Issue 61 menu Contents Page Magazine Home Back Issues Home Page

The Red Light of the Sign

(– ha!
the red light of the sign so motionless)
Alfonso D'Aquino

God willing and devouring
Bright strewn in space
And taking it up
A truth
Still
Clear fascinating phenomena
In the world
A star
Occupying
The constant genuine
Sure mother of white
Glowing out
A flower juice or the least bit
Of attention
Picks up
Your mention and missing
The mad stuff of dark
Admitting
It with a memory
A burn
That belongs to black
Like courage
Curiously
Hanging on and posing
A real problem for the brain
Melts the focus
And stops
Dead
While sitting here waiting
I fetishize rose
Pearl
And the craziness
Like an essential
Rationality unveiling itself
As ongoing bloody
Laughter
A bitch
The red light
Of the sign so motionless
Just slipped between
Now
And what's next
Glimpsed and interfering
With time
Breaks my head off
Bumping and sets up
A culture
Ha! Ha! Ha! Externally
Very serious

---

The Laws of the Communicant Clouds
        (after Vicente Huidobro)

 

Historically, I am not welcomed.
This is a point of differentiation among people.
A hair-worm has been known to utter the cry of a horse.
The whatness of anything is all that is dutiful to it.
Clouds see what there is yet still move like traffic.
Beneath them men search with a new tool.
It tells them what is deep in the ground and what it's made of.
They are like pigs after truffles.
What's so bad about being lost forever?
All to pieces and if we don't have a toad, we need a toad!
Any ghost is worth telling this to.
Being unknown I urge them.
Throw all your tools into the wound of your mother's chest.
As well the knife that opened her.
The shades of clouds discharge the sweet brightness.
What name will I sign giving authenticity to this falseness?
A side-wind that took out the battle-wall of a millennium?
I am welcomed finally as the shadow casting another.
Markless.
History has the cloudy eyes of a washed-up fish.
Surveillance is always naïve.

Copyright © M T C Cronin, 2004.