no need for never

i've moved this blog here: winebowl.wordpress.com

[ & you can always contact me at joe.gerace@gmail.com ]

American Sentence, No. 3

White whirring fan blades, waves of passing cars, then one idiot whistling.

American Sentence, No. 2

Foolish not to sleep when God is watching like Kilroy out in the bush.

American Sentence, No. 1

Keep out from under the bed — dust, spiders — wonderful to hide, really.

sense memory no. 1 [revision, 082120121512]

suddenly the sweetness of some fruit 

i can't recall 

memory's maw models some flowery drupe, 

a mango

spread across a lisp thin wheat

the saccharine spear implacable 

i heave on repeat, breathe 

in hopes of dislodging the pneumonic 

of seeds, split and juice — an unmistaken

missing flame

[for Matthew Rohrer, 062120121546]

Interrobang — Page 11, Line 11, Part 1

So many lovers loved

built up into careful

bedside stacks — which to read

first, which to repeat

"According to what has ended up inside it," Kim said.

What and why, indeed?

When the cushions call who 

can resist? Clever, diabolical, 

it's a reaction, always to you, forgive me

"I reacted subjectively, assuming they wanted me to show off," Lenny said.

I resist, I resist, and I do not resist — forgive me

but leave me here, endless fingers fondling

his timing belt

again

"The wrong kind of difficulties and ambiguities," Charles said.

these lips — there are dreams to be drunk

as something shadows up my keep — like 

life keeps calling me back to sleep. that settles it;

and i check the size on her hardcover sleeve.



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uproariously disappointing

why i wondrously't

i canonicalize't lethe your winnipeg

youthfully'll lettering it go to youngstown hearsay

it mightiest raincoats

i'm justices tiredly of talking

i'd feeds siciliana instituted

i'm justness tiresomeness of talmudization to yourselves

i've gottfried taking a shivered

i'm justice tire of tallness to yours andrews thawing smitten

yourselves've heavers it allstate already

anything, neighboring of us canning propagating anybody.

[previous post run thru The Eater of Meaning]

why i won't

i can't let you win

you'll let it go to your head

it might rain

i'm just tired of talking

i'd feel sick inside

i'm just tired of talking to you

i've gotta take a shit

i'm just tired of talking to you and that smile

you've heard it all already

anyway, neither of us can prove anything.

lenny bruce tattoo v5 [08062012]

I

time fogs

a feather in her handwriting faintly 

beneath the surface of the mirror

...

secondhand smiles dribble down my chin

but the look into her eyes is our first mistake

sun swirling across her pepperbright skin

sin on an extant coffeeshop couch

II

time flashes

x

x

x

x

x

x

III

time glows

x

x

x

x

x

x

IV

time sinks

x

x

x

x

x

x

V

time swells

x

x

x

x

x

x

...

"what do you mean he kissed a leper?

"what's the point in that? you kiss them

"and they fall apart."

lenny bruce tattoo [draft no. 4]

torn; 

a failing feather in her handwriting 

faintly hidden under the mirror

secondhand smiles dribble down my chin

convince, looking into her eyes is my first mistake

sun swirling across her pepperbright skin

sin on this surely extant coffeeshop couch

remind me of how her wrist, peachly thin 

x
recalls mad machinations and I must begin

x

...

floating, the breeze breaks when we 

i can't blame anyone but myself

or maybe my mother, who first floated the thing, 

saying, "i can't blame anyone but myself." but 

i'm convinced: this is a good idea, sold to a lioness

before waking beside her 

her new sweat massaged into the mattress 

in the aura of whatever, is sold without much sell 

then buyer's remorse: this sweet thing cannot smile back.

...

"what do you mean he kissed a leper?

"what's the point in that? you kiss them

"and they fall apart."

lenny bruce tattoo [draft no. 2]

there's her handwriting 

hidden faintly in the mirror.

...

i'm fat with second hand smiles

the sun gliding across your pepperbright skin

here on this coffeeshop couch 

convincing elbow high across the overfull beast

...

it's simply floating here, i can't blame anyone but myself

or maybe my mother, who first floated the thing, 

saying, "i can't blame anyone but myself." but 

i'm convinced: this is a good idea, sold to a lioness

before waking beside her 

her new sweat massaged into the mattress 

in the aura of whatever, is sold without much sell 

then buyer's remorse: this sweet thing cannot smile back.

...

"what do you mean he kissed a leper?

"what's the point in that? you kiss them

"and they fall apart."

lenny bruce tattoo [draft]

there's something to be written about self-awareness

_____ i was smiling there on the coffee shop couch convincing

_____ arm slung — casually, so casually, completely casually 

_____ — casually over the back of the second hand couch and sun gliding

_____ across your skin — pepper bright 

i can't blame anyone but myself

_____ this is a good idea, sold at a lioness price

_____ today — in the aura of whatever 

_____ — is sold without much sell  

_____ buyer's remorse: this thing cannot smile back.

"L'angelo del povero" [by Giuseppe Ungaretti]

L'angelo del povero

Ora che invade le oscurate menti
Piú aspra pietá del sangue e della terra,
Ora che ci misura ad ogni palpito
Il silenzio di tante ingiuste morti,

Ora si svegli l'angelo del povero,
Gentilezza superstite della'anima...

Col  gesto inestinguibile dei secoli
Discenda a capo del suo vecchio popolo,
In mezzo alle ombre...

_______________

The poor man's angel

Now that the harsher mercy of blood and earth
Fills our darkened minds,
Now that the silence of so many unjust deaths
Judges us at every heartbeat,

Now let the poor man's angel waken,
The soul's enduring gentleness...

With the undying gesture of the ages
May he alight before his ancient people,
In the midst of the shadows...

_______________

from Giuseppe Ungaretti's, Affliction, 1950
Translation: Andrew Frisardi

sense memory no. 1

suddenly the sweetness of some fruit

i can't recall. 

memory's mouth models peanut butter, avocado

spread thin onto toasted brown bread

and the saccharine spear implacable 

causes me to heave, breathe heavily 

in hopes of dislodging a pneumonic 

of seeds split and juice spit — an unmistakeable

missing

[for Matthew Rohrer, 062120121546]

a companion to '44. palmate antlers'

their horns clash

and felted dung

flung off in a chunk

a forgotten sacrament 

spills into soil.

[for 44. palmate antlers by adam clemente]

"Change the habit & you change the man." [draft]

they're back on
the lights
and i want to speak to you
about the bathroom door
without mentioning the bathroom
but between us
you & me
i'm thinking about buying a new TV
maybe two
Stone Johnson fades
Stop thinking about it; you've paid your bills
I've had my fill
waking up
Everything are you hungry?
Ballers & Poets sweat in different ways
so... make your own connections
I won't do your homework for you

[don't look at the camera.]

death & a sweet

balancing youth
against youth as the thing heats
grinding his flint
sinew tall & incisor lean

lapping now, she's a burner
death & a sweet
oxidizing dream
cream ballistic, stop and frisk

a billystick he bandies with a fecund brick
passing from hand to hand
darkening venus's thong — drinking whatever slips
from her lips.

Even if a husband lives 200 hundred fucking years, he'll never discover his wife's true nature. I may be able to understand the secrets of the universe, but... I'll never understand the truth about you. Never.

the wire; s1e1 — test

Check the files
perfect round & red
to pink to neon-blue
irrelevant but real
you can't bring back the dead
none can force you to court.

Friday night in the alley
too much information, photographed
and cataloged in America. Black
fingerprints pressed
significantly into bulletproof glass.