AERO

partial reveal...obvious reverse...interior mysterious...

specific nomenclature...remnant onomatopoeia...rearranged alphabetics...

AEROspheric EROtomania ROdomontade Or not...

ORFE

stain my walls with your pigmented disgorfement,
squirt and dribble your colourful orfeburst
all over my hard-edged sand-boxed  sprawl...
some will get it cleaned right off,
but some will always get orfe on it...

[HORFE bombs french and british capitals in loud and blinding erorfetions]

BAR

BAR none but for one or two...

no holds BARred but do hold on a while...

please do not disBAR but just go behind them...

that BAR is sinister but only for those bastards...

and the BARtender is really not so tender after all...

SL

the most Royal of Monograms carved into solid Wood

on a Colossal Door that has defeated all Weather...

the Fallen Best have glided by horizontally -

for the Saint of all Louis to clasp in Perpetuity,

as tightly as the S-hroud wrapped around the L-amented...

[sliding reverently past the doors of Saint Louis des Invalides]
 

BG

a spray of roses pierced the iron door,

inherent and finite;

the curly initials stained by the rain...

a life annulled, her soul congealed -

remnants of hair, teeth, bones

sealed in the cold stone closet...

while dust storms gather elsewhere... 

[mysterious nonentities at the Cimetière du Père Lachaise] 

l'oeil-de-boeuf-gras

il a le compas dans  l'oeil... mais cela n'est pas de sa compétence...

[turning away from the exquisite trappings of the Musée des Arts Décoratifs]

champchambre

 c'est là qu'il est dans son élément... il veut faire un chassé-croisé...

[the interior pursuit of a solitary nature at the Musée de la Chasse et de la Nature]

 

prophypousses

 la hauteur de ses conceptions... être logé aux quartre vents...

[spouting soft phallic-sprouts on the lawn of the Palais Royal]

noblessaqueuse

les gueules de lion rugissent le sang royal...il fait rubis sur l'ongle...

[dampened by the font of diluted aristocracy at the Place des Vosges]

multiplexapiary

babeelonienne ruche d'abeilles... paroles mielleuses s'envolent...

[the most coddled bees live in the Jardin du Luxembourg producing much coveted honey for the connoisseur few...]

vestibule-vaporeux

the ghosts of the risible staircase float in the drolling haze...

rising above the impudence and converting the scintillations

to daze and obfuscate...

[steaming in obscurum on the Rue du Bac, Paris 75007]

niveau-lueur-nébuleux

a flattened moon hovers over the dry industrial artland...

a maleficent eye unwinking, unthinking, purely jinxing luminance...

upon...

"angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night..." *

[*line from "HOWL" by Allen GINSBERG, 1926-1997] 

[unspinning lunadisc in the Palais de Tokyo, 13, avenue du Président Wilson, 75016 Paris]

entours-trône-estompé

a baconesque pop-pope perches on the punk-pink throne...

what fetish entozoon soon emerges to empyrean calculations,

to slither under the silky chasubles of phlegmatic apparitions...

[alone with Napoleon's tiny chemise de nuit in the Musée Galliera, 10, Avenue Pierre 1er de Serbie, 75016 Paris]

béate-boîte-brumeuse

Safe in its Glazed Chamber-

Untouched by Mourning-

And untouched by the Moon-

Lies the meek relic of the Insurrection-

Pillow of Satin - and Roof of Stone!*

the Shadow darkly unmoved,
hangs upon its golden Spot;

the Blessed Blood steeps 
in slowly relinquished layers...
curing to soft rapturous Rot!


[*a re-versing of the first stanza of "216", with apologies to Emily DICKINSON, 1830-1886]

[suspended in the Hôpital La Pitié-Salpêtrière, 75013 Paris]

frigos-flûtes-floues

dark dark flowed the freeze fluid...cold colder coldest no more...

art artful in frost free fridges...conducive conduit art-erial core...

[Les Frigos, 19, rue des Frigos, 75013 Paris]

la verte perpétuelle

 

pitted stones sweat blooming mossss...

sleek marble salted by crystal tearsss...

the buried bones split hairs lossss...

a speckled twig falls on your fearsss... 

"et vous qui dormez! autre granit et vieilles roses

qui passez et disparaissez dans un bain pur

sans faiblesse comme sans distance

hautes hautes terres étranger azur

pesez sur elle qui n'est plus

dans le temps ni sein ni spasmes ni larmes

qui s'est retournée sous la terre

vers l'autre plus cendreux soleil."*

[*verse from "La Femme et la Terre" by Pierre-Jean JOUVE, 1887-1976]

l'éminence verte

a jagged thread of sun stitches together furtive shadows below...

the voluminous gowns above enlace in a symmetrical row...

a light wind sways their regal skirts, and l'air varié intersperses... 

softly the courtyard of the palais royal, still undulating eminences...

l'implication verte

in the seafoam greenness of this fugitive corner...

in the darkened carapace of this mantled courtyard...

agile immortals are engaged in mythic play...

boldly implicit in the undercurrent of simulacre...

l'involucre vert

 a whirling man-boy...breaking out of his pod...shaded by notre dame...

paris is his husk...

"this plant would like to grow and yet be embryo; increase, and yet escape the doom of taking shape; be vaguely vast, and climb to the tip end of time with all of space to fill, like boundless Igdrasil that has the stars for fruit."*

[*3rd verse from "Seed Leaves" by Richard WILBUR, 1921-]

l'embrouillement vert

even in death, she is close...

married to his brother, but after his own heart...

painter to painter, talent on talent...

M pour M...

she brushes aside, then lightly upon...

her green eyes darkened in repose,

her white dress splayed,

a wilting camellia on a velvet web... 

[a summer's day at the intimate Cimetière de Passy]