Lorca's oranges

"Quiero vivir sin verme.

Y hormigas y vilanos,

Sonaré que son mis

hojas y mis pàjaros."*

[*3rd verse from "Cancion del naranjo seco" by Federico Garcia LORCA (1898-1936)]

gathering fresh moss...

through frosty grass and icy rocks to come upon the lone tree

an ancient japanese maple with a hundred mossy branches

reaching up gnarly and menacing...
below its thick trunk beats a mossy heart lying in a bed of fallen leaves glistening red as drying blood...

o cadoiro*

the slippery steps to phantom home,
a block of grey sky, a concrete tub, basement-size
rinsed of sodden bits and charred queries...
falling away

the back garden inviolate 
concurs the temple steps, the dark mounting
wet and dense with winter's mulch...
last fall's fire

"between needs
breath's space"**

[*o cadoiro is the title of a book of poems by Erin MOURE, 2007... in Galician "o cadoiro " means the place where falling is made]
[**selected lines from the end of the book]
[the above two verses are mine]

midnight oil...

arrorogate along the trickety track...

surrenrender into the intrigante trunk...

forever ever deep in the hotshitoil...


Paraverbal Mutterings Paraverbal Muttering
is my first self-published book of poetics and photoimagery selected from this savage states blog...
now available for sale on blurb.ca
www.blurb.ca/bookstore/detail/3865859#promote-pane 

[the title of this collection is appropriated from an anonymous stencil found on a wall in japantown]

the modernist past...

there is history to be had beneath the starry dome,
sequestered in elderly cabinets dimly lit...

fading away in the worn wings of concrete lace,
to linger to bury to pass on by and look beyond...

through the teary glass the unreachable growth,
flooding a courtyard of curvilinear silences...

the ancient rain insisting, hidden caverns revealing,
moth-tattered chinese pardons neon flickering meta-nouns...

*****

Museum of Vancouver
H.R. MacMillan Space Centre / Planetarium
Designed by GERALD HAMILTON
Completed 1968
Stainless steel CRAB sculpture by GEORGE NORRIS
1100 Chestnut Street

prowling the parker...

2012 eastside culture crawl eviscerated at 1000 parker street...

the annualvisual feast commences in the early darkness...

the artbeast awakes, sprawling twisting puffing, just this side of the tracks...

the sainted lights flare ominous signals, the holy rain holds off...

sidle along the scaly walls towards a glowgreen orifice...

slide down to the cavity depths of its devouring mouth...

as the hotbreath of  digested deliverance vaporizes into the night air...

+++withinthebeast+++

blaze the bedrock of creative deposits...

spark the pushbuttons of textual ordinance...

radiate the fulgent rings of truncated perennials...

she arterialized...[arleigh wood]

he flashfaced...[david taewook cho]

they unhung...[artmemes of unit 100]

nonentities in abductive idle...

do believe everything you read...

Eastside Culture Crawl, November 16-18, 2012
1000 Parker Street and 69 other voracious venues

ididiom = my id ++ your idiom
[please visit my new tumblr site for photoimagery of textual art]

marking my clark park:: part VI

 near the end of day, I walked across the street towards the falling light as it shimmers late through the tall trees...

 there is a lovely old french poem about the dreaming trees at dusk after the rain...

"le long des murs d'un parc ou songent de beaux arbres...

on les suit longtemps.

plus tard, un peu de soleil dore

une feuille, et deux, et puis tout!"

and so it goes, in the pale hour along the parkside walls where old trees dream...

[selected lines from "Au fil de l'heure pale" by Leon-Paul FARGUE, 1878-1947]

keep counting...

 he claims that he can't count...

- the children anyways -

but other things like bottles and women and lakes and textbooks

somehow acquired an enigmatic number 

rounded to 500, no more no less...

[hovering high up under the Granville Street Bridge]

concrete sky

 mere meters away from the millenium line on the eastside are older apartment buildings and houses in which the deafening roar of the skytrain flashing by every few minutes is matched by the looming sightline of a heavy concrete horizon...

a continuous thundering from a solid lightning bolt -
a sedimentary sky that will never soften with rain...

[Stainsbury Avenue near Gladstone Street]

king of sweets

convivial endings of a no-fly-zone season -

betrayal of a ham-hued tongue slack with crusted sugar...

move on, move on, king of sweets, 

to the cloying call of bloated suburbia -

the overall of the sticky much-too-much...

[lane behind Fraser Street]