Uncoiling ghosts of the broken band at 535, and Orpheus, praying he’s Jean Cocteau still, limning an image of Thalia, lapping at leather upholstery licked to a gum band
this sterling antenna entwined with a dangling limb,
gruff scratch of a car crash, rapt
with a gnashing yowl,
this
sour wassailing lascivious cats distend
across scuffled macadam and stuttering
street lamps strewn through the hedgerows
silvery peels of expended smelt
and a glowering
vision of Christ displaced
amidst scowling
gates dissembling rusting antlers—
whereby a
toddler hums
with a dimpled discretion
those first few bars of Dmitri’s Babi Yar,
and the juniper shrub
that a barrister’d twisted,
tickling verdigrised teeth of a stunted fence,
recalls its morning’s
surly stirrup of starlings
stringing their songs along groggily sprawling sycamores,
moths among bristling pin oaks,
the sky scrubbed red as a raucous knee
(attempting
to trace
the shape of some semblance of
awe,
that’s colored this way or
no—
transcribing from groaning
bones of a vibraphone
something akin to a feeling tone filliped
by this or that,
a coloratura of cramp bark berries,
those stammering gods amongst fence slats,
rippling,
riffling,
pulse of a dulcet bell—
black eye like a bulging knot hole bunging,
percussing, say, shuffling shifting sands,
this lustrous seam amid buckling concrete,
simpering veins of a hand outstretched about
restive ebony shucked from a stock or those
thwarted horns refined to these twiddling keys
that virginal feelers,
small as a glistening vole
or swoln to a possum’s paunch
caught cracked across staticky roadsides, evermore
grope for).
2 thoughts on "Uncoiling ghosts of the broken band at 535, and Orpheus, praying he’s Jean Cocteau still, limning an image of Thalia, lapping at leather upholstery licked to a gum band"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Whatever happen to Jean Cocteau?! I like that title!
what a treat
like the kitchen faucets
prelude to Java d’hut
(and a toddler in the mix
….humming?)