Sunday, April 25, 2021

A Fat Wafer Falling Like a Trap of Failed Mesh

The Rise and Fall (and Inevitable Shoved-Down Fans Mouth Rise Again) of European Super League fascinates me, across political spectrum peasant uprisings for Justice? No. Peace? No. Increasing the minimum wage for fuck's sake? No. Bread? No. Circuses? Eff the eff Yes!
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Full Disclosure: the BLCK & RD of the fuck typing the sentence's digital identity directly related to a relationship he had with an American professional soccer team when he participated in many of the tribal rituals of its supporters, more than a few of which who would scream at people who wouldn't take off a hat during the National Anthem but would scream and sing along with me when United scored
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My first thought: of course the particular shitlords that own the biggest football clubs are over-leveraged and stand to lose a tremendous amount of money and more than money, prestige, the risk, rimshot noise, of relegation to a lower tier of shitlordiness
My second thought: for the second week in a row I went to United homepage and watched the first minutes of a game (at Ningland), the fuckers are wearing blue shorts, United pxpguy Dave says, "they're a fan favorite," and it could be, bye
My third thought: Eternally Fuck Real Franco, and I'm not surprised but disappointed to have to say Fuck Barca too
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Dave Smith

The sun frets, a fat wafer falling like a trap of failed mesh.
I watch the pin-glare of a mockingbird’s eye cut sharply, descend
on the blank water, then emerge from himself naked
as a girl who shimmered here, once, for me.

If we come back like penitents to kneel over water, bass swirling,
scattering the mayflies that often, in silence, graze

lips, what is the word floating out from the mouth unbearable
as a bird’s black grin or a madman’s lust?

The word is not we, but me. Giving it again and again

brings no one out of the willows and I, willing to believe
like a sap in whatever dives or rises hear no voice
but the mist sizzling on stones. I lift my head

for echoes out of trees, for the flashed recoil of flesh hung
cheap and gaudy, wingless, above the stab of water
that crunched her like a beer can. Toads honk

the only answer. Among them, a boy, I felt

the grotesque pull of the moon all night, peeled and went slowly
down in terror, rising, falling through the pulpy leaves
until the sun caught me, drained, and I was no one
wanted, so walked away from all knowing,

walked into town and drank, calmly, an illegal beer, then slept.

The hooks, in hairy hands, clawed it smooth as a dish, a super-
human search by flood and fire light. What could they find?
Like many, I have been out of town a long time.

I wish the face floating above the chill at my knees opened
the door of a drab hotel. I wish it said Go to hell
or Do you know what time it is, anything

that, if I heard it, I could kneel to and swear to be faithful.

1 comment:

  1. 1)speaking of swear to be faithful, as dave smith does, reminds me that on the back of the piece of paper that asserts i am a citizen of canada, which i received this past friday, is the Oath of Citizenship, in french and english - the latter states

    I swear (or affirm)
    That I will be faithful
    And bear true allegiance
    To Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second
    Queen of Canada
    Her Heirs and Successors
    And that I will faithfully observe
    The laws of Canada
    And fulfil my duties as a Canadian citizen.

    2)interestingly, according to the certificate's effective date, i have been a canadian citizen since the day i was born

    2a)consequently, my canadian citizenship is valid even though I have never sworn or affirmed true allegiance to her majesty – although if an occasion to do so presents itself i would do so without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion

    3)i will need a canadian passport for travel there from now on

    4)whether or not i will move there depends on a combination of circumstances, but i feel relief that this is now a legal possibility

    5)kurt vonnegut, a major influence on my world view, titled his last book published before his death man without a country - contrariwise, i am fortunate to have two countries – or maybe, in practical terms, one and a half – john ralston saul’s book on canada titled reflections of a siamese twin - written in the 20th century, using an obsolete term for “conjoined twin” - reflects the reality that canada and the states are different but also inextricably intertwined – even if missus charley and i do move there nevertheless all our income will still come from u.s. sources – who knows if it’s good or bad?