Sunday, September 30, 2007

My Sister Antigone

y sister antigone
    she is alas long gone
a broken knee and gangrene
    sent her to kingdom come

sent her to kingdom come
    amen amen    well done
dear sempiternal sibling she
    in agony passed on

amen amen    sad tears    shed he
    recalling who she was
dear sister     worn by duty
    thought chores a worthwhile cause

she chased a cow    it fell
she did into a ditch
on top of her pellmell
my sister    underneath    oh hell!

the cow     the bitch – if cow can be
    fell headlong     toppled down
a mucky ditch    with my antigone
    sent her thus hobbling home

so now at night i cry outright
    antigone long gone!
a broken knee and gangrene –
    it cuts me to the bone!

on darksome eves when twilight fades
    in shades of pitch and tar
a figure flits from path to ditch
    it is my sister – ah!

antigone    antigone    anent god’s bane
    you’ve left me sore bereft
until the cows come home     i mean
        the milking’s never done!


New project afoot!

To all Laurie's faithful readers; this is the amanuensis. (Nice, old-fashioned word; I like it.)

Sorry for the lag in posting. We have a new project on the table, and will be adding a weekly installment of fiction - the chronicles of Tich Backhouse.

Tich lives in Byrne Abbey, an alternate universe sister city to Burnaby, British Columbia, in a time sometime between (and crossing over) the early 1900s to the present. He deems "hissel'" a "filosofusser", and is all too likely to be in conflict with whatever authorities attempt to civilize him.

'nuff said; you'll see what I mean. Soon.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Reminder from Hazlitt's "On the Fear of Death"

rom fretful birth
to fretful dearth of years
as yesterday damns tomorrow
    with its claims
infant joie de vivre
    burns dimmer
tempestuous youth    in despite confronts
    middle old age
despised and later tolerated
    whereupon would to the contrary
delay in vanity
    nunc dimitis
and borrow access to what is denied
    future untold
rather than boldly stand up and deliver
    divorce from self


Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Mutability my theme

utability my theme
nay, neither moot nor mute
    I must say my say
do my damned worst or bestingest
every grunt and groan
a mouthful to a footfall
until i flop myself down
and exit upon a hook
where there’s no season or clime
no bother of raison d’ĂȘtre etcetera

campanile bells ring their changes
changes to measure compatible
lively the moment    to strike
    or strict
to which they turn their tongues
pulled and reeling
heel and toe as we go
with a heigh ho hey nonny no
upon each taken yeasty breath
footing it tempo to the body’s beat
urged by primal legacy
    mutability my theme
taken at its worth    sobeit!
cogency sent from earthandsky


Sunday, September 16, 2007

Poem in twenty five words

... because you asked for it:

f now exists
    it aint simple whit
precise fit to Greenwich
    meantime     gone
nor when you were born
    slipped womb pellmell
with anguished yell


Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Beauty mediates

eauty mediates
though immediate
how can that be?
what’s out there
ceases to be the other
and draws us
hither from thither
in a splendid identity


Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Out of the Impasse

m i sane or am i mad
    a dog in the manger
hating the stranger in myself?
    good and evil we were twain
but god is dead
so i am half-alive
which is the very devil!
    they swear the seed i bear
is cursed even unto the trump of doom
which is why i would bid my heirs
fare-thee-weal or fare-thee-woe
    meanwhile i’m stuck among the either-ors

        see-saw margery daw
        johnny shall have a new master

    why rue the devil’s encores
adam’s legacy    not mine!
i’m wiser    pay him no heed
he’ll get meaner and meaner
aggravate his spleen and bust
    until then i won’ t mention
good/bad    honour/lust
embrace the difference between
without being one or t’other
i’ll arrange a humane paronym
brother i’d rather say amen:
    to my little i am and big i am
hello in there stranger
i’m no dog in the manger!


Monday, September 10, 2007

To be is no verb

o be is no verb
it is me
scion of family tree
to dig up my roots
you’d recognize brutes
as small as could be
which is where i began
matter of fact
an animated that
herb    browser or flea
my ancestral tree
mould raised up
from spirit or dust
what matter
to be in one word
it is me


Thursday, September 6, 2007

Veritable Rant-tant-tivvy

nd has end    beginning beginning
    trouble is    ouroboros swallows tail
stays dumb    rational verity blown
    like cause and effect which effectually
waltz around ballroom to metric strains
    east is east and west is west
until you re-orient your swatch of the sun
    day's begun when day is done

    dexter or sinister take your pick
devil's due:    virtue he elicits
    by whose light or darker insight
are shadows cast that ne'er standfast
    sun doth run    after-burners on
nor wait upon    humanity's condition

    no lad     no lass
polarity's bad cess
    imperative challenge    no small change
logic and grammar's perplexity
    okay to spit it out quick
before you choke or get anal-ytic

    why taken for granted as how
example: throne of god occupied by his nibs with beard
    photo op frontally posed
as if transparency in action
    behind scenes access denied
consequence: chimerical inklings
    lead us on
to gratuitous intent
    apochryphal precepts
invoke fealty to almighty
    ben- or mal-evolence
dispensed removed
    within or beyond reason
though we invent incantation and sacrificial offering
    to allay and propitiate
'step on crack:    break my back'
    hexed?     oh hell no sweat!
mumbo-jumbo survives
    from aeons before Satan's get

    tail-end peace quivers as gross felo-de-se war
clamps jaws
    ego trip    evolutionary dance
sink or swim mayhem
    oughta be maxim:
hyena's leftovers' slim-pickins fattens cosmic cycle
    rhythmic stress maintains integrity
keeps us hopping
    harmony of spheres tactical guessing game

    verity's rationale withholding contingency
beggar's coat     fit to blow its stitches
    ludicrously vain this either-or dogmatism
presented even before you lose your baby teeth
    brusque truth crunching on tempting rusk
no     no no nooh     No!
    ""oh no" limits conditions of play
worries     caged lion into apathy


Wednesday, September 5, 2007

At the top of the food-chain

t the top of the food-chain
he who fell
fell ill
what a to-do about
nothing that whatever could be done
until the spill-
age     upset
was righted
alright! he remained
at the top
not the height
of the food-chain
lower than before
before the fall
for the chain is a cycle
nobody's on top
of this     never-bottoming-out
well ...?
or always as long as