Letter Ten – A Smiling Baby
(After Spell #42)
I plot murder in dreams
practice revenge
against the French guy as if by
magic he’ll stay prone &
w/
my gun one bullet to the back
of his head comes out his
lips but the deed plotted’s not followed through.
I see old family patterns
learn dynamics by watching
a
smiling baby speaks a
language we all understand
where
the
words are unnecessary if you
are
pink.
When
the
sun comes out we touch it it
ignites w/in us life
the star heat we crave. What is
broken in us is repaired a small
window to crawl through.
Letter 10A - A Smiling Language
I was not born a river god & thus must
practice art of
magic words
rehearse apprentice
w/
my felt-tip sword cutting
syllables from a block uncarved for my
lips to launch as clouds of
sounds to circle & penetrate.
I want to
learn what Genesis clearly
articulates
a word precedes an act a
smiling
language is better than a glorious
hack
where
the giant lake splashes fury pent & starving only
words can bring the message &
are perfect to recreate the
warm
pink aura that emanates from the
body waking from an intense dream.
When
the cicadas stop the noise of
the mind is heard grinding the
sun we touch in city August
ignites memories cellular from which
our lips launch
a million magic sounds. The circle once
broken now round and whole
again. Now a
window to crawl through for
tabularasa.
3451
Starter phrases taken from Spell
#42
by Jerome Rothenberg (A
Book of Witness: Spells & Gris Gris, page 44)
© 2003 by the respective poets