LOVE AFTER LOVE , derek walcott (1930 - 2017)


The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

love after love , derek walcott (1930 - 2017)

MY VITAL DEMYSTIFIED ART ,   anne boyer

Hello my vital demystified art moving through everyone and
pluralist shaking and uncaptured and capturing only in opposition to categorical impulse  arriving at the potluck mimetic glutted by electric suburbs and the cities themselves with their own undulations and commerce like a mall carved in the manner  of Sacco and Vanzetti  secret admirer  of the countryside running from its own catchy sob   consisting of sobbing mostly outoffashion unknowable from your mother's money and from your husband's money and your wife's money and the money of the people and the youth  a rival government like William Carlos Williams or St. Augustine of cold gods and colder basements rampant in Cincinnati occupying San Francisco  of Iceland mostly in there's Brooklyn rioting in the basements of Oklahoma also in Kansas the rental houses and universities in the city and not the city Australia hello Texas Maine for hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars loans that will never be paid all the new tenements occupied the cigarettes unsmoking themselves a body in a lavender quilt it belongs to a girl this vital demystified art always standing in the corner of the room beautiful and male a fine-boned actor he knows nothing is libidinal and acquisitive he is an idiot totally and we are  sitting on pink sofas  too much to say to ever sleep again the laborer kissing her own brick in the sunlight gossip books libraries emails my demystified art hello like Aztec ranks returning  Cortez also

my vital demystified art , anne boyer

Bean Spasms , Ted Berrigan , Ron Padgett , drawings by Joe Brainard, 

super duper funny book & other things

- -  --- --
AS USUAL 

take off your hat & coat & give me all your money
i have to buy some pills & i m flat broke


QUE SERA, SERA
And as you took your pants off
Her brother came in bringing some begonias
Que sera, sera

AFTER BREAKFAST 
Flame & fury, the colt and the dolt became outlaws
The automobile slew them

A REPLY TO THE FRAGILE
If he bites you he s friendly
If it hurts you
Go away
Don t give him a fresh try
Unless you have titties
Like a fast horse

some few short poems from "bean spasms" by ted berrigan & ron padgett ( wiv drawings by joe brainard

"I Have a Rendezvous with Death"
 
I HAVE a rendezvous with Death	 
At some disputed barricade,	 
When Spring comes back with rustling shade	 
And apple-blossoms fill the air—	 
I have a rendezvous with Death	         5
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.	 
  
It may be he shall take my hand	 
And lead me into his dark land	 
And close my eyes and quench my breath—	 
It may be I shall pass him still.	  10
I have a rendezvous with Death	 
On some scarred slope of battered hill,	 
When Spring comes round again this year	 
And the first meadow-flowers appear.	 
  
God knows 'twere better to be deep	  15
Pillowed in silk and scented down,	 
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,	 
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,	 
Where hushed awakenings are dear...	 
But I've a rendezvous with Death	  20
At midnight in some flaming town,	 
When Spring trips north again this year,	 
And I to my pledged word am true,	 
I shall not fail that rendezvous.

source: http://www.bartleby.com/104/121.html
Jocko Willink discusses poem: https://is.gd/qUMwmJ

i have a rendezvous with death, alan seeger (1888 - 1916)

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, (340)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading - treading - till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through -

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum -
Kept beating - beating - till I thought
My mind was going numb -

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space - began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here -

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down -
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing - then -

https://tinyurl.com/ycpkkg6c , source: The Poetry Foundation

i felt a funeral, in my brain (340), emily dickinson

Postcard to Lucia, from You, by Frank Stanford

Postcard To Lucia , by Frank Stanford

chairs/enemy ,  Jeroen & Boris

phase space ,    Jeroen (voice), Boris (cello)

"of one mind or another"     


FLOWS of wa*ter stillfrozen.

pre-precipitation hovering

& in between the green she floats

whatever the decision may ( be.

to be of two minds is so boring.

there are one million minds at least!

of one mind or another  ( for Dean

sound of the waves"

to all the world / 
we are drowning
& how i love you so
& fuck you too
& let s be friends again

& let us never. ever.
. ever. meet againagain
@thatparticular 
placespacespot
we ll pick another bridge
this time / next time
the moment was so 
unhinged. it hurt (s

so so / la la / c est ca
la vie / c est n est pas 
les pommes ( de terre
&/oder doch / schon

ein bisschen auch
& gans & gar. & 
unbedingt. das eis
es, ist, so heiß, 
das es fasst springt.

sound of the flute
greetZ the new morning.

klingklang of bells hallows
several angels (from 

all directions go @once
& in dispersion / union
in multi-verses, uni-verse.

sound of the waves. always. 
in this world, it will not go away.


- - - -"the world is always full of the sound of waves, the little fishes abandonindg themselves to the waves , dance and sing and play. But who knows the heart of the sea 100 feet down. Who knows its depth?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7mameo-mA0

sound of the waves ,   jeroen nieuwland

satins of sheave 
tarry heavy the cargo
plainly-stood. Not under
Nor over. Every item of 
silk corridor. Have just 
these bones contained
dust. darker than continent.

Covenant ,   jeroen nieuwland

Pigeon & Me (7) ,  David Henderson 

then it is to west river by dawn light
along the rivers phalanxes of automobiles
traveling without sleep
into the list of afternoon
the waking into the waning sun
leap down into the river, lovers ! 
splash the water
reap the sun
in the plum blues
hovering atop jersey factories
that final plunge into night
what we have been saving for
&  o yes
we must make palisades one night
this millennium!
___________

David Henderson (born 1942) is an American writer and poet. Henderson was a co-founder of the Black Arts Movement in the 1960s. He has been an active member of New York’s Lower East Side art community for more than 40 years. His work has appeared in many literary publications and anthologies, and he has published four volumes of his own poetry. He is most known for his highly acclaimed biography of rock guitarist, Jimi Hendrix. . .(Wikipedia ).
_______________

David Henderson reading Ruckus Poem (Part 1): 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5PldRIPc1Q

Pigeon & Me , David Henderson

Housewife , Jeroen Nieuwland

Annex , Jeroen Nieuwland

Center , Jeroen Nieuwland

Deformed Default Gateway

for Maximilian Iskra*

"you start with a darkness to move thru 
but sometimes the darkness moves thru you."

then let s start with the local addresses
now if i think back   everything worthless
turned out to be quite the party   basically
everbody on their machine  where you can
plug this Kabel into   that is why colon colon::
zero zero = the entire network    
			(if u have Qs. . .

who painted 4x, in black, & large on the window. 
Since then she spotted this tag around town
i think there is nobody else coming right. 
Yeh so then you get here this   
			Que scurra°! Oh lala. . .
you boulevardier, you elegant man-about-town
¡vaya una facha que tienes! What happened 
to you. Was hast du denn gemacht. 
		Was hast du getan?! (& warum so & nicht anderes?!!!
			( jetzt hast du alles verkakt. Einfach so. Na ja. .
						So ist es doch. Oder nicht. 
					(Ohne Witz. Wirklich jetzt.
Weiter weiter bitte. Hier ist nichts zu sehen.
Before you go to the Kaos Konferenz
limit the number of Ports with open backdoors
phrases are not ordered for narrative arc
do malicious stuff: what s the difference
get yr Fix on & get off: what s the difference

 * break up, then immediately make love * 

what = the sense of the phrase, “same difference”. 
It is stupid, ridiculous   we are all of us connected 
in One Love   words used out of focus
the ink of their body smudging out 
their own lines   
	a time to live   i dropped you
a packet of rules you will live by
do not fret. Do not get vexed. Stress 
if you must, but don t get stressed.
Read the rules now. Then practise them. 

Every day & in order. Ask any questions
you must ask. every morning at muster.
Nevertheless; do not expect answers.
any retort, or attempt at discussion
within these perimeter fences  will be
ensured to encounter the most severe
consequences.
		that was the day he left  notes 
of farewell all over the map of the town 
	she was the composer  found dead
in her home. In the same room, a chest 
full of letters received, never opened 
	some ghosts wear plainclothes
like suits, or beige raincoats. On occasion 
it happens   they brush past you on pavement
	having come from

Deformed Default Gateway @ , Jeroen Nieuwland

grace to you / love / full / fragile / force

@nebeleben = my main , arborescent , webbed , centre ,

. . .  to download, click on the ellipses, then download; last in the row heart / circling arrows / arrow , below the comment box

driveldrabble

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