Sound Urn: Sonnet to Orpheus #5
Eric, tit–keening dank sty; lusty Rosa
knew hey–days; yah, Sue sigh, in gun–stained balloon.
Then all faces hissed: sigh Hermes, tar more foes, err
in demand! Damn weir–soul, Lenin's nicked moon,
human dray, harm men! Infer Guatemala
hissed, or flay us. Venice sinked, her common gate
is snicked. Shun feel. Vendredi rose in chaleur.
Ooh my Pa, target man's smell who bears state,
oh, free air swindles, moustache ears by grift!
Hunt when himself, hawk–banked dust, harsh wonder.
Indemn sign–wart, diss hear–sign who bears drift,
hiss her, her shone door to woe in ears' nicked bay. Light it,
dear liar, get her swanked! Him necked un–hander,
under cay hawked, under mare who bear trite It.
Kinsky Villonelle
with kinski's yowl i shift straight into dogshit ack
i skid & i & he are on another track
i hear louise stand by the stove the day
through face black with smoke and soot
each night she lie in bed of straw
the blood–rage in her belly she be just
poor orphan child would rather be
a tree in summer wind the sun
and smog bear down the master see her at
the stove she well worth ducats for
the night but she her face
is perfumed by her no like roses go
shift up the summerwind there with war
stain in the night the heavens red
and in the slaughter lay the master need
across the fields so many riders blown
as leaves from forgotten years no prayers
so white their hair like snow the summerwind
will come to her from year to year i swerve
for klaus while in her blood a wild beast screams
but she was just a tree in summerwind
the gears whirr crazy down the hill and bone
Ekleksographia:
Wave Two
May, 2010
Poetry
Justin Clemens
Justin Clemens is most recently the author of Villain (Hunter Publishing 2009). He teaches at the University of Melbourne.