Sunday, December 29, 2013

Oeillade Noire (The Fishwife's Rhetoric)

     Gat-toothèd was she, soothly for to say....


Between worlds
is a flight of stairs
departing hourly
and arriving earlier.

A million ironically christened years
learn a new tongue:

how it curls and folds

how it tastes

how it forms sound
springing from inner darkness

how it licks and mocks

how it flicks and kisses and diddles.

Do you deny you are so old?

Who do you suppose you are
becoming you?


Asterisms pivot on point of view.

The department of poetics monitoring the planet
is nigh as the nighest cabaret:

You are eating too fast and too much
and drinking without quality or taste.

Dentition is flawed in upper and lower case.

The prescription is joints as agile as tongue
and lips and much less middle.


Water world is one of the triter ideas
of sly midnight dreaming dry.

Is there is anything more tragicomic
than mentula and cunnus doing time
in the prism of an endless present tense?


Poet-economists are mildly interested
in monkey monoculture
as anteaters lust for termites.

Behold three samples
from the Bureau of Poetic Leisure:

What went on soft feet
rides in exoskeletons
spreading traffic jam.

Juice is chemical.
All interest is abstract.
Sperm counts diminish.

You once lubricated
gaily in night forest.
Nowadays all crawl....


Indifferent poeticrats report:
the species is close to all measure,
thus exiting into illusory and hellish recess.

Eggs never address everything.
If consistent, they are not complete.
If complete, they are not consistent.

Goedel is caviar
seeded in some far future
in another species' past.

That is why he is always cold.

It requires blameless saintly waitress
with a heart of gold and sterling broth
to warm his digits and feed him slow food.

Even Einstein at the speed of light
does not formulate the missing diastema.


Would you like to play chess, planet to planet?
Hold out three hands.
Pick a color.

Reality is technology.
Gravity sends this message.
Levity is the only reply.


There are no shaggy dogs.
All are short, smooth and hairless.

Don't be careless.

Be brief.

Be quick.

And don't be late.


It is always twilight
due to the black and white light
of so many suns.

Day wears spectacles that block black light.

Night wears ones that block white.

In the interval--myriad naked eyes:

she walking white in moonlight

she walking black and shining at noon

she walking on the shore in middle light honeyed
and blue.

Glassine is an aspect of protein and anatomy.

To see roses use rose.


Any time is plural.

Every time is singular.

Time itself is dual.

The present moment lives
about three seconds
of any order of magnitude

and in any direction.

Sages sleep underground like cicadas
for tens of millennia.

Wake them rudely
& assemble a delegation to ask:

What color is dawn in the womb? What crude color sunset?

They will move their lips soundlessly.

Their tongues will flop like rude fish
in amniotic fluid.

Then they will go back to sleep.


Sex is beyond understanding
as terror metaphysicalizes
and pleasure becomes error.

The planet is green and transparent like a net.

During eclipse eight hidden moons form an octagon
becoming luminous.

The salt sea swells and foams into orbit.

Literate couple, triple, quadruple or quintuple.

Unlettered rut prepubescently,

are replete with the raw flesh of summer,

inseminate at harvest,

and give birth to Spring.

Night winter rain cools with music, dance, and drink.

Minstrels stroll and sing.

It is the speakeasy between unnumbered blasphemies.


Do numbers have quantity? Do numbers dance?
How many numbers collide by chance on the head of any pin?

Does not Aquinas labor like Hercules through Aristotle
for the pure sin of grand & unthrottled sonoluminescence?

(E. A. Costa  29 December 2013 Granada, Nicaragua)

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