Posts tagged procedural poetry

TME KMPRN (It’s cool, but it’s not poetry is it?)

TME KMPRN

Taught to dream
not with his head
but with his hands.

Inside he’s naked
and a little girl.
She loves, and alone
They leave, and die
young dos elastique
and so the sea finds
comical the combinations
in French soils .

Now never screaming
froid et subtle
dates nor eyes
nor your voice
added with their wounds
move our city of displacement.

And I am left screaming:
WHY SHOULD I PAY THE COUNCIL TAX?

Bastards.

Poem: ‘horizon’ (and some thoughts on procedural poetry)

the horizon
                fixed the abyss to an eyelid
             there I was
                         stretched        like            vessels
               across                                  the sky
before learning as adults
                                   my thoughts            pressed
                along the flow of a

                                        plume

                         until the pressure was subdued

more it gazed into me,

                                                               More I aged, per mesi…

____

roots

The next time you’re doing a translation, don’t use the dictionary. If you don’t know the word, pick something that it sounds of. Otherwise, just guess. It will probably be all right.

—-

Somewhere
there is a woman,
her hips wind like a river,
her language like our hands
stretched out in a thousand words.

Spread through the fields the
daggers pass
like
my
thoughts.
But we are suspended like
months upon our words,
in the Gardens where we weep,

misreadings

scribbles in a second hand book

doodles, scribbles and misreadings are like ghosts

‘Yes, there are only ever misreadings, of course; but mine is the correct one…’
Donald Paterson, The Book of Shadows
COPS RELEASE TIGER –

911 CALL at the end.

Brightened my commute to London.

BROWN SHUFFLES HIS CABARET.

Suppose our misreadings are something else?

Paris in the
the spring

Tiny foreign bodies flying past a lense unnoticed

beast

bicicletta-felicità; felicità
amiable beast profound and literary
dressed in english cotton
despite its its years
does not feel guided by literary texture
but by machine-readable form