Saturday, July 22, 2017

Kristen de Kline #115 Where this ends

I don't know where this     ends

1. Cops.

Officers pound on the front door
a detective paces up the driveway
smokes a couple of Winnie Blues   flicks ash on the crown
of the golden Buddha, hiding in the shrubs

Our boy loved to make shrines for the Buddha, fat and laughing
buried him with plastic lotus flowers     incense sticks
orange tea light candles    offerings of stray fruit - a pink lady
or two     laughing and fat, the Buddha      

2. Court Room No. 3

You fold the poems into origami darts, aim paper
planes at the presiding magistrate's bench:

...   at the edge of Lawless  
a man with hollow bones chatters in the darkness
chrome car corpses hoisted up on wooden beer crates
gasp     for breath
two meth heads languish in a V-line carriage     a voice crackles about a delay
an 'incident' up the line:     another jumper  
broken     hearted  
former     person
comes
undone ...

3. The car.

You've lost the car     again
fourth espresso at the café   pins piercing a voodoo doll
glass shards from a broken mobile spike your index finger
the duty clerk scrambles your name on the PA
your ex tells the cashier: She can pay for her own bloody coffee
again     you leave the keys in the car
carry your sons' luminous basketball boots     walk away
search for your MyKi   wait for the last train to Southern Cross
 
4. Broken     (not).

...  at the edge of Lawless
ropes burn      spoons bend
cars rust   that's just the way it is
children drink her blood
patches of blue bleed across the skies
is that your heart  
malfunctioning ...

can I rip it out?

Where this ends I don't     know


14 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. ...as if the body is/will be scarred by a succession of state acts, like a slow execution?

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    3. Yes Rob! iIt will go on ... and yes it is a narrative about bodies, scars, a sequence of state acts not unlike a slow execution. Spot on!

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    1. Lord where it ends
      the end of a rope a cell
      or some fucking president
      yeah I won't be there
      but there will be others
      brothers and sisters
      and wherever that ends
      fuck that against the world

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    2. Another great stanza Rob for your Faint Dictionary of Scars sequence. I'm enjoying them a lot :)

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    3. Thank you for listening so well, dear Kristen. It's hard to stay non-political when writing about the body, I think. When it's connected to the mind, then as I wrote you before, it seems all the many consolidations of shit the State has dumped on me/us comes down. Feels like a slow execution. Which sadly is more about a life than a poem. But because we're poets we will follow though. A few very good things will ensue.

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    5. Yes indeed Rob, it is hard to write about the body without keeping politics out - the end of a rope, a cell, the powers of the State and Courts to make some deaths/crimes accountable and other people's bodies (and lives) disposable. I like your slow execution analogy too - tying it in with the scarring of the body and mind. And what can we do as poets but follow through and write :)

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