Monthly Archives: February 2014

The Bones Underground

 

Os Sous-Terrains

 

Without flash, there is barely a chance against the shadows.

We’re too deep underground

For the sun to remember us.

 

Once standing, once dressed, once giving people in a taking society,

Buried so that my family could never rearrange my bones

In the old limestone quarries.

 

I am one of six million.

Something like nothing, and a lot like detritus

Left over from the city mold growing

Over our skulls like halos.

 

In the dark we are the bones of Parisian

Bakers and florists and foundry men and captains,

Hidden to snuff the stink of our disease

That never left the bones of the men who carried us

Through midnight Paris suburbs,

And were probably later carried themselves

To our geometric stacks.

 

A national treasury

Of anthropologic treasures.

A salute and a slap

To the greatness of the Empire.

 

The Empire of the Sun that never sank,

That just spun around the world

With its fiery mean eye,

That never reached underground.

 

Underground.

Quietly dismembered.

A parade with everyone smiling,

Their lips long, long decayed.

 

We are stacked.

Night after night

Flashbulb after flashbulb.

We are

We are

 

The Catacombes, Paris, France
The Catacombes, Paris, France

 

<< Heureux celuis qui a toujours

devant les yeux l’heure de sa mort et

qui se dispose tous les jours a mourir  >>

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I Ride The Carousel of Memory

I ride

the carousel of memory

 

on chloroform

 

                        smashing the lightbulbs

                        smiling like my plastic pony

 

            riding on

            sweet sunset

 

                        round & round & round &

 

in this

circus-grotesque parade

 

I wave

 

                        flattening the ripples of time-space

                        with the batting of my eyelashes

 

            spinning on

            dear Apollo

 

                        on & on & on &

 

                                    it’s too dizzy

                        for me to think

            that must be

why I remember