ditch,

the poetry that matters

Rusty Kjarvik

Rusty Kjarvik has been published in The Poetic Pinup Revue and also has an upcoming exhibition of original “manuscript art” at The New Post Literate: A Gallery of Asemic Writing. He lives in Calgary, Alberta, where he writes a blog at www.rkjarvik.blogspot.com and makes a living as a world music percussionist.

Dry Maze/Maize

lied.

class, dread,
Cancer, friend,

blue in mind,
eyes spun, burning

street,
eating heat and leaves,

scarring
gross need,

bored
drained need,

ruffian
blind guise,

covered snake
built deranged

hurrying far to drink

light tar worry,
hardened clots

estranged as a flicked finger

talk,
raised mild & wise,

early,
mundane feet,

breeding
in sleep,

learn to war
randomly,

grain
a lie, buried

divine
judging a cry or forgetting them to get high,

blurring answers
to mourn the wish-stick
fixed

in corrosive smoke
lick

mean,
bold caffeinated stories
crumbling in donut stores,

chalk-faced cops
not budging,

bland disaster
congratulated for a laugh

joking to ordain the blood
lined seat of soft anguish

tragic
frozen sweetmeat

feeling stomachs cool
to more pain,

fractured waning
and suffered fasting

molding
to the booze flood of beauty

sick drug
torn

filling white earth
to face masculinity

spitting genital ash
in the followed

reserved slaughtering
traditionally mixing strict and sore

a lush imprisoned dick
curving

shot
into the infants

flying
to join the play

dead
wasted in hate and fire

"oh my Dorothy of whorish witchery
chillin’ in Kansas with a lord of green corn mound prophecy"

only bludgeoning the scalp of a painted sky
choking graves with free dreaming,

orchards poor with the rakish wife of the storm-brought blues
on America’s southern news

rhymin’
cave

droppin’
slugs

grooved into the slack of an addict
bothered

tongue flat as a Spanish knife
used to distort a morbid trance of bread

there is a dry golden torch
repeating shadows of histories
on the shaking lips of the mindless
reading

binge
afraid all the way to the moaning shores

bitter
chained & faking an illness to gain hot perspective
in a dry maize

maze

09’ University of Calgary






Jailed Desire

Between the horseshoe and wild figments of the bailiff,
we screamed shouting in a huff,
all distanced by a few proud gruffs.

The way we learned another song ive heard, and soundly kissd the way she sang, all day.
“To forget yet another grave to the hate of passd out, laughin,”
Strains into the mornin lite, all grated into a horror-show spawn disguise.

“Ol’ bang and swingin grains,”

We hatched a sharp-end perfect and swayd earth to curve around another worth,
possibly a shameful night,
with a hardend wretch,

“But why anger the groove under temptations wide-n-smooth, deprived negligent hide?”

“I could figure another way to escape, but I think I will just stay,
the moon's been a whole lot of warnin cries
and she loved the way I said I wanted to be only the way I was gonna”

See the face speak from a glowin tomb
shrinkin under a cool gust
in the sky-blackened
with storms’ sheer foam,
springin aimlessly round the answerin groans,
all gone cold,

“Take me away,
now take me dry but I wont stay inside,
chain my feet or mark me a slave to the firin’ plain brink or edge
you’ve been stringin’ from the endless lofty ledge,
please no why I see the arms got a surprised smile.”

“Burnin’ hi, this forehead's gray with streaks of nicotine blinks
and my train of thought's been stolen for a pick and a nail,”

Early,
passd the street,
we panicked with crosses cold as iced holes,
breathin above the haloed spring of living hair and flesh,
speaking a language of the grand, distressd
socialist dodge,

“Brew an ache static as the flame that died to a wind,”

“Birthd as a string flown to the herbalist's charm,
transformed to gold across the person of a mind hurt with smoke and envy,”

The wine mildew sunk and spilld
caressing the unearthd wizardry of yearnin for the lanky
blessd panegyric gong that hung to mine;
the meccan youth
judged to the spike of a bestial frame,
calld to throatsing the burnt fungi of a stinking dungeon, smouldering,
and challenge the furtive upbringing of a snaky eyed Jew,
bloody as the few ethnic spines that learnd of another god,
now say slowly:

“The joke,
of a ghoul
bursting at the weasel's
astringent chimes

wedgd into a prairie
fanned to the thickbodied beggar
playin a screw for a watch

prayed to time in the elegant methodology of a chalky-lipped stooge
fullbellied in the fecal ditch of corrupt Latin drains

pitchd as a tipis’ vent
sputterd wise drawling off the addicts cheek
aflame with the rage of a million marching horses
savagely wandering

the political blinds of a drunken sniffling child
hailing cabs with torches of mirth and biblical wonder
losing the page and fooling the magic theatre
in a spayd cats sight
silenced by the caverns of traditional modernity,

butchered and bought out for a smitten tongue-splashd alcohol
grasping ears to heal the flashd out apocalyptic dawn of chosen beauty

in one amiable decision to live on the mountain of home
nested in the light
sheer as the nights' weird desert plague of sadness
blamed on a drum for the beat of divorcd madness
sick derisive patterns of wordless imagining
in the pictured life among the arisen void,”

Kernels of lingering issues
ailing the laughter's fine and even oblong walk
to the pirated weak blundering
among the fold of zerod in bombarding,
chanting something sweet as we followd the morbid west

a new vine of soulless hierarchies
of pantheon smudge
bellowing hot pierced chests of sacrificed suns
to the languish of a virgin disease
eating away passively into the medicine smoke of a mushroom feast
Blurry flies
bleeding into lines drawn across the mess of a painful junk of rights
and infuriated guessing approaching the vast sky
as we believe the truth of our strange inklings
of lied stagings
grounded in a death

“We fled
to turn back and drink more of the community’s enduring strength,”

“Higher than mind or knowing,
to the rains that fell before we were hearing or feeling,”

A resembling
entranced under the botherd remorse for an embrace
to fall backwards and free the tremulous nervescratchd swoon
we longd for
in our prison cell agasp at the last key
sleeping all too close to be undreamt
in the winking fires of a jailed desire.

29, December 2009
Waking in brother’s old room, south shore Massachusetts





Sour Mangrove

spiraled dawn
fractured by a scintillation

inspiring madness
divine on the cemetery backwall laugh

uprisen as a hand,
freakish to the crack of lying dreams

prepared,
as spilled ash freezes in a line
trembling freer than a rocked flash

“oh god entice this sickness to crash on the empire's doorstep
last before the carnage to fall quakes in the morning
with a demonesque call to become the jeering weasel
creaking easily as high distance in fright, and lost”

“oh god answer the way down in a secondary moment of the past
and fail again too many times before the all-sin divide resurrects
and pulls a smoked rash
into the proud eyed swarm of law
designed to incoherent judgment
in a watery blue ball, rapt in flames
engulfed in the name”

“oh teacher reckon these wild fearful days
and bring a match to the beacon of disgusted hopeless praise
mingle in the trenches of early born war
and massacre the Spaniards' fine-tipped sword
with your unbeaten sexual gaze,”

“king of chance, demean the drizzling fat rockets of gold
into airy stress too weak to hear the girlish dress
inside, awakened folds of unearthly charged breasts
milked overly cold in meaning or minute's waiting,
slow,
coerce the brushes up rushd unspoken holes
for skies rinsed with wide unbroken souls,”

languid breezy smile, faked with lust and heat
sought for a secret
to unlearn the science of imprisoned screaming
and blame the system of greed for a confidential reason,

“oh order, shot underneath the web of another silver writing
needing breath hotter than grease
to undermine the figments of wailing
that reach silently under a workdesk
burned with anger and speed,

force the wallet-grime fingers, lush with sound
over a neck grappled with such violent space
as a necessary belief swallows the final touch
cored in a horror of spewed-n-juiced, vociferously higher deities
grounded by a morbid sloth-beast
ransacking the lame-throated goatbeard child
filing nails of distance and fire”

“oh chaotic freedom, aspire to that immense wish for the world gone in a hat
while a savioress gets scratched out to the rounded and blasted mourning
eating away at a mothers blessed mint door,
bordering on mangroves' sour"

(claps)

(pummeling)

December 30, 2009
Waking in Dad’s trailer, western Massachusetts

 

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                                                                                                                      April 24, 2012