April 26, 2009

The Dandy's Didactic Dictionary

The Dandy's Didactic Dictionary
by Ted Hayes, Seth Embry & Probably Tims Gardner

A is for Ascot
B is for Baudelaire
C is for Country-house
D is for Dilettante
E is for Elegance
F is for Fop
G is for Garish
H is for Hetero-flexible
I is for Intellectual
J is for Jobless
K is for King Charles II
L is for Laudanum
M is for Maudlin
N is for Nocturnal
O is for Opium
P is for Polari
Q is for Queer-bait
R is for Rake
S is for Syphilis
T is for Tribadism
U is for Uranian
V is for Verlaine
W is for Wilde, Oscar
X is for Xerxes, literature and paintings thereof.
Y is for Yusupov, Prince Felix Felixovich
Z is for Zenobia, Queen of Syria

Posted by daleth at 07:23 PM | Comments (0)

April 15, 2009

David Ignatow's "Rescue the Dead"

To love is to be led away
into a forest where the secret grave
is dug, singing, praising darkness
under the trees.

This stanza is from a poem called "Rescue the Dead" by David Ignatow. I rediscovered it in an old email written to me by someone very special, whom I will never forget.

Posted by daleth at 01:48 PM | Comments (0)

April 13, 2009

Synæsthesia

I am reminded of
a fragrance

still impossible
to hear,

too far away
to see,

too distant now
to fear.

—April 12, 2009
Directly followed "The Skin."

Posted by daleth at 06:53 PM | Comments (0)

The Skin

I am pressing down upon a skin.
The skin resists with a supple
firmness; the skin gives but
does not admit to me
the secret in its weight.

The skin is not translucent
but nor is it opaque.
Neither is it luminous—
and yet I sense a faint
or dying glow about its pores.

The skin can breech no
statement to my touch.
It will not communicate;
it will only give
as upon it I slightly press,

pressing on with an eye
to the pale horizon of the flesh.

—April 12, 2009
Directly followed "Sabres Fell."

Posted by daleth at 06:51 PM | Comments (0)

Sabres Fell

Sabres fell. Arms
outstretched toward
a fallow wood,

we march forward
to the bright good,
the twilit dell.

Lightly glows the dusk.
A smell of jasmine
floats among moored

lives like still vessels.
The floors are dusty,
boards groaning with

a wisdom and a lore.

—April 12, 2009
Brooklyn. While falling asleep.

Posted by daleth at 06:49 PM | Comments (0)

The Weary Convalescence of the Year

Upon a plangent bell arrives a Spring,
a verdant mind yet clouded and unclear,
as veinous shadows overhead recall
the weary convalescence of the year.

The sky a spartan-bare cerulean
may slow dispel the stasis and the fear,
and gloamings hyperboreal defy
the weary convalescence of the year.

A frigid shadow overpasses and
a warmth from dying twilight fast repairs
with all the resignation of the dead:
this weary convalescence of the year.

Upon a chill cadaver Spring presides—
and though the sun draws ever near,
these waning fragments of the dark resist
the weary convalescence of the year.

—April 9, 2009
Union Square, NY

Posted by daleth at 06:11 PM | Comments (0)