Stride Magazine - www.stridemagazine.co.uk

 

from “Superliminare”

 

 

 

1.

 

the man is tying the woman’s shoe

 

in the street

 

who smiles                     at that

 

the household gods

 

I’m walking home today hello you

 

look so happy

                           yes, it’s nice

 

nice             and how it colors all these faces

 

for now from here

 

         is a

 

         shaped

        

         christmas in the universe

 

         in September

 

native to this system

 

o nativity

 

as tree is climbing

 

         lack and lackless sky

 

so terrifying

        

         out of

 

 

 

2.

 

afraid like my animal

 

my heart darting

 

around in the cavity of my body

 

should you see it

 

(the seal on the country of souls)

 

you’ll know like the shambles

 

the inspectors are vague

 

to auditor emperor father hovering

in aether (which knocks you out now)

(now whistles with signals)

 

 

we never can rest

except always

we always can fly

except

 

terror and love are my own

I unleash them

 

 

 

3.

 

the figure study hampered

 

glossed in spirits of artichoke

 

craning tables with mug on its

 

peoples every darling

 

         a birdman

 

cranky saint

 

saint with hand on crank

 

charge the well wage the world

 

like pully (through-tenon)

 

this radial steel-belted radial

 

two to radiant

 

         compose deeds as you

 

would have those who trespass

 

front-wheel-drive

 

         compose those who tresxpass

 

as you                           Zuk: a test of poetry

 

no trigger

 

         doctor, explodeyerself

 

 

 

4.

 

as long as the cooling in wide-spring salt having /cave/ on the cavity

in the morning of this 200th day of my 31st; dreamt as this is the autumn

of the people’s calendar they, crying out the banners, drive the slick

roads beside me – the muskrat median sinking to these beriberi roots (or)

this classical hell (cavernous and candlelit, a place reserved for me and my

friends). I may return from lunch for lunch snarfed on the run to tasks

cleaning the universe of stables of the university. I may rage against the

hour hand s/he rules with a shot-glass of shavings and kiss my good wife

before incredible journeys

 

 

 

5.

 

we swim in underwear

@ roadside lodges

 

screwing salt into the threads

for what we come to

 

knows us by

 

and by

 

the rotting railings

 

raining in the future

 

our birds are bathing

 

o draw a bath my dear

 

dra b y ear

 

o r d ar ing

inin in

 

e ro s

 

hat e me

 

wing s to

 

t e lo s

 

im in we

 

 

 

6.

 

the long lie of summons

 

conning formats

 

I’m making / up the work

 

in strips

 

all fall long

 

you in the hypocriticon

 

“back then they didn’t feel”

the sky run down the back

 

with cape and cutlass

 

that being in a body

 

has a sin

 

& cosin

 

for history of

 

the rot

 

 

 

7.

 

@ the funeral home

 

kentucky plates

         a kentuckian

 

is dying

 

whose politics are

 

banal as well

 

as I am like my marriage

 

which is like

 

a good war that

 

is an

 

idea

 

waged again

                                    may I

compare us to a sacrifice

 

         I shall

for good

 

         be groaning

the conviction

 

withdraw so to project

 

part touching

 

         y/our doorway

 

 

 

8.

 

walk away

 

the red stripe

 

is an opening

on a growling joy

 

that’s ‘painterly’

 

         that’s hanging from the tree

         as imitation in the

smokies

 

mine of series

moon of solace

 

fruit of the tree               |

fruit of the floor              | the seeds

shuddering on the floor   |

 

we break my darling

but

 

 

 

         © Aaron McCollough 2003

 

 

Aaron McCollough’s first book, Welkin (Ahsahta Press 2003), won the Sawtooth Poetry Prize, judged by Brenda Hillman. His second book, Double Venus, is forthcoming from Salt Publishing. McCollough also edits an online poetry journal called GutCult at http://www.gutcult.com