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LARRY SAWYER |
Made-Up Scene
Language reaches for a cocktail
straight, married, dharma like a subway
talking to strange porn, the unknown
months large as naked
aching fog. Still in the published bones
promises stand, explore the
curve of torsos, psychic
Tired, I dry the mute dishes, French
kissing Wednesday, startled as a
statistic. Eating twenties, what
apparition, blue and pure
spoons sudden twilight into us?
What unreasonable illumination guides
the mirror to reflection?
I have loved the luxury of indexes
inside my poem, loneliness
is a vault putting on makeup
chopping down the compass
as we explore evening like two
brand-new musical instruments, there is
a funny balancing called noon.
from "27 Voices"
Salmon hands, Pacific hands, Pisces-born, there are flies in my sleep.
My emerald speaks in such soothing tongues, her eyes dance with lust, but I
cannot keep her.
There must be some chains that keep my coins; I cannot reach them.
Each of your fingers is a stalk of fire. My love for you is a new arithmetic.
It knifes me with a smile.
The parade of hours knows only your name. But I am a pair of mirrored dice.
I am the martyr of damp sheets and trees peopled with whispering stars.
I am nailed to laughing truth and cannot street. Tomorrow is a theater, a
priest, a patricide, champagne.
Trapped inside my poem there is no voice, only green breezes.
I am love with the storm tumbling inside me. I’ll set a trap for patience.
Disharmonium
Epics curl upward through sun.
Drops of dialogue dull the edge of a word.
A shadow makes a date with the last sword
upon the tip of a tongue pronouncing nothing.
There are twelve subplots alit this night,
each divided by a mysterious glow.
Look closely you will see them shimmering,
reclining between the teeth of a lathe.
Realism is an old couch at high noon.
Upon this couch rests the emerald dragon "logic."
My symptoms are a dream that defies all.
Clouds rain biographies beneath your touch.
A Brief, Cautionary
Note About Sacks
—for MJ
Sacks help the user hold, carry, and transport. Do not however place your
head in the sack for you may suffocate from a lack of oxygen. You are
correct, there is a small amount of oxygen inside the sack. But you will
surely grow lightheaded if your head, and therefore both nostrils, once
placed inside the sack, breathe this limited amount of somewhat “sackish”
air. Sack air is in limited supply and after this resource is depleted you
may very well suffocate. Yes, you are correct, some people are known for
holding their breath for long periods of time, but not for breathing the air
inside sacks. Yes, pearl divers did once practice the now largely obsolete
method of retrieving pearls from oysters. Before the beginning of the 20th
century, the only means of obtaining pearls was by manually opening oysters
found on the ocean floor or river bottom. Free-divers were often forced to
descend to depths of over 100 feet on but a single breath, exposing them to
dangers of sharks, jellyfish, drowning, and decompression sickness. Yes, I
know that, because of the difficulty of diving and the unpredictable nature
of natural pearl growth in oysters, pearls of the time were extremely rare
and of varying quality. No, these divers were not wearing sacks on their
head while diving, of that we may be certain. No, this sack is not a bag,
satchel, case, or basket. It could neither be said that this sack is a
attache, backpack, briefcase, carry-on, carryall, diddie, duffel, gear,
grub-bag, handbag, holdall, kit, knap pack, packet,
pocket, pocketbook,
poke, pouch, purse, saddlebag, suitcase, or tote. If this were a pocketbook,
diddie case, carry-all grub bag, or even an attache, warnings of this type
would be completely unnecessary. Also, resist the temptation to use this
sack as a flotilla, warning flare, invitation, or campfire. I guess it could
be used as a pillow if inflated properly, yes. A flotilla is something you
might use to float upon. Ok, flotation device. No, I do not believe it could
ever be used as a hamper or as a diaper. My observations resulted in the
conclusion that sacks are best used for carrying things like groceries.
Well, no one is forcing you to read this why don’t you just stop reading it
then? Why don’t you try carrying your groceries without a sack? Why don’t
you try it and see what happens? That’s what I thought. Sometimes you need a
sack.
Another Ballad of Maps and Globes
Inbetween, our faith incontinent
wheezes like a newly invented
instrument upon which we play
the hills from here to there.
Pretty tombstones like teeth
and not like teeth chew the
moon looking down upon this mess
humans racing to and fro without alibis.
Capsized in the desert they will find us
crouching in the gutters of time
explorers of the inner side of nowhere.
Reflecting Pool
When I raised Lazarus; they will forget that
they will forget my crown of thorns
they will not look me in the eyes as I walk these streets
these streets of Nazareth will have forgotten me
streets when I looked to the sky with wonder
and discovered my blood for the first time
knowing what must be my true destiny.
And not even my man Mohammed will return my calls
but I’ll be back and they’ll regret they ever dissed
me
everybody will know my name
and I be walkin these streets like a true playa;
like my gold is skin deep and the shit I speak
they be writin down.
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