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.’
