Barlow Response Ability (June 2012)

Aurora, the Grand Gal of Evolution

It's a

bust she sticks out with her tongue

expressing a sulk

far from sultry

on the forbidden lawns

with the local scoff-laws

we rest our wearies

arched to the air

& hounded by homology

the gut of a worm

the hips of an ape

not the wings of a bird - that's the analogy

of the pose, shoulders swept

backward, hands reaching

for where she's come from

Bats out of Rouffignac

John,

today I killed a bird

an arc involving the car

winging spread like a hawk & rising

then like a sparrow dropping

into the left headlight,

winking. Remembering

the grief and shame on my father's face

leading me to the cat run over one summer evening

it had no tags, so we bagged it up

I held one open and he

through plastic

raised it by the tail

we debated burial, but it went to the landfill.

We were careful not to touch its mess

and today, the blood on the glass.

We were speeding out of the cave of 100 mammoths

two herds facing off with their problems

and distortions, each unique, filling six lanes in each direction

doing 130 and drawn that fast

by a small number of collaborators of distinguished styles

whether outsiders or priests

or made like each moon by incestuous marriages -

nobody knows but

it was all at once and all around us

the cave bear and his successors

the pits and vermiculate

scarifications of cannibal youth

and the fine line

in imitation or effacement

led or to mark time

on bread and bodies

fed in the subway most ravenously

where stratifications shred out

as is only natural -

and in the middle stoops to strop

its moonmilk claws 

on a human face -

a cartoon buffoon

10 metres down, in black suit

pica pica, the eurasian magpie

omniverous, ubiquitous, a throat-choaked pest

and noisy in groups.

A trickle charge leaks

out of horn, hair, or wing

green, inviting ritual

an absorbent architecture

like a precolombian picture

caged in the museum, it

parrots "donde … madre ..."

a cleaner cage than apish squats in barcelona

shit on the lawn with a view of the sea

"mi novio me molesta"

"if you don't want me set me free"

& "start the war!" & "anarchy!"

the swallows' song shrieks

like the mothers of the drowning

a trajectory of pure turbulence

not comedy, not tragedy.

Challengers

1.                                               2.

challenging to face                       june

another line                                 spritzer

of problems                                 on top of

to write                                        checkered duvet

out                                             air conditioner

or                                               humming in the brain

into                                            memory time

seldomly                                     to get up

centuries fat                                u.v.

clings to our young bones                     stain

the scale of thinking                            law

oscillating                                    makers

history                                        adrift on

a day                                                 hypotheses

all                                              learned in MBAs

things                                         churches and suburbs         

filing                                                  places of void

cabernet                                      inertia

softeningness                              instinct

of the internet                              gone

under the triceps                          was

tell me more re                                   perhaps

pressure of                                  anyway fake

eyeballs                                      a song to teach

pop                                            the children something

top                                             claimed by us before

dogs and                                     dawn again cuts

religious                                      the image

differences                                          toner

finer abrasions                             streaks

polished handaxes                       down

pottery spring                              their chins

a loaf rose                                          string around

for the                                        the white collars

first                                            reduplicating

time                                           our redundancy

it's luv                                         in the real world

and tulips                                    the fight comes

standard socket                                  sudden

of experience                               springs

weather teenagers                        from

high for tonight's                          the rushing

fireworks                                     antlers trees

real threat                                          car-crash victims

sleep                                                 classic threat display

fails                                            at the barbecue

to wake                                       toast leaked reveals

blind carafe                                 dominance

never knowing                              cabal

colour its own taste                       as

sympathies and name                          if

how it poisons                              the whole

and redeems                               headlocked world

as it                                            hadn't noticed

may                                       it's own arm the snake