Collecting Beads

Collecting Beads

for M. Nin

 

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Love is Endless Oil

Love is Endless Oil

after John Tranter

 

Pulled taut, released, eternally splitting amoeba

under the microscope we are watchmakers

ticking away time like stars, gluttons for red enlightenment

blu blasphemy – I’d love them all, forever falling

into the arms of new men, new stories, a sundial splitting

my shadow. Your smiles leave breadcrumbs

hypnotic urgent monsters stir the pot – I’ll fake it

being without body most nights turning and vanishing

like a comet, philosophic and industrious we

put out the siren call for sailors – John Tranter said

love is endless oil and being water there is no hope for us

it’s our nature to want absolutes

to want the purest forms of experience, pushing existence

that patient god, to the brink of sanity. We don’t skydive

or hang ourselves by hooks for the crowds but after so many

stories we’re bent like a sculpture of paralysing and total fatalism.

 

 

 

(It started like this, from a previous post: https://goo.gl/v5ozG3)

collage_20160203233604167_20160203233612220.jpg

 

Goodbye

As with poems, you can be as free as you like

or as restricted as you like – just say the thing

Goodbye

like walking on water or some other miracle of a saint

I don’t believe in.

I tell you I don’t want children. Ever.

You’re not prepared for a nappy-less existence

that is that – goodbye

it’s not a tongue twister

it’s not a breath mint

I do not want marriage. Ever.

You’ve said you always wanted a bride

in a church, with a veil and all those dumb flowers

you’re not whole without it (which I think is stupid)

so you say the thing – goodbye

As with poems, it’s hard to know when it’s done

but words are a start, the feeling will come

like ice you roll on your tongue until it gets smaller

goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

John Tranter

I’ve been reading a lot of John Tranter lately as part of a series I’m working on. It involves taking a line from a poem that speaks to you and responding to it. I’m currently working on a response to the line “love is endless oil” from the poem Benzedrine by John Tranter from his book Urban Myths. Here’s a draft of the first stanza.

image

Astronomer

Astronomer

The chronic terror of place and power
maybe we are all just planets
orbiting the sun of the ego
seductive trajectory past time and status quo

I was a school boy, I was religion
the Eros of my twenties desperate
not to play it safe
wisdom without hands to mime my journey

The call of the piper’s tune
to sex, to corporate, to buying the red dress
I once saw in a dream where I seduced you
the destructive manufacture of the game too tempting

It’s diabolical
that I could love you after seconds
time freezing like a horror film
What is love if not a human experiment?

A creative evolution
words adapt to the harsh environment
We are not twenty anymore, there is no booze or
equally senseless accident strong enough to unite us

you relapse apparently
losing what is left of your giddy faculties
The brain knows you’ve hopped off your bike
but the heart still sees you as a cyclist, a pacifist

Stroking your ornamental Jesus
you left me
for crown of silk ties and you’re just as silly
as your habit of decaying the obvious
into an elephant carcass, stinking up the lounge room.