Bill Lavender
Meditation on a Thought of Antin's (Second Hand)
>IT SEEMS, TO QUOTE ANTIN
>THAT WHAT WE'RE ALL INTERESTED IN IS
>THE SLIPPERINESS OF
>experiential knowledge
>NO ?
-- John Lowther
yes and some ground on which
one
cd. get a little more traction
since yr. right
the self never solidifies
hovers
a word
without etymology
i
what might once have been called i
like a stick stuck in the sifting
sand of
what urges, in the bergsonian
sense, a
capitulation to the current, don't
kick against the pricks &
most especially the downsloping thorns
that line the pipe of meditation
meta phors
phosphorescent fishes in the slough of consciousness
what masters do i serve?
here stands i in the torrent
time is linguistic
implications of the embedded vertical understood, undermined
poetry is a discourse on freedom
what might once have been called freedom
the e x p e r i m e n t
not meant to test
but to break a bond
lw: no matter how we try to separate the definition
of a single concept in the many meanings of a word,
i n t h e e n d
all we will discover are the rules for the use of the word
freedom
even in the rule-bound, in the out
of bounds what separates
the concept from the sign
the
---»» soundimage ««---
& all its labyrinthine constructs
bent
to the laws of the mental
that the words wd. not be
as a clacking of wood on wood
their pure rhythm the dance
the whole sweaty work
of signifying not even
in the heart
but in the wood itself
purged for the oldest of reasons
like a scribe
assigned by the king to encode
the secret documents
the library the maps to the treasure
as to be unintelligible to their enemies
who, as anticipated, storm the castle that night
and kill of course first the defenseless scribe
and throw his body on the fire with the key still in his
pocket and they take the encrypted library
make it the basis of their science
build on it, add to it for two thousand years
a problem with
i n t e r p r e t a t i o n
an interpenetration of codes
guides by vanities
the meaningless milked
for every drop while the meaning
melted on the fire
hermeneutics, in other words
in
other
words
what might once have been called
words
& i have no desire to return
to a discourse that forces force by habit
the clacking of word on word each
a call to battle
no matter the meaning
though like these line breaks
and funny
spacings (so hard to under
stand) which, formally or utterly,
breaks a bond and strikes no blow
twelve inches in a foot twelve
hours to a day
no other meaning
but what shores structure
against the waves
undermining, moving under, the underpinning
the under meaning that we uncovered
architectonic
under the sink under the valley under the hip
where the rudely tin pan beat barely
even music can break a bond like distant swords
this lyrical eye
urge to send incompletes
the form the consolation
of form repetition as marla sd.
so passionately urge to send incompletes
a not-so-wellrounded cosmology extending
ambition and code
foreshadowing metaphor
beyond for
what might once have been called for
urgency bleeding
into time alone
and if
some worry about what's going on with these line
breaks- remember there isn't a philosophy
that doesn't go to battle
in its underwear
pinned
in its underwear
exigencies of form proscribe necessity
in the most determined mouth utterance
sputtered offers belief
everything else is classical music
hold to signs like buoys yes
but they will sink you
what substantiates, in the long
run, a
capitalization of the lost, don't
run among the pyres &
most especially the insufferable praise
that limns the mind of color
met a force
inconvenient lines in the vision of nothing
what exactly do they profit?
here stands i in the torrent
time is money
conventions of the old school ignored, undergone
no but some term in which
one
cd. have a little more inherence
since last fall
the others only coincide
numbers
a world
without flux
we
what might once have been called mind
like a flame doused in the living
water of
Acrostic #1 (Guillevic)
In noise
the heat escapes
cave among verities, enamoured
of feats
ice coiled events
where here¹s entombed, resisting every
light, igniting ghosts, heavy timber
was almost saved,
fearful ear aches rue fuel¹s undying lament
we even
have a vent, entry
been eerily entombed, near
dwelling wed even like links in nervous ground
these hearts escape sound easily
months on noon¹s thought handled shaking
under no description erstwhile rays
the hand enscribes
icicles, circles inching clearly less established stance
but utterance tips
this history, is same
is same
only numbers lie yearning
an no
image magic aging gilt¹s event
need ears edified dolorously
for orange rams
an no
image macro agonies gelded evenings
for orchids rancor
where he erred reliably, even
we expect
crouched rain over undulating churns, hunched edits drying
and never dry
hid identities down
was as slow
an n
amorphous, mourning orpheus relinquished, pinned, housed on unstable
sound,
place, language accepting celluloid end
far architectures ridden
down, ownership wanting note
below eleusis love¹s omens wind
language, anguished nuance, guiding usage, age, gender, everything
e-mail the poet at wlavende@uno.edu
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