WHAT MUSIC WILL NOT MEND
(NEW POEM)
on the suspect, insufferable “mourning” of individuals and institutions desperate to recover and incorporate yr dangerous living self into their blandly corporatised and apolitical “tragedy”. fuck those guys.
…
What music will not mend
dear –
/ don't it always seem to go. the dilemma of breath.
/ today we retreat into peonies, the gracious table, our compliments to the host.
/ u. idealised and usurped by death.
/ in the deadly bowl of blue german air.
/ the difficult rigour of being alive. replaced.
/ hearts to be tasteful, routinely chambered.
/ love enclosed within romeo words.
/ grief in its privateer's finery.
/ they mourn u. they mourn u in order to make u small.
/ in a room of arrogant heirlooms. yr insatiable story is loose.
/ michaelmas daisies. their scent is scraped into drains.
/ roses, exhausted and refused.
/ this mimic's spring, its rapt backhander of flowers.
/ the body: a vector of change, a vortex of atoms.
/ they mourn u. with enthusiasm.
/ they mourn u. in order not to look at u.
/ forcing the gloriole. yr head a fleece of fire.
/ yr body closed up inside its aureole. black flag of fire.
/ yr body surrounded. serrated mandorla. ecstatically mantled in fire.
/ a black wick, bending hotly. yr body.
/ tawny saint of chastened politic. a body.
/ wet earth, garrisoned in the mouth.
/ u don't know what u got 'til it's gone...
/ like new skin stretching through stitches.
/ despair. growing out the ambit of the calendar.
/ the skylight was a trapdoor all along. yr name held in the mortise of melody.
/ beatific. embellished. thoroughbred. bone.
/ to conjugate palely, the verb to –
/ in the arselick darkness, the dark armpit of capitol.
/ they mourn u. they mourn u to put themselves to sleep.
/ u r not this revisionist bobblehead.
/ fool's spring, false spring. gulls. grey auxiliaries of storm.
/ night has its rough consignment of song. musketeers on their ketamine bender.
/ the march sky turns frigid with risk.
/ threadbare foreshadowing. doom.
/ they mourn u. faggots of affronted speech pile up.
/ but the sun still shines. and the sun still shines.
/ the ivy's pensive evergreen is scored and spotted.
/ the sun still shines.
/ u, vest of rendered feathers, lawless augur of our luck.
/ u, yr cruising plaint has climbed into the upper air.
/ yr book of practical shadows.
/ we mourn u. who are we now? our tricks exceeding stitches.
/ a stain on the sleeve of the world.
/ tempt u. with raisins and rice. with cheap white rolls.
/ in spring with the levanting dead, ride out.
/ boy on a camargue horse. the counterfeit skin they whip from us.
/ this loitering idyll of skin.
/ brood of beggars, band of thieves. my court of thorny miracle.
/ compassed in and coursing through.
/ the forfeit and the felony of –
/ the sun still shines.
/ to name the sound that escapes from us. to escape the sound that names us.
/ between the locust and louse.
/ between the lantern and the candlelight.
/ some furious disavowed truth, alive inside their epithets, their black list of knackers and knaves.
/ they paved paradise...
/ who are we now? convulsed inside of vigilance.
/ our conscience kept as ornament.
/ institutions. academies. money-minded husks.
/ their line a continuous plausible cord. the lie that underwrites the rope.
/ today we retreat into realism, equal the beetle in its crawling.
/ dear –
/ between the passionate transfer of symptoms, and the articulate transfer of emotions – what?
/ tragedy is a big bronze head with yr name on it.
/ an officialised version.
/ transparency attained through flame.
/ put up a conference, put up a paper, put up a –
/ oppressive surprise of their bouquet. fake wet scent.
/ in a tree museum. yr a tree museum.
/ their lullaby cruelly posies the room.
