some poems from Godzeenie (still very wet around the ears)

The formating is way off. Much different poems in person.



12:20

(For Zofia)



“The Bright tongue of the two / languages / dance in the one light”

(Robert Duncan)



I could summon



cosmic



gosip, unskin



the monkey



with its un-



relenting eyes, it is



never simple, these



passages, these pro-



miscious wanders with



gravel in my teeth, stolen



ladies & blood & snot



& seeds, wrong about



harmony, wrong, u know,



constantly, can’t won’t



have her, my windows



shot to hell, the smell



of sex under my



muffled pillow, Ireland



and God are fish-



bones jabbing



my throat, the super-



market and the



ancient fortress, the



crown and the peasant, swamped



children, banks &



hard Z's



12:20



strutting backwards

to the music not

trembling we’re tired

of trembling love

and hate in the goose

pudding

Godzeenie says

we muss shave

our heads

to find our mind



9:00



dried-up

soup

at the bottom

of the bowl



lookin to fix

my acid

reflux



rubbish &

guma

under my

shoe



rumaging

for a corpse



all things

even: my

head

is kickin

my ass!









04:20



Two weeks of Ulster Fries and

Buckfast and I’m with

sore bum.



Waiting for a plane to Krakow from Dublin.

Ate a monkey smoothie for eight Euro.



I’m taking discussion for depression, letterbombs for wooing, liquids over solids

in my body slop.



I’ve grown tired of my scholarly ways.



Fairy tales comet the sky and my teeth

are buried in the fruit bowl.



13:17



However far the pattern

serves

it’s still

where it

began

pieces of real

in

cracked cement

bitter

convenant

of

nameless

actions



a fading neighborhood



I couldn’t find

IT

anymore

a pun

in

the perishing

hours:



hopped-up on

hope

with a bum

credo

by

your leave: a

brightening prospect

still

faith

in-

different

to my old

poems

washed

in clouds



pop-

ulations

gather

in the

changing

light





24:00



Pathos does not absolve

memory. Fucking

sordid history. A focal

mope knows no mercy. We’re carried

away with the spoils. History

is fatal. The winter brings

all sorts of furs. I exagerate

with my bionic brace. Melodic mind

Bier Garden fat rat in the fog.







24:00



Just like that – Godzeenie – the man’s prick drips music. Unconscious with Cosmetto the Cunt – involved – naked – leading to this HISTORICAL MOMENT. I’m singing – now – on an international flight to – FLATLAND LEAFLAND YUNKLAND. And once again banal development in my Post-Avant. I’m chalked in cliches. It’s our common denominator. Divided and multiplied. Godzeenie, you are clearly audible, misunderstood and UR great apple sags MY vine.



13:00



Alle schon und ich bin

ein bischen hungrig

submerged & out of touch

it’s been two weeks since

I had a decent writing

nur young &

a tad lonely

searching for love

in The Milky Bar &

worrying cliches

the coffee burnt my lips

Polish women up &

down the street

full of hard Z’s & gusto

can’t count my money

acid in throat

hard clunks in nose

contacts come slow

no sex and no sleep and hard speak

IT is always packing up

Can’t pack IT in

I’m in the 80’s and my jaw is cracking

Bon Jovi and Summer of ’69 playing in the cafÈ

Kawa Cordon Bleu Ziemniaki paraliz

Tak

Prus-sha

Jen KOO ya

on the lank in Poland

don’t know if I’ll make rent



02:00



come



here, hear



her, want



her, can’t, want to, she won’t



let, hear, her, can’t,



won’t her



can’t



won’t



know



her



want want



her, can’t



can’t



open her



11:00



weddings never completed

justice in the hours

swanky linen blouses

devouring the gloss

of what’s lost



15:00



Ding An Sich

stuck

behind the eternal

stink















�15:53



Old horse with new

bucket, Hermes in a real

duel with Apollo, I’m gaining

weight, strip the scales, got no bal-

ance, immense rage & fleet

on foot, I strap on my Zbigniew

Herbert, let the bands pass, hour by

hour dedicated to this in-

visible world, another pulled

neck & dust fills my flat.





� 16:36



Banners cascade

in the blind

mind’s maze

everything

miraculous

in the hour

in the sign

of the bowels



these are handwritten

songs

in a wilderness

of snow

�00:00



Godzeenie

in the attic

cuts

lenses

for fortune tellers

driven into

mystery



bussling with weasels, apples

under black

jackets, carried

into shame, fingerprints

in the timeless gaps



let’s speak about

the syntax

of terror





�08:58



Godzeenie hast gesprochen

under a bundle of microphones



a rusting future

a wooden shack

a tyranny of silent pines

a few distinguised shamans

arrangements in the doghairs

lacquered spring

movements in torn nets





00:12



drawing a thread

into the horse’s artery

in the

the stoney

bosom

of my homeland





�13:37



chained to the emporer

the monkey commends

itself to measured claps









�22:40



my pupil dilates and only the real

is abstract under the weight

of the closing curtains

of clay and despair



Godzeenie illuminates

the mineshaft of memories



black Ulster breath



mouth stuffed with stray cats



crossbeams groaning the hours



coated in fog I conjugate

question marks and stroll

under the sparks

of reconstructed cities



only once



the unreedemable youth



the mask of sexual misdeeds



I’m lost in the house

of god with celestial ceilings

and the secret markings

of undergarments



�13:47



parts

peel off

in another brutally

brilliant

land



jabbing carefully

for solid ground



an eyelash

flickers

& disappears

in the twilight

�00:17



self-hankering

godforks

at the tonsils

chill of

late October

&

frozen

dog-

shit

on the

streets





�13:43



nothing at all

or

other



actual fabric

of

survival



miles of intimate senses



no one’s alone &

everyone’s

alone

being in doubt

in

the hotel lobby

in Katowice:

I left

my wife

for love



from another hauled

up

onto

the shore

still breathing

still kicking



I can’t find

the

natives

my mind

opens &

shuts

at strange intervals



hours dim

only

yesterday only

yesterday

the rusty

years robbed

red-

eyed

ex-

posed

to the noose

with

sentries

in the twilight

wandering poet

tangled

in

misery

slithering

among

the

splinters

on this

windy

All-Saints Day

�13:59





soot made this Silesian city

railway station full of half-dead bodies

the horror of cut lips

floating around with a shrinking skull

hanging upside down and thinking

of burning another bridge

in the forward glance

nothing’s owned

darling

dear

tea

drop







�14:00



The present is a prologue of excessive and morbid discharges.

The snow melted the moment it hit the road.

I spent the night turning over the moments.

Each wave is a blot on the human heart.

Crinkles increase round the eyes.

Generations tread the differences.

Providence scatters in the key-tap.

Enraptured cobwebs on my pillow.

Snared in the emptiness.

IT will not be sublimated away.

All pain is subsumed IN the moment.

A mutli-tracked railroad baptised by fire.

A broken heater hisses my shame.

My name is belly to hot belly.

An appetite for calamity.

Bats of the past.

Box of wedding pictures.

The mighty bull whom we love is full of black blood.



�18:41



mixing it up

Bitches

Brew &

Tyskie, trying

to lose myself, drop

out, ignorant

lullabies expose

my private parts, gotta

do it with a bit

of WHOMP, a bit

of justice, else

without the persuasive

mysteries, my face

away from fear, lonliness

is a weightless sack

but it breaks my back, can’t

keep it UP, what’s

this? It’s my body

all chewed up. What’s this?

it’s my mouth attacking

my stomach, stuck

on teaching

Callan: no ideas but

in repitition makes

this monkey square, bardzo

prosimy, El

Problem kapiche



�08:58



once more into blue

green slobbering

giant’s mouth

against

the mechanics

of the hour

I shot a bullet

round the world

and it’s

gaining speed

don’t know

when it will hit

in which land

on what street

during which hour

meanwhile I’m covered

in soot &

second-hand

love