Friday, May 3rd, 2013...12:42 pm

kenyatta jean-paul garcia | all is now after & pale red death

Jump to Comments

All Is Now After

Never been to where the world
……………………..comes to a stop
……………………..cosmos and blackholes
………………………………………………hanging off cliff
……………………………………………………..of faraway

Never even been around corner
……………………..where art and song
………………………………….were made
……………………..by bastard Warhols
………………………………….and the long lost Village scene.

Black is gone –
……………………..never was –
…………………………………now replaced
……………………………………………by purple
……………………………………………………….which also took
………………………………………………………………….pink’s place.

Tuesday is this year’s Saturday
………………………as retail and restaurants
…………………………………employ
……………………………………………all the liberal arts
grads.

Sold the shirts to the bosses
………………………fed them lunch
………………………………….now sip and smoke
……………………………………………..and speak
………………………stories about them.
Tens of thousands dollars spent on blue collars,
studio apartments,
……………………….beater cars,
……………………………………public transport,
……………………………………………….and generic brands.

Tornadoes and hurricanes
……………………….aren’t sad
…………………………………..when the upper crust
………………………………………………is washed away
But Marx and Lenin
……………………….are dead
…………………………………..and Reagan
………………………………………………is still trickling down
breeding this fear
……………………….of molds
…………………………………..and cutters –
………………………………………………binge, purge,
…………………………………..anorexic dreams –
movies removed
……………………….from the restful
…………………………………..cinemas
of mattresses
…………………………………..directly on floor,
laptop dinner table –
…………………………………..even the neverwas
……………………………………………….was stolen.
And no answer
………….to the semi-rhetorical, ‘Dinner was good wasn’t it?’

Nor, ‘which is more noticeable
………………………………….motion or color?’
…………………….And the stuff
………………………………………………for autistics
………………………………………………………..and OCD
……………………………………………………………………and ADHD
……………………………………………………………………………….diagnoses.
But, trauma is gone –
…………………………………disappeared with the clouds
…………………………………………………………..that don’t (never did)
………………………………………………………………………resemble faces
…………………………………………………………..or anything else.

It is not distance
…………………………which kills the moth
The flame has no need
…………………………for attaching itself to those wings –
…………………………………….even those embroidered
for the moon
………………………………………………..with the mark
…………………………………….of a treble clef
…………..And the rhythmic flight.

The bed always makes room
…………………………………..for air
……………………………………………..for space
………………………………………………………..to embrace proximity
with the void
…………..and is always wakeful
…………………………………………….of the wrinkled sheets
…………………….vast in canyons
…………………………………………….and ridges
Also of pillow
…………………….as far off
………………………………..as purgatory.

Constant is now.
……………Escape is the jail.
…………………………………….Drifting through the cell
……………………………………………………………..made comfortable
……………………………………………………………..by immediacy
………………………go the phantoms
……………………………………………….of thought
………………………………………………………………………soldered
…………………………………………………………..to answers,
…………………………………linked to next question.

But karma is not instant
……………………….nor destiny and judgment –
…………………………………..they are the wardens
……………………………………………….as much in need
…………………………………………………………..of those same cages
………………………………………………………………………..as the inmates.

Down the alleys
………………………where discarded meals reside
…………………………………..for the strays of men and dogs.
For the locals, fear is gone
…………………………………..for the foreigner
……………………………………………………….everyone looks the same –
And where have the children been –
…………………….day to night,
……………………………….there’s no play,
………………………………………..no hopscotch
……………………………………………………only summertime songs
……………………………………………………………from car windows.
The dawn
……………………..wasted its time this morning
………………………………………………early rising
……………………………………………………………………..from the mud
……………………………….knowing well
……………………………………………that all the love
………………………………………………………..was stripped
…………………………………………………………………………….away
……………………………….back when before
………………………………………………………..was the four columns
………………………………………………………..that held up
………………………………………………………………………..today for coign
……………………………………………………………………..over tomorrow.
But trick of the eye.
………………………………………..Trompe l’oeil.
…………………………..The cathedral folds up and in
……………………………………….walks away
……………………………………………………………….with new legs
……………………………buttressed beneath the belly
…………………………………………………….of upside down pews.
The village grows large to town
………………………………….to city
………………………………………………to Metropolis –
……………………….then the mechanics
………………………………………………..take over
And the gears
……………………….make slick religion
………………………………………………..for Hollywood
…………………………………………………………….and Broadway
The church is a stadium,
……………………….the dawn
……………………………………fell to the power of the dusk
……………And by virtue of this
……………………………………all is now after.

Pale Red Death

“Translation” of La Mort Rose by André Breton

The fluttering octopi will guide finally the vessel whose sails are spun of this lonely day hour by hour
It is the certain vigil after which you feel mounting in your hair the sun white and black
From solitary confinement a liqueur stronger than death will ooze
As it was contemplated from the height of a cliff
The comets will fondly rest on the forests before crushing them
And all will pass into love which is unable to be divided
If ever the reason of the rivers disappears
Before it does as night is completed you will see
The stoppage of silver
Upon fishing in flowers will appear the hands
Who wrote this version and those who will be dispensers of silver
They too and also of swallows of silver above the trade of the rain
You will see the horizon opening for entrance and it will be all finished severing the kiss of space
But the fear already not existing anymore with the panes of heaven and of the sea
Will steal to the wind stronger than us
What will I make of your wavering voice
Mouse waltzing about the only shimmering that does not fall
Vise of time
I will ascend the hearts of humanity
For a supreme pelting
My hunger will be shaped like an overcut diamond
It will smudge the hair of its child – the fire
Silence and life
But the names of the adulterers will be forgotten
As the red blossom – the drop of blood
In the mad light
Tomorrow you will lie to your own youth
To your great lightning bug youth
The echoes will only cast any of those locations which were
And in the ceaseless clarity of the fields
You will walk with impetus
Of whomever commands the beasts of the forest
My wreck possibly you will strike yourself with
Without the sight just as one casts oneself on a floating gun
This is why I will be owned by an emptiness such as steps
On a staircase for the movement that calls itself fine even during punishment
To you therefore the perfumes the prohibited perfumes
Angelica
Under the hollow froth and under your stride that has not occurred
My dreams will be formal and narcissistic such as the clatter of the water’s eyelids in the dark
I will introduce myself into yours to probe the deepness of your tears
My appeals will leave you softly uncertain
And in the train made of frozen tortoises
You will not have to signal for a stop
Only you will arrive on that lost beach
Where a star will fall upon your suitcases of sand.

Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia

is the author of This Sentimental Education and Enter the After-Garde along with two other collections of poetry. He was raised in Brooklyn, NY and has a degree in Linguistics.  He has studied several living and dead languages in addition to philosophy and poetry at SUNY Albany and Hudson Valley Community College.  He spent over ten years working in restaurants – cooking, washing dishes, etc.  Currently, he works overnights putting boxes on shelves.  By day, he runs kjpgarcia.wordpress.com and altpoetics.wordpress.com.

1 Comment

Leave a Reply