Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Susana Gardner!! Three Sonnets!

Rough Springing Pig Cupids Forever Rooting Erotic Garbage in Alleys Near the Arno in Florence

Would I with guts? No wild oats would then sow. 
No. Intestined—pomey  protesting—dire
wild oats what could not then sow or spawn 
but what Phantasie with those she most 
loved. O Ultimo Sun Sorrows! O Giovanni!
O Futurist tableau! Oh write me an ode
to bodily love. Trace your fingers over me, when I 
say I,  I never mean you.  I only have my own
Calandabric thoughts to Intrude upon. Today
I got an email from the moon—Full
Pig Cupids lap the Arno— Uncensored 
Bodily Functions. Wedged between Seers 
&misguided men. O, Pet his head. Coins fall
from his snout—aim for his watery mouth, for luck.

Sonnet in which I steal all the words from your favorite poem in Rough Spring

Despite this crowded alone my ever.
You from me a frame, only to escape this
Ghost-nag— but I am I and I will not go but stay. 
World weary and that’s all and that’ll never-away
or escape me and all that. As that is this song
Unhappy costume my through and I
Will slip this spirit—softly, alone
Of all am I: PRONOUNS. And so and so
I fate this, I crowd this, I curious this
And you crowd this too and change me again—
Escape myself and all that is that for that and
never, never away. As that is this song
That lives through my air and sound and
World and that’s all and that’ll never-away. 
Ghost-nag me, I will not go despite 
The crowded alone my never.

(untitled sonnet) 

Sometimes we seal from sight what frightens us
Sometimes that is brash imagism
w/ paper    or some other bullshit ornamentation
Ezra’s eyes
no longer flicker

No longer distill the world
 into an image
 of the metro
Singular dove-grey moments, blinding
Pearl-pale lights
My overcast city
Composed sequences or musical phrases 
Hills of 

I cannot now remember
the blinding
Or the random

German phrases from odd philosophical texts
Or what might 
Victorian Pulp novel me
Toward ever-awake

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