the three stigmata of donald trump

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         "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.

    1.
diet of consequences
a bad smell from the drain
nine years in flight
growing nearer to a miracle
fathoms
into
like a story i went back to
& rewrote with me in it

    2.
in this passage to PLUTO
the maze subLUNAR

dusky fathoms to UNTIE
burning on the last TAIGA

my wood & my OREAD

    3.
without he have diamonds to begin
gossamer meringue

a complicated hour
after some simple ones

this is a slope i can take
merging

with the eye-filled walls

    4.
40 billion miles
& it still runs
this old machine

blue letters
on a red background

shameless
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

training
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

    5.
breakdown
of my own repairs
halcyon
hour after sunrise
in the wildwood
groves

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

    6.
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

    7.
slimeroad
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

    8.
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

    9.
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
remembered
in the stones of mala strana

    10.
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

    11.
kerb much hems her revs
hypatia
at the edge of the dog days
in the novel by kingsley

learning how
i thread my way

    12.
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

    13.
more than phantom world
in the tutelary dark
a very long time

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

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"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."

nano-ablative

(by James Dyson on photozo dot com)

     "Hot Air

So soft my pleasure came
Upon a dream,
Iced fire and frosted flame

It was, too brief for blame.
Yet sharp to seem
So soft. My pleasure came

And went--that was its shame,
Not that, supreme,
Iced fire and frosted flame,

It bore the ancient name
Harsh hearts blaspheme.
So soft my pleasure, came

A wind and woke me tame
To that regime
Iced fire and frosted flame

Had burnt to a black frame
Before their steam.
So soft, my pleasure, came
Iced fire and frosted flame."

Vassar Miller, 1963

Like a Stone.

(by Bill Knott via billknottartblog dot blogspot)

Viral memory lane.

The neon seas of Pluto. (The Icarus article is remembered.)

How to appreciate the beauty

(via cnn)

The Right Word.

Why's this CD so expensive? Is this the same Waterboys i remember from the 80s? And their later hit (on alt-radio)...

Pentagon bracing.

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"Some people say that running out of oil will save us from global warming. Perhaps. And perhaps running out of money will save you from your addiction to crack. More likely, though, you'll start getting your highs by sniffing cheap glue."

(via forbes dot com)

    "Quagga"

drops of Juvederm
Syrian no-fly zone
drops of juniper

thunder that sounds like
something in the attic falling
& rolling

no sidewalk along here
fence
a gravel embankment

the bodies piling up
like ants
this is how Cthulhu sees us

not a poet writing
with one eye on the road

Murmuration.

We are all Capulchu.

Vacation in the Golden Age.

The Last Telegram.

From the viewpoint of the summer civilization on Pluto, their predecessors had no seas, air, or music. The things they built did not last. They had no knowledge of what was happening, even as it bloomed all around them. And they were completely incapable of imagining anything after.

(via scodpub dot wordpress)

So Obama sent those tornados.

Learn from the Roma.

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