31.1: POST-EPIC

Poetry guest edited by David Prater




And you were that paradox,

And you were that paradox, but finally wednesday arrived. it was time for the coffee festival youd organised. Who said ‘waiting is unpleasurable?’ Not Nietzsche! And doesn’t coffee solve all paradoxes? (Except those concocted by Kafka.) I scratch my head …

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Napoleon’s plunder

Napoleon's plunder including a few concepts that enabled couch surfing at home of Baylen’s bane did Bonaparte cry “Dupont give me back my Legions” He was a small man, but with big legions who envied Caesar and Charlemagne their regions …

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where does she stop

where does she stop greenland? Or winter at Reykjahlið? I know an African who fell in love with Greenland it was a sort of interim love … my head pressed beneath her locker room door Travelling long-distance. For a season, …

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in arid cities we have read as syntax flooded streets

in arid cities we have read as syntax flooded streets while the light falls, heavy as the shadow of a hoop; in darkness we are left as the shadows of our meat and our lives drift in, and out, in …

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It helps to have a pedigree

It helps to have a pedigree though some pumpkins live perfectly swell lives without them to grow through litigious lines of aesthetic concepts only to suffer the indignity of Halloween when I was mistaken for my mutt and didn’t bitch …

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at the moonlight splayed, shot on the dirt floor, silver and soft.

at the moonlight splayed, shot on the dirt floor, silver and soft. we were shooting the les murray biopic & it was all going cheaply to plan (for cannes) plenty of slow pans and montages – a bit short on …

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Listen, o poet, to this marvel of the night.

Listen, o poet, to this marvel of the night. ert-pksh-ert-pksh-ert-pksh: berlin with its pockets full of vomit a narrow orderly line after a fashion which is to shock, not enlighten when God said kill the boy, please explain Listen, o …

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When he enters the town

When he enters the town – and notices that mcdonalds has burned to the ground he weeps – wouldn’t you? – weeps and hungers he remembers the men standing in a circle of painted cloth now they live in separate …

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The valley of his youth is going slowly bald

The valley of his youth is going slowly bald El valle de su juventud va lentamente calvo A sad fate in any language for, the sky opens up and loosens river slicks whereas the breasts of his love could belong …

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he was a beautiful thief in the night

he was a beautiful thief in the night with a handbag full of greek syntax there was nothing he couldnt do right or wrong – or up or down, or east or west, nothing nothing could steal syllables he’d tucked …

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Joined to his guilt by bonds of matrimony

Joined to his guilt by bonds of matrimony with a dog he called homily he left for the 24 hour vets But he could still reclaim the black open road Any time he cared to. Yet, these sweats, and cheap …

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Whose guts garland the dogs of Troy / Not Patroclus’

Whose guts garland the dogs of Troy / Not Patroclus' shoesize but close enough & a vixen to boot I’d sent them tighter pics the definition would have been the bind focus on the blood, not the teeth while Garmr, …

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