Ghost Snow Falls Through the Void (Globalization)

Tenney Nathanson



No frays at your edges now
it’s scary. What did Rilke have in mind?

Silence is the shadow. Throat presses
sepulcher, voice becomes
that sensuous praising, god’s deathless passing,
fruit to any mouth.

In his mortal decay, stone’s fallen vineyard,
die all hills ripened whenever wine was ripe,
the dead with that ore
of glorious heart. all of us

summoned from the gods
came from the south like kings
into his grip
far from the doors of inexhaustible praise.

* is this the beginning or is something missing?
Nietzsche said I must be the subject of my propositions laugh laugh
there’s no remainder. John said it’s a collection of grievances and
       accomplishments, but mostly
grievances. In Tucson the Dalai Lama said
anger focuses the field to the point of a single cause sometimes
useful often not. What do you say? I say stay
stay, stay, stay, streak intrinsicality no
that was David. what do I say?

John from Falcon Pools is re-opening the broken ball valve and then

leaving it open
and I will learn to by-pass closing it

What is that under your robe?

Norman said the last one is delightful and restless not about words though
       run through them
which was very kind
one skewer
better than one finger
anyway easier on the hand
like one hand

the clouds which are lowering a little now with patches of gray livid is too
       strong a word were so floaty earlier this morning, soft
and buoyant as if in the air is water koan but no
the breeze was soft and wet but not like water, like spring she said, house
       rules are to remove the name
della primavera trasportata al
morale, ta-ra! ta-ra!

the hills to the southwest hover in softness still, gouached out more the
       further your eye goes, limit emptied into the color and texture of
       low sky
I think it’s poplars thrust up thin and wispy in the mediate foreground
or cypresses or cedars
it comes out of me as tree blather
the hills shed bulk (David Antin said all the mountains look like tablecloths
       in late Cezanne) and all the rocks are soft, fallen from space like
the green blue yellow kid-slide is held by the koan mu, no to you
americano camerado loveable huggable emily brown
the dog barks to say John is done in dog, I think
miss brown to you

these tessellated distractions are what I say I think
there’s the bell
nope he can’t fix it
it’s open but can’t be by-passed during cleaning without flooding the filter
so the big question is whether the American Home Shield warranty will
       cover the repair even though part of the pipe is underground and
       needs digging up and the spa will have to be drained to allow it
Americans are fat lazy stupid and pampered
thought Nietzsche as a general rule & fret endlessly about nothing laugh
no remainder over their pump propositions and their filter ones, and the
       proposition concerning what they think he thinks and the one
       which posits him laughing
a general regress as the mirror falls into the mirror
a god nods to a god
nothing tips hat to nothing
Lee Konitz laughed because I sang “I kick my ass as I pass” I was trying to
       do Billie Holiday
she actually sang “I tip my hat as I pass”
don’t you all get too familiar
some day
what do you say? all this junk?
What is that under your robe
I dunno sir.
is there a manuscript? I dunno but if there is
it bleeds into the clouds and low hills to which it intends to refer
oh bullshit the clouds are transfixed momentarily by sun and illumined
       the light pours around them at the frayed edge no and through
       them a little bit too
I am nothing but the subject of my propositions
glug glug glug
today that’s what I say: glug. What is that

under your robe? glug.

not tomorrow:
it will cut to the marrow.

she said.

                  January 25, 2006