Steve Dalachinsky

blood blossoms ( with a nod to John Ford's Perkin Warbeck )



i am a man without parents
an orphan
a stone stoppeth in my bladder
pink-flecked against pink tiles
a huge spider
i brush my teeth
rain slowed
mist breathing
absorbing
absorbed by mts.
dream an affliction
as bad as money
as passionate as the kinsmen that
beshrew me
with their (objective invectives)
i am struck by abject lowness
must try to unlearn myself
again & finally
i feel like stitched preferment
renewed
a pledge of truths
a pith of contradictions
& henceforth a princess
NAY of blood
no pawns
untainted & drawn upon
take
take my head, kind sir
whilst my tongue can still wag
tis fit
i overpass in silence
the rain begins to pile upon itself
again
i am struck by prerogatives & stragglers
rogueships & familiarity do not come cheap
sentiment ever cease pithy imposture
screwed to distraction, persecution & torment
spiders
tormentors
i commend thee to importunity reprieved
t' endangerment the harness & digest derision &
affronts
blood blossoms from my eye-lets
my skin punched full of
i live mutt'ring creeps
let me die in this lousy hole of hunger
i blow on the spider
it animates & scurries into a corner
feeling unseen
pink on pink wall
i feel contrary concealment
advertisement
a studious thief of candor
such another treasure the earth is bankrout of
i owe a fee of thankfulness to destiny
charity
simplicity
mercy
& oratory
to intolerable cruelty
& death
most of all to death
& its voluntary compulsion
i have the charm of witchcraft
blood shed
& stiff neck'd arrogance
this day of the week is ours
i soon travel home
the day of battle will be Monday
& let us pray the butchers spare us
coarse creatures are incapable of excellence
let the hangman come
tis most fit that my ripeness be the ambition
of your mercy
i am a man without parents
an orphan
a stone that might become polished glass
if harvested well
i must thank you who have infringed upon my liberty
brute beasts who have both rock & cave to fly back to
i dare both motion
herald sound
these birds that speak even thru the dense rain
traitors
it is my pleasure to dine with you next week
the fabric of my designs is tottering
my judging eyes blossom counterfeit tears
tis fit i overpass in silence
desperately miserable indeed
tis wise that i suffocate these obsolete phrases
tis brave i interrupt these obsolete words
for today
for right now
our bodies when purged of corrupted blood
can rise in good health
let me rise - an orphan - a man without parents
find a place where i am welcomed
& beshrew the knowledge of our natures
for no more are we impassioned wild runagates
& the spider too shall one day vanish from our sight
so
dine with me next week
the hangman comes on tuesday
tis fit
tis only fit
that i should overpass in silence.

steve dalachinky sasebo city, japan 5/19/06




Bud Powell - for Yoshiko Otomo


ho ho keh kyo ho ho keh kyo ho ho keh kyo oh oh Yo shi ko
oh oh Yoshiko - throat is gloved    & we are so full of self-pity
                      taut urges   diminished

nightingale singing outside your window ( oh oh Yo shi ko oh oh Yo shi ko )
followed unexpectedly i send you my twisted fear & young man's love
strutting like a wild bird of desire in the dense rainy morning
& breaking down - stroked & diminished
( your appetite still full like your smile )
i kiss you gently on the lips & say goodbye
you chanson me with your tiny voice & utter Bud Powell
i kiss you again on the forehead - yup that Bud Powell is really sumthin -

you die on a beautiful spring morning
slight wind
scent of flowers in the air
one canary yellow sock on - the other off
there on the floor beside you in the kitchen where you had fallen
it is Mother's Day
what is this strange gift you give us @ 9 a.m.?   Ah Yoshiko
the talking doll that kept you company
sits on the kitchen table
mumbling unintelligibly in its funhouse voice -
i break with the room
pull away the table
& become that brilliant partner
soft stuffed lizard of a doll with its programmed emotions
i'm not allowed to eat bad food   but i do
the day smells of perfume
the women break down then the men
i send you my slippers
my lonely selfish consciousness
strawberries
watermelon
pudding - french toast
& romantic french cinema
wrought iron roses - linked arms - & a kiss on the lips every day
soft pale lips -   OH   OH YO   SHI KO OH OH YO SHI KO
a tear falls on my shoe - single voice clustered harmonies - ghost of a chance
there is a perfumed wind as you cross the channel
a slight mist hangs over the mountains
this one's about grey hair   i think
Bud Powell splashed quick & delicate around the kitchen
i missed your departure but saw you lying there breathless
a shy & breathless dignity that even death could not dismiss
a slight wind & i hand out tissues to everyone
as we weep        a tear falls onto my shoe     it is Mother's Day
everything but death is in a language i don't understand
but maybe death too
alright i'll stop crying - a perfect gift for us all on this day of mothers

we all write our own stories
the emergency room is one legged bleeding fingers
teeming with LIFE
it's Mother's Day
did we push your innocent smile too hard?
Oh oh   Yoshiko   Oh oh   Yo shi ko
i pick up your tiny sock & place it on the chair
push the table back into place
this time it was death that brought us here
not good food - scenery - or strong constitutions
those these are in abundance
clusters of notes fall
you must learn to live for others
if you've given up living for yourself
don't wear red on red days
breathe   Yoshiko    breathe
this is a perfect gift you give us on this day of mothers
even the doctor must feel blessed

mist rising   &   exploded
wind exploded
tears falling     exploded
smells     exploding
your heart full     just exploded

i touch your brow - break down
                                  Bud Powell
        i whisper
                   Bud Powell

mist rising from my eyes     Ho   oh   Yoshiko   Ho oh Yoshiko Ho oh Yoshiko

steve dalachinsky sasebo city japan 5/14/06





steve dalachinsky was born after the last Big War & has managed to survive lots of little wars. his poems have appeared extensively in journals on & off line such as, Big Bridge, Milk, Unlikely Stories, Xpressed, Evergreen Review. Long Shot, Alpha Beat Soup, Xtant, Blue Beat Jacket, Unbearable Assemblage Magazines, NY Arts Magazine, and the Lost and Found Times. plus such anthologies as Beat Indeed, The Haiku Moment and the esteemed Outlaw Bible of American Poetry. He has written liner notes for the CDs of Anthony Braxton, James "Blood" Ulmer, Matthew Shipp, Roscoe Mitchell & many others. His 1999 CD, Incomplete Direction, a collection of his poetry read in collaboration with various musicians, such as William Parker, Matthew Shipp, Daniel Carter, Sabir Mateen, Susie Ibarra, Thurston Moore (SonicYouth), Vernon Reid (Living Colour)has garnered much praise. His most recent chapbooks include Trial and Error in Paris (Loudmoth Collective - 2003), Lautreamont's Laments (Furniture Press - 2005), In Glorious Black and White (Ugly Duckling Presse - 2005), St. Lucie (King of Mice Presss - 2005) Are We Not MEN & Fake Book (2 books of collage - * Page Press -2005). Dream Book (Avantcular Press - 2005). His latest book is The Final Nite (complete notes from a Charles Gayle Notebook - Ugly Duckling Presse - 2006). His latest cd is Phenomena of Interference with pianist Matthew Shipp (Hopscotch Records - 2006) He has read his work extensively in the N.Y. area and throughout Europe.






Michael P. Workman Lois Marie Harrod Joel Fry Steve Dalachinsky Aldo Tambellini Charles Frederickson Stan Dunn