tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post1929578002212080420..comments2024-02-17T01:47:17.207-08:00Comments on Emperor of Ice-Cream Cakes: Poems Are Jokes: TOTAL CHAOS FOREVERMONTH: Stuart DybekPatricia Lockwoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05054871173880967520noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-6976660884348818752007-10-05T18:40:00.000-07:002007-10-05T18:40:00.000-07:00I run the risk of driving you away, anon, but I wo...I run the risk of driving you away, anon, but I wonder if you have ever considered departing from the High Modernist idiom, as much as you were born for it? You possess in good proportion erudition, wit, ear, an instinct for image, a talent for the purposeful non sequitur, and a sense of the line as both a discrete and continuous unit. On the basis of these strengths, I encourage you to join my new movement, <B>ABORTION SAYS MEOW.</B> It is an honor not to be surpassed.Patricia Lockwoodhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05054871173880967520noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-17287674368148281772007-10-05T06:06:00.000-07:002007-10-05T06:06:00.000-07:00SLOW LORISIt takes two days for the loris To consu...SLOW LORIS<BR/><BR/>It takes two days for the loris <BR/>To consummate, or fuck, period. After <BR/>She gives her Okay, an amazing <BR/>Courtship ensues, forty-eight hours <BR/>Of foreplay. So forget your astrology, <BR/>Planets and stars, women from Venus, <BR/>Men Mars, heuristics, myths. The loris <BR/>Teaches us that Homo sapiens, two <BR/>Species sexually distinct, descend <BR/>From different kinds of monkeys,<BR/>One mute as the eyes, deaf<BR/> <BR/>As the mouth, all ears, a sort of lemur<BR/>Nibbling, exploring her fragile branch <BR/>In nocturnal wonder, but suffering<BR/>Anger-at-daylight paralysis. What else <BR/>To be at night, unsafe, unsure, <BR/>By day among so much which vision <BR/>Makes so bright, a cross of fur<BR/>Part squirrel, part sloth, half human,<BR/>Loving love, yet can not trust <BR/>A touch because it’s never <BR/>Touched enough by that gorilla.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-44347173841360607442007-10-04T08:53:00.000-07:002007-10-04T08:53:00.000-07:00GLOSSIP Attagirl, Tricia,Thanks for the plugs. Whe...GLOSSIP <BR/><BR/>Attagirl, Tricia,<BR/>Thanks for the plugs. When <BR/>You passed on those arse poetica<BR/>I was sweating gold bugs.<BR/><BR/>Your lamb wears<BR/>Architect’s specs like Isaac Babel,<BR/>Who I think I resemble, an imp<BR/>Of Odessa, a giant brillionaire.<BR/><BR/>Did you see in Sunday’s Times <BR/>How someone has choreographed<BR/>Diana’s revenge on Actaeon<BR/>For Pierre Klossowski?<BR/><BR/>Mischief is fun if space is saved<BR/>For freedom and dignity.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-32752657119687624922007-10-04T08:50:00.000-07:002007-10-04T08:50:00.000-07:00RAW MATERIAL 1.For “free female amateur exhibiti...RAW MATERIAL <BR/><BR/> 1.<BR/>For “free female amateur exhibitionists,”<BR/>There are twenty million sites <BR/>On the World Wide Web, enough to populate <BR/>Many small countries, Bulgaria, Macedonia,<BR/>Greece, plus several corners of the globe with real<BR/>And virtually damaged Displaced Persons, sites <BR/>And indexes, lists of links to homologous,<BR/>Under-employed auditioning actresses of pluck<BR/>And luck, more than Google or Yahoo can manage: <BR/>A surfer’s advised to improve their search <BR/>With terse, businesslike, barely polite <BR/>Asperity, a window which asks, more or less,<BR/>What is it you want? Who knows <BR/>Until after Eden what one wants?<BR/><BR/> 2.<BR/>It’s not morose power over a captive orphan <BR/>Paralyzed in pixils. The amateur sites<BR/>Are not always hardcore. Display varies<BR/>By class, confidence, peculiarities of sexual <BR/>Treasure, national origin, pathological <BR/>Pulse: the young, poor and under-endowed<BR/>Show more. They hope you’re not sorry.<BR/>Will join their fan club. Send money. But one <BR/>Is eternally sorry. Or worse. One warm <BR/>Afternoon, jogging in the old <BR/>Colonial cemetery on Portland’s<BR/>West End, I passed by a well-freckled <BR/>Young woman on a yoga mat <BR/>Sunbathing toplessly. A freshman <BR/><BR/> 3.<BR/>Majoring in art, I knew at a glance,<BR/>Jogging without staring so as not to flunk <BR/>Test passage to Utopia, this green-card lottery<BR/>To gooseflesh on grass, which didn’t<BR/>Perk up my pace, but offered subject matter <BR/>For the bleating which proceeds as the sheep<BR/>Of my reveries graze in lands of chances <BR/>Missed or imaginary, and who look up, up,<BR/>But are not fed! Years later I rounded my corner <BR/>And saw a lady exit her second-floor <BR/>Shower, and thought instantly of poetry’s<BR/>Poverty: Between her thighs, India lies! and again <BR/>Avulsed my gaze to protect this miracle un-repeated<BR/>So far, so luck could stay raw in its flavor.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-58146058795270708552007-10-04T08:49:00.000-07:002007-10-04T08:49:00.000-07:00COUNTING COWSZoologically speaking, the distanceBe...COUNTING COWS<BR/><BR/>Zoologically speaking, the distance<BR/>Between lambs and kids <BR/>Is cosmic. A lamb goes<BR/>Bah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! And a kid goes<BR/>Yah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! You see<BR/>The difference? Like between<BR/>Stupidity and persistence. Maybe<BR/><BR/>The blogosphere is what Hegel <BR/>Foresaw and meant by the darkness<BR/>In which all cows are alike,<BR/>Jumping over the moon with their bags <BR/>Flapping, betrayed for magic beans<BR/>Without making a peep. Count<BR/>Some cows. It’ll help you sleep.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-78268607167559119242007-10-03T20:41:00.000-07:002007-10-03T20:41:00.000-07:00We are all guilty of writing a Centralia poem or t...We are all guilty of writing a Centralia poem or two, but few have used it as a backdrop for trespassy youthful couch-fucking, so kudos to you!Patricia Lockwoodhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05054871173880967520noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-59251952078183255602007-10-03T09:14:00.000-07:002007-10-03T09:14:00.000-07:00CELLE QUI FÛT 1.The crone in question, leathery he...CELLE QUI FÛT<BR/><BR/> 1.<BR/>The crone in question, leathery hen<BR/>Of sixty-seven and revered<BR/>Birdwatcher, whose boyfriend<BR/>Has grandchildren, who in thought<BR/>Would not study, but emulate<BR/>Darwin’s plights of troth, was once<BR/>A meerschaum and moss poet <BR/>Of unicorns, inclined to close her eyes<BR/>And adore in a trance the wooden <BR/>Flute-note of a dove or antique recorder,<BR/>If that Pennsylvania coal town<BR/>Where bungled anthracite veins <BR/>Have smoldered over half a century<BR/><BR/> 2.<BR/>Had doves or recorders, but one riotous<BR/>Friday night we cake-walked <BR/>Like bums indestructible on the high-wire<BR/>Of life’s barricades, its defenses against<BR/>The likes of us, the uphill mile<BR/>To my apartment, College Avenue<BR/>To fucking Boalsburg just about, <BR/>Fucking what it was all about,<BR/>Busting into a traveling friend’s<BR/>Unlocked apartment to use the sofa–-<BR/>Does that mean knowledge?–-rousting<BR/>The couple to whom he’d loaned it<BR/>Legitimately bedded in the bedroom, <BR/><BR/> 3.<BR/>Her hair in toilet paper rollers, cold cream<BR/>Brightening her face, husband too amazed<BR/>To be indignant until we’d fled again,<BR/>Still treading the tight-rope <BR/>Of my inventive palaver and audacity,<BR/>A hard act to follow, so I never did<BR/>Follow up on that solo miracle, long<BR/>Crazy walk, so when I contacted her<BR/>Out of the blue, out of the gray<BR/>The other day from a nearby town<BR/>Where I’d found a smelly relic to spice<BR/>My erotic nostalgia, a phone booth, <BR/>She was annoyed and wouldn’t talk, <BR/><BR/> 4.<BR/>She and Thomas Jefferson, with their <BR/>Self-evident truth, but we’d held hands, <BR/>Passed smoldering culms, crossed<BR/>A long misted ravine on a railroad bridge<BR/>Choosing not to trudge <BR/>The creosote-tarred crossties,<BR/>But to balance hi-ho on the shining<BR/>Steel rail due to a burning resolve<BR/>She’d forged in her soul’s fire, a mistake<BR/>Like a match tossed on black powder.<BR/>But what was she doing that Friday <BR/>Night in a frat-rat bar? Though<BR/>Of course, we never got that far.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-64667230389499067522007-10-02T08:34:00.000-07:002007-10-02T08:34:00.000-07:00HOW TOO you who would mellifluously grunt,Point th...HOW TO<BR/><BR/>O you who would mellifluously grunt,<BR/>Point the tip of the hard pigskin<BR/>At the earth, cognate of guess what,<BR/>Oops, cunt! You Gaea, girl! wife<BR/>Of Uranus, which needs no gloss,<BR/>Caressed by the best looking guy<BR/>On the pasture’s thumbs, who like a bull<BR/>Pawing turf impatiently pumps his leg,<BR/>Yells a string of occult signals, <BR/>Then cries “Hike!” and suddenly<BR/>Quasimodo, cousin of Proteus,<BR/><BR/>Bastard son of Neptune and the moon,<BR/>Scrambles for Our Lady’s towers,<BR/>The bats and the bells, thinking <BR/>Of glorious noises and sleepyhead girls, <BR/>The idea being not to stop once you’ve started, <BR/>For contrary to Megan O’Rourke,<BR/>Helen Hennessy Vendler, Alice Quinn <BR/>And an army of similar Ursulas <BR/>Twittering like quaint saints and cosseting<BR/>Worm-fretted radishes, poetry is not<BR/>Only for the fervently faint-hearted.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-28505414194864708142007-10-02T08:04:00.000-07:002007-10-02T08:04:00.000-07:00HOWThe imaged word, hushed willows echoedIn its gl...HOW<BR/><BR/>The imaged word, hushed willows echoed<BR/>In its glow, and you, woman and child,<BR/>To wonder how this is so. Rhyme, <BR/>And a studious blur of symmetric purposes,<BR/>The polar crystollogy on a window pane,<BR/>Rime, which kisses melt <BR/>Into the clear magic of a peephole.<BR/>A lady I knew lost her swimsuit top<BR/>At a campground pool, and had almost<BR/>Rescued her modesty, flopping<BR/><BR/>With worried hurry in folded arms <BR/>Barefoot up the gravel path<BR/>To the bathhouse, when a little boy,<BR/>Me, popped out from behind a spruce,<BR/>And asked her, “Miss,<BR/>If you’re giving away those puppies,<BR/>Could I have the one with the pink nose?”<BR/>The mutual root of rhyme and rime<BR/>Is truth’s riddle, and the mutual spell <BR/>Of hey diddle-diddle.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-8889047630472465032007-10-02T07:52:00.000-07:002007-10-02T07:52:00.000-07:00Sorry, sorry,To be such a heel!I slipped on faint'...Sorry, sorry,<BR/>To be such a heel!<BR/>I slipped on faint's<BR/>Banana peel.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-2902307811186048982007-10-01T19:49:00.000-07:002007-10-01T19:49:00.000-07:00You wound me! I meant it to be booming.You wound me! I meant it to be booming.Patricia Lockwoodhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05054871173880967520noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-11343482827543889672007-10-01T15:51:00.000-07:002007-10-01T15:51:00.000-07:00Sorry, can't answer,My head's in a daze,Suffering ...Sorry, can't answer,<BR/>My head's in a daze,<BR/>Suffering qualms<BR/>Of Tricia's faint praise!Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-24968227395054890412007-10-01T12:45:00.000-07:002007-10-01T12:45:00.000-07:00Your extemporaneous gifts are considerable, sir; h...Your extemporaneous gifts are considerable, sir; how on earth do you do it?Patricia Lockwoodhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05054871173880967520noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-42129631628241650842007-10-01T07:24:00.000-07:002007-10-01T07:24:00.000-07:00SALVATION ARMY DAYThe palace of reality! It’s buil...SALVATION ARMY DAY<BR/><BR/>The palace of reality! It’s built<BR/>From moments of intimacy. <BR/>I was a toddler of three and permitted<BR/>To watch so I wouldn’t get lost, my mother<BR/>And two other Salvation Army officers,<BR/>All of them blondes, soaping and rinsing <BR/>In the locker room shower after a major<BR/>Parade, but when toweling off <BR/>One glanced at another and cried,<BR/>“Mary! What’s happened to your navel?”<BR/>To which Mary frowned and replied,<BR/><BR/>“You carry that flag all day <BR/>And see what happens to your navel!”<BR/>A ruby of wisdom gleaned<BR/>From the foundations of memory, <BR/>Oval, unblinking and grenadine<BR/>As the cyclops gouged blind<BR/>In Homer’s Odyssey, a gold lamb <BR/>For a beard on his grim cleft chin,<BR/>Pointedly effulgent and crinkled, known<BR/>To drip blood and glisten<BR/>With happiness and honey.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-51519345696088229862007-09-30T10:17:00.000-07:002007-09-30T10:17:00.000-07:00THE HOLE IN THE CLEAVERIt’s a kind of perfection,L...THE HOLE IN THE CLEAVER<BR/><BR/>It’s a kind of perfection,<BR/>Like a herringbone line of hair<BR/>Down a young girl’s belly,<BR/>One who doesn’t know where <BR/>Her pee comes from <BR/>Except generally. Only that <BR/>The hooded hoplite and her own <BR/><BR/>Gilding honey have a genius <BR/>For sacrifice, but defend <BR/>The country’s interior artillery,<BR/>Contranym and analogy,<BR/>That apples depend on bear<BR/>To swallow their arsenic seed,<BR/>And scatter them liberally.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34876486.post-81686317837311048012007-09-29T20:50:00.000-07:002007-09-29T20:50:00.000-07:00LITTLE LAMB, WHO SPLAYED THEE?Show me a poem from ...LITTLE LAMB, WHO SPLAYED THEE?<BR/><BR/>Show me a poem from ankle to fleece,<BR/>Honey and hive, honey and hive.<BR/><BR/>“Okay, but don’t touch or I’ll call the police!”<BR/>Fly away and thrive, fly away.<BR/><BR/>My littlest finger, then maybe my thumb,<BR/>Honey and hive, honey and hive.<BR/><BR/>“Then drumstick and billyclub, you must think I’m dumb!”<BR/>Fly away and thrive, fly away.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com