Canto VIII De vulgari eloquentia
whether an act of love or greed to grant all earthly power through breath and bone (though Dante believed his good intentions bore bad fruit) Crispus’ da removed to Greece evil began when jealousy unquenched read reports of foreign entanglements unknotted and nodded to executioners dispatched such without theory have all fallen when polymorphous present succumbs in the throat of eternity fossils covered by cloud spirits Sears Pledge Bounce Tide taste notwithstanding W Magazine notwithstanding WW Daily kneeling the pure products of America w/o whose news we die we die peanut shells litter the bar’s floor where barrels of roasted goobers magically dwell next to barnwood and nudes shot glasses bottles and Jesus all spread leisurely amongst believers and infected souls alike only in Baltimore in August edging sideways past the aquarium into the harbor and under the boats tied so lightly to the shore sailors waiting to rake oysters drunk on stools beneath the swells Fell’s Point drifting past Ft. McHenry and the switchblades flashing like Rockettes kicking NBC’s ass where poetry is not the only consolation and money not the only salve our fate not reducible to treasury notes even the Aztecs found something estimable in men’s hearts besides beating to the plow’s remorseless furrows hasn’t fellowship more to offer than shorn wallets more to propend than streaks of manure tilled deeply to crust and corn why go ahead baffled by love where dollars dry and shoals of shad spoil for our forks help is not fishy helpings fed one by one to the less aristocratic every moment when shortcuts bite the hand space breeds eloquence Una selva obscura
as spring comes on watch the forest darken under its canopy of leaves analysts need analysts what would poets need : Dante rants : the problem is you have to wait their deaths before you can consign them to icy hell over ouzo for that matter : drink your enemies with grappa chaser why does pastis turn water white only the shape changer could redo the coast of Liguria— had Mary landed there instead of France perhaps more beaches instead of rocks— perhaps the Saracens would have avoided resorts besmirched by bathing beauties : only the shape changer could understand Crispus and Absalom and their strange fathers : one resort on Cinque Terre has Atlas elevating a balcony— Monterosso : you have to wait till the lying bastards die before you can subject them better to be a king subjected to the terrors of Dis otherwise it’s war crimes on the first Tuesday in November or whatever and the state has 1 bad sky-high hurl after another Peristalsis Against Fascism hate is the space— behind the waterfall the rocks below— what hate heaves space empty : hate emptiness hate makes its own space Opera apropos of nothing has not a frigg’n song to sing about Crispus worse Crispus sunk to limbo while his da rose to Martian prominence court artists get a lot from each tile where he’s concerned plenty of detail in 2D no noodling is too much here mosaic : piddle here piddle there and pretty soon you’ve got S. Sofia monkeys giraffes penguins rattlesnakes behind the eyes should we have pinned Constantine— and would that have saved his son his wife mother silver screws tied to white wires and copper to black hark the light from carbonized filament hark the same thing from cotton only the energy channeled death to death life to life Edison bulbs like gladiolas sprouting from every ceiling some kind of artsy-craftsy nightmare where labor becomes dusk to dusk dawning— no spirit level no plumb bob those fascists shot and hung in the square were hard hunted through wheat fields bloodied staring and not staring seeing and not milky gaze superimposed on pastels’ glaze sharpend at edges and swirled in the corner simpering like V’s Venus puddling in lilies nous float like hyacinth like frogs on pads or faeries on Stilton
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