02.07.08
Nemo soliloquy
I was clearing out an old cabin in back today and came across some long lost sonnets written years ago, as I roamed the country, the penniless scholar of Greek. Here’s a nemo piece rescued from the gnawing mice. I had forgotten all about it.
Nemo (an Indian prince) surfaces in the South Pacific and broods on the First Noble Truth, and man’s powerlessness and egoic pseudo-will, indeed as if confronted by the sea. See also Mysterious Islands at H&E.com
What could will be if choice is barren wish
That asks the parrot’s cracker for its sup.
I have self bounds, no oozer like the fish,
My plans are set, my projects up and up.What could will be if futures cast the dice,
That this plusperfect live as one possessed?
We zoom these eyes, to jig a small device,
It woofers all our songs in love obsessed.What might will be if thrust and action feud,
And rust the finish in the upstart plan?
We could be choiceless in a trackless mood
That is tack-sail if blow oppose the man.I am the crew and helm, gale from a cat’s paw,
No pirate save to self, where seas inherit law.
sillykitty said,
February 20, 2008 at 9:02 pm
history–by tomaz salamun
Tomaz Salamun is a monster.
Tomaz Salamun is a sphere rushing through the air.
He lies down in twilight, he swims in twilight.
People and I, we both look at him amazed,
we wish him well, maybe he is a comet.
Maybe he is punishment from the gods,
the boundary stone of the world.
Maybe he is such a speck in the universe
that he will give energy to the planet
when oil, steel, and food run short.
He might only be a hump, his head
should be taken off like a spider’s.
But something would then suck up
Tomaz Salamun, possibly the head.
Possibly he should be pressed between
glass, his photo should be taken.
He should be put in formaldehyde, so children
would look at him as they do foetuses,
protei, and mermaids.
Next year, he’ll probably be in Hawaii
or in Ljubljana. Doorkeepers will scalp
tickets. People walk barefoot
to the university there. The waves can be
a hundred feet high. The city is fantastic,
shot through with people on the make,
the wind is mild.
But in Ljubljana people say: look!
This is Tomaz Salamun, he went to the store
with his wife Marushka to buy some milk.
He will drink it and this is history.