in this timeless din

Polica “Wandering Star” Live 11-4-11 from Jacy Catlin on Vimeo.

I. round the clock

You knew I had history
with pieces and time, words
in a line with more than meter
to hide behind and rhyme
therefore as I danced about
with it out eyes nearby try
to be nearer and widen as I
unleash the legion of standing
these hours up till all hours
are ours from eleven past
to eleven till we make our own
odes alike to surroundings
down the face and chiming
in the timeless din of joy

Down the escape to the
back of the block top dog
or churchmouse not this time
not this house and never in a
blouse (but always) on the …
stick with the ludicrous my
misses so little in the middle
of the tale where you take me
I am timed by no action pre-
cise as your mechanism

Dickery me, chicory she
sweetens bee wise before
my stimulant need isn’t
caffeine and my card punching
in is not the business of
clocks how I am occupated
pater and staying later is
the deed digitally free

II. “I’ll be productive …”

A production I never could
equal to me the stroll between
nature rolling in a dwelling
no second wait awaiting (no)
second hand sacrifice breakers
and ice made glorious august
after the vernal loss of heat
we are up to more than steam

Examine the little hand
and fingers compact within
your own enclosing open with
(me) in closing we’ve unanimity
with the unnamed soon to be
raised democratic as a family
can be always counting on one
head to make another higher

The toil told in the glow
you wore wore out although
never wore out estuary ebb
and flow as though mill wheels
filled oceans or moved them in-
stead of simply spinning it and
spinning simply too lively to be
tied in tiding to live to be

III. Mon monsieur X

The day’s business made the
language of your country take
significance by sentiments
that can’t be expressed in my own
secondary reflection remember
the lineage of this tongue is
second to none when it comes
full circle never misses the moon

Never misses the declension
when you spoke you never
open your own to make me
clench not for ill-instructed
attempts at madam’s I’ll have
winters with endless springing to
conjugate, with you illusory was
the first illusion we got to lose

I am bilingual frankness
at once and lacquer when
again domesticity and state
mimic the conquest of another
land one word in the court and
a different in the familial re-
lation bed bidden off with the
corset couché or smock doffed
which avenue has more say than
roads babies will grope lanes open
wives at bath absent Marseilles

IV. the last day of the last month

(‘Twas)
The last day of the last month
I will be passing through without
you a presence soon pressing
empty hands like priests I am
told of had no other position
than to neither have nor hold to
be folded for every openly ex-
pressed confidence with you I’ll
have none less how else would you?

The last day of the last month
I am laughing at the monkish
rap on my back that you had mis-
construed a fortune into communion
I ate fortunes of my own spewing
fate for a first supper to stay
hungry for the one the lord has
made no former saint more pious
or adoring our constant re-forming

The last day of the last month
I was on hand for emptied hands
never was empty handed again
we practiced every thing we were
preached against with a heavy
hand syrupy in the new candor
you can’t expect a clothed man to
answer for as we finally found,
find will find again fully since

V. you are my kind

Make a song of it, the super-
stitious way a couple does a
couple of bouts progress and bows
to the sound of us keeping in
time (to) abandon and rhyme to
enlightenment by quiet enter-
tainment finding a violet like
voice catching me by colour or
key she raises highly and I contra-
stedly lowly keep my own opening

There were lettered blocks and
towers all around us before
we put the pieces to the peaks
the notes to not any old scrap
sheets though they fold half as
easily we do the scatter and
reach to resume the exercise
that presumed to teach two in-
quisitive kids that theirs it was
not to demolish but ready to do

Right by the time you were
five, hi!, it will get at me past
ten, hel-lo, the day will come you’ll
quote your own fumblings with
expression and tongues an ex-
expression of some buried ache
or never celebrated coup the
grace you bring to the tune of
the two as one worth a dozen
I for one don’t hush till it’s sung

VI. I’m withering w/o you

The plants too go into their
dormancy and all we leave them
is us leaving them, unattended
when the call comes in the fall
and then it all st-stalls or snow-
balls to a garden (walls) beyond
thought and autumn drew long
draughts to mind minders pause
upon the business of escalation
and stock what like thoughts draw

An idea to transform the
atlantic into fluid suitable
to have poured and permeate
the earth, yours, overjoyed (lover buoyed)
with a chorus beyond organs
or hearing and a harvest far
richer than the amber that
sustains that man on a given
day wave no constraint by
his salt is life itself sustainable

A bloom obtainable as land-
scopes and tele-scapes ex-
posed from outerspacemen
see a little greenly and seem
a little blue too to be beautiful
(like you) for reason is excusable
to spread what lies about what
need to lie spread and then
saturated by nothing so distant
as the cosmic but by the waves

[how they like us find a way]

VII. I want to get some good time in with you

She really loved you you know
I know for the better part of (me)
the century so far of thee we
are singing bards and bargainers
hard to gain her heart‘s more
than half, mine, sing again in three,
two, fourths time never forced
to prove you were more mine

Nine and another, one, sorted
in twos carts and cardboard bored
of the gruff and sordid under-
dwellers pass pressed and they
will ask and push as is the manner
lacked out of even having doors
to lock the last, obvious, tock
to me any and all will be (four) good

Numbers speak to the somber
in each of us toddled to gods
house the worship of a child
is simply being quiet but
we don’t listen nor do we ad-
here for the glory here is not
in performing mourning but ines-
capable sin-sing-singing in good tick

VIII. Younger lady!!! (by rule of)

As she always was and meant
to be was the entirety parts
some generational stunt that
was stunted like I was once
confronted from the terminal
continuance it gets you into
a future you couldn’t look past
(forward) as easily as through
. (to you)
Through as easily as past and
passed in columns or corridors
of older schools boys and girls
both belonging or so hoping
to go beyond the year and fear
was embedded in the mother
or forced in the father our times
make light of who is wholesaling
. (them still)
I am and s(tr)ati(s)fied to be, to
read, all over the watchful roll or
fall like water to the old growth
pulp we will all become as the
scrape of skin in layers, of
flayers we have all felt at one
time cut at another open as
throats emote what no one wrote

IX. you said I am wacky

I got high and you got low
like I know my motivation
in an open window must of
good faith showing policing
of policy should fall to each
in their crooked step meant to
be concealed deformity of bone
as the unbalanced are is a joke

It’s hard in the dark to make
light of a sight gag the fright
uncertainty for the mercurial
best cure procured for free(d)
only laughter acts communal(ly)
joining the stitches of hacks
and even in that blood de-
liver rehabilitation under cuts

Succor from the punch of getting
one done over one’s body for-
midable as vivid gold is bidd-
able folded in the smith’s
pockets full of valuable malle-
ability casting the pair of us as
valuables in any box beyond
baubles your gold is audible (ha!)

X. I want your butt!

Contradiction or fundamental
pride and ample articulation of
it ambulation only gives and take
no glory, she found the more
he pressed his credentials (hounds)
the less impressed her estimation
an reticent turning of the cheek
others reveal real rear regard

Real as a mane in the lion and
equine kind of year the horses
reared as your own post posted
atop is seared in our receptors a
head made up of whats and buts
in us so far was pinned a price
above quarters, a buck above
hinds, a forest for your trunk

Forested I am set upon for
rest as rusty as an axe tin to
bracken in the grim(m‘s) dale
clearing to see she was sylvan
pale as canopies tilt the sun‘s
panoply of frenzied heat we
keep our seats in the same cup-
board in our water only hotter

XI. Look at what you’ve forgotten here…

Funny what you trigger
when I know you don’t hold
one of promises found in
multiple rounds in gold
rings we spoke of though
not both in confidence or
sober tones a closed heart
a chamber in want of a break

Out of incandescence whisper
and shout with the conviction
that this twist of tonsil and
trachea had a tongue and I
paddle my all, stitched in the in-
tricate pattern of this grey days
and matter not what’s tugged
from dug-outs but what you don’t…

Hold. A shell, reserve, and
total giving in to the ex-
plosive expression like a
retch left you(r man) wretched
but I can find the next big in pig
and bank, barrel bang and blank
they may all snicker or scatter
at your bent, first shot, attempt