Saturday, January 21, 2017

Claine Keily #52 Broken

I believe she knows
I share the last
of the water with her

All things are broken
made worse by night

But still she kisses

They say
she is an ignorant animal
but it seems she shares with me
senses circumstances even
in our shabby home

Robert Verdon, #426, two years to war, a prologue

this subterfuge will end as summer drags
and autumn curls its leaves around your legs
a distant branch will creak upon a hill
a wind shall part the forest like a shriek
the years of progress shrivel to a spark
the rapier of hatred seeks its path
as bloodless calculation stops the breath
and all shall turn upon a single will
so sundry millions everyday will thank
the one who carried through this monstrous task …

Kit Kelen #383 - this world (I love the blue)

this world 

I love the blue up above
don't you? 

I wonder where 
they think 

have you heard them say
'this world'
like they can't help
but assume
there's another
or others
for better
for worse?

is it like that
for you
home where
the heart?

looking up
one can't help 'to'
and often one settles for
'heavens above'

someone has charge
or else

something could you be killing you
would you even know?

one way or another
a thing is missing here
some next of kin
the air's too close

I love the blue

do you catch yourself
in the same words like this?

between of the questions
some certainty takes
I wouldn't read much into

have you thought about living forever
are you prepared for that?

sometimes I'm already in the file
I'm still looking for

you know –
one thing and another
on this hand and that

can you feel the weight
of all skies before?

colours sunk said
rust red like Mars
the first of them

then there was
the grey carbon world
and blacker than
then colour of steam

we were a cloud
you couldn't see through

all of these this world
true as today

when it turns – hi!
are you ox at the wheel?

this one to market
and all the way home

do you stand at the mirror
as if you were met?

top of the clock
one's run up for a view

hear the wind in your heart
whose words would you say?

prayer lines the palms
gnarls knuckles too

is it ever the same breath twice
that you've caught?

this world among the others
green, blue, breathing, mine

something could you be killing you
and you wouldn't know
you just wouldn't

I love the blue up above
don't you? 

I wonder where 
they think 

Kerri Shying R - # 183 Not ready for sashiko ( tatewaku)

Not ready for sashiko

Looking at ‘Steam Rising’   fresh-stitched on a bookmark  how
 did I not see  all the mismatched  higgeldly piggledy

stabs in white thread     not
 gently rising up    as steam  might

fragrant from a cup    of green sencha
 recalling      day of silent    contemplation   no

this   gap-tooth foreigner  just stands at the airport
phrase-book in hand    kimono sashed  across the wrong side

a haystack by a lawn.

Béatrice Machet # 345 Menu Design Psychology

# 345 Menu Design Psychology   (after Gertrude Stein’s Christian Bérard)

As an appetizer
just a question of subject

whether eating or being eaten
whether in passive or active mode there must be
a subject
and cooking is at stake
through all kinds of  “****-ical” recipes

you decide for a side or you are sided
you act or you are acted
you voice or you are voiced
dish or dished
why how where when are rolls of bread to accompany the meal
and dressings are made of out and in and over and below and above and …

while choosing à la carte
don’t forget
ingredients of consciousness are spices to be used cautiously
you don’t want streams to flood excessively the narrative

in this Pantagruel-like trial
judges and the jury
are poor entrées

along with having them reduced in the frying pan
bringing to a boil the many he and she and it
will never engender
any delightful dessert

except and
only to the extent that such
activity is permitted by
whether neuro- ego- or being-laws
only with preparation will do

Psychologie de la conception d’un menu

En guise d’apéritif
une simple question de sujet

que ce soit manger ou être mangé
à la voie passive ou active il doit y avoir
un sujet
et cuisiner est l’enjeu
au travers de toutes sortes de  recettes « ****iques »

vous êtes accompagnement ou accompagné
vous agissez ou êtes agi
vous parlez ou êtes parlé
vaisselle ou servi
pourquoi comment quand sont des petits pains qui complètent le repas
et les sauces sont faites de dehors et de dedans et de dessus et d’en-dessous et de là-haut et …

en choisissant à la carte
ne pas oublier que
les ingrédients de conscience sont des épices à manier avec prudence
vous ne voulez pas que des courants inondent excessivement la narration

dans ce procès pantagruélique
juges et jurés
sont de pauvres entrées

de même que les faire réduire à la poêle
mettre à bouillir les nombreux ils elles et ça
n’engendrera jamais un bon dessert

seulement et
seulement si cette activité
est permise par les lois
soit du cerveau de l’égo ou de l’être
ne fonctionnent uniquement que les préparations d’avec

Béatrice Machet # 344

 I already wrote a few poems inspired by some of Gertrude Stein's words or poems... it might become a series ...

# 344  Difference  (After  A Carafe, that is a Blind Glass by Gertrude Stein )

("A kind in glass and a cousin, a spectacle and nothing strange a single hurt color and an arrangement in a system to pointing. All this and not ordinary, not unordered in not resembling. The difference is spreading".)

Say window blind
Say blind window
It tells nothing either about the glass
or the spectacle behind

not even if rain drops come hit
flew down the pane

it tells nothing
about the pain
the eyes endure
trying to see 

where grey invades both
mood and landscape

say lids
see tears
breaking through the many chrysalids
of sight

in this movement
The difference is spreading. »

Différence    (d’après Gertruse Stein)

Dites store de fenêtre
Dites fenêtre aveugle
Cela ne raconte rien ni à propos du verre
ni du spectacle derrière

Pas même si des  gouttes de pluie venues frapper
ont coulé le long de la vitre

cela ne dit rien
de la peine
que les yeux souffrent
à essayer de voir 
la beauté

où le gris envahit à la fois
humeur et paysage

dites paupières
voyez les larmes
percer les nombreuses chrysalides
de la vue

dans ce mouvement
« la différence est répandue. »