Wednesday, February 5, 2014

XVIII. Larmoiement […ou sanglots]


XVIII. Larmoiement […ou sanglots]

18 Place François Sicard, Musée des Beaux-Arts Tours—Into mortal apertures
St. Irene dips the fletching into this rust-colored sympathetic ink—As a revenant;
Again, the grieving widow, she approaches a graffito-lined stretch of Cloaca Maxima—
Its swept roses of false ceiling panels, to make out the form of a lash-barred intimate,
Exsanguinate—Her plasters filled by the furrows of the next passion—Raising an eyelid
Of the corpse heaved onto an effluent bar, she examines besmeared puncta, an infiltrated clot’s

Thread count—Francesco del Caïro’s Saint Sébastien soigné par Irène (1635) clotting
Here, where the aged are reverently, passionately waiting for Icarus, just before an aperture
Of tapwater’s longwave ultraviolet and apparent color of dissolved limestone—Before whose eyelids
The body’s plummet expectantly cups the air—Common as petrels returning only to land revenant
To nest—Drying into blue hydrangea, Banville’s blood-brown anticline of The Sea (2005) reaches its maximal
Expression—Calcium gravitates to the plaque lining, and syphilis blights the king’s intimate,

La Belle Ferronière; her corrupted band of a Lombard crown forged from Crucifixion nails intimating
Her iron-grafting husband—Thrombin burst of the extrinsic pathway, the grievance clotting
In a novice lover; the lips bearing the brunt of it, catalytic thrombin pares fibrinogen; maximally
Setting Sylvestre’s watched sink, its torrent of water spiraling the mind’s moon-blanched apertures
Activated by factor XIII, the fiber crosshatch now projected onto the blue exam booklet by spastic eyelid
Muscles— Fauré’s Automne Op. 18, No. 3 (1878), for fibrin fibers, their negative feedback on thrombin—Our revenant

Banked blood thriving in citrates binds calcium, increasing fibrin clotting time—Revenant
Contusions of the bather; alive only when she is scraping the pavement of a second heart—Intimate,
With Bonnard’s lithographs for Paul Verlaine’s Parallèlement (1894), whose bloodshot eyelids
Veil stratigraphic horizons—That nightshade pillow full of its own life shambling from a deadly clot—
Bacterial degrading enzymes cloned en masse by Streptococcus in our facial emollient—The maximally
Inflated auricles, and baignoire into which I would not swim again—Vascular endothelium’s apertures

Of salt and iron, and resurrection by nitric oxide (NO) dilating stagnant blood—Beneath wrapped apertures,
Herodias pierces the denouncing tongue of John the Baptist (1625-1630),whose revenant
Indictment quickens in her pelvis; Francesco del Caïro misattributed for Merisi, the latter’s maximally
Enfolded remorse of Goliath’s face (1609-1610) as a self-portrait—The youth’s castoff fawn gloves of an intimate—
Seven Roman letters enumerating all of this, with initiating factor VII of hemostasis fixed onto our eyelids
Among all the boarders of the Cedars; Bonnard’s rose washes of his wife in 108 stone-printed pages of Auguste Clot—

Baudelaire’s parallel text, Parallèlement, aired from its rose morocco casket, the disrupted clot
Treated by Irène—Tears, which my heart at twenty had already forgotten; locating apertures
Pool-stripped of their hydrophobic layer—Of spider silk lining a cup nest, desiccated lichen through the glair of my eyelids—
Of Le Bosquet (1927), with a bath placed on insistence; what better for shattered ailerons, a revenant
Ascending from the cold understream, where our bloody traipsed barnacles are purified, maximally
Viscous before activated fibrinogen cleaves the tidal inlet—Blue bruises spreading into intimate

Green-yellow components, biliverdin and bilirubin; water clots the intimate depression
Of autumn dunes of bathing revenants—Neither before the Icarus waxwing before John Shade’s false azure In a windowpane, nor the maximum aperture of a telescope could we guess our shaded estimation—

8 comments:

Σφιγξ said...

Yes, you drew my attention to the bunch of dried ericaceous-tinted hydrangea on my desk for Exercise 19 that I have been putting off. Lack of confidence? Or waiting for the right moment.

Σφιγξ said...

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B3DfyJRIT4jyRm41QmJ2MjdPVkk/edit?usp=sharing

Σφιγξ said...

http://www.juilliard.edu/journal/introducing-mikalojus-ciurlionis-painter-and-composer

http://ciurlionis.licejus.lt/Muzika/Jura.mp3

Σφιγξ said...

http://epod.usra.edu/blog/2015/05/double-lunar-moonbow.html

Σφιγξ said...

"I look at Gino. He's still flicking each oar, one after the other, like a dog its hind leg, and he's still standing there very tall. I put my hand in the water which strikes cold. You can't see through it, it's opaque as a blanket, even milk is more transparent than water.

When I was a kid I used to go with my father on his motorbike across the mountains where the shepherds live.

Why do I tell Gino this? I know why. Since a minute or two the barchino has changed direction, and I've felt a force tugging us which makes me think of the horsepower of Papa's bike. Its pull is deep down and doesn't vary, and its horsepower is more than anybody can reckon. I glance at the far bank and I see how we're moving fast, whatever the water says.

We've missed the island, Gino. We've missed it.

The current is tugging the barchino downstream. Nothing can stop it. The water's on every side now. In the mountains, glaciers do the same thing. The river is fast and the glacier is slow but nothing can stop them.

Gino, where are we going?

We're crossing to the island." —John Berger's To the Wedding (1995)

Σφιγξ said...

Ayeka alef-yud-kaf-hei

I will put the Great Purple Hairstreak exercise here.

Σφιγξ said...

https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/cloaca-maxima

Σφιγξ said...

Thank you, for reminding me.

https://1drv.ms/i/s!AsA4BY25Ql_1m3iQ0ECS7GC9LsQZ