the dead lecturer [2014]

...observed a silence behind the draperies…

sentiment and enterprise
inhale saxophones     literally
as sentences are diaphanous
and chalk

philosophers
fuck     and are provoked
into literature and speculation

a throbbing consciousness
convinces the papacy of
mouthpieces and breathlessness

⎡                                             ⎤

⎣                                             ⎦

and this is compromise     isn’t it?
as our children shriek
into the expanse     and are photographed
with the shrieking ghosts of
Duke Ellington     Charles Mingus     Kalaparush

and these cathedrals
these shoulders we stand upon     are they listing?
as agony pads the repertoire
becomes standard as “Salt Peanuts” 
or assimilation
and trumpeters study legends and geographies
for mountains     for load-bearing motives

⎡                                             ⎤

⎣                                             ⎦

and the dead lecturer?
(muscles stewed and inexpressible)     where is he
in this landscape?

...muttering something about frailty and...

[Christopher Dewdney shrieks something quiet
from Canada     snaps a Polaroid
and wraps the expanse in a blanket]

(…)

withered     framed by splinters of punctuation
we are the grandfathers of unintelligible concision

and silence is just a talking point in church season

and Chuck D. eulogizes the pew
snapping a selfie 
as half the Quartet plays “Sweet”

⎡                                             ⎤

⎣                                             ⎦

...FUCK THE CALENDAR, THE CAMERA, AND THE WAY HE…

THIS is the historical     and maybe mythologically biographical
material