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Poems By Poet Warren Falcon  10/1/2014 7:20:39 PM
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Warren Falcon   Best Poems From
  WARREN FALCON (04/23/52 - xxxx)
 
 
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  153.     

Love, When You Biting Tear The Ear Of My Hearing Bear Me Then

This poem is for four poets, among many others, but have
profoundly influenced my worldview, selfview, and voice:

for four poets - Robert Duncan,
Jack Spicer, Robin Blaser, and
Grandfather Walt Whitman


Where is that Spirit which living blamelessly
Yet dared to kiss the smitten mouth of his own century?
- Oscar Wilde, from 'Humanitad'


Love, when you biting tear the ear of my hearing
bear me then upon a steel altar by hammers tongued.

Estranged men hard slam their bodies upon
what Shine's there, flares each punch metal
to metal reinventing the last century or the
one before - this man and this other now into
Man/Woman-forged-new-culture, allow simple
hand in hand, no demand/punish upon any 'Other',
no price in-breath or out but allow public all
possibilities of once hidden worlds.

Knotted muscle, nerved cord, by heart and heat
implore/defy no sky nor pliant dirt deny but cloy,
hand in hand require only dissolution of the Old
Masters tyranny by Numbers insistent upon reduction,
odd waters trail calcinations/calculations-bodies
born of even water into mists, continuously reft
from Given, riven from Dream, such freed from
virtual into literal placenta and spleen, striven
history reshaped redeems a value once consigned to
Hell-realms confining dark thoughts to matter.


But only one
just finger,
dark, traces
delicate
a lace

conforms
forehead tip
to nose
then wet
lips
rose-swollen
with happy
use cries
and
barriers
break,
surge in
to new
terrain.

Does not it all bear
the familiar arc say,
of just-dawn color,
mauve-play at the liminal
curve where sky beseeches
bounded space to give
its shapeless-nest a
Cause, a nape conformed/
convex from Orbis what
has been scored by breath
pressed upon it?

Who then falsely may decree
any matted clot, spark-charged,
blood engorged, may not body-charge
ahead and into 'other' merge so
must be flung expurged behind
neglected Moon or plunged through
the bruised ring of abjected Space?


Hear me now


Thrice trace

an outline


Give form to

now dust me (I am)

awakening surprise


Here me how


there


and there


and yet


there again,


after hammers,


caressed

aureoles


and hosannas

outward turn



***
 
Warren Falcon
   
 

   
   
 

  154.     

Marcabre Dance For A Dead Mouse, After Robert Burns and Theodore Roethke

.
O little mouse, why dost thou cry
While merry stars laugh in the sky? - Sarojini Naidu


Wee brisket.
Gray fodder.
Thou art today tossed down
fat with grain.
Teeth sing to poison,
paws dance behind walls
taunting cat's tongue and
my impatient demand
'gainst thy nightly
gnaw gnaw
gnawing

Now brace for leaves.
Tossed from back porch to woods
Thy ballet's done, bitter fey.
Sun's up, swan song,

The cat play thee for a meal!
Wheel the poison again!
Swell fellow's passed on!
Reel, poison, reel!
 
Warren Falcon
   
 

   
   
 

  155.     

Memory Torques - Opening City

memory

torques

into soft

teas


June

steeps

turns

steaming

said window

(and torsos)

said prints

views obscured

of nothing

in particular

or special,

but

troubles,

troubles only

of passing birds

enamored-of

(their lighter
bones)


or


are they

cloud and shadow,

merely the steep

sun declining ashen

into the Jersey side?
 
Warren Falcon
   
 

   
   
 

  156.     

Mimimus Explains The Pluribus Unum Thing

And now come poets each century heavier than
before, heavier than the other few, this new one, too,
only bards, a real few, to bar, board up the big gaps,
O great light gaping torn, oft thee sung,
slung over shoulder, hauled, the burden,
o the load
it is now become.
 
Warren Falcon
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Warren Falcon