Warren Falcon Poems

'I come back to the geography of it...
An American is a complex of occasions,
themselves a geometry
of spatial nature.' - from 'Maximus to Gloucester, Letter 27'
...

But I shall use that 'net' and my still goodly paper and goodly pen to dim whatever ill tides there are and to come, as they surely will, in spite of low wattage, jangle keys on the night watches, read my mystic books, make my prayers with roamers of wards and wharves glancing up considering bridges, edges, silty bottoms. The tides are here even now. But right now I wish to sing a lullaby in protest to those hurting departed, even to those coming ills, that I may sing innocence dumbly back to those who may come ashore again more gently having forgotten enforcing depths insisting them toward resistant yet resolved embraces...

...So breech then, waves. Feet first. Heads in the brine. I shall keep time on your wrinkled toes sticking up from the sand, play peek-a-boo. Then while you sleep I shall harvest gently, place them firmly in that old woman's shoe with 'so many children she didn't know what to do.'
...

GOD SAYS, WATCH YOUR BACK. - Charles Wright


I've exchanged Monica's Veil for Rimbaud's
...

for Louis Zukofsky

'O framar of
the starry circle'
...

I dunno. Nothingness, as a certain pleasantly odiferous 'je ne sais quoi' as I get older (am now officially old) , is good to settle on (rather, it, that no thing, settles at least ~nyet-me~; Whys (wise?) neither here nor there cuz (cue now trite redundant Gertrude Stein quote) ...but/and, both conjunctions (including dis- and Dys-) Nothingness (the sudden absurdity of a capital 'N') is liberating depending on what it means in various world quarters - I cozy mozy mostly these days, off and on, in previous decades, to ZEN.

Nothing to lose, this rag of selves.
...

for Ted Berrigan, Edwin B. Jerkin, Verona U. Hasben

'It's time to go mad. It is the day of the apocalpyse
the year of parrot fever! What am I saying?
...

Jack Spicer makes me weep this morning

waking up, bitterest espresso, heart's
tourettes, expostulations against what is
...

Bloomsday Journal 6-16-2023 - in celebration of James Joyce's novel, Ulysses read out loud every year on this day...


'Above us only sky.' - John Lennon
...

'... but there is a line
You must not cross nor ever trust beyond it
Spry cordage of your bodies to caresses
Too lichen-faithful from too wide a breast.
...

improv-ed rough, riffed, quick translations from a longer poem
in progress - 'to better the feathered choirs' for Kostas Galanis whose name means

Kostas = 'constant/steadfast'
...