No 9

no9

T
ake me back
musique concrète
to the starkly eponymous,
a sound collage with dialogue.
The myth of the dead Paul.
A bottle of claret
along the way forgotten;
cheeky bitch.
Clouds gather saturnine
in descending scale.
Will you forgive me? M yes.
Thunder bouncing ear to ear,
playful the Danse macabre:
xylophone bones
behind the piper’s tunes.
Organ grinder;
a Welsh rabbit
with sunflower-brown underpants
pants in haste.

As time goes by:
a little bit older,
a little bit slower.
In Hertfordshire
amid a shortage of grain
rattling jewelry ladies enjoy
cocktails, laughter like bells.
Vivace string quartet for the
Humpty Dumpty egg man,
Poe the point of perspective.
Nothing worse than not knowing,
business deals falling through,
juba juba juba:
Das Kapitol.

I informed him on the third night when the cock crew: when fortune falls. Ruse of baby coos. O, untimely death. Did you kids see a bike driven by a mistress? Entangled spokes in the rolling Volks. Right! I’ve missed all of that; it makes me a few days late compared with, like, wow! the walrus and weird stuff like that, company freaks listening backwards on the reel-to-reel. Floral bark. All our fortunes are lost; the Wheel of Fortune turns, the house always wins.

Rogue doctors have
brought this specimen,
petri dish forty-two
courtesy of Ponce de León:
I have nobody’s short-cuts
with the situation:
they are standing still.
The telegraph in remorse code:
sit you down father,
rest you. Alright.

So the wife calls me and we’d better go see a surgeon or whatever to price yellow knickers. So, on any road, we end up seeing the dentist instead, who gave her a pair of teeth which wasn’t any good at all, Polly, griping about the fit. I married, joined the bloody navy and sailed to sea. Block that kick! Block that kick! In my broken chair, my wings are broken and so is my hair. I’m not in the mood for whirling dervishes, fanatic ecstatic.

Hubcap hubbub from the cracking car crash,
Rita lost her hair. M die.
How? Dogs for dogging,
hands for clapping,
birds for birding
and fish for fishing,
them for themming
and when for winning.
Only to find the tenebristic
night-watchman in the song
of the night unaware of the
presence in the building
that no-one stops to watch.

Onion soup.
Industrial output.
Financial imbalance.
Thrusting it between his shoulder blades:
the end is near!—
the Watusi : the Twist
: El Dorado.
Loops of revolution out in
snippets of Sibelius and Schumann:
water-colored sound.
Take this brother,
may it serve you well.
Personality disorder,
maybe it’s nothing.

Maybe even then, exposure could be difficult thing. Crosssection of discontent. It’s quick like the rush for peace is, because it’s so much, all too much. Fifty acorns tied in a sack. Good fishes in the kettle. It was like being naked.
Hypothermia.

If you become naked . . .

Hold that line!
Block that kick!
Goodnight.

*[ WSB ].

Diagnosis

medical clipboard

I
10: essential [Is it?] (primary)
[2nd verse, same as the first–cause unknown.
  As time went by they’d get a little bit
  older and a little bit slower] hypertension
; E78.2: mixed [a cocktail: shaken, not stirred] hyperlipidemia
; K21.9: gastro-esophageal reflux disease without
  esophagitis [the tube within the tube fights back]
; K57.33: diverticulitis of large intestine without
  perforation [pouches but no holes
  in this best of all possible worlds] or abscess
  with bleeding [busted pipes from digging without a permit]
; N40.0: benign prostatic hyperplasia without
  lower urinary tract symptoms [unknown by me !
, I didn’t get the memo]

*[ WSB ].

Languishing

Meh

A
campfire with no kindling,
no levity to ha!,
feeling blah
in a fog—
languishing
in the valley between peaks,
the angles
sandwiching.
The drive to survive
dwindling–
not hopeless,
but lacking focus–
every day, midweek.

*[ WSB ].

420

Cannibus

T
he counter-culture holiday is the
sum of the first 20 positive integers
[all hail the High School 5].
I haven’t taken drugs — yet;
however, I’m keeping my
options open. Once
my ex called me an asshole
for my conviction:
Drugs Should Be Legal.
She said, ‘everyone would partake,’
I countered, “Would you ?”
Appropriately, the penetrate oil
that un-rusted the gate of my fringe idea
is the “gateway drug” itself.
Half of America think Cannabis
should be legalized,
and 11 states and the District of Columbia
have made it so.
Canada, Georgia, and South Africa
have followed Uraguay.
4:20 post meridiem:)
CELIBRATE dope for dopamine —
squares are rectangular too.

*[ WSB ].

Phosphorus Unlocked

Phosphorus

L
ightning unleashes
phosphorus bringing
life into the light:
deoxy backbones
from schreibersite
in fulgurites and
meteorites
and a quintillion
lightning strikes,
sparking precursors
of replication under
rolling skies.

*[ WSB ].

What’s the Matter?

cern

I
n a magnetic field
vacuum shield conduit
arcing toward a spark;
firing bullets at bullets
coursing through icy wiring:
Hulk smash! Testing
the standard model cache,
divorcing forces and
parting particles, blowing
them apart spirographic,
parsing how particulates
particularly fit,
sifting through firework bits:
the matter of matter
matters.

*[ WSB ].

Black-Browed Babbler

babbler

B
lack-browed babbler
appears
after being missing
170 years.
Where was it hiding
all this time,
this little remnant
of dinosaurs?
From Asian forests,
surely it soared
from hidden canopies
when it was bored
of this momentous
game of hide ’n seek,
seeking to be “it”
for a change.
One wishes that
the Tasmanian tiger
would return too,
like okapi did before.
Welcome back songbird:
babble evermore.

*[ WSB ].