Wednesday, February 11, 2015

BLAST: To Adam Czerniawski, un-posted       [Stefanie Bennett]
 
                        
(“I’m not speaking to you/but through you to others”) Z. Herbert
 
 
 
Irony, the coat we all abhor
With selective
Cuffs and paisley collar
Held in place
By a flair of air
Enough to substantiate
The bombastic
Twenty-first century’s
Illuminati’s
Midas touch
That sucks -
 
“I’ll toss you
For it!”
And does: -
 
Irony, great bubble-gum omega
Of the Brain-drain Trust,
 
Hope’s forerunner, afire
Feigning in and out
Of a dogmatized theologian’s
Wherewithal show-bag
 
Shooting on past the Cyclops
Miscellaneous meat-train
To Odessa
                Sidewinding
An eclipsed ‘said’
Destitute Timbuktu and
Niagara, falling
 
Beyond my barbed-wire constituency,
My Medicean
Negligible
Care moment’s
Aptitude
Test -
 
... Irony! The lawless countered
Cold steel
Heat conductor,
Ry Cooder
Pumping a bemused
Butane sigh
 
Into the invisible outstretched
Arms of another
Misinformed
                   Magnanimous
                   Amputee’s
Checkmated flag’s
Berkeleian
Surrender:
 
Irony –,
 
I salute and replicate
The moon resting
In the olive tree
Branches,
Keeping her
Cone cast eye
On the blind
Widower’s white cane
Skirting
A Passover’s desensitised
Symmetry,
The blitz
Of silence
That is
Herr Eichmann’s
Understudy’s
Multiplex renascence...
Its never-to-be
Disputed
 
Legacy.
 
 
 
WHAT THE WORLD FORGETS        [Stefanie Bennett]
 
{“Look, it is evening/look, it is nearly night: what/
do you speak of/lovers, poets, generals...    ?”}
 
                                    Marina Tsvetaeva 1915
 
 
Rode it out for hours-.
Delivered it
Piece by piece...
“That collage,”
Spoke
The voyager,
 
“Once blew
A tabloid
To bits.”
 
 
 
MOTIF – for Jacki    [Stefanie Bennett]
 
... In Nevermore
The headstone
Was looking
Good. A real eye-
Opener.
Mystifyingly
Abrasive – but
None-the-less
Opulent.
 
Pity about
The rest,
Edgar.
Pity ‘the night’s
Plutonian
Shore.’

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...