FLUXLIST: coal age poem: BASSO POEFrOUNDoo

[David Baptiste Chirot]

        25/10/00 pastel afternoon

        coal-age poem: BASSO POEFrOUNDo
                                                a score for two or more
                                                                 voices

        Undergound behind rockface

                                        not far from ravine

        down with nothing between

                                        fallen place, singular wildness         
        

        stratum after stratum 

                level by level


                                           aspect dreary,

                                        degraded Babylon


        Rusted shade of fog

                sockets of dust


                                                ruins chaotic
        
                                        strewn wreck gigantic

        
        tracks in dirt

        Promonontory Wall
        
                                                    no art detected
                        
                                        shapeless intermingled marl


        fierce dream of roof-struts
                                
        mercurial insomnias

                                              granulated traces
                
                                         desolate sight immense



        Eyelids holes pouring

        long eyes on desert



                                        elsewhere found immediate

                                             distant view several


        vigil skull as basin

        mist into silhouette


                                              concealment proceeded

                                        threading route rushed time
                 


        shadow recedes vanishing

        trees keep going

                                        thrown from precipice

                                             cast aside order


        minutes pass roving

        light without light


                                        firing quick purpose

                                        ever killing masters


        one who sits on edge

        one who listens never

                                        rapidly had reality

                                        dead in contemplation


        
        words arranged from one page each:

                                THE BEAK DOCTOR by Eric BASSO

        THE NARRATIVE OF ARTHUR GORDON PYM by Edgar Allan POE