Wash -a study in virulent dead poetry - Argo Spier



Content = 4 poetic sequences

natural touch
poetry from the book
watery reflections & time
four dead horses


Part 1 - natural touch
Estartit, Catalunya, July 2008


1. dead poem living

Can art be distilled from art?'

odd, the swish & trepiditious
& callous & Byronic in its thinginess - this poem is
& the patois of creepy motion, muff
until it becomes vermillion-red

as a rose

dark & jet & passé a Concorde
glibbing away, it wanes
in many an atrophied way - keuhsaurus

& in the sweet hour of tasting the honey
art is smeared out with smudged fringes - bees
work this way as well - most of their fabrications

too

are stark imaginary stand-ins
for Muses-to-be, Tristia, not?

a copied case?


2. gluey force of duice

‘the days are vessels full of remnants
of pissing past pains and tenses'
- Mannekin

when Koen Stein did his extraction
& the image he achieved by it proved that there was
& something was wrong with it, observation
& Scientific Nature articles were written about it
& it had that double-faced surface
& he concluded it to pin-point it
& he told the audiences
& that that was like it
& the thing was half-dead and the half-alive
at the same time
& in it, there was that nilly tilly filly farty fetchey farty art
of something like this

& that was undigestable, the taste of it
& but was it art?
& was art out of art? not art
& from the heart?
& the jewels he collected (for her)
& the crown?
& the un-questioned remark
& why was the dicey gun
& shooting off into her direction?
& was it misfireing all over the place?
& the song - Everlina

my love for you shall never never die


5. building the bay

for Saritams and her red shoe on a Shoefix page.

the CAT crane brakes down the house
sifting wood from the bricks - VaCoMet
Sloop en Grondwerken

the crack of pane, dawn
the tumbling of a boulder
listen! this is the sweetest sound!

the trumpet for the Muse is dusk
- she noshes on crevices
& the rubble rumbles inside her soul

9. a taste of Botticelli

'Artists, writers and thinkers feed each other but they forget to sau thank you.'
Ermias Kifleyesus

jumbo stone symbols for her to decipher
& to elucidate, she's the runner of Pia

three stones? four? Shelly's?
Yeat's too?

no! & a yes?
not filth!

& dripping from Santa Chatarina's wall
Montzerat's tear

that smudges the image
of Cap d’Oltrera

18. tremendo, Estartit, July 2008

fireworks over Illes Medes, the moon
at La Platera is round and full
- La Devin du Village

& creamy-coloured her shoes, mauve suedes
you said you bought it for her
but you lied - but show it, there's

a reason for lieing

oh, salty flanks of Saint Jordi
& tremendo the universe, now its falling
from the heavens - look! poetic!

& travelling do the soul reach its home
tonight - but darling, where's the baroque espirit
the play & design & the ethernal rhyme?

only in the syntax, in the semantic curl & in
grosso glossiness - it is dripping from fleshy moist
pages and broken hearts - foiled love

& in the tone of abscenences, of naked needs
black sweetnesses - the grapes from breathy Emporda
- sweet, sweet, sweet they are & there’s

the malet of moulasse in faces
& poets pick at the faces, their whim
redicule & poetry & make mirrors of it all

& of realities of you, of art forms, new forms
from loosily looney souls - pick at the looney soul!
pick at the lonely soul!


23. strange II – the messenger

'This poem is dead, old and rotten, throw it away!'
- Mannekin

like an illusion, it happened
like plastic wrapped & worn-out
sandels wasted in the marsh, 3 of them

she tossed her found way away, shoe away, the imp!
my god! a shoe on her focus! such a degenerated
offering, cantation &/or calculation!

***

no single gemstone for her, nor lanky air
only the antechamber of her prison cell
only the rota & an the aquamarine sword

hidden
in the lithe behind the pickly black of a bush


Part 2 - poetry from the book
Ghent, 2009

1. prologue

taking notice? else
& unlike Manson’s the other day
- his worrisome behaviour!

& up on the plinth, the editor declares
that the singer should hand-over his costume
& others amicably obey

& once more, always with the Alaskian bixto - she's
like Josephine Palin - appearing on the scene
and vanishing from it yet again

& at tempo


2. a poem (of being) alive and dead
for Anne Cambier

Made@
the festival, a modern baroque one
tipped the top

& the hat - salute!
superb to be so easily & early
in the year as spring is

& out-sprinting autumn - but others
had daggers & no choices
there was the Kleine Nacht Muzik

of Mozart

for example as well & then
the rain came & the ceremony
& inside their shirts

people wore their souls
in sheaths

& the inside came out then, become
known & the worm too peeped
from in its hole & there weres lovers

in the foyer too

& the music & the sexy soprano
as winter skipped summer
out-beating it

& it went on

& on and on
& lovely Maria Antoinette
& ses Airs was, a beautiful example

of how organic the plushy animal
at Kaffee Zimmermann, the art
of performing art, is


3. giocaste – Greek love story

a way, die Kunszene
& the woman has fluff-hot sex-appeal, life
but she's wasting away , this time

the contra-soprano

stole the show & many of the other events,
the dizzy, grizzly bear, its head on shoulders,
Anatife & Bernache with bi-focaled glasses

with the f/centers off-center

& then Jan Wellem's quest - hang
het klein kind niet uit, man - conflicted
with the director's deciscion, but its known

that the actor speaks 4 languages of which 2
are foreign to all around him, the venacular
& constantly he uses strange expressions

& as if its bent beneath the norm
verse merely describ the processes
in literature & from being vain, Filoro

- nothing will come from him -

& always at the wrong moment
he buggers up - the floorboard &
the broken mirror

& Feraspe! & the military came
& Cirene with Delmiro
& it was opera from the 17th century

& not poetry


5. candle
Composition of material supplied by Ora Odoura
- A.S.

-tear (tears, tearing, tore, torn)

1. If you tear paper, cloth, or another material, or if it tears, you pull it into pieces or you pull it so that a hole appears in it.
2.
3.
4.
5. To tear something from somewhere means to remove it roughly and violently.
6.
7. If you tear somewhere, you move there very quickly, often in an uncontrolled or dangerous way.
8. If you say that a place is torn by paricular events, you mean that unpleasant events which cause suffering and division among people are happening there.
-tear apart
-tear away
-tear down
etc

I think it is a bit of all that, no?


6. using the notation:

Composition of material supplied by Michael Hoag
- A.S.

flats,
flats and double flats
- and double.

double sharps
this notation for an hour
(touch)

with only strings
yesterday
we made the notches

& now we may ruin imprecision
& go to unfamiliar points
& ouch of bow

- sharps



Part 3 – Watery reflection of time
– Ghent, Belgium, April 2007.


1. add a d

Bachcantates, Monteverdi’s Choir
echoes the sound of human voices
& at the darker side there's eggshell

muffs

& in northern light this quiet
damp October shrills
like footsteps

***

Mrs Eliot Gartiner,
unapproachable now, is unbemused
& takes flight

a fugitave to the ranks, the banks
of Nete & river, the upper
& lower part


2. living in a story2

‘Voi non siete fatta per esser paesana.'
– Don Giovanni

'Life is not a bal masqué' she said, Donna
Anna when you whisper into his ear, he will laugh
into your face - he, the word you fears
& the snake that sheds skin, taking on

the form of a lover in pain

‘Buy him a face, the coward ...' she said, Donna
Elvira when you murmer softly, licking his lips, he will shrug
off the tout - he, the sentence you detests
& the basalisk producing an egg, making it

with the smile of a lover in triumph

Donna Zerlina, you too, beg into him & tenderly
give him what women most need to waste, their all
’Your face is but a mask …' offer it – he, the refuse
with a snort & the story you hates

- the poisonous debris behind the lover in flight


Part 4 - Four dead horses
– Estartit, May 2009

4. the space of words
‘Under a heading ‘never asked’ she asked to see me. With an SMS she said ‘I will never SMS you! But miricals are made, dearest dear, you know that, don’t you?’
-Mannekin

inside the words lies tithies
in heterogeneity there's space

and safer than heaven, places
but

& spatializations of languages
& evanescences – she didn’t turn

up in the end
not at L’Espace des Mots, she didn’t

***

I suggest they free her now
Aung Sans un Kyi

she's done her bit
hasn't she?


5. Marlene Dumas

’The Magician of the North, Johann George Hamann is an Idealist!’
- Annomous

with ‘Measuring Your Own Grave’ she measured
mine, yours and the Caller Man’s

‘Ut pictua poesis’
painting became word

same’s when born again
flesh & logos

& what remain


6. white cows in NYC

'Das nicht festgestellte Tier'
- Metzsche

'I drink nature like coffee' - but
the verse is just a basic potential, a falsifier
empty as any/every a thing

& when done - there
are white cows in NYC & in L.A. there's
a black crow - it is squaking at me

now, when looking through this keyhole
- by Gurdjeffs' enneagram & on the other side
of the Santa Barbara's mountain, there's

my own blue eye guawking, peeping
god! surveilling me
controlling the processes of the dark

nutmeg nursery rhymes
taking place inside me
and you


27. tenure

'& in the end though
it became the encryption
of the Two Worlds of the Daughter of Rosa.'
- A.S.

cucumber love, then citron-yellow
& blue-black gurkin from Estartit’s garden
- the story is the story of her, its truely
the story of her, yours

& poetry at its plenty, poetry
oh it’s the Muse’s poetry, plentifull
& his story is her story, is truely
the story of her, mine

& harm doesn't come on the way,
no sirree, it doesn't into this at all - never
or, but truely its a story, its truely
the story of you and me

29. art critic

Lohengrinicker says, an art critic
oh, she's like a pimp & yet
with the exception

that pimps fill in – give job, make
headway, etc. when the staff's off duty
or checking in at clinics for tests

of HIV

& the poet, nobody
fills in for the poet, never
(not even himself)

©Argo Spier
ISDN - 2003-09-06 and upon request

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