LARRY SAWYER

 

 

Larry sells unreal estate on the Internet. His work appears in periodicals including Van Gogh's Ear (France), Jacket (Australia), The Prague Literary Review, Unpleasant Event Schedule, Outlaw (UK), Mad Love, Skid Row Penthouse, Paper Tiger (Australia), Tabacaria (Portugal), Big Bridge, HUNGER, Ygdrasil, Skanky Possum, Exquisite Corpse, Readme, Aught, The Butcher's Block, Moria, Nexus, NY Arts Magazine, 5_Trope, Cipher Journal, RANGE, can we have our ball back?, Shampoo, WORD/ for Word, Loop, Snow Monkey, La Petite Zine, ambulant, Eildon Tree (Scotland), Poems-For-All, Tin Lustre Mobile, Pitchfork, Versal (Holland), The Tiny, Coconut, 88, The East Village, and elsewhere. Chapbooks: Poems for Peace (anthology, Structum Press); A Chaise Lounge in Hell (aboveground press, Ontario, Canada); Tyrannosaurus Ant (mother's milk press).  Forthcoming: Arson, Court Green, LocusPoint. Sawyer also curates the Myopic Reading Series at Myopic Books in Wicker Park, Chicago. His blog is http://larrysawyer.blogspot.com/

 


 

Contradanza

I have removed my eyelids
(the palace at Versailles)
so as to make direct contact
(they say stood golden untouchable)
with the forces of night
(as the king made his rounds)
I will no longer be removed from nature
(waving his scepter)
but will plummet, perilously close
(until he was dethroned)
as the swallows dart about
(and sank into ignominy)
slicing the evening air like scythes.
(people then went on about their daily business)
I will go on crushingly normal.



We Cancerous Lizards

Mad with decay
my luggage heart
abjures all that is false.

Ripped from a collage
of other worlds
we speak of vacations
and slip
out of our skins as
if they even knew us.

Here where the air triangles
I live in the milk hills
of your breast.

O depression, I will
call you these
Mexican
words
on solitary beaches, I will
tend my garden of lives.

Even so
later I'll be mugged
by a gang of tongues
over merlot.

 

The Exact Relational Center of the Anxiety Disguised as Love

Forward through the dark dens of time
she said and turned around showing me.

Volcanoes in the throes of passion.

To divulge thrown footballs in a forgotten town
naked feet upon a dashboard
else oblique wings.

Frown, early morning air,
sedate as convalescents.

Flickering stars upon a fur mirror.

Soupy cosmos.

Into landscapes of line and structures of tenement,
choose to merely sit and brood over stoves of controversy.

Sell hope to the locals.

On a molecular level there are no barriers between anything.
A life spent New York Timing beneath fireworks.

Our asteroid conversations wipe out all humanity.

Lighting up behind the garage
taxidermists retire from the art of con.

Besides it's unimportant, the crux as light.

Chevy explanations.

There are no electricians to bring me calm.
Tremendous success came only after rain.

That amounted to nothing more than
do these shorts make me look fat?

Only life we have.

And the remote wouldn't work, so I got up to go.
Seaports throughout the world, listen!

 © Larry Sawyer 2006.

 

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A Menendez Publication. Edited by Amy King.
 

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