Dada Collage #10

in the end there is a start.

It is hardly difficult to argue

that this is no time for the fatuous

and that nothing is more fatuous

than scribbling poetry at dawn.

But compulsion and desire will out.

We must sing of this world

not some better unknown star.

The given is the wool we weave.

All times are equally terrible

and equally sublime.

The eternal politics of horror

must never stifle the human heart.

Which serves to make clear that

  - mce

Dada Collage #9

My cat Evan knows nothing of war

or famine or pestilence or blood.

Bravo to his ignorance of ideology!

He cares nothing for torn soldiers,

starving children, the Ebola virus,

or oozing traumatic amputations.

He sits solemnly on the recliner

listening to John Coltrane

thinking only tranquil cat thoughts,

imagining nothing more disturbing

than kibble and another day of naps.

He does not need to consider himself.

He is himself - a sleek, gray

untutored genius of silence:

the only true Buddha I've ever met.

   - mce

Dada Collage #8

Oh mourning morning when lost life looms large.

I write to exalt you alone:

the desire for all that we have ceased to be.

The wasn't and might have been

are enormous French tapeworms

devouring the now and is.

Still, you grow weary of the ancient world at last.

One can only live so long amid ruins.

Finally, the dawn must break like a heart

and the new day claim reality.

The daily dance of deception continues.

Pathei mathos. How to sever the circle?

   - mce

Dada Collage #7

He refuses the amputated life,

the ghost limb of being.

The flesh must be felt in the flesh.

Silicon brains cannot know compassion.

We must make room for discovery.

Only uncertainty is soothing.

The sarcastic mockers

have created little men

and made a fine living off their misery.

If we are to live we must find

the neurons that fire love.

Mutual separation leads only

to muddy trenches, unholy camps,

and lonely graves

Dada Collage #6

You'll depart when you feel like it:
goddesses do not adhere to timetables.
Your body is so lovely
it scares away sharks.
Why should it fear time?
Your grace comes from deep caverns.
The tocks of clocks mean nothing more
to you than the creaking on weary stairs.
You leave no footprints as you glide the beach.
Millennium would not allow
half enough moments to describe
the tiny eternity
of your arms around me.
You arrived in a dream and
you'll depart when you feel like it.

   - mce

Dada Collage #5

People misunderstand
when I talk with my mouth,
so I have decided
to speak with my feet.
Nature is orderly;
words apparently not.
Watch my toes
if you wish to comprehend me.
The feet of morning;
the feet of midday;
and the feet of night
speak different languages.
This is not my fault.
You must make the effort
to learn them.
When you do, our souls
will be in perfect harmony
like two lamprey
that fuck then die.
  - mce

Dada Collage #4

Must I sleep much longer?
Must I sin so dispassionately?
Shall I find an open portal
and leap and splatter?
All of the roads seem sinister
and dogs wag their tails but snarl.
Beneath a dead Elm I witnessed
an Angel weeping and murmuring.
His tears were pearls; his sighs prayers.
A hag with nipples like needles
beckoned to me from near a ruined wall.
I no longer possess an erotic appetite.
Instead, I am gnawing at the sinews of time
which taste bitter as death and bland as chicken.
My brain is a luminous, transparent sponge.
Dare to take a look inside.
I wish to wake in a solid world,
but who heeds my wishes?
Perhaps I must sleep forever.

   - mce

Dada Collage #3

Yesterday it was night all day.
I wandered the streets naked, sweating,
throwing rocks at the moon.
I recognized a stranger who was myself.
I had nothing to say to him.
Indifference is easier in the dark.
Anyway, I'm just an anonymous passerby.
Nothing, not even the trees,
has cause to fear me.

   -  mce

Dada Collage #2

Music emerges from the windows:
piercing sighs, voracious lips,
precocious laughter, naivety.
Life flits through the thoughts
of the gray haired poet.
Bizarre violent milk
bubbles up from the depths of heaven
and we complacent observers
can also see the stars sinking
from our exhausting dreams.
Minor chords fade to memories.
The lowing cattle expire.
The music continues
exactly as before.

   - mce

Illumination

Once his eyes adjusted
to the light,
he realized he was blind
and colors gushed forth
from his heart:
never before had he seen
so vividly.

  - mce

Dada Collage #1

I am riding in a train that is absolutely packed.
Up in the sky big ships send out smoke
and on earth tonight a man is writing.
Learn to sing without ever worrying.
There is a precise moment in time
when a man reaches the exact center of his life.
Now is the time for kisses to comprehend
madmen and passions.
At last I have the right to say hello
to all these beings I do not know.
Sitting right beside me you were crying
in the dark depths of the old fashioned carriage.
If only you knew.
Even the dogs feel awful.
   - mce