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Showing posts from March, 2010

hot off the keyboard

(26th March 2010)

Bilkent Center REAL



I’m writing to you in this weather
among buckets of bumble bees

it is better to know my people
these leopard skins
are not my people

tumbling out warm
with the cosmic absurdists
a prophet’s ten minutes of satire

when will you cool your heels?

there’s a bird on your shoulder
that whispers goodbye




donkey eyes
plum eyes
olive eyes
violin eyebrows
strawberry hips
apple tongue
hazelnut nose





I’m heading to the roaring Bosphorous
pockets full of mercurial evidence
a metal tray of endless love
Venus rising in the hood of my penis
a wind puffs up for 24 hour shopping
on account of the frame
there is loose hair in my thickets
have fingers and know how to use them
I’m kissing the lipless

Olympos (second draft)

Olympos

(1 March 2010)

on the wet floors
of the rocks
of the rocks
on the wet floors

grayed steps
lighting sheets

stone steps
stone steps
boulders
stone steps

heat and oil

a place of
eternal torches

we were cold
we were cold
it was raining
we were cold

a place of stones
and rocks
and rain

loud slaps from the dark sky
loud slaps over the Mediterranean

and these torches
these torches
among the rocks
these eternal torches
among the rocks

a place of ruins
a place of Roman ruins

decayed columns
fallen columns
crumbling columns

the beginning of the end
of a new relationship
amid thorns
amid forking paths
amid frogs
amid one chilled out
sunbathing turtle

splayed legs
leathery head
shell slightly cracked

softer softer softer
than i had imagined

waded in
waded in

the Mediterranean
the Mediterranean
the Mediterranean

watched others
wade
further

more rough drafts from Ankara

(24th March 2010)

Kizilay


gule gule gule
evet evet evet

I’m glued
I’m glued to your
curly wurly

yr gay
dancing
late night in Kizilay

the _______ is a body
of a lover we have
never loved

there is space
there are cells
there is space

there are patterns
there are many birds

oh my freckled arms
oh my nerve fibres

how spring comes
charming and funny
the Nikes are golden green

18 March 2010

Primitive Pianos

I dream this city
this city this city
of primitive
pianos
icy millions tell me so
tell me tell me oh
pulled tooth
pulled tooth
that left a hole a hole
my my my
uncooked trial
a jig with Roman wrestlers
a jig with Irish diplomats
my Irish pores are breaking
into the cold green waters
the cold muddy froth
father father I hear
the turnips preparing
in their ground
by the pale muddy
waters waters
we sink like any
old stone

live from Ankara

19 March 2010


hot hot hot underlings
i love you flashy ways
I love your punting cycles
and riddles in the wings
and the whiffs of yonder phallus
I’m yanking out your daffy dills
imagine this: imagine this
I’ve opened up my lids
and this is what I see
pawns and pawns and pawns
yawning in their faculties

ahhhh sometimes I wish I were still in North Carolina

This Thursday (3/18), the Duke Poetry Working Group will reconvene to discuss the work of J. H. Prynne, a poet whose influences and influence position him at the crux of poetry's avant-garde milieu. Please join us as we set out to register the immensity of his utterance.

You can access the readings we will be discussing here: http://english.duke.edu/research/poetry-working-group

Duke Poetry Working Group: J. H. Prynne

Thurs. 3/18 5:45

Continuing our discussion of textualized sound, our second meeting this semester will focus on the sonic and phonic concerns of renowned British poet and critic J.H. Prynne. Conversant with Romantic, late Modernist and Chinese poetic traditions, Prynne occupies a singular space in contemporary literature. Helping us find our way into that space will be Erik Ulman’s recent essay “Composing with Prynne” in which Ulman, a classically trained musician, interprets the poet’s work through the practice of musical translation. After listening to Ulman’s a…

as IF!!!

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blood in the hole . . . .

coming up
only to show your own

my boat has resurfaced

I am not a careerist
I am not your bunion

the radiant dark is my new
rehearsal

oh

honey turns to stone

don't flee
from being
whacked upside
the head

i've set out tonight
to some new place

Journey to Olympos

1 March 2010

we reached the campsites at Olympos with modern hippies in this place of treehouses and roosters and backpackers MGMT playing on a mobile phone it rained and rained and lightning sheeted over the Med over the Roman ruins on the other side of the river we walked toward the rocks of eternal fire crossed the flowing stream crossing through villages and headscarfed houses in bare feet my feet dangling down away from my own private exodus my own private Egypt on the wet floors of the rocks of the rocks the rocks were grayed out steps with occasional lighting sheets and monsoon like rains as we climbed the stone steps the stones and boulders arranged around the fire heat and oil a place of eternal torches a place of stones and rocks and rain

we were cold
we were cold
it was raining and there were sheets and sheets
of lightning over the Mediterranean
loud slaps from the dark sky
and these torches these torches
among the rocks
these eternal torches among the rocks

we reached the place of …

hm . . . .

Excellence vs. Perfection

_____________________________

Perfection is being right.

Excellence is being willing to be wrong.

_____________________________

Perfection is fear.

Excellence is taking a risk

_____________________________

Perfection is anger and frustration.

Excellence is powerful

_____________________________

Perfection is control

Excellence is spontaneous

_____________________________

Perfection is judgement

Excellence is accepting

_____________________________

Perfection is taking

Excellence is giving

_____________________________

Perfection is doubt

Excellence is confidence

_____________________________

Perfection is pressure

Excellence is natural

_____________________________

Perfection is the destination

Excellence is the journey

_____________________________

-author unknown

more rough drafts from Ankara

25th Feb 2010

in my family bones
are many mansions
a reek of vows
my mind is a
would be keeper
set adrift
in a wonky boat
I see this Edenic
dark this
close chill
on the horizon
in fact in facto
i’m gorged out
on white cheese and constantly
looking for the molten god
of freedom
femdom referendum
do you have
your Duende pack?
I have a positive
thinking rash