Co-Conspirators E-anthology

by Perry Lindstrom

Strange Attractor Poesy

Chaotic energies abound/ the shape of epiphany
graphed on XY scattergram/fifty humans milling
around/standing one next to another/ shoot one
gun into the air/  watch them collide in naked
fear/ smothering each other's innuendoes/ next
scenario/    fifty birds milling about pecking
the ground/dignified peck. .peck/concentrating
on peck . . peck/now SHOOT the gun and fly and
fly and fifty fly away/  no collision/ perfect
beautiful fly and wing/motion a sweet gift/now
Pollock in a labyrinth of/ fat maniacal smiles
spending a while glued to his facial cigarette
a paranormal gesture/these spatters impossible
as bee's flight/   they become after some time
a place of worship/ a twirling alter/  baptism
in the purest waters of turbulence/that ending
place divine in history/ a jeweled box to hold
the pure gravity of time/these gestures create
pattern/these continuous  patterns create them
selves in isolation/    in the surest realm of
alone they are whole/   and unambiguous beyond
any notion our understanding could weave/these
constant returns to imagination/    these guts
spilled on the canvas/   the examined entrails
coded on a symbol's /  /wholly iterative reply
Crane's landing on the water/embittered by the
mollusk/ turning his gift now to warm dark sea
a cacophony of forces/    pulling continuously
the arms outstretched as in Johns' work/   but
he is the original set of arms/      he is the
strange attractor around which/   the universe
swirls in pigment/  /down and around the drain
swirls/ when it should be simply down   /  the
underside of each word's collision/   banished
from history's dark calculus/ leaves its algo-
rithm strewn across the floor/    in wee naked
hours of dancing/     the whole place revolves
in vapors/  the last holy arbitrage of despair
has launched the gentle crucifixion/    and we
intoxicated/   bound ourselves to mast to keep
from following/    held these continuous waves
against our souls/  a singular fury built from
piteous cries/    where the vessels delinquent
pitch came stammered off/a roving predilection
which is again a pattern built in stars/in the
several hours of damaging duration/  shattered
consequences of our memories' quilt/ where the
arms again are splayed in art as in meditation
there is a favored turn/ a pantomime we follow
for the grain is rich/ and several echoes in a
word we found undone/  where the arms are open
rivulets of molten iron/  flowing out and down

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Co-Conspirators E-anthology