ditch,

the poetry that matters

Andrew Kingston

Andrew Kingston was born in Florida, and now lives in London, Ontario.  He is currently a graduate student in theory and criticism at the University of Western Ontario. 

Deluge

floodwater bursting
lynchpin insignificant
radical medium ether
leafs unbound pages leaving floating
lateral tangerine transigence
like a luminary, florescent, spreading everywhere
ebb and wax flowers in it
dilating everywhence, (in) and (out)
sliding down slopes so, just drifting over rocks
in tangible image and feel
quincunx in media
restituted in mediated quincunx in sides,
mountainous, watery
jagged future furious, lackadaisical and pushing out
ward exploding
incompressible palindrome to the four corners of the imaginary—
no longer lines
languishing neverpresent at centre, slipping
always and desultory shambling loss gaining at centre, supplemented, sizzling
yet focused through pinneedle opening,
an incredible and incredulous reverse bubble bursting, rampant
bourgeoning subterranean riverflowing overflow flowing over
side wise.
“well okay that’s all well and good”, you (well okay, not you) say,
while chance valuation only side wise weighs among the grassgrowing waters rising
impossible depth surfacing
mellifluent surfacing deepens
claxon silent.
come on now
already all ready
songbirds calibrating all possible existences with their unsingable song uncaged
in underwater dreams slipping up into atmosphere, love,
presence presented but gone, leaving the present presents of presences in transitional wake
with nothing in side, of course,
just bows and ribbons and arrows,
spatial directional splitting splitting,
emitting illustriously
plenum proliferating extralinguistic heartshaking teardrop fingertip in ex-tension
sling slinging ferrous wheeling oceanic
tossed about on the raking tide, gaping, wild,
slipsliding into the summer of chaos, sated
inside out ambiguity echoes materially as rattling matter dreams
iceflow glacier spilling into the splitting meltwater rippling
transient cradle of the neon deep, rising and rocking
getting lighter and lighter and lighter and rising and rising and raining down again to the depths
collecting, dissolving, dispersing inertia, sediment
soliloquy of wet wonder
spilling light refracted in soulwebs meshing and melting
in hydric perspectives unlimited, rising hydralike in indeterminable blossom
dizzying deluge of more than anything stated (solid, liquid or gas)
yet wet like light
on the reflection of nightwater flowering moons in space,
in an inclement mirroring, mooneyes seeing through watery spectacles
flowing, flowing,
just drifting over rocks…

Notes on Green

amelodic
and unfinished rhythm subtracted
from undone sum, some
times:
again the calmness of fall, falling
too long it’s been, long becoming, always too
teetering in summertime overinvestment
now the leaves fall again like gems
lapidary
sotto voce
not withstanding
themselves
fleeting already scant
slowness resting gently on grassblades
not sharp surely:
beautiful and waving
like leaves in the fall breeze fall, falling
still
constant corollary, deferred,
ununder
stood them leaves living amongst
those them grassblades slicing life
searching without some rooted definitude
those them
life leaving ununder
to grow again
what for, what for wherefore why fore
shadows, shadows, shadows, chiaro(b)scuro
beyond beyond beyond beyond beyond
they fall to that song
fall falling anything but calmly
listening, or something
to the turning
and the beautiful incomprehensible other side
always that other side otherwise than that
other side,
sapping slow kiss
of skyopen flowing photosyncretism
dehiscing into invisible blue.

 

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                                                                                                               October 13, 2012