Collecte Works (5 page)

Read Collecte Works Online

Authors: Lorine Niedecker

BOOK: Collecte Works
7.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

of my time and whose main frond cuts I shall have to regret.

Someone has said: rapid lighted pimperly advanced; I've forgotten

who. A little false for a person in my position: gloom-elmed,

gloam-owned, retreating. (Cuckoo, that juggling of hollow nuts)

Memory is blue in the head? Heads are easily taken off.

Move on from brown laterals of the same day, ascertain oneself

center of climatic being and fall all energy gone yellow.

For the emotion of fall has its seat in the acoustic gland;

wind: strong distance in closest places. On the life side then,

I stand out in the open again as do houses and barns.

I hear it from hand to hand there's been death on the road,

he, not finding where the flowers were, seized a tree.

If this is a game there must be refreshments, but if

dessert be fragile sky, trees pink-rust, crisp as a pie

with a butter-crust, I ought to be going home.

VII

I must have been washed in listenably across the landscape

to merge with bitterns unheard but pumping, and saw

and hammer a hill away; sounds, then whatsound, then

by church bell or locomotive volubility, what, so unto

the one constriction: what am I and why not. That

was my start in life, and to this day I touch things

with a fear they'll break. A cricket and poplar tradition

has me standing instead of running. Of course, no one cares

about my troubles except those who let themselves fall

into the determinism I've been so careful to create.

(Having fallen, cease to care—blue jay variants

have their own mode of call.) But who am I to observe

myself? Dynamist for being out of dream?

It's what comes of looking way back on the upper right

shelf of the lower left cupboard; never be witty

with any finality. From here, it takes so many stamps

to post the most modern researches.

VIII

Close the door and come to the crack quickly.

To jesticulate in the rainacular or novembrood

in the sunconscious…as though there were fs

and no ings, freighter of geese without wings.

I know an ill for closing in, a detriment to tie-ups.

They pop practical in a greyfold, bibbler and dub—

one atmosnoric pressure for the thick of us.

Hurry, godunk, we have an effort to wilt.

I shall put everything away, some day,

get me a murmurous contention, and rest.

 

 

Canvass
1

Unrefractory petalbent

prognosticate

halfvent purloined

adark

vicissitudes of one-tenth

                      steel-tin

bluent, specifically unjust

                cream    redbronze

attempt salmon egress

masked eggs

             ovoid

              anodyne lament

metal                    bluegreen

                                              drying

                             smoke dent

exceptional retard

bald out

affidavit

flat grey shoulder.

carrions eats its call, waste it.

He: she knows how

for a testament to Sundays.

For exhibition
2

for round

of or

      in the young beautiful of life

      hat laid away, done for . .

help a doorlight undergo

                                       monotones

faily

             refervid

     emotionally

or coral on black velvet

gumdrops and proletarian fiction . .

fast whaler

formaldehyde

                   backline reversed

no ageratum

mine might blast the nose

impectinal . .

a

                      jellying

                      If you

      Denmark

whisper

             I can't quite notify

an extreme time.

Tea
3

dilemma

my suit, continuous

dear hind button off . .

the velocities with which different

     fluents change

Newton's

              compose in the mass

wander

          anent

                  anyone

(negress certainly not)

                                    sidewheeler

                    painted:

on the next moon

                    be still: we are near life

focus your face to a

then oh, divers lanterns in

I meet

          sworn

                    thick

                            think

shuffles o loud foot.

to come to the end and pass it

but I am having

Beyond what
1

decapitated areas

momently to the constant removal

liquidating aftermath

inspired marksmanship

Devil the ash trays show it

instant with glee

black winged lazuli

beets redden and revert

I heard
2

too far for me to see

lest we forget

no fan thank you

peonies

if only one could

I was born on a farm

I watched arrive in spring

city your faith in arches

Memorial Day
3

Thou hast

not foreign aggression

but world disillusionment

dedicated to the proposition

of an ice cream cone

and the stars and stripes forever

over the factories and hills of our country

for the soldier dead

Stage Directions

The window woman whose dress has been hung and draped

looks out. There's a wax-wing on every leaf, hay background,

statecraft, salve smell and lavish retort. Shh…

the man with the juniper growth to his beard,—bankers

leave their wives to their safes and redouble openings.

They walk around the oblong and Oh is the heart of the modern

furniture. Once out the knock is on the other side.

I seem to take
un ciel
, a circle in another tongue.

Have we experienced a cycle from which we are likely

to recover, or have we seen the death of an era? A loop

of blue light shows white organdie ruffles herself.

My hat—it was taken for a flight—too sad for my face

to assume. Young escort bows. I can't pick a thing up

and bring it to successive stages. Yet for what we see

the mind has to sink down out of sight—perhaps not possible

for us. But think how paultry: the common black and white,

the breakfast table and then all the rest of the meals.

We have our limberger but we mustn't bring it to the table.

Have you been married? Yes, I've been attacked.

The ring of light flames as on comes the night scene

from Tremulus Asps. Somebody sleeps under the oatshed

and resets his pudding. Ticci Tape-over's buttons shine.

He points. I wish there was something to listen to

particularly. Wuzz or whir. His wife says he used to work

in a factory; now he's a gentleman—runs a beer tavern.

But he doesn't exercise enough. If only he could

make himself tired. Blackness soughs as a matter

of lighting. Fanatic acid. Constructions gleam—

triangles and verbal arra. Inimical Pop-its down front

kneeling in swift, strange prayers assure the world

they're dangerous. See how it brings the red swing closer.

 

 

Synamism

Berceuse, mediphala

and the continent. German and therefore unidentified.

Cricket night, seismograph and stitch. All tongues backed

by a difference. Likelihood without of left-overs cooling,

weatheroid and furor occult, functionary tri-mundane. And

the scientific equiptical left nerves on the floor.

Most

people have to have an attachment. It's all very tiresome.

To wag addenda. Add and add and you'll see it,

and there's nothing less.

The most famous resort

should know better than develop a scene around the face

of its beholder. Speaking of why a cherry orchard

has to become a world, why become a gabbling humanity?

Nobody attests a grove of titles. Are you an emblem

of discount? Superhoned? Assumptions taxed are most related

when untangled, the horn playing a thread, cows untended.

The best always stays where it is. Others have to break it

down to see it. Why dig when the dug is present? That holds

for silence. Light facades its works, ambulates in a single

area, tension regold. If you forget, remember: a wire fence

conceals a tree if it came first to the eye. Judgement:

a menstrualoid broke its shell, I was born.

It must be

not just a synamism between black and retreat but

a savage displacement in silk centre, these roundings

where a flower pulls embattlements down, displeasure

enlightens great eagles. Dancing the blood rim. Could hope

make it thinner? Reverse it and you have my offer to pay.

Galactic numena, eye floats and recitative. Pepitte,

this papering evening I want a theatre.

 

 

Will You Write Me a Christmas Poem?

Will I!

The mad stimulus of Gay Gaunt Day

meet to put holly on a tree

and trim green bells

and trim green bells

Now candles come to faces.

You are wrong to-day

you are wrong to-day,

my dear. My dear—

One translucent morning

in the development of winter

one fog to move a city backward—

Backward, backwards, backward!

You see the objects and the movable fingers,

Candy dripping from branches,

Horoscopes of summer

and you don't have Christmas ultimately—

Ultima Thule ultimately!

Spreads and whimpets

Good to the cherry drops,

Whom for a splendor

Whom for a splendor

I'm going off the paper I'm going off the pap-

Send two birds out

Send two birds out

And carol them in,

Cookies go round.

What a scandal is Christmas,

What a scandle Christmas is,

a red stick-up

to a lily.

You flagellate my woes, you flagellate,

I interpret yours,

holly is a care divine

            holly is a care divine

and where are we all from here.

Drink for there is nothing else to do

but pray,

And where are we all from here.

Throw out the ribbons

and tie your people in

All spans dissever

once the New Year opens

and snow derides

a doorway,

its spasms dissever

Other books

Redoubtable by Mike Shepherd
Untitled by Unknown Author
Dark Prelude by Parnell, Andrea
Loom and Doom by Carol Ann Martin
Perfect Stranger by KB Alan
Alpha Hunter by Cyndi Friberg