J A C K E T # 4 |
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Roger Pellett : poems
For a tall day by |
the talent scouts and
in the birth pattern,
cheap wine spilled
on the heather, what
matters. The strongest earth is a wind-blast, cozening|
dimensions for the far flick, the nasty gas; we quarter their
substitutes, but we don't ask for ours, while foreshortening
has reduced the train fare to whim, hair-care to custom.
It's done in the kitchen. A blast from the Entropics
sends helicopter into depression, but the loudspeaker gusts
a series of entitlements; fragmentary bits of episodes
from the Isles (Gilligan's)|
sporting the best
look: sodden hats in
shorts, au naturel.
Punks of Diderot
are smoking by the john
door, aware of their historical deterrence; an atlas for |
a drink. All waiting for Australian poetics to fatally
decode the leather mushroom, to brush lizard of destiny
(digital) right back into Planck's berth. It's a palmy arena.
What matters is there's nothing left to "steer" by, Pulaski
never dreamt two lanes to be one-way flowing, or
one-eyed maneuverable; the sky leans low over factory in
Jersey; green lawns|
cover their faces,
dope their votes. Al1
is a pulse or
a shattering of pulse; I
am a nun, or a flattering
concubine. Who would have thought Blakeian orgasm|
had pull in that country; the sandman puffs preludes
to the material, but doesn't explain the cuff, or
the delirious malnutritions of coffee; don't permit trux
there. Frisk me, says the NAFTA-heady barrister. One dose
of Java is enough to evince wallpaper's an anomaly
(the chink is shouting the retired slogan) as there are
no walls, just lan-|
guages, and students
of them; the
grammar's but a video
game, stunting skills
better left latent
such as lying to get a car for a date with Tom - Tom|
Eliot, that is. A line is missing from the stanza, but I
fix it (parenthetically); this window on the weald manageable
turns of dumb waiter. Marketing types deliverance,
shifty decoys to suggest substance where previously
powdered ill, decadent wormwoods, assed on backwards, and
took the Path. Solemnly, the priests and coaches declare
none; check the box.
from VISIONS OF CREELEY
1. [I Know a Man]
Crushed wink, I seyde to my
contrast in couthnesse, as I
babbling birth-since, to John no less
in silence, despite he's culled
an autre nom, slammed nominally, the
blackness slums preliminary blank-
nesse, what Wills sure will ward
it, nathless, caulks it, or shall us
well, will then, and purchase a Pontiac?
steer, you mutton, he slutted, for
sake of rudder, rood's man, see
the beam of the being, and watch yr turning.
2. [The Whip]
All in the narc dark, I twisted pauseless
in bed, mein Lieb a bird's tire, a hori-
zontal, deep Ding. She so very
blank and blanc, and also so still so
quiet, but there a level set above, top
house-and-heimat perched, was a girl, an
autre (Audrey) also I loved, had
laid my leaden lines' chore dopely on in a
stained eruption she
came, gingerly galloping, hoarse, back. That
be the choke Jack. But time found
me lonely, calm tried and shriek-
ing, what's Ding for content? Aaiieeeeee!
countered countess next me placing
forked fingers, her toothed thirds, on my
back, for which performed malice
I think, therefore to thunk, to iterate
this inked fate, to lace my salience, incurably.
3. [The Warning]
Amour's deleterious beckonings enunciate
this striver's indices to quarter, commit, enflame
catherine's wheels of scintillating devisals
just behind yr mediterranean sinciput's flexing nasals.
In generous samplings of the auditing populace
aspiration yet trickles provided melinite's amnesia
surrenders narrow sheaths to the choired ore
muffling providentially the resilience of our scandal.
4. [Song, from For Love]
What I grasped by my manual potential
exponentially refigured. You
must comprehend that this thing's Being
hardly rates for stage censure.
Twilight fries, dark arrives. We
are mutually in snore. So therefore
granting you are privy to facts,
frankly dissemble, suture eloquence.
Gym bags of moustaches are the
couture of the hostile. You and
I are the salacious inhabitants
of scripture and homily, the Mate's choir.
Lacking invulnerability. Lacking,
not knowing to pulse or iterate.
Hence, my urge you accommodate. Do
your opinions extend to my fine company?
Es gibt keine Frauen, I mean none so
sharp in habit, curt in drawn gown, as
you. Animosity's feminine void produced
no such coagulate of veracity.
Mechanistic anxiety, love, that duel
just floors me. What I grasped by my
manual potential refigures exponentially
isolated as this thing's Being's been.
THE OVERTURES OF HOLOGRAMS
Damp the sea-grilled cocolith stammering
blanched in the tumult's delitescent groan
hemmed, humanum est errare, in livery
a masthead ophitic delirium from the park's wen,
frothed custom. Aragonite's tin arcature
franks pithfully the cucurbit's leathern
sherbet warrior, herbary of static syllables
argonautic nutlet shamming a halogen tubelet,
marked it as lead, number zoo nursery. I
divided the hydranth, a sweating, pil ubermensch.
Dashy mastery, occult daphneic rime
apart pulsed artfully chancroid chaplet welts,
nugat accursed succulence, historifies
exurbia the carat seismograph, blandishment's espalier.
Byron blacked deleted by hendiadys,
hent a foreshorn ferry slip that, knackered, whines
mortgaged interlingua, finger-fluent whist
for skeletons, image of lantern fly laps
mistral denying the misleard muff, form's
mittens and calendric marm's histamine retainer.
Dillied zappa ovoid gutters crank's grandeur
titles bury it, but he fashions yosemite,
retires the chariot, mendacity's city century
toked timbreled thirds, missouri synod
noons when the carving's hot for opulent
teutonosis and the vessel vesicatory, olibanum
a chattering verrucano in the vestpocket.
Therm's theophany hammers voidable dice,
zoril's zoons digital gratuitous enactments,
in the labor party's third nostril, scaramoushfully.
Fourteeners bevy the index, sequenced halves,
prozacked scantlings, stagecraft submissioned
subsidized whom tastes whole on whitsunday,
whiteout substantial. Subversive succinics
dial rodent's effigy talons, cold's succubus
passion's substratum, unconditional surrender flexed
glad-by, unbugled falcons. Beats uncorked
lathers vestees' charity, celibacy's end bunt
to wrench strength, so cultured the venus skelps
intimidated by no sitz bath, no straphanger's talents.
To skeltonics my shivering my loathing my honor
skewed synonymy in sestinal synaesthesia
timorous orthodonty that sly unpaid stylist
neath fornicating roofs, tinamou's fructifying shed.
Timbres were ululating, hot, undulatus
but uneath easily, the salivation alluding to my
samsura sambaing toward egglantine delicatessens
herbaceously sworn to televised grottoes
stinking gulls, timonlike, advertising travesty
for larking and hugs, but nonetheless a valid rejoinder.
ORGANICIST IN A / GLASS SHOP
You pragmatize the spill in Brooklyn
gaulless, tail the weathered trunk shite
balanced on a pen, rigor stealths
fancy tea-time humblers overseas, all
sanitary. Ship out the shored ball
boy leathern in |
the knee-cap, stalking
a vibrato you've lost,
hills residing with the funk futures manic in|
forced apologies from the docile, dream-time
tiff. Add it up: it's a crown, exactly.
Apostrophes alight! inner ear dissembles
like Tiger lite, boring yet bunting
Vs three heavenward back-to-home,
a picked scone from |
facts and fists.
Bumpers collude on the celluloid, call it|
quits; ever ovened, the park auk.
Nine-of-talons, green-of-codes, a
Southern gent jets, spermed on sillily,
singing with the lady in the village bar,
groaning, testily, with the white cheek - didn't
the mayor need this |
to refer us
not? But the
oceans are seven
standing still. Spectacles for society, retinopathy |
not paying the day wrenched of powder, ox
or chrome; don't smothers the hip luck
pal been lode of ore, which they sing in the
car, going home. Jerks abound in tree houses
but the literati stay deep in soma with their
dial-a-poems, jive. Voodoo. That's
fetish, had I
hacked my way
and I plan to, the
flow charts building up in the terror bucket |
in the bathroom, next the chapbook's tonsils,
the codicil. It's like time brings out the
noose, then waxes it. Are there
migrants under the table? Don't think
so, but they eat, and one thinks to say it's
Sunday, day of |
them. A white craft on
the radar (aren't
the benefits of DVD timorous medals or |
gold stars on the breasts of dwarfs?) a white
craft on the |
radar, the cartographer's
the rope-a-dope. It's Kaffe Matthews in |
Brooklyn, Friday June 20th, 1996, a
Saturday, fans hue Shaggy with the Scooby
that cocks the nuts with ur-hyped deliberance
in the mail slot, ruining the poor sot.
Roger Pellet, Miami, 1994
Photo copyright © Sandy Sinatra
Roger Pellett was born in Durham, England in 1964, and lived briefly in London and later studied at Cambridge University. He moved to New York and eventually to Seattle, where he now works as a private environmental contractor. He has published works of Anglo-Saxon scholarship, along with several articles of scientific journalism. In 1994 he renounced his poetic practice. These poems of Roger Pellett were collated from various publications and privately-circulated manuscript sources over the last two years as part of a research project by the poet and endocrinologist Stephen Kim. The complete collection of his works, to be titled "The Overtures of Holograms", was selected for the 1998 Ruth Filne Award, and will be published by SoftImage Press in Vancouver in the Fall of 1999.
Kim writes in his introduction: "Written in a patch of heated inspiration (or desperation) during his last month in his home country and after several University-funded research trips to the United States, these poems represent Pellett's break with England and the English tradition as it has been represented by what he called 'the Cambwich school,' though a decidedly ambiguous (however fecund) one at that. For this reason alone, they can be cherished."
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