Tuesday, June 14, 2005

6.18.05 reader excerpts

Micah Ballard


They should like
to be quiet, motionless
no more alive than
before. But now the

royal ghosts are calling
the empty theatres
their thieves, harlots their
garlands. Is it the toil

in spirit or sounds
of open tombs that after
time one becomes numb
& so the hour no longer

comes. Last night
her body was carried
to a small wagon
& a death mask–

cask of her face
& hands were made.
Gone are the guests
bones of those who

have not stood alone.
Buried early morning
& involuntary exile
may their remains

cease to be released
& her name left behind
as both signature
& sign.

En Route

for Jeff Butler

Scores of letters, telegrams & poems
Lie unread on the table. Veiled in the folds
Neglected light, there are no more arches
Only wall & shadow. Head of Nero
Bone-pin & scissor, in uniform departure
They pass in procession & do not stand up
To cold or hunger. We keep moving, making
A white cross over both wrist & shoulder.
This does not work well. There are five marks
The first of which enables life after death
So let the first override the third & second
Override the fourth. There are no
Excavations here, only private vaults
Ceremonies left without safe keeping.

Patrick James Dunagan

Acts of Faith
Gazing at the river I understand suicides
in a sky of burnt pink
my eyes turn to blanks
each and every feeling comes along
on a gorgeous afternoon
of course I continue to walk
it wasn't like I'd go for a swim
all the colors of the clouds
piled high and proud
orange purple grey and brown
white mountains I accept
a later day to climb

Randall Jarrell

Natalie Portman is my crutch in this poem
of truths I've nothing to hide.
Every "I've never heard that name" line
like television background noise
another story of full circle success at a young age.
Competing with the movies is difficult
living with a woman in love with herself.
Committed to the words "I love flesh"
into the Real I fold up the screen
following her down the street
as the cars pass and the agony begins.

Cedar Sigo

LIVE at The East

These tears
They have been
left out
in Hades sun

Patterns in
music I once
found difficult
to distinguish

Now repeat
in fire and
kiss the ring

to the black

and crowned heads
of the
coral seas, the edges
of their

had onyx scaled
to amber
The dust
that we wish
to gather against.
That would flash
on me still

The writings
a tape already
so much

with jewelry
Make light so
No smoke
in the

***note: Cedar's poem has lost its line formatting here
to see this poem in its original state below or click here.

my apologies.

all copyrights are reserved by the authors of these works. no touching.


Sean Mac said...

good fucking lord! this is beautful and you should save it for your own work but i very much doubt it is "intended" - it meaning all the code showing up all over and thru the poems you posted. it has the effect - rather charming - of ambient word-noise.


artifact reading series said...

wow. this is really interesting. on mozilla firefox this blog looks perfect. on explorer it's totally fucked. I have no idea why this is happening.

artifact reading series said...

okay, I have fixed this problem. I have to say that I am having serious issues with this formatting here. literally posting these excerpts has taken me HOURS (across many different DAYS). there has got to be an easier way...does anyone know any?