Tuesday, October 18, 2016

DADA CENTENNIAL CATALOG submission John M. Bennett

steep cheese

each knot bleed each
uh window plays the
ouch compactor ,please
,and dank you ,osteo
morosis blinking as the
siren nears your leg
)pale and bushy( time
to cr awl the steak
drips in envelope
:final clam ,or calm ,if
milk were choked ,the
start to ends the
foo T

The Arts

- For Mark Bloch

The dream of John M. Bennett cutting out
lumpy orange rectangles is the dream of a
shoe ten sizes too large which is the dream
of a coffin filled with rotting fruit. The dream
of eating the fruit is a dream of a pencil stuck
between the blades of a scissors which is the
dream of a black electric fan droning in the
window at night.

headless form

in the dark of the form a nopal returns
in the soup of the form an arm returns
in the dandruff of the form a tongue returns
in the slot of the form a wind returns
in the shame of the form a poem returns
in the gore of the form a dust returns
in the owl of the form a breast returns
in the heart of the form an eye returns
in the ash of the form a lung returns
in the ink of the form a rain returns
in the beast of the form a shoe returns
in the skin of the form a cave returns
in the face of the form a son returns
in the egg of the form a stone returns
in the leg of the form a skull returns
in the thorn of the form a fruit returns
in the light of the form a knife returns

Tezcatlipoca, en forma de un fantasma cuyo pecho se abría y cerraba estrepitosamente, con un sonido nocturno semejante al que se produce al cortar árboles - Códice Florentino

la lhengua desensangretada

alba de pelusa me desnací
desdormido desenterrado díme
pues manito si me como la
cara desinfinita ¿¿pporqué
tengo los ojos de ppiedra??
¿¿pporqué hay hhormigas en la
hhorchata?? me hiervo los
huehuevos A TODA MADRE la
ppuerta ahbierta AHBIERTA y
ahbro la bboca con su ahire de
hilitos deshechos ¿¿no te lo
dije ya mil veces??

mi lahbio superior se ahtraganta
con el ihnferior


boca de tu cacamama
dedo de tu pinchemama
ojo de tu pulquemama
dicho de tu pandormama
viento de tu plumamama
ano de tu pensemama
cáscara de tu andamama
fulgor de tu aguamama
puerta de tu fuegomama
mano de tu mamamama
lumbre de tu soñamama
calzado de tu nochemama
rama de tu ranamama
siesta de tu penemama
codo de tu dolormama
rumbo de tu caemama
escrito de tu petrolmama
sangre de tu nacimama
cara de tu nadamama
caca de tu pachamama

pull it out

it chy itc hy itch y i
tchi lled eye yr c
lotted cup's hhumped
ddoor try sit bed yr
burnt dog arm w oofs
o words fall out them
black globs passt be
fore yr face the
mattress swallowed

 fog grip

raced the kkakka along the
wall wire hair piled
against a window be
fore yr face knife
blade of grass / peel
my face yr muscled
snore reversed across
a glass fog mirror
here I you crawled
beside the door a
hollow dog slept awake
behind afore was
you was tongues hunching
off the desk my place a
lack placid sack of


a floating gun spelled your face in the wake
a knotted gun spit and sank in the soup
a flowered gun closed its eye and slept
a misty gun named a bee and circled
a throated gun chewed the dice and understood
a mirror gun opened the fridge and coughed
a tower gun lay on the floor and swirled
a wooden gun splintered and burned in the attic
a liquid gun shaped your leg and ran
a written gun folded a shirt and belched
a paginated gun shit on a sheet flapping in wind
a boiled gun opened the door to shed its skin
a nasal gun was turning its knob and singing
a suit of gun plundered the closet full of ash
a tree of gun counted a bird in the sky
a frozen gun thought of an exploding glass of beer
a voice of gun crawled over the floor and
talked to the shoes under the bed

John M. Bennett Oct 2016

No comments:

Post a Comment