I really enjoyed this, Kasper - it sounds terrific in the mind's ear. The French reference is pertinent, too - I hear a bit of post-Bâteau Ivre surrealist phantasy, while "clerical, spherical" & other turns remind me of that great symbolist poet Edward Lear...
mj
Creator - A comedian whose audience is afraid to laugh.
H.L.Mencken
----- Original Message -----
From: kasper salonen
To: [log in to unmask]
Sent: Thursday, May 07, 2009 12:06 AM
Subject: poem, notsnap
écrit par moi.
best read slowly, I find. first iteration.
NOON'S LOOMS
noon's looms
string loose taut bones,
and set fire to the stones
in the street's roofless rooms.
noon's looms
spin nuclear & worn,
and blare their bloated horns
over clear, lazy fumes--
trees are opening the palms of their hands,
with their lines of fate
borne low with the waiting leaves' weight
& drawn on the noon-air's sand.
birds are screaming and surprise themselves
with their leaps & caresses & fights;
their wings are still much too bright
and the winds are collapsing shelves.
men in the road are all clear as glass,
worn through & see-through, with wine in their lungs.
their bloated arms are rusting guns
and the dreams that they dream are gas.
noon's looms
tidy up their strings & their lamps,
and the routes on their clerical, spherical maps
curve off... tomorrow to a fierce, dull bloom.
KS
|