Monday, September 30, 2013

Volodymyr Bilyk


Felino A. Soriano

from Espials


            —after an image by Silvia Scheibli

spiraled hole
inverted halo functionality:

                                                by wind’s strongest finger
pulsating                      push                 ing

vocal infatuations
blur into open-door
                          —light or when light’s hanker
with a watching tree’s unobserved sobbing:

this azure
zigzag’s wholly
always                                                              away from
warming hands of the holding unnoticed, their (and our)
knotted hands’ efforts
blind by which culture’s Cyclops
                        origami same-size abilities, their
pluralized efforts to
erect stone
amid stillness of need
                                                            we examine what is realized
watching death by hands, unholy



meditative acronyms
in the spelling of nuanced                    understanding
                        wandering, an eye
recalls an institutionalized watching/waiting
spectrum, delving then into formulating tear, its sear, strong, syllabic,
             by altering emotional content, the text in isolated versions of spoken embarrassments
not yet
wilted or
by-then written the improvised living becomes cliché
within hands and their lined delineation
yours, theirs, ours, thus
subjective in the carrying of closed-eye



arms and their purpose

to the improvised
impersonations of undulating degrees of language and
the nostalgia of learning steps in the context
of movement’s
interrelated embraces
and their
pluralized purposes           pleasing if                          reciprocation is the dual method of
engage configurations



watching the saddened crow
             curl away from the ambition of curating calls
altered, though thematic
in the range of rage from passive indication—

silence then
                         in the alphabet of solace’s anemic call to legs’ oscillating fulcrum

—this change
rearranges realms
and their ceiling cannot reuse its dangling embrace
             watching blurs become clarity in the context of internal infatuation



recessed                                   in the acclimation of tonal time-making
sorted synonyms
allowing for the function of fiction to suspend conversational

informational, insinuating rarity of percentage’s hungry greed

this watching of movement engaging
ergonomic ease of the body’s positional clarity
 to the ongoing remedies
partitions create against openness of uncomfortable delusions suspend among a
range and direct running from self in the momentum of
age’s rearranging perspective



light’s italicized murmurs
making softened the whispering
gold of shallow homes of hallway
against oscillating home of
the ants’ architectural hiding



aired whisper-rhythm
the small of it
feet the walking ensues within fragile
movement of oscillating practice, this            turnstile
of seasonal becoming
mores devour truth in the contextual
calmness all mothers interact with
physical admiration
lengthening of elongated-already discoveries an
altruistic laughter of praise
vibratory subsequent echoes
arching near where
running hides into safe or
satisfying ending



interrogation of silence
             causational pause the
response s
                                     fall toward                 isolated fathoms of
inductive range of



                         (as in the fallacies of assumptions’ predetermined facsimiles

                                                                         within the spectrum shadows’ silver
             embalmed in the rhythm of paused configurations)

moments engage wholeness’
systematic contributions, these
walked                         wandered                   all tense in the yesterday of memory
overcoming lyrical tears
             slide of burning contours
recalling loss
and the gregarious gain of revelation, welcomed



fingers of woolen fog                                                  its
                                                affirmations, aerial
natural cultural identity
                                                             reaches                                   as when
Monday’s saddened entrance
hovers onto burgeon’s

undefined happenstance

veiled though known
             to uncover ease of clarity’s amalgamated complacency


Sunday, September 29, 2013

Lynda Schor


Lakey Comess

of fuel

of fuel, refueling, running out,
questions in orbiting, Rimbaud
of dust,
debris in unfinished caress,
penetrating the shieling.  

Yesterday's glass rings,
coming closer,
gaining loss,
losing light,
time, years.  

Laboring docken-
leafed, stricken,
over the couched
terms and call,
land's vacuous end,
dreamily chanted
fanciful winged coquette,
stubborn, barred, lucky Lucifer,

Inventing a whole waning tongued other calendar.  
We are top sailing instead, upside of the angels,

opaque dreaming,
acknowledgements intended,
speaking through to another risen,
much worse condition,
(not in your language)
tucked into furthering this body,
fain resurrected button and zip,
whole inexact uncertainty,
danced for you.  


In arms. In arms.

Letting it travel on wind.  
Pledged copulation,  
casual fistful of coquetry
and you.
And you and you.

This fair body,
just breeze.
. riparian riff raff
. medium coarse,
. broken, speaking
. cornered, derailed  
The holding condition,
holding, conditioning the heart.

The heartening subscription,
swaying  domain, dead figuring cant.

. dumb run
. dangerous
. lipstick, inscribed  
. Biding time.  

We are becoming obsidian,
memorial, free floating.

. years blinding
. perpetual motion
. in light  
Sage willing flesh, pen,
later and born.



Over-structured authorities, skilled writers, caught up
in cross fire, cross-stitched to the spot.  

High on participation, rally round deciduous growth,
pronounce it delicious, amazing challenge,
close knit modules of gross error in judgment.  

All those parallels loosen the ball bearings.  

Flicker combinations of events in small cages.  
Back up your job description,
flog yourself into tasks and alternative attitudes.  

Same old middle finger throws ancient gesture of scorn your way.

Novelty lost interest in mass innovation.  
Let's just say the cultural quarter was overrun.  

Certain houses have known generations of
the same families—ties, continuity, old bonds.  

One died on an anniversary;
death gravitates to particular.

One died in solitude, silence, unsociable fortitude;
death castigates survivor.  

Grand National was over in a flash;
couldn't even tell you who was running.



It seems a pity to have wasted perfectly good newsprint on well over three columns worth of story on the ass-end of a project, intricacy lubricating the folio, treading slippery slope.

Wedding presents?  From the bride? (clue found in a drawer.)

Had you really believed assignation of numbers to be the solution to smiling into the abyss,  you wouldn't have asked for names and addresses quite so early in the affiliation.  

Oh, well done!  

Panegyric discourses:
You are clusters of distribution,
tin-glazed earthenware,
patterned metallic colours,
scratches and blisters,
absolute kill.  
Mile long carpet,
clipped wings.  


Too quiet.  Pale.  

Aspiration exhaled, lung-damaged.  
Hope is fulcrum to permanence, no matter what you imagine.  

You're in a really good place, don't get me wrong,
if you don't want to go there, looking too far forward,
taking more than one day at a time.  There's no way in.  

Think twice before speaking.  Now is the time to be cautious,
hand-clapping, counting rhymes.  Shake up the neighbourhood.  

Gunshots are heard.  Young men give up their lives, slept in dust,
for dubious gang leaders.  Next exhibition follows (too closely).

Vaguely symbolic glyphs, carved small onto form, basic shapes, shifted.  
Where does eye lead, if not to strangely mutated darkness, free trial, finding a way,
weighed down, rocks around neck.  Time can be better than spent.

I have never seen you so sad.

Acts of contrition

pursue shortfall of cool,
directing negotiations, too many effects, ineffective.  

Out of time, strobe-lighted.  Those are the breaks, original.  
Make it two.  Casual is costly, too comfortable, hidden

in well-oiled predictable rules,
senselessly knocking on nonsense, selling it short.   

I'm on the opposite bank now, sharpening branches,
replacing ether with water, swimming through green, cloudy waves.  

You are barely a ripple.


Rhythmic bleeps

add a certain I don't know what to the experience.  
Lord knows you have beautiful eyes.  What does clock matter,

daily thoughts replacing real, live experience, unable to move,
stuck in a moment?  Folds on map, impossible to manage.

Someone may assist at some time, though discussion alludes us.  
Find an identity next to a dustbin.  Hand it on or hang on to it.

Forty years ago is yesterday.  Now.  This minute.
Some things don't change.  How did we end up here, not together?
Can you turn back time if you cannot commit to more than today?

Truth is rewarded with a warm hug, time, tide, no one,
everyone's sister, cousin, best friend, double.