Five Poems by Olchar E. Lindsann

 

                            Break of 

 

                     dawnchill’s fenderpunch

pepper bathes in page of bastion, of mongoose pip 

                     in comp, un/kempt, re-hensile

       blather on mitosis.       very edge 

              a rapt enragement of cauchemar,   

       that fair slight plush bland calico inversion 

              vocal frisson panders far yr  

              weftwasp suckling bluetooth syrup 

              printer’s crowflap      mylar devil 

       hanging out lines up on cross roads b’last 

off set yr fell encephalic intrusion’s ilk, inkeen

       contrap, in vestments penny runneled, slap 

       of double duty pathogen net     marked up 

       for rangy forklift rhythms     on the sly.

  

        Shitkick Pickup 

 

    –––~!^/_?\<///**&**\\\>/!–\^?~––– 

“trimbeards can’t hide your shineface” 

     – Dirtgod Raven Mack,  

           life in the chaotic state...then silence 

    –––~!^/_?\<///**&**\\\>/!–\^?~––– 

 

            rusty bend rattle 

clodded up con/tension, cheap 

at dollar   general   strike   precision 

crow\caw/maw rip\e tree-rust    blunt 

holler shitkick simulacrum/bled pig siren 

star of country meme strums\ticker 

but hung/red stom\ache   feddered 

but dandelion’s as/phault crac/king 

thru crisps\kin chicken pickup static 

shirly moonshine temple   buy-get  

yr bootface   peelskin    get-by 

american   hometown   cheese

 

  To my Fledgling Wren-Friend, Ended, 

                    Serpent-Slain 

 

                                   wideye’day one: 

tiny hoplight wonderstrucken preenin buddy 

              sunlight worldiscoverer 

       of vast & innocent action   expanse 

       newly struttin gravel clamber climber,  

yr siblings left, still or fledgless bores, behind: hop 

       w/blacktop breeze bugs green green green 

       w/huge fun beast: i walk i hop i sing see see 

me eye brow tuft leap-streak, hark me swing of 

                     chatter hiccup-calls 

              yr deathcoil: cute yr chirmy joy 

                            to death’s doomd ye, 

                                   little dude. 

 

                            wideye’day two: 

                     of friendly giant buddy 

       best ye flutterd from twig to venture-world 

                     racing legspring proud,  

      ! first ever ,discoverer, such things to see !

              kindly grassea swim peep cheerly 

mimic giant’s rhythm striding strident games 

dapple forest whisperwinding greening-shade 

              yr voice ye flutter merrily 

                     yr brave new world be kind 

nor note yr family of frantic chattinbuzz

nor note yr titanfriend of frantic bellowthreat

                     nor note yr shadowatcher  

              thrice forced back into coils of lurk 

              yr wonderworld is funstruck, buddy 

                            but yr hunted 

              & yr familifriends must fail  

                            yr fate to forfend 

 

shuteye night: 

                     :sleep, in’nest’led, ô deep 

                     for this fun world shall eat thee;,–. 

                     take flight, sing with giants  

                     in fun-dream, little buddy;,–. 

              for sleep hates ye, slays all vigils 

                                   but of snakes.... 

 

              & in a moment of horror, awake: 

                     yr best of days over; for 

                            you lived    but two blinks.

  

Translations from the French: 

 

The Fool 

by Maurice Rollinat (1883) 

 

I’m dreaming a land that sweats carnage and crimson, 

Spiked with green trees in the guise of a candle-snuff, 

With crucifixes studded round, along the rim 

Of a pond where loathsome whirlpools pivot and suck. 

 

To medieval dungeons wildly addicted, 

In some old manor’s depths I’d bury myself up: 

As if I were sniffing the mystery which swims 

Between vast walls extended into velvet dusk!  

 

For gardens, I’d like two or three burial grounds 

Where alone for entire nights I’d prowl around; 

Triumphant and morose about the place I’d strut, 

  

Ushered by lizards as fat as on the Tigris. 

– Oh! to puff my opium from an infant’s skull, 

Feet casually propped against a tigress! 

 

 

from Marurice Rollinat, Les Néuroses. 1923. Charpentier: Paris. p 298.

  

696666…6 9… 

Guillaume Apollinaire 

 

The inverses 6 and 9 

Took shape as one uncanny numeral 

69:

Two fatal snakes. 

Two maggots. 

Wanton and kabbalistic number: 

6: 3 and 3 

9 : 3 , 3 and 3 

The trinity 

The trinity everywhere 

Which is rediscovered 

In the duality :

For 6 : two times 3 ;

And trinity 9 : three times 3; 

69 : duality, trinity. 

And these arcana would be more dreary 

But I’m afeared to plumb them ; 

Who knows but therein lies eternity, 

On the far side of pug-nosed death 

Who with zest 

Creates horror; 

And ennui cloaks me 

Like a nebulous shroud of lugubrious lace 

This evening. 

 

from Littérature, No. 9, Nov. 1919 [unpaginated, 8-9].

Olchar E. Lindsann has published nearly 50 books of literature, theory, translation, and underground history including six books of the ongoing series Arthur Dies (Luna Bisonte Prods), and most recently The Squitty Flange, an experimental twist on the nonsense poetry tradition. His poems have appeared in Otoliths, Lost & Found Times, Brave New Word, and elsewhere, his essays in No Quarter, Slova, & Fifth Estate; and he has performed sound poetry and lectured extensively. He is the editor of mOnocle-Lash Anti-Press, whose catalog includes over 200 print publications of the contemporary and historical avant-garde, and of the periodicals Rêvenance, Synapse, and The in-Appropriated Press. He translates work of the French avant-garde of the 19th & early 20th centuries, most recently a chapbook anthology on the 1830s avant-garde Bouzingo group, and another of poems by its co-founder Philothée O'Neddy, The Phalanxes of Babel: Selected Texts from an Outlaw of Thought.

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