Friday, December 3, 2010

Finally Giving Out, The Yellowed Language Hand.

Balzac
would obsessively stroke
his own beard
smoke flowing
through transparent glass
nostrils
then into black veins
then through the strange
area where the inner surface
of the conduit
is a cylindrical array of
interlinking microscopes

each smoke particle
like a machinery arguing with itself
a sort of twisting seahorse
whose agony
is beauty

in the alley
an eldery negress
has an enormous yellowing afro
and is agitatedly shaking her head
in the affirmative

negative

as a physical feature
the slit diffraction

the Fraunhofer
Single Slits

the throat

faun den Hof machen

what setting
could get you to draw
the loosely hovering seahorse
made of 'park cubes'

our only gravity
distends

green hells succumb
to green hells suucumb
to green hells succumb


oh lady among the flowering dresses
their boats so loosely drifting
the sky its arc a park
now dressed

how odd
the little dog
its neck alive
and ajangle
with banjo players

banjo players all around
the collar balcony

heads like frizzy white cotton
and electrified
by the mercury wizard
of banjo

mirrored banjo boat
out in the bay

pointillist painters
like blades of grass
in a dress of

unda

tight rope walkers
that give much sideways path
on banjo

whale
stranded
on giant banjo
little dog