Astrometry Orgonon

By Mark Lamoureux

BlazeVOX [books]
Buffalo, New York

Astrometry Orgonon by Mark Lamoureux

Copyright 2008 Published by BlazeVOX [books] All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the publishers written permission, except for brief quotations in reviews. Printed in the United States of America First Edition ISBN: 1-934289-98-1 ISBN 13: 978-1-934289-98-3 Library of Congress Number: 2008938103 BlazeVOX [books] 14 Tremaine Ave Kenmore, NY 14217 Editor@blazevox.org

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I.

Sol

Pleiades
They are like me: (Winter stars seen through ferns of frost on the window to the porch.) So beautiful & cold. So beautiful & cold.

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Sol
I. The sun Phoebus ignites the glass box, the forgotten public art, swallows wings blades of shadow that carve out my heart to bake in those rays: the ghosts will eat it all. Steaming manhole covers the ghosts live there, pluck hard purple berries from barren vines that cling to grey stone, roseate sucker patterns cast lattice shadows. All this cold beauty, make me a ghostless machine, freeze me in the cold beauty: the bleeding thing lies down in marble arms.

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II. Despairer, your alloy laurel twines metal roots even through the blighted ground, the sleeping body grieves for you, as do the things that go white & wan in caves, whose feelers make their own cold suns, who know it is the world who has turned away, the way a body turns away. The sacrifices laugh through their opened throats: You are prince of withering things, no proof against the coy goon in the lobby or the ones whose arms are as shadows are.

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III. White sun through cirrostratus feeds grey flowers; where have all those black butterflies gone? The ravens & the bees punks Ima scare crows Ima still winter inside me.

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Polaris
Bright close Q: closer. Why do bodies turn under my hands into water, into the ripples of horses? A billion stars in the sky do not make the daytime.

A:

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Procyon
Great gray dane, jewsharp or heartshaped hinds when prone. Noble runner, run down the length of the river like canines. Dear dog: circle twice & never away whether the body be cold, supine or otherwise who does no wrong who does no wrong who does no wrong. Howl & paw at the spot I went into the ground. give me truths

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Alkes
Imbibing the black wine to purge the taste of rubies from my mouth, the ground lit by tender shoots & limbs budding in fever. Shadows grow graver & I split like a fruit along the groaning fissure, fusion or fuchsia snowflakes she said, driving the engine of this rut into antiquity: thats it, a baseless absolution & levitation, the blue veins climb a worried spire, a weird blossom unfurls its solar panel petals into this the only day thats ever been, the binary language of reservation, reservations axis that tilts toward the felled clementines & the pregnant loam where worms go, where white stalks reach for the air as bloodless fingers: Indian Pipe, Skunk Cabbage, every green thing that smells like hell. A barbed tongue collects flies, tuber circuits, the whole verdant mess reboots, digits try the heavy atmosphere, touch nothing, go on growing.

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Canopus
Some cerulean shade hits. Some meringue of brushstrokes, no escape from your songs. Heads around a table topple for the will o wisp of sun. Idols down, all but you remain: errant buoy in some sea blood or wine dark or both. Your bell sounds so far offshore even now no ships in this port since.

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Alphecca
New leaves bend light forms, light from the dizzy sun high over grievous Saturday your southern crown, tiara, coffee & scarred lungs. lime wedge borealis way down south, boats of rotting almonds, your better sons are kissing girls on docks.

fits cardboard bitter Im a mess. corona

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Sirius
Floodlamp boxes ensconced by blurred glass & lit glyphs on the stone ribbon ascending to Charles/MGH: city turns to mulch bruised papaya in a sharks mouth & the holy charge rides the rails / not blacked out this dreaming East & the gleaming mean climbs the Pru: Bing-o-Reno on Olmec scale No words for the speech in the light as it falls on you a cocoon in the cavern of a mouth, throw silk ropes across the chasm balance a turbine there the wing of a plane / absurd how the wind holds metal up the spark that moves the last train under Mass Ave. NO SERVICE: sutures of fire keep my legs under me swamp-light mist, summers ending, above ground I forget which way to turn the trains stop moving while you sleep

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Ras Alhague
Bug whir subsiding into ravaged sunfucked pallor ghouled by some winsome somnambulation: petit mal coma bungalows aglint with tricked grandeur. Snap a pinion, nerves flash, apex cowboy ride on Rider 31 by the way, you were the sun scratched in the errata close the tome this chapters written on smoke.

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Algedi
Blueshifted eggshell of dawn sky revisited something new as wet hair. Water is my eye, long-forgotten cursive eschews tired & true words; reckoning halo marks a godhead interstice, the waking suture, produce woven to the solstice mane, the rings of Saturn a voided receipt for anything now tested by hubristic fallow ghosthead: tropical climes, Tropicana garden gnome, home, Little One, where traffic goes.

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Phact
Think of a dagger-shape or a wishbone-shape, that icefloe that cracks along a seam though eyes are green as grapes, bulbous nacelles: The snow has no message nor do the trees think truly, if ever the autumn comes like club kids, hook up a stone to the umbilical cord. Nascent, or all else is fervent, the arduous green water, say nothing of the dolorous green water, nothing for cilia, nothing in the crook or for the ardent less-than signs, for if you think of steaks when the alligator ate the 2 or of lonely fire, or of this pastiche, this fucking hollow-eyed pastiche: now the flagrant usher, the unruly crowd, the solemn-eyed all silent among that god the cinema go there

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