1. |
Lately
00:33
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Lately the sun went down,
all thankfulness aglow, all shame
in dusk’s hunger vanishing.
Soon the moon went up,
the cages rattled and were lifted –
like your hand upon the book.
While they howled at your mercy
we were little white lanterns
gone out around the brook,
and given these things,
all thankfulness aglow, all shame
in dusk’s hunger vanishing.
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2. |
Prudent Nature
01:35
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3. |
Long Live the King!
03:39
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4. |
Gunsnap
00:58
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shotsfired, shotstaken
medicine: mine, a song
breathewitness, breathesong
mine: a medicine, taken-
-shots, firedshots, snapgun –
witness: point of symmetry,
I sing you:
breathe, a songmine
medicine, breathe: song,
a mine:
takenshots, firedshots
snapgun, breathe –
shotstaken shots-
-fired gunsnap, breathe
a witness, songmine
medicine, takenshots
firedshots, snapgun –
breathe:
cameranglera
cameranglera
cameranglera
shotsnap,
takensnap,
snapfired,
guntaken,
breathe.
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5. |
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"Sonnet for the Sentries"
This sign-post glares: to gather,
awarding each tongue
with the secret of sentries
as nature slowly swings,
rewarding the risk
of this waking hypnosis,
caught in the branches
of her speechless breath,
just like that of a widow,
just recently named;
will you each stand guard and speak?
Lamenting in wordless whispers…
Each overlapping word’s coarse image,
its universal edges, cause you to cry out!
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6. |
And Youth is the Moon
00:39
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In this mutiny of light, these
images, like lamps, like dreams
they hover, trembling with
arcane hands, distracted –
flit above our heads.
They’re like lakes in the sky upside-down.
It isn’t raining though, and youth is
a satisfied wound showing bone,
the last light out of the airshaft,
a memory’s despair in growing old –
and crawling through unseen currents,
night’s rippling invention’s upstaged:
the last line erased until dawn.
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7. |
Immacule
01:44
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8. |
Dada
04:10
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Stray evening, set like a spade
in rich soil, anticipation in the line
remains unwritten, and lacking
perspective the table grows – .
now a finger of time, coughs out
a pendulum; the unit of stanzas, as resin
enrages the gears, is an unsettled absence
aloft in the bed of portraits. Look,
child, waiting for the salt in public:
remote leather has mastered
innumerable hollows, endangered cold
silver, a strategy still whole.
For like a branch beating bars,
contentment’s are virtuous dresses
transforming over sand still waves;
our trust over ribs rattled lean,
twin purple depths pitted like
brass against rags,
rubbed your logic like hammers –
swept honor’s origins out.
Pressing the button for the elevator,
naughty little mite, he musters up his strength,
waiting for the tick,
that rhythm-y clock of music not used to tell time,
a finger, hanging on the wall a key –
inhabited people, sitting under lock and
doorknob, fascinating problems with their heads.
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9. |
Sunspring
00:41
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Child of the other sun,
how latent pass the blossoms
of our hearts as thieves
bristle their leaves,
how late the speaker turns the thorn.
And now as yellow forelimbs fall,
their voided caskets irritate the sparrow –
like you, to whom no thistle
rises in the bread.
And when my heart swings gently,
avoiding the price it leaves there,
glowing so coldly without a name,
this egret of a stone-stiff back –
one feather, it winters no number.
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10. |
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"Augury"
Sit still, let the image traverse you
like the stone
that brings a melody more distant
to its close,
to endure the speaker’s place, at last
an ally;
truth is not fact
nor denied the intent
of a dreamer to unveil it.
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11. |
Woodsdrip
03:21
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Vestigetome, visagetome, livingtome
bluewall barbedthistle, hatch
skywillingness, vesteddi ceopenspa
speak nothing, finally
Nothinggivesnothingsees liereal
truthrest nothinglie nothingtruth
lierest stdiveenspa’ceop, then
nothingpure witchnothing, finally
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12. |
Nocturnal
00:35
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The light began to imitate
the truth, to tease you out in worship;
our loss went floating –
for when gravity let go of me,
and flight did nothing
to illuminate the ground,
on unseen currents, you never waited.
I do not know
that death is kind
to teach the joy of madness;
stepping out of my place
I know it is not
really there.
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13. |
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14. |
Nativity
03:04
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I
Witness as art
Observance the subject
Are all things deep as wells
From song, spring angels
struggle to walk
Confusion traces
No reason
II
child, Silence
execution –
are glasses
Razed
Confusion
traces
no reason
III
it comes back calling
not yet deadened,
The Wind The World
is Inverse
Frame it turned
out ashen falls the distance shores
go out, go in
Go out into the cold, get
into it
IV
Honor,
the first word
flap-reels
aimlessly at the corner;
horses:
Peel from the edges
flame
watch the librarian
watch empty pages
for no reason
V
When the soft voice is ready
confusion
traces
no reason
nor a fool’s reflection
VI
when hidden
time places
three plates at once
no imagine
New Year’s Day
can Memory,
stuck in your twilight,
be Dark? is thought
the map of that silence
now,
is the soft voice murky
how many ties
are ages dying
while white Mountains
peel out flames
is the soft voice ready
To fell a horizon,
equal,
Gate in years…
What is your honor
as red as happiness?
VII
Confusion
Traces
no reason
The Trance’s physical wind,
brutal horses’ wind,
Is the soft body ready
a stroke of genius
slid off proof
VIII
Reflect
a sound Walk forth
from ages since
past Life is given
a more honest reel,
from white sand thunder
stands as reals out turn
The distance
IX
Please break,
a tense glass raised:
To silence –
a form of treatment, Eyes
in time Less seconds
if ‘I’m
the moving
train,
Is the soft boy ready
X
Only one blown over, fallen, all nameless
– framework
cloth caresses,
void
XI
of a crimson backdrop, wind
no trace has been outlined,
not fallen; felled, All colors gone of a
green, the ribbon most certain
a library watches
the empty page, because
equals gaze in years
XII
– the framework
cloth caresses,
ceases
void
the Word,
the abysmal mountain
Come up from the Earth
“to the blasting.”
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15. |
Snowflake
01:51
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16. |
Vestige
00:51
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fruit flies useless
because they can no longer fly
give use to me
tear me away from my home
that I can witness its eyes
are opening: appendme,
stake
in wood workwrithed
through
bodies estated low
pick pocketknives
waste them
comeoutcome
come through
them wastewrithed
microflaw, cowl,
woodfaction tall –
a camoufledgling:
Iohreev –
Cain’smark devoured
bedbar anger h blazon
ck’failurecane
meoot – me oot – me mute
trespass,
rendersurenervate
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17. |
Galileo
03:06
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As a poet, I am wilderness –
suffering a circle of eyes
that have long since passed,
can anyone agree?
Those dull spurs,
before a needle’s surface,
for a woman to witness, lay
beneath the planet of your ode.
But as your name is round,
heave it up to the north,
as red as pewter.
These loyal quarters
rise in the mouth like straw,
the hand half-blind.
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18. |
Dead Hands
00:26
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Inward, downward, inward –
hollow space, dead hands, we draw the nectar of the wind
like smoke into our veins. The great enigma turbines
once the dead have passed,
a hand so fine it breaks
the screen that lines our
windowpockets.
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19. |
Reflections
02:50
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20. |
Y'dob T'fird
00:58
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seiretsy m’rorrim, rit
s’noitce fre, pmi’evalc d’uorh
s’ret, tat’dool begadna: b’ruoy –
derh’sht, olcnaom
elahni:
y’dob t’fird
elahxe;
ecit sujeciohc erusae m’ruoy
elacs’ec neli, s’etacil p’xe
nigriv ec apsorcim
yrte mmys’tnio: pneddih
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21. |
Launch
02:12
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Nothinghappened flinch
knob wrestledwithinscription
nothingcame, nothinggone
same drift – sandnoon, timenoon
clouds, timeequatornothing
cloudnothing, stormnothing
soundnothing, clipnothing
nothingvestigescarreplace
scar, replicatereply
none
one
on
n
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Eliot Cardinaux Amherst, Massachusetts
Born in Dayton, Ohio in 1984, Eliot Cardinaux is a poet and pianist now living in Northampton, Massachusetts. He is the founder of The Bodily Press through which he has released the works of others, as well as several of his own chapbooks & CDs.
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