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Showing posts from February, 2010

Ankara (some more rough drafts in progress)

23rd Feb 2010

a trade route
of broken icons

clipped sunlight
with swollen

lymph nodes

did you have a good time?

the blood
the weight
the rubbled

what did I carry?
Who carries?
Who cares?

needles
on the spin

she said I’m no
thermometer I’m no
snag in the ventilator

she said these orbits
need a new orbit

she said you’ll hear
the buzz of cicadas

she said we quiver
on the river with reversible
eyes

Ankara (some more rough drafts in progress)

12 Feb 2010

Let it ramble
let it ramble
free wine
at the painted
boats cartoon
beat with custume
clothes borgeoius
blues would make
that sound ahhh uhhhhh
choose your mirror
you got what you asked for
there is a crack in the table
drunken Starbucks at Bilkent Centre
you can be honest
our western stain won’t wash away
ambient bubbles
ambient bubbles
I certified
past hells and heavens
this is the Milky Way
the loon door
is painted gold
this is the only life
I know how to live

goodbye . . . .

My grandfather died this morning.

When I was young boy his job was picking up milk from the farms around Northern Ireland. he took me with him.

I decided I was going to be a farmer.

I started collecting Farmers Weekly.

He used to bring me out to his garden where he kept all his budgies.

We would go outside and talk to the budgies.

He had the most perfectly clipped hedges.

When he hugged me his face was rough with stubble.

Sometimes he smelled of earth. of soil. of damp soil.

He loved country and western music.

He had wee horses above the fireplace.

I grew up on his wheat bread.

Ankara (some more rough drafts in progress)

7 Feb 2010


I’m not a rugged individualist
I’m not a tarnished love mat
I’m not a tender refugee
I’m not a celibate cuddler
I’m not a Utopian experiment
I’m not a monarch with a whiff of pacificism
I walk these lands these lands I read
to my love who does not
exist I read to simplify my fallacies
I came to kiss and be kissed
I came to do what water does
and does again
this is bodily matter
these are the trivial
conditions of an empty
kingdom the barbed wire
of another Medussa
the heart strobe of another
America the rafters of another
Prod with folksy hammers
and ploughs my ghost chains
in the wacky woods such capital
my brothers is not federal
property I’m sick with child
I’ve got many others
I’ve never lived
a radical life
I’m pressed into
tenderness

Ankara (some more rough drafts in progress)

6 Feb 2010

i’m lookin for a new California
California state of mind
mind my gaps my rogue
my rogue is not a pretty face
not a pretty face in California
California is not a place
not a place like Turkey
Turkey is a wail
a wail on the streets
streets full of strangers
strangers full of smiles
smiles and miles to go
to go to to go to go to go
to go to go to go to go

Ankara (some more rough drafts in progress)

3rd Feb 2010


someone
spoke to me
in the malignancy
of an old repose
in the oh god
another pudding
of the mind
another bomb
in the new uni-
versity of this
gloablized
world

i turned in bed
to repel the bored
ghosts the licked
intonations
no cold wish
this is the reality
of the smoke
from a blown out
candle the question
far out without the key
with the shadow
of an absolute moon
a simple sign I can think
of people a host
of a body in the dream
story of a man in the stow
away every country applied
to the seas

references
do not exist

Ankara (some more rough drafts in progress)

27th Jan 2010

this
is a manner
of slipping
oysters into
my pockets
this whole wide world
my fellas
will not leave me
alone significance
is cheap
butter on someone else’s
toast buttocks
my goddess
I’ve been
stabbed by the Baltic fleet
and live with the Ottoman
trading company








30th Jan 2010

Lojmanlar H/7
this is recreation
feet naked
cutter cutter
in the thrash
bag this bed brings
back Katowice
the gas of the
ghost that steps
on my heels
soul jelly skipping
over the candle
heat the rain
is forced to settle
on the arc
of my eyelids
my detour
is not
a teddy bear
the sky is adding
sugar to my corny
strokes of big eared
musics
trip and
fall trup trup
in the laboring
trup trup
kids the makings
of raw
babies
and beginner’s
clunks
among
the scantily
clad foreskins
this house is a guest
the first straws
that slurped my Big
Gulp I’ve arranged
your neckties