Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Preview screening VII

















++++++++ or Ne touchez pas la hache


I will do it, the young man said, but I will do it alone.
and began iting.

he had already acknowledged the existence of some of that idleness
that broached an unpleasant subject of itself too wide to conceal it.
sensing that the objectionable idiom was all that could be desired
in this mildly disagreeable situation
he even forgot to mind the gap between his front teeth.

as useful as literature
he watched and watched
the glue waves slapping against the somewhat mixed entertainment
of an hour and a half spent wisely
all the time our travelers passed axe, exercise and relaxation.

to guide the galleys through the blueprint of the would-be world rule
does not necessarily mean
rest or amusement. it can be a hatchet.

six lively infants in the bank
six sickly infants in the bunk
six suckling infants on the bank
six lovely infants on the brink, -
sang the sea of conceit.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Preview screening VI

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L'INCONNUE DES VALSES

Your grave will buy us bread.
All kinds of pain.
As French is cheap.

And Red is FREE
I never could obtain
Its thanks in singing.

I ain’t a painter
yet your grey is green.
Your two are three.

My brain is swinging
as your river Seine
and lingering.

Your grave will eat its greed.
Its greatness.
Unconscious of grief

You’ll smile and smile again
yet water only grins
‘Good riddance’.

There’s nothing else to gain
In dance, in gratitude,
But tides and algae.

Its density, you, dunce,
Have never understood,
Not once.

Monday, January 15, 2007

Preview screening V

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SELECTED POETRY OF THE DINING ROOM
bound in dusty plush and gilded silence
Every piece of furniture was indeed
vaguely aware that it was something dead
and might be just posing as something quite dead
and so it did
as it has been so well understood
by the waxing moon itself.
Each cupboard shelf to be cherished
Each chair declaring ‘My life and glosses are welcomed’
tried to make sense out of good fortune
they stood in a circle rounding the square table
being acquired as a set
they knew each other to be rivals
but could they be friends
in such a fraud
when the minute hands of the popular imagination were needed
for nearly photographic resurrection?

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Preview screening IV

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STARLIGHT DOUBLE-DELIGHT TRIPLE LAYER CAKE

What a title for a film!

Bottom Layer ingredients in case
you have an hour and a half to give away for all of their respective lives:
3 egg yolks, well bitten
2 tablespoons butter
1 ½ cup sugar to beat 2/3 cup bitterness
1 mother of pearl button
6 tablespoons cornstarch for the gentleman-in-question’s collar
1 ½ cup boiling water
1 teaspoon of zest, optional

Let us pass over the Second Layer, but don’t forget
2 packages instant recognition.
Some people forget it only too quickly.

And for the top:
1 powdered nose
8 ounces sour soul, softened
16 ounces whipped night cream.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Preview screening III




This black’n’grey production
dealing with murder and interpreting particular personal relationships
has no trace of poetry
all just decent dead people
suspecting one another and their existence in dubious grammar
The characters are (in order of appearance):
G.-D., a poet,
distrusting her alphabet in colours of so many indecisions
The Second Bearer of grief
Pallbearer
Polar bear


Trivia: The absence of the First Bearer of grief was originally discussed by the crew while filming ‘Onto death’ (1996).
A polar bear was wounded while filming. Later the scene was cut from the film; this decision was attributed to protests from animal rights groups.

Goofs: Continuity: After being wounded in a fight with The Second Bearer of grief, Polar bear is carried on a stretcher. First, his left paw is bleeding, then his right one.

Quotes: The Second Bearer of grief: pull down a god
G.-D.: pull down to suppose
there is no one to pull down.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Preview screening II

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The very cinema getting the Annual Award – not
pretentious muck
mirroring the skies
that had no more than a star
and a starlet for their credit –
but the most veritable stuff of which drums are made.
Far from the inevitable defects of Editor’s Art,
Far from the limitations of tinned manure it starts.
Travelling two years later from there on to the answer
for a woman and a word
on the expense of his fate.
Ultimately, she reconciles with a slice of him
from a slice of whom we, the viewers, are attempting
to get out all of June.
The Seedless Watermelon with a femme, we named them.
From there on, and against his will, a single location
and a simple frame
became his lot.

Preview screening I

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Choose between the love stories of salt
and after that become the inhabitants of a tomato juice castle
which is visible
under the pregnant siege
of Bloody Mary,
the sheltered daughter of falls and eye whites,
the heiress to a bootblack shine.
Johnny is a witness, a guardian angel and a cube of ice.
This movie was inspired by the two.
And as the marriage is entirely made of tomato juice stains
the two attempt to leave the evening
by the courtesy of snow,
but keep away from the upper country.
Every year gives the marriage another try.
Spills out all of the snow and effective drama.
It is white.
And they are you.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

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The poet in swampy areas
(insufficient source text to continue
only a new course of tin)
desiring a poem change
- that is the desire for illness and the moment before -
murmurs: The word is not my heart. It never was.

Traversing the land of good stories
I’ve found a miniature city for my heart.
The word can go to gods
when little buildings inside my ribcage fall apart.
Old age never fails to surprise.
Be it known to the world
that I’m the greatest detester of Literature.

In comes the giant lizard rustling:
All is Art, all is an art of allying:
I see and pain;
within my part of sorrow
I pant and paint, rant
and a haphazard train of thought enters the picture
without constraints or remonstration.

Here you can change a word, there a wording
but nothing can be rewritten as a rule.
It’s too late every time I try.
Writing is a mother. The primary source for the dunces.
You cannot change a mother or can you, can?
A mouthful of hysterical giggles, a handful of coppers.

A number of silence’s original works,
a few of which can be found in English,

poems from some distance.

No one should tell you
that these pages contain as well
laughing eyes and a loftier brother
who is searching for the obvious in my ear
but never whispers: All is so dreadfully second-rate.

Novelty of opening a laugh
an eternal one