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"betook" poems
At an unknown time of night at our cottage in northern Michigan… My younger brother and I heard strange noises coming from the beach again… We looked up at the ceiling and then the window… As the voices from outside, in a lively allegro… Grew softer and louder in repeating crescendos… We skittered out the door and stared in fascination… For what we saw must have been our imagination… The door closed with a creak as our feet hit the grass… It was at that moment we got a look at the mass… Of stubby foot, hunchback creatures from which the sounds had amassed… There was about six of them chanting like a choir… They danced and paraded around our burnt out fire… As we looked on, we saw our fire raise… It got brighter as they lifted their hands in waves… As light betook the blue beach night… A crowd of colorfully masked gremlins caught us in their sights! Their feet slowed to a stop and they quieted down… They stood still as the fire flickered off their weird wooden frowns… One reached out his hand in a come-here motion… They seemed to stand and wait with an encouraging notion… As the fire crackled and the waves tumbled onto the beach… All I can remember, is for the rest of that summer… My younger brother and I served as the drummers… For that quirky marching band of lake sprites… With which our burnt out fire we’d reignite… At an unknown time of night at our cottage in northern Michigan…
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Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 8:41 PM UTC
At an unknown time of night at our cottage in northern Michigan...
I Michelangelo, was fair game amongst human animalia... until I latched upon the vault of Heaven. In light of total Absorption...I betook to throngs of glory-- I became a lidless eye, trillion-handed. All I beheld for four years unblinkingly, was undrunk paint from plaster drip off a human form, stretching and stretching to macrocosmic proportion. It's as if I were painting through a black hole, poised upon the whitest of emergence. As it were, upon that ceiling prior to brushstroke there's only the black of unrealized vision...ravenous blackbirds at their feeder--then suddenly, the palms of angels cup them...that they may eat out of them. I could hear my name glide through: past/present/future... for I peopled a Heaven, a Hell's dynamic tension--it was given that I take it upon myself. That eyes shall look above and know man is more than man, woman is more than woman...it was given that I situate Us. Feature the unending moment of creation as chaos harmonizes upon this ceiling. Color is so strange...it's immediately superior to my most creative application--I become the color I apply, as the outlines of the forms they take become beautiful illusions. Naturally I worship the outlines of these forms, but neighboring forms bleed-in so quickly I experience an ecstatic union...countless times a day the paintbrush falls from my hand. To that which I've supposed likeness...likeness I paint--I give you suspended animation, the non local no time of NOW! Rome was built in a day--I shrunk it down to an Adam...then split him!!!
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 12:01 PM UTC
Sistine Chapel
I Michelangelo, was fair game amongst human animalia... until I latched upon the vault of Heaven. In light of total Absorption...I betook to throngs of glory-- I became a lidless eye, trillion-handed. All I beheld for four years unblinkingly, was undrunk paint from plaster drip off a human form, stretching and stretching to macrocosmic proportion. It's as if I were painting through a black hole, poised upon the whitest of emergence. As it were, upon that ceiling prior to brushstroke there's only the black of unrealized vision...ravenous blackbirds at their feeder--then suddenly, the palms of angels cup them...that they may eat out of them. I could hear my name glide through: past/present/future... for I peopled a Heaven, a Hell's dynamic tension--it was given that I take it upon myself. That eyes shall look above and know man is more than man, woman is more than woman...it was given that I situate Us. Feature the unending moment of creation as chaos harmonizes upon this ceiling. Color is so strange...it's immediately superior to my most creative application--I become the color I apply, as the outlines of the forms they take become beautiful illusions. Naturally I worship the outlines of these forms, but neighboring forms bleed-in so quickly I experience an ecstatic union...countless times a day the paintbrush falls from my hand. To that which I've supposed likeness...likeness I paint--I give you suspended animation, the non local no time of NOW! Rome was built in a day--I shrunk it down to an Adam...then split him!!!
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Knee deep in earthen slop-- down of downpour, knees protracting as bulbous nodes, stiff with implanted **** We both, and as for what inhibition--what wind betook our love, deaf to the sound of tremulous waterlog? We who memorize separate passages of each other's lives--now cite them with pleasure's other, we both as one...now as once--not without pain.
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Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 1:34 PM UTC
Knee deep
The clouds make haste for the dark moon, As it climbs over fire and rook In a town that shall slumber soon, For solace by a jester long betook. A boy at a corner rough-hewn Laughs and cries and dances alone. The clouds make haste for the dark moon, Past the mirror, sees the boy now grown. Naked and loved in winter’s June— But solace by a jester long betook, Lest the seams of Fate now lie sown, As soul and heart hang by the hook. For solace by a jester long betook— The clouds make haste for the dark moon.
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Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
Gothennet
Deep within the bowels of the Earth immensely distant from the sheltering sky amidst a thick fog enveloped landscape with here and there a projected craggy, derelict chasm precipitously crooked pointing toward an infinitely wide yawning abyss dwelt kindred spirits comprising a soul asylum where grateful dead (albeit marked via weathered tomb stones) hermetically sealed once vibrant corporeal mortals betook their eternal slumber One among their number included a misanthrope who sported long straggly hair bushy eyebrows shielding cold eyes of steel straggly bearded clammy chin in tandem with a hairy body which when alive (long time ago) upheld upon unshod feet a severely hunchbacked ****** Within dense pitch-black terrain (Mother Nature enlisting a menagerie of life forms accustomed to hellish environment) awash with unrecognizable alien sights and sounds mollycoddling bewitching warlocks, mailer daemons, imps of the pervert chieftains, fiery long and fostered Golems who called underworld their private demesne also alluded to Marcy's playground holding hostage Alice in Chains Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Beastie Boys, The Human League, and Village People a Crowded House Emitting wisps of ethereal matter appearing a small medium at large chat snap ping, flickr ring indeed joyus minions exalting piety a plenti Prone ounce sing proud purgatory promoting protean phantasmagoria hideous hulu hoop dancing holograms highly distorted grotesque silent screaming sinister banshees slithering across escarpment.
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Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
An Image Of The Netherworld Envisioned By A Misanthrope
Deep within the bowels of the Earth immensely distant from the sheltering sky amidst a thick fog enveloped landscape with here and there a projected craggy, derelict chasm precipitously crooked pointing toward an infinitely wide yawning abyss dwelt kindred spirits comprising a soul asylum where grateful dead (albeit marked via weathered tomb stones) hermetically sealed once vibrant corporeal mortals betook their eternal slumber One among their number included a misanthrope who sported long straggly hair bushy eyebrows shielding cold eyes of steel straggly bearded clammy chin in tandem with a hairy body which when alive (long time ago) upheld upon unshod feet a severely hunchbacked ****** Within dense pitch-black terrain (Mother Nature enlisting a menagerie of life forms accustomed to hellish environment) awash with unrecognizable alien sights and sounds mollycoddling bewitching warlocks, mailer daemons, imps of the pervert chieftains, fiery long and fostered Golems who called underworld their private demesne also alluded to Marcy's playground holding hostage Alice in Chains Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Beastie Boys, The Human League, and Village People a Crowded House Emitting wisps of ethereal matter appearing a small medium at large chat snap ping, flickr ring indeed joyus minions exalting piety a plenti Prone ounce sing proud purgatory promoting protean phantasmagoria hideous hulu hoop dancing holograms highly distorted grotesque silent screaming sinister banshees slithering across escarpment.
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