Sacrificial Lam
Ambient glucose dexterity:
fingers shuffle backward,
boards imperil their lunch
at residue buckets.
Tempers linger, clinging
close to remnants
where low waters shield
template virgins from altar masks.
Converging word forests
fossil predicates, predate
subjects with glottal chaperones
marking esplanade surges
across catacomb buckets.
Where altars loom, the waters
flume pillar statements
instead of geyser briefs
riding stretchers. Hiding breaches
the consensus rite. Before
the knife can steal the body
follows its urge to displace
the tiding mirror of ritual moon
Lowered Elevation
Sulfur ledge,
unspoken legends
presume
carfare addiction. Stigmata
carted before the horse
resumes the measure lost
as status
a scent
rising from the furrow.
A broken adagio sunset
declaims the inert folly:
uprising
pledged to cloud
its treasured obfuscation
under lamps
allowed the forfeit measure
to play
a crowded history lift.
Against
the lurch
a brazen face turned trying
Night Watch
pontoon glyphs
the satellite moon recharges
to bellicose marginal dawn
a sea
setting surface
on a lift
varicose as the vein of form
itself
tied against its blue largesse
though crater magnet anecdotes
turned
magenta in the telling
Snaking Through Old Grass
Cattle honoraria never hover
over the lowing balance near the shed
where the active flow plays dinner
as a tumid hunch. Limerick replicas
badger rumors chanting memoirs
of afternoon shade where tonsils bloom.
The rattle in the grass remembers
the various residue briefings. A clearly
unpleasant stranger throws serpentine
shakers against its makers. Battling
solitary disruption, their excess fangs
a memory of its own: lovers that renew
the lather of their faded resemblance
through whatever shred recovers the glowing
ballast, dead except to those
too slow to hear the speed going past
texts that change the conscious parameters of literature, both for readers and writers. from a different angle than these, r.p. blackmur adds: 'poetry: [is] ...language so twisted and posed in a form that...it adds to the stock of available reality.' formerly edited by peter ganick. send texts to Volodymyr Bilyk at ex.ex.lit@gmail.com for consideration...
Thursday, February 17, 2011
4 poems || Vernon Frazer
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Vernon...excellent!
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