03-29-2014, 07:02 AM
1. La la
In a filtered cigarette drizzle we listen to the famous Hissing Window,
popularized in naughty seaside postcards. Inside a grass hut, clean
white stationery hinged with dog hairs makes a cloud in the famous
Hissing Mirror, through which float steam-powered sparrows with
hand-printed instructions. La la.
2. Berlin (a ballet)
Chestnuts in full leaf and a glass of red wine when the washing is done!
The afternoon contracted a headache from gazing at the literary genius
using the alcoholic’s telephone to call the forest’s dark fringe full of
pregnant soldiers. Then the piece closed on a attic full of insidious
seashells in women’s red pocket. The end. The people shuffle out through
a dark corridor and get lost amidst an international exposition of
tractors.
3. German Folk Tale
There is a golden fedora hidden in the flora. There is a bearded cider
press inside the blood-stained dollhouse near the flora. There is a desk
on a mountain stored in the bearded cider press. There is the shadow of
the bearded cider press fallen upon the forest reserved to the
manufacture of puppets wearing golden fedoras hidden in the flora. There
is a puppet reflected in a mirror in the blood-stained dollhouse that
contains the bearded cider press. There is a blood-stained fedora in the
blood-stained desk on the blood-stained puppet mountain. There is the
flora hidden in the blood-stained desk. The blood-stained dollhouse is
the puppet’s flora. The bearded cider press is the golden fedora’s fauna.
------------
dmh
Uniceros and Rhinocorn
"Books are not made to be believed, but to be subjected to enquiry."
--Umberto Eco, 'The Name of the Rose'
Uniceros lives in a lilac grove,
alone on the island of Lindisfarne.
She is the careless colour of seafoam
and runs like a shadow on the ocean.
Her cloven hooves possess the wildest grace
that horses never had; their cymbal-plough
will stud the ground with diamonds and outpace
deserts as impossibly as burnt snow.
I've read about her in De Bestiis: some
call her al-ma'il for the warlike slant
of her horn, the ferociousness of storms
in fiery eyes, her itching skin pulled taut
for battle. That horn has cut down dragons,
made the midnight tremble with its coming.
Rhinocorn lives in the Altogether
Uninhabited Interior. Its teeth
grew through its head into a horn; before
it had no means with which to fight. It bathes
at Socotra, blows bubbles through its nose
where the fons paradisi meets the sea
and though crude folds have gathered at its knees
and neck, it's the sweetest thing that I've seen.
Its horn points mothlike to the waterhole,
and has been known to heal a poisoned king.
Its heart is as soft as eroded shale
and its eyes catch the sky's cirrus shifting.
That horn can match the stroke of any child
and leave you humming with the same child's smile.
A wisdom different to mine might tell
another truth, of noble symbols or
rough beasts in false books made by infidels.
These fables paged the hoof prints that you saw,
so there must be a thing that made the marks:
we must have hope that the possible is
and love for those with faith what's possible was.
==========
Sources:
Eco, Umberto, "The Name of the Rose", Translated W. Weaver.
Beagle, Peter, "The Last Unicorn"
Kipling, Rudyard, "How the Rhinoceros Got Its Skin" from "Just So
Stories"
George Tolis
In a filtered cigarette drizzle we listen to the famous Hissing Window,
popularized in naughty seaside postcards. Inside a grass hut, clean
white stationery hinged with dog hairs makes a cloud in the famous
Hissing Mirror, through which float steam-powered sparrows with
hand-printed instructions. La la.
2. Berlin (a ballet)
Chestnuts in full leaf and a glass of red wine when the washing is done!
The afternoon contracted a headache from gazing at the literary genius
using the alcoholic’s telephone to call the forest’s dark fringe full of
pregnant soldiers. Then the piece closed on a attic full of insidious
seashells in women’s red pocket. The end. The people shuffle out through
a dark corridor and get lost amidst an international exposition of
tractors.
3. German Folk Tale
There is a golden fedora hidden in the flora. There is a bearded cider
press inside the blood-stained dollhouse near the flora. There is a desk
on a mountain stored in the bearded cider press. There is the shadow of
the bearded cider press fallen upon the forest reserved to the
manufacture of puppets wearing golden fedoras hidden in the flora. There
is a puppet reflected in a mirror in the blood-stained dollhouse that
contains the bearded cider press. There is a blood-stained fedora in the
blood-stained desk on the blood-stained puppet mountain. There is the
flora hidden in the blood-stained desk. The blood-stained dollhouse is
the puppet’s flora. The bearded cider press is the golden fedora’s fauna.
------------
dmh
Uniceros and Rhinocorn
"Books are not made to be believed, but to be subjected to enquiry."
--Umberto Eco, 'The Name of the Rose'
Uniceros lives in a lilac grove,
alone on the island of Lindisfarne.
She is the careless colour of seafoam
and runs like a shadow on the ocean.
Her cloven hooves possess the wildest grace
that horses never had; their cymbal-plough
will stud the ground with diamonds and outpace
deserts as impossibly as burnt snow.
I've read about her in De Bestiis: some
call her al-ma'il for the warlike slant
of her horn, the ferociousness of storms
in fiery eyes, her itching skin pulled taut
for battle. That horn has cut down dragons,
made the midnight tremble with its coming.
Rhinocorn lives in the Altogether
Uninhabited Interior. Its teeth
grew through its head into a horn; before
it had no means with which to fight. It bathes
at Socotra, blows bubbles through its nose
where the fons paradisi meets the sea
and though crude folds have gathered at its knees
and neck, it's the sweetest thing that I've seen.
Its horn points mothlike to the waterhole,
and has been known to heal a poisoned king.
Its heart is as soft as eroded shale
and its eyes catch the sky's cirrus shifting.
That horn can match the stroke of any child
and leave you humming with the same child's smile.
A wisdom different to mine might tell
another truth, of noble symbols or
rough beasts in false books made by infidels.
These fables paged the hoof prints that you saw,
so there must be a thing that made the marks:
we must have hope that the possible is
and love for those with faith what's possible was.
==========
Sources:
Eco, Umberto, "The Name of the Rose", Translated W. Weaver.
Beagle, Peter, "The Last Unicorn"
Kipling, Rudyard, "How the Rhinoceros Got Its Skin" from "Just So
Stories"
George Tolis