Tuesday, July 14, 2015

the three stigmata of donald trump


         "The Three Stigmata of Donald Trump"

"...As though by some great shock
The earth should to its very centre yawn,
And all the infernal world and pallid realms
Hateful to gods disclosed, and from above
The drear abyss unbared, within whose deeps
The trembling ghosts shrink from the light let in..."

--Cranch's Virgil, VIII.

diet of consequences
a bad smell from the drain
nine years in flight
growing nearer to a miracle
like a story i went back to
& rewrote with me in it

in this passage to PLUTO
the maze subLUNAR

dusky fathoms to UNTIE
burning on the last TAIGA

my wood & my OREAD

without he have diamonds to begin
gossamer meringue

a complicated hour
after some simple ones

this is a slope i can take

with the eye-filled walls

40 billion miles
& it still runs
this old machine

blue letters
on a red background

in the latter days of the law
towers lost in haze

the antelucan darg
for spells & then the bus ride

lipitor dero
a taste
for certain shades of olive

over the same spot

puzzle at
verbal fossils
the moon that never leaves the sky

when the left lane is filled
till it blocks the lane through

scraps & shards
i'd gather while out on a walk
sourceless cooking smells

was this the hill
where a premonition saved my life

the winding path
a labyrinth not a maze
destined encounter

a dragonfly changes course
as if invisibly jerked

of my own repairs
hour after sunrise
in the wildwood

hard creatures
for a harsh land
no one will brake for you

dark spectrum
alien rehab
spraypaint stencil sign

sleepy fox
with oversize ears

my geometry
is not your geometry

bring aluminum jackets back

a dark place for the magic to work reign of dying children
the line won't wait for me
already at nine it's steaming
the old songs
withhold comment

& Pluto's visage clearer
than ever
except when we would dream

on our winding street in shade
the flags not taken down
people out walking or jogging
as i hit the final stretch
i look out for rabbits

crystal fire trail
cylindrical wedge
a slight lapse in attention
delivers you
to the mossy brink
monochrome landscape
warring dualities barrage
with angry words
like pinwheels of light
burrowing inward

mad coffee scientist
& the radio mutters
& the tyres sing
what have i done today
halcyon muggy morn
collate textures
construct no meaning
put the shift into neutral to rest
& plan
to print a big portrait of pluto
when it gets here

sword of pestilence
the three luminous stigmata
of donald hairpiece trump
come to hover
like an odilon redon eye
in the air over gotham city
elexia jebidà
pour les nuls
more images of elephants
than actual elephants
a ratio
that will only increase with time
burning the engrams
in the stones of mala strana

back-lit spray
pale at the side of the road
i come closer
see sep'rate sprinklers
stub of a conversation today
about face blindness
flits through my mind

kerb much hems her revs
at the edge of the dog days
in the novel by kingsley

learning how
i thread my way

under the sign of pluto
close-up photos of the storm

sweating in the backroom
a/c of little avail

no more fantasy saviors
only guns, plus the willingness to use them

nil klingon ill
nitrogen ice-rimmed craters

we were all more optimistic then

more than phantom world
in the tutelary dark
a very long time

we bring you our underworld
on bastille day · our dark names


"We’ve never had an opportunity to observe what really happens during winter on Pluto because it was springtime on the icy world when it was discovered in 1930."

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