OF THE ALWAYS Part Four
Indecisive disclosure
a mind without a zipper
the purse-seine savages the sea
and there were words in it
this time, Antietam,
bone,
this time Actium
never now.
History is a lizard basking in the sun.
OF THE ALWAYS Part Three
As if a window on a falcon
open the way
light lures citizens
by surfaces to sin
swim slide glide
sunwards into the Danger
I hear the radiants
talking to me
at least I think it’s me.
OF THE ALWAYS Part Two
The advantages of blundering
midnight beneath the streets of the forests
cloacal cathedral
stained glass translucent leaves
because they fell
and the trees’ amber ruin be
fine spectacle
leaf veins of innocence.
OF THE ALWAYS Part One
The always
on your hands
are in your hands,
the lost grammar pf Gan Eden
a language made exclusively of pronouns
and the names of things
were still asleep.
24 June 2014
Trying
to understand
to understand
the grand
confusion,
confusion,
cathedral
of inadvertencies
of inadvertencies
our
vast kultur.
vast kultur.
Everything
is in it
is in it
“but
not near the door.”
not near the door.”
Immure
yourself in circumstance
yourself in circumstance
and let
lust’s will win a window out
lust’s will win a window out
and a
new door. New doors are all we need.
new door. New doors are all we need.
Robert Kelly reads from his and Susan Quasha’s new book, Winter Music, at T Space in Rhinebeck NY, 31 May 2014
RK reads at Mount Saint Mary College in Newburgh, NY, 22 April 2014
RK interviews Anne Gorrick on Perfume & Poetry
RK: Blake clamored for us to enjoy “enlarg’d and numerous senses.” Curious that when back in the Psychedelic Era people quoted that, it was mostly to foster drug experiences–trans-sensual as they are. What of enlarging the senses we already have (or are)?
AG: Perfume is invisible. Many people roll their eyes at it, as if you’re asking them to believe in ghosts. There is a flaky, new age, intellectually negligent perception that surrounds scent. But it’s an entire realm that is completely Proustian, sometimes plangent, dimensional, symphonic. The first oudh (or agarwood) that I ever smelled gave me the impression that I had walked into a new room. It created a space that I could now inhabit. I think it’s funny that we can all agree on what we see, what we hear, what we taste and feel. But not necessarily on what we smell. It’s as if we don’t have the language yet for the sense of smell, but we’re working on it.
Robert, why do you think the sense of smell reverberates for us, as shimmering as memory? Our other senses are more straightforward. It’s as if every scent has the potential to sepia at the edges. It’s as if time imprints scent more readily and hauntingly than our other senses.
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