped{

...leafless...

02. when thought in despair created and famously spent this coloured stone weighed neatly in the prime cellos and crowed fairly by sallow shores for these following chimes lulled deftly to sleep the chewing crowd [when will stubborn retorts offer whimpered replies] became the source of the play the object of the game

this tapped that on its broken design

and

pressed so firmly

it pressed the mired crawling reprise

03. forbidding the trampled disguise and casting a line to the pooling sky for the solid echo of relief that fosters empty homes beneath its craning wing and sings full melodies of wanton minds:

 ~laugh deep you metal fawns and come bitter from your folds~

"that we might settle calmly amongst your supple cares and burn secretly the edges of this desire," smother and stoke and tender this reubuke.

04. rake out the tested frames but here suspends the summation for only in the clearest of screens are caught the most slender rhymes bristling frankly in furrowed divides and kissing their lips [cold still] on the precious constancies raised in sordid assumption and torn from some other storm and place in the show for the similar astonishment placed side by side each more troubling than the first each more free than the next until as one final element they will be raised shining above the openly debated frozen plastic

(05.) crane [(stooping low and holding those dreams melted in her creeping claws) and funnel down towards the old oak base] where in the useless years the poet played a copper harp and told some false account of a candles journey in a torrid heart that raced and reached and ran its course from town to city [from pulse to pulse] it rattled furious and rumbled dull and spilled its light here on the floor the solid stone / the broken hearth

06.

(a) and there for hours

untold

the story met its blind old friend the hostile jar

and filled its careful womb with a wincing pure disease

and cleft open the polished sides

and spewed once again its pretty lies

on and over and into the well

and down and under the penitent town

(b) seizing in light the molten appeal hollered up to the tower and past the clocks face and over the moon and beyond the night where patience feeds the bellows.

the bellows that blow. 

the bellows that blow restlessly.

.that blow. 

.that blow air.

07. wish ever to drink great draughts of this feathered air

 

that winds through mottled hours

 

hanging heavy above our heads

we'd be grateful for even a thimble-full

we cry

 

arms outstretched feeling cool on our fingertips the icy current

 

but seeing nothing but our heads

our mouths

our lips

our bellies denied

 

and we wait without grace for the white-stone guard to loosen this lock

make light this chain

 

..how long and how fair is this sentence this gift this page..

...

echo and narcissus

Echo and Narcissus

works (re)cited

echo and narcissus:

echo and narcissus
the angel's retort
the audience's realization
the twin's reunion

the death:

and the longing
and the dirty mirror
and the broken mirror
and the glass

the abandonment:

no more roses
fall
rise

the eternal:

the eternal

the abandonment [rise]

clash flesh against flash to sound that trebly roar from the palms of our hands to the high domed sky and look to the others who share our joy our tears our confusion our heart that cranks a rapid pace and plays the bass for the choir that plays reprise and pays the coin to feed the empty hand

and:

could he truly dare to speak those words as though they commence some completed thought that here amongst our several minds there lives some sincere  divide [divine] [refined] (rewind replay the tragic the fun the happy the longing the one) single perfect model of life that wraps so happy around these words that state themselves in reference books //we're false we lie we could not care how truth defines our name\\ and yet we give we still respond we file : one by one : to have our thoughts they're borrowed they're sold they're lost amongst the varnished revolve that spins it grows it idles it throws these phrases to our jaws that click and break and love and wait and spit and drink the stew

now:

rise frail friends from your wooden chairs back the way you came from seperate parts of seperate worlds that never asked nor begged nor hoped that never breed the same replies that never care for this the greatest lie the sanest truth the roof the floor the wall the wall the wall the stage

and:

its a fair fury that held our hopes for all these years in fresh fingers in boney prose how could ever we truly give our simple souls to the crystal loom and drape the garment that ravels out upon our square set shoulder blades or bite the cloth and tear the ends and treat our pouring wounds

-and the empty stage to the empty pews-

..you left me as i left you..

here on the streets in the failing light the bodies bereft of mind make feigned attempts to resume the dance the one that filled the stage that filled the limbs of the puppet muse and dazzled the hungry eyes

make me the same i want no more to have this empty hope

~we cried~

it was me that hooked my pretty hands to the hanging silken thread

and all the same though many plees you layed towards my callous resolve you knew the script you brought it in -you wrote it one dull summer eve- did not you know that once you penned those words that clash so false too soon those words that clamour so eagre so true to romantic dreams you wrote the words and so did i the ones that follow the rhyme and tear from structure some timely demise and give to verse a well deserved . long awaited . betraying . hated . inevitable . happily stated and never denied final eternal demise.

it was expected by sheer design

you always knew and so did i

the words that wait

-before the ticket was stamped-

before even the paper stained

that ink drenched opening line

rend it from your frosty lips

please wrap your tongue around the sting

and i promise to do the same

dear

sweet

friend

utter that demanding line

though happy

though sad 

the end.

...but we have yet our names to sign...