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Thread: Madrigal

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    Madrigal

    Maybe we put too much faith in the heart
    when any blockhead knows everything falls apart,
    turn to mush the storied administrations of the brain,
    there's no statue that won't eventually dissolve in rain,
    the continents are in pieces, the empire a mess,
    the fleece full of holes, the rivers distressed.
    Not what we promised and swore, didn't and did,
    not the terrible things that happened to us as kids
    makes much diff. We're the types
    who bring parasols to gunfights.
    A dove backfires, a dump truck coos,
    everything's out of whack since I lost you.
    Worse than a job chicken-processing,
    worse than a courtroom of the deaf addressing,
    like trying on a shirt with the pins still in it,
    listen to the heart you'll soon regret it.
    The photos in their oval frames bestow blame and frown,
    whatever you used all your might to heave into the air is due to
    come crashing down.
    Not the hatchet job you wanted but the one you took,
    you stagger from the feast for a look
    at a polluted brook, rather polluted yourself.
    You feel like something fallen from its shelf,
    a yo-yo with a busted string, chipped ceramic elf
    because all you can think about is not there,
    the eyes not there, not there's hair.
    You still don't know what to say
    and keep saying it, still trying to give your hiding place away
    making a silly commotion with the leaves
    of the tree you're falling from. But once that paper's creased,
    there's no uncreasing. Once the numbers are deleted,
    there's nothing to add up. So time for the tarry slumber
    of so what who cares what's it matter,
    what should be open closes, should be soft hardens
    while the next set of fools scampers into the puzzle garden
    detonating with laughter.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Madrigal

    How to Clean Practically Anything

    Yes, housework can be a chore

    A day, a day rinsed free of night

    everyone enjoys a clean and orderly home

    a table wiped clear of crumbs and spills

    the best way to do the maximum amount
    of work, without becoming overwhelmed

    floor swept, dustpan emptied into plastic
    bags which are placed inside sealed metal cans

    is to perform it in a systematic fashion

    dishwasher emptied, opaque and stainless

    blot the stain, wipe away any residue

    whites now sorted, his socks, his shirts
    old egg-yolk yellow under the arms

    try these to ensure results
    reward your efforts:

    his underwear, the boxers faded and frayed
    repeating their pattern of angular hearts

    be sure to remove any hooks or weights

    their scattered and miniature x's and o's
    openings measured for admission or exit

    don't overload the machine, and remember

    his colors tangling in a tossed-off pile
    of mostly darks, mostly black and blues

    fabric becomes much heavier when wet

    while here and there a spring green
    a tremulous yellow

    protect from strong sunlight
    and abrasive objects

    a newborn pink, streak
    of surprisingly deep red

    warning: damages may not be covered

    like fresh blood, a raw and unsutured cut

    try a product that claims to hide
    surface scratches

    to be rinsed and wrung, dried and folded and piled
    into the thing we call a long marriage

    if the marks have darkened
    use a sharp knife

    these daily removals, these many attempts
    to wipe clean the counter the table the slate

    if the burn is deep use filler
    smoothing it to match the surface

    the windows now free of fingerprints and smears
    as if there were no glass no barrier no space

    work carefully to avoid
    damaging the paint

    in which to revisit your own faint reflection

    this coating should last for years
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Madrigal

    Whack Report

    A woman at the gym today said to her friend, Most people are whack.
    Whack meaning crazy, displeasing, undesirable, stupid, of poor quality,
    appalling, masturbatory, laid off, weird, or dead.
    Most poets, as it turns out, are generally pretty whack
    as in mentally ill. Anne Sexton, for example. Robert Lowell, also quite whack.
    I myself am whack about sixty-seven percent of the time,
    not counting nights and weekends, when it's more like eighty-two percent.
    But let us focus on the beautiful wine glass, eighteen percent full
    of sane, delightful, and intelligent fruit and acid. A whiff of rose petals.
    Black cherry, pomegranate, cassis, devil's food cake. And limestone. Drink me
    and taste my ooids, my hot buttered toast. For we must be ceaselessly whack
    as in deranged said another whack poet who became a whack gun runner.
    Guns are whack. Much of the world population experiences the whack factor
    ninety-nine percent of the time, which can cause excessive thirst, diarrhea, death
    and other side-effects. After a while, if you keep saying a word, it kind of loses
    its meaning. Whack. Whack. Here come the weed whackers, beheading the grass.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Madrigal

    Earthmover

    Richard in his field drives a hired loader
    between a dumptruck and his spoil-
    heap, and digs away at the established order

    we've known from our window, that bank of earth and ordure.
    Its topsoil,
    or whatever he's driving at with the tyre loader,

    is colonised by grasses, foxgloves, rhodo-
    dendrons and a Chinese parasol-
    tree happy to dig in, their self-established order

    like a peace. He has felled a forest of cedar
    sweeter than oil—
    he's having a field-day as he drives the tireless loader,

    Gilgamesh in a Lada.
    I stretched in the medicinal milfoil
    and hoped—but he digs away. He has disestablished the order

    of us who sat like Buddha
    under his banyan with its trunks in a coil and moil.
    Richard, in the field of words they derive the tiring loader

    from Old English lād: a leading, a road or
    journey, a carrying. By toil
    you hope to dig away the established disorder.

    Follow-the-loader, follow-the-leader,
    sing not here the pastourelle.
    Richard in his field contrives the tired loader,
    the heap is dug away, he has re-established order.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Madrigal

    Blue Window

    You are an arc of light in sycamore leaves,
    churned-up dust, the sun's disturbance,
    beside workers and workday traffic.

    Bronze light in every space we inhabit.

    This big sky we are under,
    a portal without law.
    Even poetry can't sample it.

    It goes round rosy, always in motion,
    like weather's coliseum lights.


    *

    One cloud changes the whole feel/field of things.
    Afternoon indoor fluorescence, that silky envelope,
    just a corner of blue window to see.

    Pillars of smoke in our toxic and inefficient world,
    smaller than it seems to be.

    Outside, sounds approach like a shudder
    without fantasy, a signal that we must go on
    in fuzzy cubicles, a fraction of private space.

    Light's decoy registers, safe in anybody's arms.


    *

    The brightness doesn't end here.
    The filters don't stop it from coming through.
    Particles invisible. Blue or gray day.

    It is the way shrinking/rising things
    can't be made dire enough.
    I like your smile, I'd like to see it live on forever.

    A line of cars and cars from here to vanishing-point's brown.

    We cannot say sun, or sunlight, terminus,
    stop where you see a sign.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Madrigal

    Horseshoe

    I find a rusty horseshoe where skylarks
    Rise from the sheepshitty path, God-sparks,
    Sound-glints for bridle and bridle hand.
    I am the farrier in this townland.


    The Lifeboat

    I have imagined an ideal death in Charlie Gaffney's
    Pub in Louisburgh: he pulls me the pluperfect pint
    As I, at the end of the bar next the charity boxes,
    Expire on my stool, head in hand, without a murmur.

    I have just helped him to solve his crossword puzzle
    And we commune with ancestral photos in the alcove.
    He doesn't notice that I am dead until closing time
    And he sweeps around my feet.
    But it's Charlie Gaffney
    Who has died. Charlie, how do I buy a fishing licence?
    Shall I let the dog out? Would the fire take another sod?
    The pub might as well be empty forever now. I launch
    The toy lifeboat at my elbow with an old penny.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Madrigal

    The Chicano Manifesto

    this is in keeping with my own physical condition
    for I am tired—too tired perhaps for this rendition . . .
    but la raza is also tired
    and la raza cannot wait
    until I rest
    she wants her rest also
    but there is much catching up to do.
    anglos have asked (I think sincerely)
    what it is that you chicanos want?
    those with power to be,
    influencing our lives, have asked . . .
    is it understanding?
    is it that you want us to tolerate you?
    is it admittance?
    and when I heard those questions
    like remote control my chicano anger took over
    and I answered the arrogant questioning . . .
    no . . . we do not want any of that
    or the question "what do you want" either
    you see, you can afford to sit in libraries
    and visit mexico and in a way
    learn to understand us much better than we do ourselves
    but understanding a thing
    and comprehending are two different matters . . .
    tolerate is a word we use
    in reference to borrachos,
    we do not wish you strain
    yourselves with toleration
    of our, supposedly, intolerable ways
    and . . . yes . . . question of admittance
    is a fine one for it puts you inside and us outside
    asking like cats and dogs in the rain to be let in.
    the nature of your questions
    assumes you have something to offer.
    but there is one thing I wish
    you would do for us,
    in all of your dealings with us,
    in all your institutions
    that affect our lives
    deal with us as you openly claim you can,
    justly . . . with love . . . with dignity.
    correct your own abuses on la raza
    for your own sake and not for ours
    so you can have some peace of mind
    for . . . you see . . . we only lack a piece of bread
    which comes cheaper according to your own value system
    let me tell you what we want,
    not from you but from ourselves and for ourselves . . .
    we want to let america know that she
    belongs to us as much as we belong in turn to her
    by now we have learned to talk
    and want to be on good speaking terms
    with all that is america.
    from government we want to become
    visible and not merely legislated
    and supervised but included
    in the design of laws and their implementation.
    from education we want the most that it can offer,
    a history that tells it like it is,
    principals, teachers, counselors, college professors . . .
    and all this from chicanos a la chicana
    and this we are not asking por favor
    but merely as an overdue payment
    and we might even forget the previous score.
    from the church we very piously ask
    less sermon and more delivery
    more priests to preach Christ's merciful justice,
    less alms and tokens in the name of charity
    and more pinpointment of the screwing going on.
    from los chicanos del barrio y de los campos
    we also have some strong demands
    (among ourselves there is much more confianza)
    we want you to plot a clean escape but very soon,
    lose your habit of speaking in low voices
    and of walking with cabezas agachadas,
    you are poor only in material
    for your heritage is very rich.
    from chicanos with a little
    bit of wealth and power les
    pedimos una mana
    but to give los olvidados
    not a damn thing . . . they are asking
    for your hand . . . but only in amistad
    as brothers that you, even if you don't want to, are.
    and finally to the draft board
    we have a few words to share with you
    no la jodan . . . metan gabachos también . . .
    our manifesto I know is general
    but we saved the especific for the end
    for the chicano migrant is about
    to become like your American buffalo . . . extinct . . .
    those who claim that was a crime with animals
    are now in good position to prevent one with humans
    or will the migrants honor come as always . . . posthumous.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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