(Word Doc, 2014)
we express ourselves through oxy
moron. Tears: drops of salty liquid, ultimately.
A spot of oxycodone (condone) for the headache.
Siren’s cry cum. Their eyes grow frothy.
[need to re-imagine PILLAR OF SALT poem, in the first section of the collection]
José Durand wrote:
"The siren is salt. Inseparable, intimate natures of the seas. Without which it would be tasteless. It is death and life. Sowing salt—the extreme ignominy—is equivalent to sowing death. When salt is lacking—or else, if death is lacking—no life is possible. Salt reigns, the siren reigns, source of grace. Salt and the siren are life and death, and hence, dream."
sirens are the preeminence (reemergence) of weeping, hair-tearing, breast-beating
tombs of greece
thru cosmic music procure the pleasure of death
distant coeval events
rise above the feral howling
created by man // new breed
of death-bearing birds
[found poem] diseases carried by birds
atop churches, atop city towers
Guillaume Apollinaire, Alcools: (Zones)
"Do I know where your ennui’s from, Sirens,
When you grieve so widely under the stars?
Sea, I am like you, filled with broken voices,
And my ships, singing, give a name to the years."
stuck your tongues at the waves
when the sun is at its zenith, midday—when the sirens act
the sound of the sea is made up of an infinity of lesser sounds.
days they spin, wind into a skein, and finally cut
the claws and the fear of castration, coitus as sleep, as uterine digression
a leap into the unknown is a leap into water
Britomartis & Sappho
mermaids are a millennial symbol
my futurist desires as but a pastoral motif
from Apollinaire's Bestiaire
To archive my notes and writing notebooks; entires excerpted in random order. Purpose unknown, save for preservation, discovery, and perhaps a pliable (re)engagement with soft ideas.