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Cloister No.6 : montage by Padraig McCormack


W a k i n g ,   a s   i f

b y   P a d r a i g   M c C o r m a c k




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Same deal as before where you can't see past the fertile crescent hazy waves of life baffling all snot out of any former state or any posited moment of rest in the score of a light splinter waltz continent under purple cover of somnolent night despite snazzy brash cubist phalanges of brazz Sun-Ra limitless in a discrete dissection of the long-faced beery turkeys of the pathetic night out oh so lame with every good intention to obliterate all rational systems of possible good in a goofy strut of caveman money tethered to the blowsy commercial edict god help!

Sketch of false silly
Spain in a sumptuous reverse image
My fake headache and dreaming hangovers
My sweet meat equity and flashes of importance
Chicken delight of parallax blunders

Makeover fantasies and split-attention dynasties
Walkabout joy of errant slapstash
Corner plaster tatterdefragonard
Wink of hotstrott out for a gad
Cad of tectonic bum blumsey

Flumfluxed in a quincunx of Jersey
Pause to wipe the nostalgic tear
Traffic head straight to nowhere
Greenglow of sadness and tender

Can one write the verse of even
A misperceived moment as pure
Empirical strobe? Blew up the
Premise, strafed the accidental
Cutesy text

Parsed into ineffectuality
Blorped on the big screen
Shplopped as a loping golem
Beribboned as a prize chump
Annexed to offload

Pips and nats of faint poison
Distant haze of red-86
Dance of a thousand trances
Late hour denials
Old dump illuminations

I've a forest of unborn symbols
Ready at the gate of the now,
In mockery of modern polis
And retrogressing polity,
Each eye each heart each hand

Leaving off where the infinite
Is stalled in erroneous conceptioning
Beginning where the ball of fire
Enters thought as a caravan
Of hard darkness

We climb, in lustra, incalculable

(Nov 4, 2003)