#title Poetry
#author Various Authors
#SORTauthors Various Authors;
#date 1992
#source [[https://www.fifthestate.org/archive/338-winter-1992/poetry]]
#lang en
#pubdate 2018-09-07
#notes Fifth Estate #338, Winter, 1992


*** TAKING IT ALL BACK AGAIN

<quote>
walls smeared with
</quote>

<quote>
burnt campaign posters
</quote>

<quote>
cracks papered over
</quote>

<quote>
with yellowed collection
</quote>

<quote>
notices
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
we pass smokes
</quote>

<quote>
swap zip codes
</quote>

<quote>
wait for toxic
</quote>

<quote>
clouds to dissipate
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
eyes lay in darkness
</quote>

<quote>
and wait
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
wait to take it
</quote>

<quote>
all back and start
</quote>

<quote>
again.
</quote>

<quote>
—Jay Marvin
</quote>

*** ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

<quote>
open hands
</quote>

<quote>
mind is the invisible meaningless
</quote>

<quote>
pope of my church. i hope the end is not
</quote>

<quote>
near. we need no armageddon. this is
</quote>

<quote>
somewhat the end already. automobiles. the saints of technology. We
</quote>

<quote>
cannot live without them. The relics we revere
</quote>

<quote>
the sentimental value of metal and glass the circulation slows.
</quote>

<quote>
tribute to the cold wet fuck. slowly quickly
</quote>

<quote>
slowly again. speed and friction. parting
</quote>

<quote>
closing joining of selves. wet shivering
</quote>

<quote>
pulse and spasm. the giving of measured
</quote>

<quote>
portions of self. retaining the dreams spaghetti spilled warm will seep through
</quote>

<quote>
the floorboards.
</quote>

<quote>
poke holes in the sand. dig deeply
</quote>

<quote>
find the onions and clams buried in the production of warm yellow
</quote>

<quote>
cardigans we can grow in. take the picket signs across the country
</quote>

<quote>
understand the hierarchy. work around it.
</quote>

<quote>
walk right through it. but do not just stare. subsidy of the one soul. bitter angry
</quote>

<quote>
butterflies. the gentle drums. tape your hands. bind them
</quote>

<quote>
yourself.
</quote>

<quote>
—Miriam R. Jones
</quote>

*** FACADE

for Edward Bellamy

<quote>
past the
</quote>

<quote>
rackled blue misty gates of
</quote>

<quote>
misbegotten hope afire: we
</quote>

<quote>
see the sham and shell of this
</quote>

<quote>
world around us. It seems
</quote>

<quote>
all surface-yet it is our
</quote>

<quote>
creation. We turned heaven
</quote>

<quote>
into hell as a joke, a folly.
</quote>

<quote>
We spend lives like we
</quote>

<quote>
spend money and to what
</quote>

<quote>
end alas? Those who have
</quote>

<quote>
truly bent the back of time
</quote>

<quote>
erase this sad spectacle
</quote>

<quote>
with our seeing hearts.
</quote>

<quote>
The mad afurious flames
</quote>

<quote>
renew. We wash off
</quote>

<quote>
spattered paint and
</quote>

<quote>
thick skins of dust. To
</quote>

<quote>
remove all layers, to
</quote>

<quote>
cast off disguises, to stand
</quote>

<quote>
naked, pulsating, true.
</quote>

<quote>
All a blur, all candy,
</quote>

<quote>
and yet to live to live
</quote>

<quote>
full and sure, e’er aware.
</quote>

<quote>
—Maurice Greenia Jr.
</quote>

*** INCANTATIONS FOR CRAZY HORSE

<quote>
(who’d poison the land, put the people in
</quote>

<quote>
cages? who’d cut off a hand, rip out
</quote>

<quote>
all the pages?) Kee-ah-ae-na-ho! The
</quote>

<quote>
hawk is afire. The owl rips out the stars
</quote>

<quote>
from the nightsky. The bison digs beneath
</quote>

<quote>
the earth in search of gods. The snake
</quote>

<quote>
is tied into knots. The scorpion dances
</quote>

<quote>
atop a tall cactus. The fish sleep in the clouds.
</quote>

<quote>
—Maurice Greenia Jr.
</quote>

*** ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

<quote>
 * I WILL WALK THE STREETS ALONE * I WILL BURP IN PUBLIC * I WILL FUCK ONLY WHO I WANT * I WILL DANCE WHENEVER I WANT * I WILL BE THE MASTER OF MY OWN BODY * I WILL SLEEP IN ON SUNDAYS * I WILL LIE IN THE SUN WITHOUT ANY CLOTHING * I WILL SHOUT OBSCENITIES * I WILL TEAR DOWN THE PHALLIC STATUES * I WILL LEARN HERSTORY * I WILL WALK WITH MY HEAD UP * I WILL WEAR SHORT SKIRTS WHERE EVER I PLEASE * I WILL LIVE WITHOUT FEAR * I WILL BE LISTENED TO * I WILL TELL STORIES WHERE THE PRINCESS & THE PRINCESS LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER * I WILL TOUCH MY BODY WITHOUT SHAME * I WILL LIVE WITHOUT GUILT * I WILL GROW OLD WILDLY * I WILL TELL EVERYONE ABOUT MY PERIOD * I WILL TASTE MY OWN BLOOD * I WILL LOVE MY SISTERS * I WILL KNOW MY OWN BODY * I WILL SIT WITH MY KNEES APART * I WILL CREATE MY OWN REVOLUTION * I WILL LIVE MY OWN LIFE * I WILL TAKE CARE OF MYSELF *
</quote>

<quote>
—lisa last
</quote>

*** Rock and roll is dead.

<quote>
Poetry is dead.
</quote>

<quote>
Decadent culture is dead.
</quote>

<quote>
The dinosaur lured you in
</quote>

<quote>
and told fortunes based on
</quote>

<quote>
the nails ripping in the
</quote>

<quote>
sole of your boot.
</quote>

<quote>
It’s an elegant prowl
</quote>

<quote>
looking through the shadows
</quote>

<quote>
of distant faces and bodies
</quote>

<quote>
masquerading under the lights
</quote>

<quote>
of any avenue in this temple.
</quote>

<quote>
It’s a tango with the void:
</quote>

<quote>
millions living one on top of the other,
</quote>

<quote>
rubbing shoulders,
</quote>

<quote>
never making eye contact,
</quote>

<quote>
eagerly searching for the dissolution
</quote>

<quote>
of the mirage,
</quote>

<quote>
the stale dynamic of spectacle/spectator
</quote>

<quote>
reproduced again & again behind
</quote>

<quote>
a veil of vanishing oxygen,
</quote>

<quote>
dwindling love and
</quote>

<quote>
expiring abundance.
</quote>

<quote>
The morning of the broken clock
</quote>

<quote>
is upon us.
</quote>

<quote>
—Sunfrog
</quote>

*** SONG TO A MOUNTAIN’S DISRUPTION

<quote>
log this place to bits
</quote>

<quote>
log it thus the order
</quote>

<quote>
search the ole earth
</quote>

<quote>
it will all come back
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
log the hill--log the yard
</quote>

<quote>
log gimmie log
</quote>

<quote>
gimmie more and more
</quote>

<quote>
gimmie gimmie gimmie
</quote>

<quote>
log and don’t listen
</quote>

<quote>
log till the hill is cleared
</quote>

<quote>
log onward into tomorrow
</quote>

<quote>
last left of none
</quote>

<quote>
log hear me cut
</quote>

<quote>
cut hear me wash
</quote>

<quote>
duff off the earth face
</quote>

<quote>
down to the bare rocks
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
log hear me moola
</quote>

<quote>
moola in me pocket
</quote>

<quote>
tree all gone--hey!
</quote>

<quote>
trees no more
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
log hear me paper
</quote>

<quote>
or cabinet or chair-house,
</quote>

<quote>
wind moves over clearcut
</quote>

<quote>
hey, wind moves on thru
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
log and yank
</quote>

<quote>
log and yield
</quote>

<quote>
log and heart
</quote>

<quote>
heart it be torn
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
log ‘em old trees
</quote>

<quote>
log ‘em old buggers
</quote>

<quote>
for what use are they, huh?
</quote>

<quote>
hey can’t remember my name
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
log our own history
</quote>

<quote>
log that species habitat
</quote>

<quote>
change it is due brother
</quote>

<quote>
oh so fast the cut cut cut
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
cut with saw sister
</quote>

<quote>
hack that limb uncle
</quote>

<quote>
burn to ash that slash auntie
</quote>

<quote>
plow, dynamite, bulldoze over, my god?
</quote>

<quote>
.
</quote>

<quote>
log that old bell
</quote>

<quote>
log that old house
</quote>

<quote>
log that great spirit
</quote>

<quote>
what is left cries and cries
</quote>

<quote>
and cries
</quote>

<quote>
—Jay Hamburger
</quote>