Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Mary Kasimor

the future is in Barcelona

The pen works. See. It makes up ideas; later pictures fall off the wall. The ideas could be found in any cereal box. I fell into a dream & then I fell off the earth & kept falling. The building held important drawers to my lives; unraveling the addiction & falling out of the air, the government’s image aided my vocabulary. I was a speculative fool more so than others. The nation leaked pious families & mickey mouse’s ears were the future’s deception. But we gamble with deadlines. The future is clear in Barcelona. There were two trillion protesters from the next decade, & little churches grew refugee camping; anti-hierarchical the dancers gave birth. To comply with the sun everyone gave arguments to exist in prophesy, but grassroots sprouted monkeys. Stop the alarm. Why mess with shipping? The equipment embraces the wrongdoers & someday everyone will know 


the western

the east tastes of vinegar tight-
lipped &
sour apples
no woman need apply
scientific oppression approached
from a bounty of speed
the galloping
horses frozen in steel

she vanished for good
she argued
for width
in the movies she climbed out
windows claimed herself
a heart warm
slovenly morning
out the window to
the west she left
a sense of space she
left a witness
walking on sand & swamp
& lakes
& cornfields
to the furthest
place to the fabric torn

the continuity
of any
a pattern to the west paper-
doll shadows
with north poles separating each
piece of her
she grew
antennas & a force of
nature she disappeared
into a digital
the edited movie of the west


black swans in rain

if so          dying    the
smudge         is
objectified       and falls
rain     against      blank
faces a                 city
travels through       air
not       trees but    many
bodies left      fragments
rain                      clusters
forgotten     light    black
swans and             gray
order                   forced acres
if                pollution stars
and      wings           let
go      to fall         wet
like      word smears
simultaneously       luminous
seasons in         overnight heavy
doors                  and laws  
forced               between needing
more        we meant
more pronunciation       more we
chose                like     gods
to         die in       triangles
like dogs           heaps
from these              meanings of
co-habitation       out from
life      to dwell   through     
symbols and          windows 
we        pressed       for
distress        of       what was
never found         in    an absent
train      seats             coins
and        rain soaked


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