Monday, May 21, 2018

Béatrice Machet # 17-The Water and salt you are made of- (after Magdalena Ball)


Béatrice Machet # 17   The Water and salt you are made of 
after Magdalena Ball
 
(Magdalena Ball #18 The Idea of Sound Responding to Dominique Hecq #13 Fish Dance : https://conversationinpoetry.blogspot.fr/2018/05/magdalena-ball-18-idea-of-sound.html)



these
things I find  in the dark of streams
                        in the opaque of sand
reaching for you    whoever you are
as an evolution process   with bones
mine and yours    parts of skeletons
to write with
unearthed letters of a body for a common language
seeds for new sounds echoing some old ones
let them flow in one’s vibrating voice
let the strange syllable explode
let the mermaid sing with an open throat
let the friction of tongues warm up the phonetic
then
let the eyes pronounce  MNI WICONI
all around and around and around and
never forget the water and salt you are made of

Thursday, May 17, 2018


Dominique Hecq et Béatrice Machet # 5 L'enfance des mots / The infancy of words


L’enfance des mots


Sur la plage, l'enfant creuse
                                        un trou
y installe ses fesses 
                                       enfouis
ses pieds
                sous le monticule de sable
hallucine un volant   
                              broum brroum brroummm

la formule trois s'emballe
                sur la voie royale du rêve

ne crains pas les archaïsmes   anachronismes   clichés
la grammaire étrangère
                                  à elle-même


Sur la plage, l’enfant creuse
                                       un trou
imaginé tunnel géant qui
                                       le conduira
plus bas
      à l’autre bout de la terre
il ne sait rien de l’enfer
du purgatoire ni même du paradis

il se glisse
petite taupe fouisseuse

vers ce qu’il ne sait pas nommer   mine de lumière
le vocabulaire aveugle
                                 à lui-même


Sur la plage, l’enfant creuse
                                        un trou
et l’eau infiniment salée
                                     monte
plus avant
                 comme un demi-monde
une mer à créer à l’œil
                                    qui seul peut s’ouvrir
sur le spectacle
                          des anges dont le sang
coule dans les veines
du ciel où sa mère aphone
                              l’attend


Dans les nuages, la mère creuse
                                          un trou
au bord duquel à plat ventre
                                                elle s’allonge
ses coudes soutiennent le bourdonnement
                                                  de sa tête
sourire béat elle regarde
                                         en bas
sur la plage son enfant
                                     et contemple
 la possibilité d’allers-retours
                                             ne craint pas
 l’éblouissement





The infancy of words

On the beach, the child digs
                                             a hole
places his bottom in it
                                             buries
his feet
             under the mound of sand
hallucinates a steering wheel
                                    vroom vrroom vroommm
the formula three takes off
            on the royal road of dreams


Do not fear archaisms   anachronisms   clichés

on the beach the child digs
                                            a hole
imagined to be a giant tunnel
                                                leading
further down
            to the other end of the earth
he knows nothing of hell
                        purgatory nor even paradise
he slithers down
            the little mole sniffing
for something he can’t name   well of light
vocabularies veiled
                        from his sight


On the beach, the child digs
                                        a hole
and the incredibly salty water
                                                rises
ever higher
                        like half a world
of sea to create by ear
                        that could speak
of the spectacle
                        of angels whose blood
courses through the veins
of the sky where his speechless mother
                                                   awaits him


In the clouds, the mother digs
                                          a hole
bends and lies down
                        buries her elbows in it
her hands cupping the hum
                            in her head
mouth agape she smiles
         down
on the child on the beach
                                    and contemplates
the possibility of round trips
                                    does not fear
dazzling sights



           





Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Magdalena Ball #18 The Idea of Sound responding to Dominique Hecq #13 Fish Dance

Magdalena Ball #18 The Idea of Sound 
                          Responding to Dominique Hecq #13 Fish Dance

they’re evolving right now
as we speak

your voice in my head, my voice
a computer generated fish

crawling onto dry land
evolution in action, not oil, bodies
flounders eaten by toadfish

jumping from rock to rock
breathing with gills
spitting stones, moving across 
the shore

mute consonants 
press against the earth
gulping air
a natural code

streaming sound, knocking tiny bones 
grinding teeth
vibrating muscles

a symphony of pops, clicks, whistles
even if no one hears
this last ditch reminder
of water
sunlight revealing a school

the hit of loss

feeling the fear of transition

surrendering

Tuesday, May 15, 2018


Dominique Hecq #13 Fish Dance Responding to



the fish oil sounds different to the shark cartilage
and that's exactly what you'd expect:

                                                 a fish out of water.

You’ve done this before
and so, recap

as they say… try

to feel

                                         the shore flat and wide.

Dance!

(forget the moonstruck Pierrot who can sing)

Listen to the bassoon at the top of its range, distorting the idea of sound itself.

Feel it?

And then, yes!

Surrender
                   and rise, slowly

lest you fall


Friday, May 11, 2018

Ali Jane Smith #10 Is that even how you spell it?



there is a situation
it's between shoulder and breast
that polyester-rayon blend
they wear in Hell, you know
the resource-consuming business
of normal normalness
even very wealthy people
go to discount chemists
the fish oil sounds different to the shark cartilage
and that's exactly what you'd expect
swooshin rattlin
am I still naiive
shockable!
but don't hardly show it
no need to try and be at ease
in every kind of company
I don't know why I ever
thought there was
if you think that's funny
let me tell you another
while you clean your teeth
foamin




Saturday, May 5, 2018

Anne Kellas #6 Mt Wellington, crayon with ink, responding to Kit Kelen #21 - une façon de s’épanouir ici

Mt Wellington, crayon with ink

In response to Kit Kelen #21 - une façon de s’épanouir ici
https://conversationinpoetry.blogspot.com.au/2018/04/kit-kelen-21-une-facon-de-sepanouir-ici.html

threads broken
and a lessening of less
... like language gone from me
Birdwing
glimpsed in a watercolour sky
 – white
turns into winter mist.

Soft rain
on the grey mountainside
slides
in a lessening of less.

Bare stalks of trees near the summit
lean at an angle in the gale.
Time’s a soft-tissue injury
a rift

threads broken
in the blanket-weave of leaves.
A vague purple shade of green
seeps into the dark.

I cannot speak rainforest or cloud
nor walk mountain paths.
Language slips from me.
There is no sound here.


Wednesday, May 2, 2018

Magdalena Ball #17: To what retracing in response to #4 Dominique Hecq & Béatrice Machet CRYPTO....

To what retracing

(in response to #4 Dominique Hecq & Béatrice Machet CRYPTO....)

cryptocurrency does not pose
risks to global finance

option one, if you aren’t in finance
then bullish, without safeguards
for crypto read pseudo

which is not to say, nonexistent 
the placebo effect is real
money was always metaphoric
                        
scraps of paper, naked digits           
a slush fund, a pool of liquid assets
flowing in and out

for metaphor you could read, not real
          which is not to say lacking in power

for power read language 

that shifty shaper of reality
especially when combined
with money

option two, if you are in finance
don’t bother with metaphor

it’s a dead end, you must transmit

everything is in the exchange
the expression
            the irreversible, permissionless 
                anonymous
                    transaction

there is no consensus 
            hold tight to your bitcoin wallet

                        the ripple, the seed
                                from which nothing will

grow except a mathematical proof
elegant, secure
and tasteless

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Cui Yuwei #12: Birdcall Is White (after Kit Kelen's "Standard revised dream")

Cui Yuwei #12: Birdcall Is White 
(after Kit Kelen's "Standard revised dream")

Here is the link:
https://conversationinpoetry.blogspot.tw/2018/04/kit-kelen-23-standard-revised-dream-of.html

Birdcall Is White
Written and Self-translated into Chinese by Cui Yuwei

this is a note of a dream


《鳥鳴是白色的》

記壹個夢