Warren Falcon (04/23/52 - xxxx / Spartanburg, South Carolina, USA)

*

for M
the blurs
'everything is descending,
even the scholarship of the
ancient adverbs, '*
process of seeing
now wrinkles
creases from
eyebrow
to temple
into hairline
creases from
too narrow
sense

O see (sings
eyes)
how
diminutive
Golondrina**
dimming

dips
lands
alights
little feet

wires
talons
of tin

standard
paramount
in the jardin

blue walls the
infolded cloak
of the Virgin


A task for daylight -
separating mad boys from
shadows -
un-ordinary ones

Lorca's 'shrugs its
shoulders like a girl'' ***

Ordinary gestures
shrugs
but done the
mad boys they
may be taken into
arms or dressed
albeit in strange
or ordinary garb
maybe all in the
gesture beyond
ordinary remains
remains
always becoming
images such as are
gestures' embraces
bruised

dressings
undressings
ventures for affection.
But from whom?

The mad boy
writes feeble colors
for love
the halt the lame the
mute which within around
which intends bends
distorts (in your glass
case) twists takes
traps light to separate
the mad world
from shadow

Both
we are
contortionists

thus take our
place with clowns who
know tomatoes thrown
and juggler's (bare necked)
necessary concentration.

You are the maestro here
whom I trail behind at respectful

distance

murdered by the too ordinary
controllers


So long

So long

to image
to suffer on dear
bruised M the
void of course

o bring me
beauty no matter
how terrible

created by His
own opening
which makes
Him forever
Lorca's girl

'a pomegranate
[a god] biggish and
green and I can't take
her in my arms or
dress her.

Won't she come back?
Why won't she? '

You, dear, will read
of my heterosexual shadow

a great lover who serenades
Her in the terrible contradiction

of the moon caught
in bare tree limbs/strophes

just outside Her window
the fool below in rouge

head hung, singing

O hurt

heart's tin can tied
to belt loop behind
of his ragged pants

pants
waits

to be filled with
whatever flows

in the dirty lane
he leans his
love against


* Imagine
this asterisk
which contains an aster
is a rose transforming yet again
because it can
because

Lorca

has willed it obediently into being
letter by letter, petal by petal
bee kissed by brazen bees
a clutch of stamens
assassin's ink
out flowing

*

- from 'And The Daylight Separated The Mad Boy From His Shadow' - from Lorca