Outskirtal Child
Originally published @ Asphodel Madness, May 29, 2010.
Life called devils
the morning
sorrow and longing
fingers of native sun
thought only of themselves
blessed in exiled
colors of thunder
the ”who”, the “so”
of a stormy sunrise
strange vivifying
melancholy
warmth and power
in dead town eyes
filled with pain
where wait of strength
suicide streets
and years of frost
were islands
of I, who
was poor
wrong
and had age
to die like a dog
buried
nameless
unthinkingly
bleeding
on another
outskirtal
child
Signs
From “AntiqueWhite Rain”, Kendra Steiner Editions, 2009.
Speaking of signs
she found a warm room
dug in
made dinner
moved her rusted arm
kissed the crystal
sugar cube
floor
took off my hat
filmed the humor
of outside worlds
phoned mother
sketched Alexander the Great
found a smoke signal
highway
repainted her VW pink
made green tea
opened up all windows
let in
the American
cool
spoke to her favorite rivers
played cut-up
with night
over a simple 4/4
rhythm
thought of inertia
sadness of leaves
Summer passing
unborn children
while I walked around the room
tempted
by the sun
The Prostitute
Originally published @ Literary Tonic, November 28, 2009.
Hopeless drifting into motor green execution
below the pillars of night sky exploding
in black alien empty zooms
circling tense into hordes of stars soothingly
supporting the recovered blue, rust streaked
shades of a prostitute bending
love suddenly stopped and the diamonds of her falling
invaded smoke twisted wreckage minds
preserving the air and humanity
inert, loose, toppling
uniforms of fiction
a thousand blazing sticks stabbing the throat
of the singer
suspended in prostitute’s hands, smile, legs
draining the enemy, struggled paper
playing with us, hand stimulated
plasma and questions on the essence of time
filling the room like cigarette smoke
dragging us down to the feet of the giants
stubborn, drenched in sleep
chill whirled untenanted
German Ages
From “AntiqueWhite Rain”, Kendra Steiner Editions, 2009.
phone booth hands calling the wolves at sunset
musician beggars stumbling melted
proud electric ghosts of their movement
puzzle boxes & honey angels stuffed inside together
breathing in the insane olden room
glass top coffin gold-flakes
cracked antique cuckoo clocks
tropical underground rivers covering champagne deserts
mints, Zippos, dehypnotized drag queens
U-bahn tickets & cardboard saviors
snakeskin jackets, crocodile shoes
invaluable relics of all German ages
The Interpreter
Originally published @ Deuce Coupe, October 7, 2009.
to starless Spanish girls
she sang open wounds
droop moonlight
mute delight
remembering all her loving
fine eyes
the company together
mock measure in heart
silver river pierces
far pauses
whispers vexed fragrance
doubt blue
sounds
this will to treasure
aside
half-hearted
rainclouds
torn caresses
a remedy through thinking
eventually comes
on a humble
distant
night
Jug Painters
Originally published @ Clockwise Cat, May 13, 2010.
Vibrant angelic jug band blisters raga immediately
commencing their banjo volares
epiphanies of meat bag composites, lick my eye
socket
blind, play insanity games with those lucky painters
next door, posing them nude in their armpit boudoir
art deco extraordinaire cunts
suddenly a slaughterhouse evolves out of even
slightest
brush touch, exposed, hooked on Dali
while in cafes outside we sit barefooted
writing lines on the bartendress’ Singapore-shaped
exalted legs, sighing how life is so urgent
Neukolln Notion 1
Berlin 2008, posted on October 7, 2011.
Spray, silver spray
Fell on earth today
In language once free of war
In split native sun
Worn out, savage
Its willful pens chat
On gold, hate, of dead things
Empty glasses
Arched echoes
Staggered sky roses
Looking tired
I hear cracks on the door slope
Lethargy enters
And stars roam
Beyond
The faltering skyline
Desire
Jazz record buzz
Young unheard songs
They hear the wind howl
Where nerve ropes
Dig poison earth
Barb-wire trail of drugs
Blistered rattlesnakes
Canyons and airplanes
Beyond ghastly nameless hearts
Big fool’s fame
Has drifted away
We’re halves unbound
We reached
Solid pay
For your touch
Celestial coyotes
Riding your wings
‘Til slack moon
Tune riders
Hunting news and motors
Reap the morning fields
Gathering from stations
Scraps of smoke and men
Writing in silver spray
Love ain’t here to stay
In language once free of fear
In old circling trails
Of same bitter towns
Growing fat
Neukolln Notion 2
Berlin 2008, posted on October 8, 2011.
I see cellophane awful skies
Downtown
Not worth five cents
Of trying
Miss finger erratic muffled sea
Smiles
Presents the toys
Of shocking nonsense
Tinsel books, desserts for soul
Money made jury
Their voices are washed
Just pockets speak
I got a pipe
And an old magazine
I tried to read the day
You said hello
And slowly we were revealed
As a duet
Surprise beneath your gloves
Thoughts are strange moonbeams
Penetrating your pools
Between a cold think soil and your doorbell
Now swooping purple glares
Burn my galactic clock
Stern street head
And money versifies
The used old-fashioned hand
Makes it write
On sailors and local heroes
Farms, stockings, horses
And mortal trade
Where the sea ends
Where the air is rich
When my bed went off
Into long high days
Where I never really sailed
Or touched you
I danced dead
On a witches path, a sure thing
In splendid celebration
I started a mind parade
To party the stars
With spirits of the beat-thought
And circus telephones
Consumptive until the ocean
Plays the bright night ringmaster
And tells us all
To jump
Copyright © 2008-2012 by A.J. Kaufmann. All rights reserved.
