Friday, December 31, 2010

Matthew Johnstone's Let's be close Rope to mast, you Old light Now Available at Blue & Yellow Dog Book Shop

Courageous and inventive, Matthew Johnstone journeys into the heart of urban dismantlement, nihilism, and downsizing. “I forgotten in city shine in cuban requests,” myriad negations become criss-crossed as quest for time compressed, space illuminated, all-but-enough fragments glimpsed as fleeting ontologies of self, world, sign. The sea becomes an inward thing, the California sky inside darkening, the journey moves from here to here between desiccations of Spicer and vision-hungers of Rimbaud, adjacent to Chet Baker jazz riffs glimpsed as in an “Old Light”: “This is the place to place my tender.”

-- Rob Wilson, author of Be Always Converting, Be Always Converted and Waking In Seoul

Let's be close Rope to mast, you Old light
by Matthew Johnstone
52 pages
Blue & Yellow Dog Press



Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Issue #3 Blue & Yellow Dog Winter 2010 Issue Is Up!

Hi people,

Issue #3, the winter issue of Blue & Yellow Dog has been posted.

Please feel free to read it, reread it, and spread the word about it.

This issue contains poems by the famous and the infamous:

Richard Kostelanetz, Dorothee Lang, Crag Hill, Vernon Frazer, Ricky Garni, Glenn R. Frantz, Joel Chace, Sheila Murphy, Benjamin Nucum, Matthew Johnstone, Felino A. Soriano, Philip Byron Oakes, Dylan Harris, Richatrd Mason, Keith Moul, Adam Fieled, George J. Farrah, John C. Goodman and a review by Nate Pritts of Joel Chace's book Sharpsburg.

If you enjoy reading the poems of Richard Kostelanetz, Keith Moul, Matthew Johnstone, Felino A. Soriano, Joel Chace, John C. Goodman, please browse the Blue & Yellow Dog Book Shop for books by these poets.

Just a note for those of you keeping score: Adam Fieled's Equations is due out in January 2011 from Blue & Yellow Dog Press.

That's all for now.
So get busy reading.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Check out Thomas Fink's Review of DRUNKER/holding ember in Galatea Resurrects 15

Thomas Fink has posted a perceptive critique of DRUNKER/holding ember at Galatea Resurrects. Follow the link to the page and check it out. My first published review EVER! I would like to thank Thomas and suggest you Google him and read his poetry & reviews on line. Adios for now. Raymond.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Joel Chace's New Chap Book, Blake's Tree, Is Published by Blue & Yellow Dog Press

"Blake’s Tree begs to be read out loud. Uncanny and spot-on, the repetition of words and phrases which levitate within a controlled form. Lushness in the economy of word. Lyric and narrative commingle. This is serious and necessary fun."

--Kit Kennedy

William Blake played on his own name in “The Little Black Boy” (Blake = Black) and whirled us between nouns and verbs when he wrote, “Damn braces, Bless relaxes.” In these six-line, stanzaic pieces, Joel Chace follows Blake’s example—not only his “tree” but his ”poetree”—and offers enigmatic phrases that tease us out of thought. For a moment we are freed from cause and effect, from everything that insists on logic, and allowed to enter a space in which everything happens at once. “Negative capability” flourishes in this world of beautiful whatevers—where “over the riven and through” is not a typo and “light snapped on off whole city’s ponderable spook” is a perfectly reasonable, complete thing to say. “The world is all that is the case,” Wittgenstein wrote memorably. But he also wrote, “Thought can be of what is not the case.” These poems offer a beautiful release from our everyday sorrows, joys and dispositions. Climb Blake’s tree and see exquisite explorations of “what is not the case.”

--Jack Foley

Blake’s Tree
By Joel Chace
36 pages
Blue & Yellow Dog Press


Tuesday, October 26, 2010

New Book from Blue & Yellow Dog Press: Richard Kostelanetz' FICT/IONS and This Sentence

This just out from Blue & Yellow Dog Press: FICT/IONS and This Sentence.
Two volumes of poetry in one priceless book by Richard Kostelanetz.
It is priceless but if I had to put a number on it that number is $15.
Visit Blue & Yellow Dog Book Shop or Better Homes Through Poems to purchase your copy.

Richard Kostelanetz is a name we hear over and over if we have ears on the internet. He has been published countless times in some of the best journals out there and he is still doing it. His language experiments have altered our perceptions as a culture by redefining our words, by examining the nature of poetry and language, which is always a form of poetry to him. These books add that something extra to his already respectable ouevre.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

The Grammar of Mind by Keith Moul is available now from Blue & Yellow Dog Press Book Shop. Blue & Yellow Dog Press is also a proud new member of Better Homes Through Poems Collective. There you will find books published by nine or ten Independant Presses.

But back to The Grammar of Mind, a chap book by Keith Moul:

The terse yet potent verse paragraphs contained in Keith Moul's chap book, The Grammar of Mind, hold our most trusted & reasoned postmodern insight's feet to the fire, testing knowledge, wit, favor, an entire body of ecclectic bursts explode in the collective mind, shedding light. Somehow energizing the reader, each word is layed down like a concrete slab. If life is a book to be lived then "7/each day of life/taken straight/ administers shock treatment/to the mind" If this is hyperbole then it is also a no nonsense mirror held up with a sure and steady hand. A mirror in which points of order are clearly stated & numbered, as in "8/dust specks crowd into/the 60 watts of the mind."


36 pages

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Check Out Latest Issues of Out of Nothing & Apocryphal Text

Hi gang. The latest issues of Out of Nothing and Apocryphal Text are up and chock full of vitamins for growing poets such as ourselves.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Billy Cancel's The Autobiography of Shrewd Phil

In Billy Cancel's The Autobiography of Shrewd Phil something is going on. There is an edge along which the poet walks with purpose. The narrator states: "I fought a bear i liked/it//i rejoiced/with scissors." The poems are diminutive canvases on which color supplants meaning--"clay works heard dumb/shapes screeching." There is no loci or voice just the tattered remnants of a voice. Someone says "shutters i saw purple light hold/an empty fountain square" and "the northern hemisphere/was covered/in portrait."

The Autobiography of Shrewd Phil
By Billy Cancel

32 pages


Cover art by Billy Cancel

Published by Blue & Yellow Dog Press
2425 SW 3rd Ave #98
Ocala, FL 34471

Available at Blue & Yellow Dog Book Shop

Thursday, August 19, 2010

naked beauty by John C. Goodman is Available at B&YDog Book Shop!

In naked beauty, John C. Goodman's oscillating, never still anti-tableau of shifting visions "horizons unfold/like paper birds." Constantly observant among glints of experience and language inserted into and evolving out of the italicized "I" of these poems, it seems the transient focus of naked beauty exists in flux (what the poet himself calls "stream of experience") even as life proceeds on a ravishing scale "looking under postage stamps." Anywhere word glitters against word, image against image, each apt metaphor more penultimate than the last, we experience the moment and move on, dazzled, exhilerated, perpetually standing at the threshold of a glad new existence. Goodman is surpassed by none when it comes to epiphanic indulgences. He succors the pathos of the "I" of the self accusatory, the joke of the self deprecating, as though life (much like these poems) was painted in swift impasto and never forgotten.

naked beauty by John C. Goodman is published by Blue & Yellow Dog Press. Also available at Blue & Yellow Dog Press Book Shop: Realities of Bifocal Translations by Felino A. Soriano, Rien Ici by Raymond Farr, DRUNKER/holding ember by Raymond Farr, and the first print issue of Blue & Yellow Dog Spring & Summer Issues 1 &2. Available soon: Matthew Johnstone’s Let’s be close Rope to mast, you Old light, Adam Fieled’s Equations, and Richard Kostelanetz’s chap book FICT IONS.

We are a small press but building on strong ms submissions from both young and experienced poets. For more information on how to submit, to purchase a book, or just check out what we like to publish in Blue Yellow Dog visit our web pages.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

sean burn's latest vis po is available!!

dear all

the latest of sean burn's pamphlets of visual poetry - mo thunder - is out now from the knives forks and spoons press ( these are public texts photographed and then reworded, accompanied with decaying typographies - culture-jamming techniques to subvert those messages insisting we buy into narratives i don't recognise. it is a follow-up collection to all cut up published by tonerworks, 2009

Thursday, August 12, 2010

New Issue of Blue Print Review!!!

the new issue of BluePrintReview has launched!

#25: two²

“or to make it simple: make it 2.” – that was the key line of the call for issue 25. curious, i waited for texts and images of the “2” kind. and received: two-way poems. stories inside stories. 2-layer photos. poems in 2 parts. second-hand clips of life. and so much more twosome goodness.

the first threesome of twos is on now, kicking in with The Scream, Fire on the Other Side, Pre-Cell Observations in 2 Parts – and with a spin of complementary colors:
this issue goes live in sequences again, new “two”s will pop up every couple of days, check back or just follow the announcements on twitter and facebook.


blueprintpress micro novels:

Blueprintpress is proud to present its 2 first micro novels:

The Republic of Love by Nora Nadjarian
My Apartment by Michael K. White

Both micro novels are offered as signed author copies in hand-made, limited editions. They will arrive at your doorstep with international air mail. Pre-orders are open now.

For details, author info, excerpts, order info, go here:

Friday, August 6, 2010

Check out Counterexample Poetics!

This month I would like to thank Felino Soriano, the editor of Counterexample Poetics, for having me as Featured Artist. It is a great read. Lots of other writers with not a little talent. I feel very humbled to be part of Counterexample Poetics. Check it out for yrself.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

A New Kill Author Is Up!

I have a poem--The Pueblo Is in My Name--up at Kill Author. The whole issue is jam packed with great writing, imaginative stuff. Just go on over there and see for yrself. Don't forget to come back!

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Summer Issue of Blue & Yellow Dog Is Up!

Hi everybody. Issue 2 of Blue & Yellow Dog is up and running. It contains poems by Jenny Enochsson, JD Nelson, Eddie Patterson, Sean Burn, Ton van t'Hof, Nico Vassilakis, Jessie Janeshek, Travis Macdonald, Philip Byron Oakes, Christine Herzer, Francis Raven, as well as poems and collages by Valery Oisteanu. There is a print issue in the works which is comprised of issues 1 & 2. If successful it will be available at the Blue & Yellow Dog Book Shop.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

New Otoliths Is On Line Now

Check out the latest issue of Mark Young's Otoliths which is now up and bigger and better than ever.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Felino Soriano's Realities of Bifocal Translations

Felino A. Soriano's "Realities of Bifocal Translations" is dominated by jazz echoes, scatted as it were, and its idioms, as well as the personal and celebrated brushstrokes of 20th and 21st Century painting translated to poetry. Predominately one page takes, the poems, executed in a hybrid of modernist/postmodernist syntax, offer the reader a swirling look down & up at the all-important avant-garde heritage of us all. Simultaneously historic and contemporary, the poems in this volume do what good ekphrastic poetry (or music or painting) should do...dip its tongue in the honey and lay it back down, poised like the instrument all musicians/artists/poets share—experience and articulated reality.

About Blue & Yellow Dog Press:

There are only 5 volumes of poetry published so far in Raymond Farr’s Blue & Yellow Dog Press Book Shop (a spin-off of his on line poetry journal Blue & Yellow Dog)— four volumes by Raymond Farr, and Felino Soriano’s Realities of Bifocal Translations. The next book to appear in the B&YDog Book Shop Series, will be Adam Fieled’s latest prospect, Equations, due out sometime in August 2010. Any full length poetry ms is welcome. The editor promises a careful reading of each ms submitted. All ms should be submitted as Word docs, RTF, or PDF attachments to an email and sent to

Felino Soriano: Realities of Bifocal Translations
Paperback, 98 pgs,
$15 plus shipping

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

New Storefront

Visit the new Blue & Yellow Dog Press at Lulu storefront. I have my books there, as well as full legnth volumes by other poets and print issues of Blue & Yellow Dog. Prices are reasonable. Support the arts! Buy a book today!

Thursday, April 29, 2010


I would like to invite poets to read & submit to Blue & Yellow Dog, a new web site I am starting up. To get it off the ground I need poems, Concrete Poetry, videos, audio readings and other sound experiments, art work, photographs, & even YouTube clips. Send whatever you feel comfortable submitting in a single PDF or Word doc email attachment. Send them to me at In the meantime spread the news and check out the site at Blue & Yellow Dog.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Kettles of Approval

well along
each roped poem



a west/turn
coping fundamental

kettles of approval

upon making tracks

& asking the sky--

so purple

&crossing at flats--

such a code
within ranges--

what seeks itself
in swerving

wearied by

Fractions of a Mood Swing (Cedar Key, FL)

This perdition of littoral.

Collaborates intensely.

One fifth its aspect appears alternatively a blue engulfed.

Its edge a difference.

Ogles barnacles apprehensively.

Gulf sways in lunar efflorescence.

Yet sepia to begin.

Flaming flushed heart makes sense of a pier.

Grey creaking dock slack in disinterested tide.

Chipped white paint flaking harbor house.

Wobble of signs in evening breeze.

Act out the lonely end of.

Flat creatures painted on shells.

Evade interpretation.

passage to a nude kind of {power sys}

Weeping douche bags, named Filipo Espoo
Lay quadrant together twined
Finland (usurist amerikan rites attack grid off key a sample of the
Decomp— i(task Turrets Syndrome. (CHarl—
The Scourerr,
The sorcerer’s gal pal on/off
(the man tag/guard(ted, avant gardened
ASK--positional pupae, to doffe cette caper
Jollyseine mastiff locator latrine watch me
Inch wittle: “I gotta stiff—ecco Prego!”
Meine(HDtv)’d, iii et al
If I verify:NASA ASAP
Programmatically post—p oint of reference-ilism / naughty ici
on commandchi
re: grid-girl —athon(esque acid –itation
launch internet denies twin eggo!!

What is wrong with Postmodernism is…
The very thing it is—a passage
To a very nude kind of {power sys}massage morphology in jarred moon phantom
Of LOVE, my calling is immediate/a dive
Antimacassar drive train laughing to punctuate order
Effective global capital nuisance claim
Ridiculous slotted fellow out of Seattle
Apparatus of power mouse pads—Diderot-like
At the root
A brain case highboy oak-back monkey lunatic iota buff
So doing it collapses the complexity of the history of

As the origin of
Uncanny resemblances/&suites ahoy!
Ever grater rats of gratis turnover frozen culling
Experimentation thru
It des-troys itself thru them glassware
Being radical Chimera at Kwik King convenience store: 59¢

“I swear I didn’t sayTHIS THAT or the oyster thing recklessly
Once removed
The multitudes are key
Refers to level
Feminine tableau tone Pop (t)Art on quantum Brattle Sq.
Or NOON near San Sulspice

Nor evil adjunct ,sub
Inch universe ping p ing pinging things mention
“post modernism [BYTES]intellectual” boxes
Tenement shadow life of dodo
Bliss living out dusk(summer, august—dry august wind—
Prevailing “political movement tends
To be language of the
Elite, whereas
Diacritical dialectic/ballad, oxygenated wire-proofed
(et noir)
The barbarians, Paul, & macaroni elbow song

of. Regular incline.
Suspicion of: “q’est-ce que uneSIGNlanguage?”b-a-c-kwards…
N-G-I-S mirrored/ “committed to the truth
And real political change”
See Ibid. pp. 154-6 on Amy’s farm in Weirsdale
Ore Utica, inert
Meddlesome post-
Modernist postmortem
not. Spoofed/neglected chowder head egasm finger tip campanile
Just format Wal-Mart Andy Warhol I’m laughs.
“Whereas for Bhabba it is as if

We were”—
Polonius speaking ghetto
Intrinsic dildo enacting roughly
A radio unearthing Nickelodeon Daze—
Relenting to act nervosa in other words

Crater. Baste. Interrupt. Pall Over Dozen. Oven. Manor. Song. Imply—

SPLASH down!
Eating old regimes from inside a bubble gum dispenser
The news flows/follows
The krill is gone, baby…a long way to a second addiction
Shoots watts
Askew rocker pins
100 pixels
Talks garbage

Friday, April 9, 2010

unWholy ePisodes

I posed

A hundred years while playing
Misfortune’s bitch

At the Bay House Theatre a lightning bolt hit us
Knocking out Time’s teeth
On a baby grand piano

I sat like a rat
Trapped in the limelight

I paused
To put on yr funny funny face
Before weeping like a man in a little girl-mask

I vomited doom
& danced like a harlequin

As I brought down the house
I dreamed I heard a sensible tale

I stole every line
& staged it at midnight

Off beat
In a manner of speaking

A fire caught fire in one little chair

My bed room got soaked
By the flood of your tears

I ate the heart of a live grenade
& all I remember is

How sensitive were the calla lilies


With my razor hand
I crumpled up a Budweiser beer can

The dregs at the bottom
Predicted a fracture
Of half-drunken images

I foresaw myself as an ember
A loose fiery speck turning to soot

Caught in the crook of a small distant branch

& all of us corpses dipping our heads
In submission
Almost religiously
Walked in & out of a bath of odd yellow light

Blinking: Caution! Caution! Caution!

A single crow mocking us: caw caw caw
Getting half the word out


The Thames appeared grey
Precipitously neutral
Faint & fading against a patter of commerce

Raunchy as the dead & dying tribes of shrill & screeching prep school girls
Marching down Fleet Street


Dear Miracle on Fleet Street,

I am taking your place
Yr leaden sentiment kills

My heart is a poem & a place
Beyond what is named

What is felt is all wrong

You must justify your version
You must walk without hesitating

Nothing is measured
I must always persuade you

To listen

Are you mad as a Hatter?
Are you normal as normal can be?

The whole world it seems
Is shattered / destroyed

A door opened only
At the mezzanine level

Of the great San Francisco fire
& earthquake of 1906


I am leaving
You alone

I no longer feel
Any empathy

For the tumult of the 20th Century

I am beginning
A new plot

Chock full
Of new twists

Better than
All my previous attempts

At gore
& redemption

The circles
Are plumper

More savory


Like hens
Force fed on

Growth hormones
& Iowa corn


A moment alone
Looking at

A long silent parrot fish
A feeling if you must

These are a new American subconsciousness

The cravings of a half life
& underground

The last thing anyone needs
Is a vibration
That’s only mostly human


As the last of the land came rising up

I latched

Any tempo
Around me


This seemed
Like a paradise
At first—purely Calvinist & the Chipmunks
Were delicious

So we stopped
& got civilized—

A man named Sherman married a woman named Sarah

He opened a dry cleaning business

He died the next day

He was one who looked out

He was buried in winter

The very next day his dog ate a raven

He had such a year

He felt he could breathe

He died of a blood clot stuck in his brain

He could’ve been saved had he not eaten fat

Which he ate every day

A pearl
Was his handle

A prairie

He got up
& he line danced

He loved
Terra Haute

In a huff
He gave way

He sorted
His feelings

His tears
Were like snow flakes

Like ice flows
That spiraled

They were

That was

& his poems
Were like persons

All laughter
Some bitter


My little pet crab cake
Got yanked off its leash

& ran off the road

Its words were so beautiful
It stood in a film

On aisle 9
It seemed a dangerous balloon

A gift for now
A pittance for later

Fat as a Fatty Arbuckle

Hazy & abstract as
Rothko’s post-war abstractions

Fat flat horizontal

A shimmer of color
For sale at the end


In the absence of the wiener cart man
I zip up my fly in the amber museum

Our jazz piano pointless as a village
With one mouth
Between ‘em

& dreaming of fire
& hollow as a hollow man
A strange wild horse still snorts like a fiend
In make-believe stables

In the nightmare of horse stalls
It kicks out at phantoms

& spits
Wanting out

Of this cockeyed world

Some of us are cherubim
Some of us are demons

Our bodies flung against
Rake of the railroad tracks

Like piano keys
One ivory
One ebony
Set adrift in a copse of slowly dying elms

Our eyes look up
& there on the bulletin board—the haggard but heavenly face
Of warlord LBJ

A face can be art
Or as sad as a cloud
But never a warped wooden frame


& this is how we live now—

Conniving with doubt
A curse on or lips

The clock we’ve become has been disassembled
Deconstructed by angels of pure undulation

The future applies itself

On a face without skin
We sit in our skeletons
Shivering & winsome
Aching in our kitchens

Why don’t we cry?
Why do we wail?

We beg our brothers for money
For food

We beg them for mercy
For our children

Expecting none
For ourselves

But receive only a promise
A face that is twisted & carbuncled

We are laughed at
& ridiculed by the neighborhood urchins

Who turn off their scorn
And battle each other

Like the children they are
Over maps they have found

One word to settle disputes
The oldest of which is Meaning

& by this it is meant
A boy bringing chocolates
& daffodils to school on St Valentine’s Day

Useless in a sense
But prevalent

Nearer art & poetry
Than a thousand confiscated canvases
Than all the contraband volumes of verse
Locked away in the dark
Or burned on the square

In the gleam
Of an eye
We catch sight of the censor

& we are the censor


In the phone book
Is the answer to most


This was Kafka’s

paternal contention


The remains of

Miles Davis
Though trumpets cut flowers in the 21st Century

Not faces

Are hawked by his trumpet
Make silence a downer

One is the Bronx
Where the hiss of a radiator
Is sending my love

A lobster
From clairvoyant Chicago

Circa the Jazz Age

& foolish with blood stains
Are love’s petty radio waves

A blue cow
Said someone in church

(Mistaking The Fauves

For the animal
De bruk)

A new music box
Enters an old social era


As though the west progressed

One belittling at a time
Of need

A single word
Begets a second

& writing
Is a crow

A Bishop’s miter becomes a tale
That is hidden

Marginal for its skepticism

It falls
To one side
With contagion

Forward march, said the one story pre-fab
& up the driveway we stormed

But holding our tongues

We shaved off
Our beards

Our beards of water

Our beards of nourishing peanut butter

A knife at our throats
At a low point of Lent
The ashes ran through us


Skunks slink among the seat cushions
Of the divans of our Greek inheritance

They lurch and they poke
Looking for coins

Rank crumbs bristle against skunk smiles
Their feasts are bits of stale potato chips
& Oreo crumbs

The birthing of the postmodern
Cinema / abattoir
Summons them to street corners

The nexus of whirling
Is the intersection of a boulevard
& a man with amnesia

As father is
A gutter
Is a beautiful skunk
But lacking speech
His eyes dim
& glitter
With animus
Impossible skunk
A deep sadness
Derides him

He writes out in long hand some difficult passage

A miniscule lyric
To be critiqued

& passed on


Our traffic school is French today

A psychological dream
Of a flute & French horn

It plays itself
As if by an If

Maybe a gull
Killed dead in mid-air

Still flaps
Its wings

Enter Monsieur Voyeur
At l’ecole despair

Where do all our little wrongs go?


I just gotta say…

Aloha, Hugh Hefner
Hello, Adolf Hitler

I started Prilosec today

I am young & featureless

& stuffed like a teddy bear

A haggard man
Handles the wheel

I have eaten my share of cranberry soap

Simon says…

What have you heard until now?

The history of the suffering of the foolish computer

Whose startling biography
Is no match for a human’s

The myth of the broken down dreamer
The deep-sleeping fat one
Whose deep-seated angst is a line dancing bear

His raptors’ repast is the song of a cricket
Whose soul is a suicide

I drift in & out of
The satisfying lines

& ghoulish notes
Of statistics

If this is all a mental Christmas experiment in love
I have only imagined I exist
As a colorful Chagall

In a void
Of skewed

& skewing



The Magician’s boxy black girl friend
Is blocking access

To his view of the future

The old man can’t find
His prize possession

Monday, March 8, 2010

Code man in black mac / Liffey:

According to Joyce
the Coffin lay in its bier
& the mourners knelt
L. Bloom
C. P. M’Coy,
Dash Mc’Intosh
& several others
I don’t recall who was
The Figure
Standing just by
Over there
Now gone
Mistaken for name of the figure
The boy turned man
O the boy turned man at the grave sight
The thirteenth mourner
& as Joyce puts it
Mistaken for a stranger
But disappears
Of a course to become judged in his black mackintosh funereal attire
Ever muted
By a stoppage in prayer
& Paddy Dignam’s poor corpse
The word benign like the divine
& him bursting
& us so benign
Oddly dimpled bowler
Mentioned on the head of a mourner
Standing aback of us
Entirely of a nature to disappear
Mourner of the other 12
At the plot of
Poor Dignam
& as I said Joyce said
Paddy Dignam
His legacy of
Good humor
A bent elbow for the fun
Bon mots just for the world
The grave
The one in it
No balm like a black balm
A balm so sweet
Of choices
Strategically arranged
A life steered through
& around
Navigable they want us to believe
And down along the sweet flowing Liffey
The crones squawk
Notions of flowing
Of hair by the river
A woman’sssssSssSSsSSssss long strands
Same as desire
So cunning
Languor of the siren’sssssSS sSsSS Ss SSSSsssss
Eternal flesh
No longer a boy
A man now
Per chance transformed
To invisibility
O black in his black macintosh
No longer
A boy
I’ve a rare bone to pick with the river Liffey
From which
It is clear
All speech flows in the world
The heart-stopped-world
Spoken to
The bone-yard-world
Flowed through
By a river
The bone-yard-tune
Creeping under
The stranger’s black mackintosh
Like a desire he detests quenching
Out of the grave’s cusp of loam
Came Liffey
A moment in it
Both grave & Liffey
Some shuddering belch of an “Excuse me,
Are you in there?”
& when

Not Even Our Shadows Will Follow Us

Iloveyou, meaning thiscanary has beenourluck;
meaning we both love themusicplaying inmyhead.
Iloveyou,meaning I hope you neversuffer,asIhave,
for being charmed; meaning wash&choplove’s
onions,cryasyoulaugh.Iloveyou, meaning canaries
tire of their own mimicreflections; we ignore them,
telling each other Don’t worry, it’s no ta sign. Blue,
meaning “awkward:” I shaved this canary for you.
Joke,meaning“concerned:”I spoofed the canaries
thisplumhopingforone longsweetriff.It lasted a
moment. It lasted like a monument, bigasCharlie
“thebird”Parker. It glistered when I bit into it for your
sake. It was myself, my sweet necrotic voice I heard
singing intheback ofyourthroat. Ohbaby,Iloveyou,
meaning do you know this canary? Oh baby, Iloveyou,
meaningI’llbeyourcanary, my wings bright, gaudy
as anything toofamiliar,and disappear into thinair.
Ohbaby,Iloveyou, meaning disappear withme,it’s
thateasy, notevenourshadowswillfollowus.

Icarus Fallen to a City's Limit

The sun proclaimeth its love for the angle
At which it is seen. The moment I fell: O! strange
Onefragmentfrom. Is like another. A city
thus defined determines its grandeur.
Looking into a pond or mirror is equivalent to:
I shaped ideas.I paused to check my balance.
If I fell It wasn’t unwittingly. The scene upended
the writing. Only this sense of a shift in perspective:
outcome/delay. As I looked on it swept past me
whose face was a taxi cab. Thepoemabout
Lenin was an anvil he detested reading.