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littlereview (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} littlereview) wrote,@ 2012-05-31 00:45:00 |
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Poem for Thursday and Renfaire Acts
to have been, instead
By Stephen Motika
instead, insulted. to look, in green light. redact. can you read... the oracular, such indifference. failing in the halls of an unknown.
to have powered down. mission. some sort of calvacade, plane flight caucus to indifference. a mission, museum, the night in the unknown. a city.
raked forest leaves, consorted with compost fires, down in steam, walked an incline, slipped to fall. the clatter of bones on buried stones, on those leaves fallen, but not as fast as I fell.
in Turrell's dim light, I realized the failure of the art official. an artificial stance, an impossibility: to speak and listen simultaneously.
the train bed, we call them tracks, where two ties swim beneath. a gossip, these gadgets, soaked in white scrimmed preamble. I made the mistake of coming closer, again.
ihe rejection, a mastication of the brain, those thoughts that fuel the day. I can't, besides, canning involves brine and fish we simply don't have.
in the sea farm, large carp. in the lake, a new cat finds our resources, our swims, those precious summer waters, where the between marks space.
the train from platform; here, everything in an elevated series of windows, lighted, in yellow mirrored fashion. large tower rests on the ground. the pavement gives way, the grinding of breaks.
came across a few seats, edits, and large empty doors. there were paintings, an elderly man. a slipped space to look aside guards and walls. I can't think of how many steps it takes to escape.
platformed, clasped, we waited to circulate, encased, dined within curator's task, lips sown in a silence of those emeriti.
caustic, in bold approach, pallid lips, rouged face, nearly quaffed and ensconced. I edged the red, a rage lost in the linen weave, a time.
--------
Wednesday was the coolest day since before the weekend, which was a lovely relief after the heat of the past several days. I dragged Daniel shopping -- World Market has Diamond Jubilee napkins and tins of Walker's Shortbread, heh -- and took him to Bagel City to make up for this abuse. When we came home I had lots of laundry to fold, so we watched Thor together while I did. I must confess that I like Thor and Loki better in that movie than in The Avengers and I really need to get the soundtrack.
Adam came home for a while, then biked to tennis -- I need to get myself over to Cabin John to hike now that he's doing that because I've only been walking in the neighborhood, which can get monotonous, though today there were three bunnies and two deer so I can't really complain. After dinner we watched three of the last five episodes of Deep Space Nine, which makes me sad that it's ending even though I can always watch it over again! Here are photos of performers at the Virginia Renaissance Faire last weekend:
to have been, instead
By Stephen Motika
instead, insulted. to look, in green light. redact. can you read... the oracular, such indifference. failing in the halls of an unknown.
to have powered down. mission. some sort of calvacade, plane flight caucus to indifference. a mission, museum, the night in the unknown. a city.
raked forest leaves, consorted with compost fires, down in steam, walked an incline, slipped to fall. the clatter of bones on buried stones, on those leaves fallen, but not as fast as I fell.
in Turrell's dim light, I realized the failure of the art official. an artificial stance, an impossibility: to speak and listen simultaneously.
the train bed, we call them tracks, where two ties swim beneath. a gossip, these gadgets, soaked in white scrimmed preamble. I made the mistake of coming closer, again.
ihe rejection, a mastication of the brain, those thoughts that fuel the day. I can't, besides, canning involves brine and fish we simply don't have.
in the sea farm, large carp. in the lake, a new cat finds our resources, our swims, those precious summer waters, where the between marks space.
the train from platform; here, everything in an elevated series of windows, lighted, in yellow mirrored fashion. large tower rests on the ground. the pavement gives way, the grinding of breaks.
came across a few seats, edits, and large empty doors. there were paintings, an elderly man. a slipped space to look aside guards and walls. I can't think of how many steps it takes to escape.
platformed, clasped, we waited to circulate, encased, dined within curator's task, lips sown in a silence of those emeriti.
caustic, in bold approach, pallid lips, rouged face, nearly quaffed and ensconced. I edged the red, a rage lost in the linen weave, a time.
--------
Wednesday was the coolest day since before the weekend, which was a lovely relief after the heat of the past several days. I dragged Daniel shopping -- World Market has Diamond Jubilee napkins and tins of Walker's Shortbread, heh -- and took him to Bagel City to make up for this abuse. When we came home I had lots of laundry to fold, so we watched Thor together while I did. I must confess that I like Thor and Loki better in that movie than in The Avengers and I really need to get the soundtrack.
Adam came home for a while, then biked to tennis -- I need to get myself over to Cabin John to hike now that he's doing that because I've only been walking in the neighborhood, which can get monotonous, though today there were three bunnies and two deer so I can't really complain. After dinner we watched three of the last five episodes of Deep Space Nine, which makes me sad that it's ending even though I can always watch it over again! Here are photos of performers at the Virginia Renaissance Faire last weekend:
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