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Paul E. Nelson
Estados Unidos
Another Bird Song

May sun river reflection a perceived bright silver angle with which the
chickadee sings his Thursday A.M. melody going
on bird nerve and the primitive hunger of sound.
The notion of sound as gift cottonwood down
downed in May on the ground under the dream head pillow so
Stuck in its insistence to follow its plan to mitigate this state we created. A
tree a perch for early brunch surely this
bobbing bird has a tender
vibrato and a word for Thursday but until Slaughter relents it's only nine cheerful notes.

September's Search for Duende
[After Lorca, For Peter Ludwin]

The search ends when the
duende is encountered as the reason why a bit of bile
is stuck @ the base of the throat clearly
a muse or angel but a
power says Lorca
not an angel of protection or a latent antepasado
a lost ancestor to shape
behavior for the preservation of the strain [[the strand]]
is not madness per se but
a reason why the ear-slicing madness exists the
struggle what makes it so. What makes it so deadly
and fierce the push toward homicide re-directed yet
not a path per se
a notion or
concept concept what triggers the itch no skin-scratching will cure.

It is the fire Artaud knew
burns the cells like a memory of crucifixion
the muscle memory of a spike
blood with no avenue to splurt implodes and marks a soul
like a nuclear tattoo or
glass in the jar we thot was sugar-filled.
That freshness wholly unknown
it requires a living body as interpreter
exhausts all intellect
that ultimate llic quality of death
it coulda been an aneurysm it
rejects measured rhythm the wild river pours its own path
all the cows stranded on the last patch of higher ground.
The duende is what creates the subtle grimace as
sweet as prolonged uncertain childbirth the
geometry of destruction
one force of nature mother didn't tell you about
has pushed men to madness and Lorca
learned duende scares the muse it may be
that sound behind you when the forest is on fire
it is the force what compromises your grip on the cliff a rock
breaks off from under your foot and duende
with the taste of your heart in your throat duende is
all smiles that you never see the
Letter 4:05 [Multiple Anomalies]

The stars outlandish before the
night of showers of meteors
sky like blurred colors
appears to be fireworks or sealife
and Michael smiles and says Thank You and
recoils into a blur of cedar and hummingbirds.

The night is cool in its 3:15 air
stars incline but they do not force your
move back into mayhem
back into a neo-cannibal state
an eye for an eye for an
inch beyond your life outside these bones.

They look at the camera
smile and finish their torture
in patriotic splendor
their unintentional canine wisdom will
own the moment though they disown the
dark closing in on them like night.


Take the policy official regarding
of suicide bombers
the manual now says
little or big - shoot them in the head
ones eyes can never be sure

and Brazilian eyes
they'll go blank on the tube car, they
take a bronze skin suspect with
care, skin color being one
of multiple anomalies
you look to extinguish to preserve freedom.

3:30AM - 8.4.05
From a George Bowering line
Kerrisdale Elegies III


Paul E. Nelson
is co-founder of the Northwest SPokenword LAB, and Founder of Global Voices Radio http://www.GlobalVoicesRadio.org. He earned an M.A in Organic Poetry from Lesley University. http://www.OrganicPoetry.org. His poems/essays have been published in: Golden Handcuffs Review, Jacket Magazine, Fulcrum, OlsonNow Blog, The Argotist, Raven Chronicles, & elsewhere. He's interviewed Allen Ginsberg, Michael McClure, Anne Waldman, Robin Blaser, Sam Hamill, Wanda Coleman, Eileen Myles, Jerome Rothenberg, George Bowering, & other poets. See http://www.splab.org. His serial poem re-enacting Auburn history, A Time Before Slaughter will be published in April, '09 [Apprentice House] and he writes one American Sentence every day.



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