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a sequence to finish Wonderland

I am writing a sequence to finish Wonderland.

Here are a few sections (still rough). The formating is all left justified on blogger so the spatial concerns are all off. Some of this last section of Wonderland was written in Korea but most is happening right now looking back at the manuscript and its concerns.

It may change a lot over the next while. A lot more will be added. This is just day two.

Something is pulling me. Which feels good. Very good.

(August 1st 2006)


two bags to my name
a twitchy eye
and sour stomach

couldn’t take the silence, couldn’t take the red paste, couldn’t take the crowds, couldn’t take couldn’t take the

block buildings &
ants and ants and ants

moving over
verve and sense

left all my books
left my false
love and my
false smile

left left
always leaving

narrowing down

my life

the skinny

no room
for the gaunt
and unladen
and extremely

fog rolling
over stanzas
and false cities

leaving behind Korea for Poland
for no earthly reason

not dispossessed
of judgement
but starting out
for another kingdom


here on this earth
with a bucket under
my arm by the wobly splendor
of some distant sea
I count the opposites
of “is” and “was”
and come out astonished
between the element
of flesh
and the element
of hope

moving out of
moving out of help

ironing out my irony

draw close and close
the curtains
and knuckle down
here inside this other

torments of robes and sculptured rays
useless to the busy hands of the living

high bridge of la dolce vita
and the shadow planets
of Rahu and Ketu
tug at my tired heels

metamorphosis is the heart
of my life and freedom
is a war without a victory
hope is the thorny tale
of the dragon


my name
on two bags

my name on
the apples

at the close of day
when straigtening up
and girlded with

in the book of diminishing
my existence was not
by such a sudden clash
of foreign tongues
nor was the forbidden
shortened or shot-through
in the dimunitive or sensitive
language of the Post-Romantic
chased from the temple
of the Avant-Garde

traveling hermit
seeks muse
in the Post-Modern
world and finds
a heart in magic cellulite


here and there
out on the road
behind me and I
kept my nose to
the ridiculous
in the low husky
voice of the morning

the shadow planets
it is not enough
to keep watch

fire breathing camels
in the rolling
dusty hills
of Southern Utah
and Ulster Union
streets with elaborate
murals and stumbling
Buckfast friends

Circus Circus with Steve and Gary Batson:

all u can eat
and then slip out the back door

Rancho High School:

running through
North Las Vegas
for cross-country

the pattern has not yet emerged
in a key repetition of phases

a lost accent is still an accent
a lost place is always a lost place


Dominika said…
Poet suffer for milions
from 10 AM to 1:20 PM
at 11:10 AM to pinch bladder
get out
unbutton slit
come back, clear one's throat
and again
suffer for milions

You don`t get nothing nice free
sundown is free
therefore isn`t beautiful
but if you want to puke in night club watercloset
you should pay for vodka

watercloset in dico is beautiful
and sundown no

and I tell you that`s fib

I saw sundown
and privy in nigt club

don`t discover difference.

We light out fire
to separate our evenings
separate from all people like from sickness
let`s it`s to sway and to shine
let`s sing gold spark
in our fire

We sit evenings
something bad matter
flame go out, darken
wife ask: what the matter with you, my love?
- leave me alone...

I know whay you are sad, my dear
we like pets very much
pet is the best friend
I`m one jump on street already
I measure whole wide city
I come back
with huge cat at hand

We sit evenings
something bad matter
Cat frighten amber eye
flame go out, darken
We reviev...Italian painting
my boredom...
Well- I say-don`t see daylight
we don`t suit oneself
end with our fire
but invite for remainder
all our old friends
from school
from bender...
make a party...

Visitors to come
Every reminisce
colored pack decompose
with simple story
we glorify life
singing songs to midhnight

First hour, visitors behind doorstep
what now my dear
we should take bag
but look...look
as it`s to sway and to shine
big fire...sunny spark
our fire...
and our cat is very beautiful with this amber eye.
postpran said…
Love these translations Dominika. Can you tell me a little about this Polish poet?
Dominika said…
Andrzej Bursa born in Cracow 1932 year, died in 25 yo (disease). Rank to range "les poetes maudits". Cynic, intransigent, always looking truth about human. Implicit lyricism in his poems.

I looked some english version but don`t find.
His poems was publishing one year after his death. Earlier he publishing in different newspapers.

Some with his tens poems:

Duty of poetry
Poetry can`t be abstract from life
Poetry should to act life

Housewife should:
taking the rubbish out
dusting under bed
to beat a carpet
fedding child
flower water
fire in the fireplace
making dinner
wash the dishes
wash out the glass
nappy wash
sew up pants
sew on button
note expenses

and more

and next reading huge romantic
and hushaby...

When chime crow at morning
and night guard change horses
Hamlet look at knees
his legs evenly roll

Sheed to coat to state with deliberation
wiriness and chest camber
in fresh corpse noisome citadel
Hamlet mince to deatch

Dirk hit in lock silently
hundred ears have every empty corner
therefore Hamlet wouldn`t wake the devil
noiselessly laugh at mirror

Fade moon
with teddy bear in little hand child asleep
town quiet like mystery
trappy hidden on the window
fade fade moon!

moon silver bridge built
moon cry green tear
moon is only for adults
cover up the window, cover up mum.

from high towers before leaf hedge
on adults to descend the moon
sonny is 3 years old only
he shouldn`t miss yet.

yes will be stormy nights
silver town much acrimony
wake up mum cover up the window blanket
fade fade moon!
Anonymous said…
A ghost from the past
read a blog by
another ghost
I once called

May you be well Marcus.

Some mistakes were made
and I had regret
but is good to know
you are living

take care of yourself.

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