The Ouroboros & Other Poems |
by Dave Brinks |
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with men as with caterpillars nothing was chanced Hibernaculum Oraculum in the cemeteries of paradise in spite of any story you’ve been told in the repositories for human cadavers and relentless probing in large part created by the CIA in a vision of Mount Rushmore look-a-likes in anti-imaginative blackouts in a small world no smaller than a firefly flickering at the end of anything beginning with a vinegary salad dandelion greens, artichokes & drunken goat cheese in an elongated pattern of sub-zero hue in a state of ashtanga in a hot room The Abecedaria of Unwriting from knossos to gnosis first ur now pluto the abecedaria of unwriting has no origins we are its placentum a place teeming with life’s leftovers neither cooing baby cadmus nor ignoremus nor ignoromulus (mere polyglot amputees) can account for this prelexical sensate bypassing every humanly obsession to cease to surcease as in monstrous or magnum wont as we are to be the fore bearers of the bleak ages The Ouroburos with men as with caterpillars nothing was chanced the penniless world was hemmed-in by mountains on three sides with gibbons and cranes to seem endless gradually three or four flowers tiny divots of earth by the tens of thousands and a skein of fine white sewing silk appeared on my coat and hat but to allow for the ouroboros that lives inside my head perched on the caldera’s rim and over my shoulder like the white bird you can’t see the spyglass drew a cocoon beating a drum in the doorway of my own raising so many misshapen wishes too tired to rest or return home 3.v.08 |
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