To begin ...

As the twentieth century fades out
the nineteenth begins
.......................................again
it is as if nothing happened
though those who lived it thought
that everything was happening
enough to name a world for & a time
to hold it in your hand
unlimited.......the last delusion
like the perfect mask of death

Friday, May 7, 2021

Rochelle Owens: Patterns of Animus, Part 3: “The Ludwig Skulls”

[A continuation from earlier postings on Poems and Poetics of Rochelle Owens’ new masterwork. (J.R.)]

In 1863 Beethoven’s body was exhumed for autopsy, the headremoved and the skull studied for medical research.                                                       

On the monumental screen

zigzags of black lines  vertical/horizontal 

slashes of solar light 

 

“OnLy DeAtH GiVeS LiFe MeAnInG”

 

The camera zooms and pans

the Proto-Ludwig Skulls  every day

bears the data side by side

 

They number five 

digital letters spell  Viki   Ludva 

Hludwig  Ludia  Ludek 

 

The laboratory technician

peels off her surgical gloves  work

is a binding obligation

 

Black and hot my coffee

 

        *

 

“The Universe is very big and objects

entirely misunderstood”

 

Before Rome became

Roman in a zone diverging from

the course of events

 

Out of the coldness

and darkness of the Gothic Soul

out of the dominion

 

Of rigid geometry

 

Metal hammered into relief   

metal into money  digital letters spell                                                                               

Helmet  Weapons  Warfare                                                                                       2

 

The camera zooms                                                                                                         

and pans a bearded warrior on a coin

‘Shoot you  Cut you  Stomp you’                                                                                                   

 

No balm in Gilead

 

Black and hot my coffee                                                                                         

                                                                                               

        *

         

“A hot iron that burns in my pocket”

 

Molecular the skin’s mind

moving back and forth  a  post card

lavished with kisses

 

And doused with tears 

 

‘A man is a two-face

a troublesome thing who will

lead you to sing

 

The blues in the night‘

 

A goat smile on your lips

 

No balm in Gilead

 

Black and hot my coffee

 

        *

 

“Music is like a dream, one that I cannot hear”

 

On the video screen

a latent image appears  disappears

a broken geometric form

 

The facial skeleton

of Beethoven  delicate the bones

of the inner ear

 

The camera zooms and                                                                                            

pans a cello  a harp  a violin                                                                             3

a wooden spoon                                                                                                        

 

Beethoven in ecstasy                                                                                              

 

Banging a wooden spoon                                                                                     

humming  singing and whistling

banging a wooden spoon 

 

Deaf to cellos  harps  violins

 

Beethoven in ecstasy

 

Banging a wooden spoon

his genius breath blowing kisses

banging a wooden spoon

 

Beethoven in ecstasy

 

Banging a wooden spoon

biting his tongue  screaming

banging a wooden spoon

 

Deaf to flutes  oboes  clarinets

 

Beethoven in ecstasy

 

Banging a wooden spoon

his martyred blood-packed tongue

banging a wooden spoon

 

Deaf to horns  trumpets  trombones

 

Beethoven in ecstasy

 

Banging a wooden spoon

leading the royal wedding march  

banging a wooden spoon

 

Deaf to drums  cymbals  bells

 

Beethoven in ecstasy

 

Banging a wooden spoon                                                                                   

holding the Queen in his arms

banging a wooden spoon                                                                                    4

 

Deaf to gongs  castanets  maracas

 

Beethoven in ecstasy

 

Banging a wooden spoon                                                                                 

laughing  singing and cursing                                                                        

banging a wooden spoon

 

He makes a fist phallus

 

No balm in Gilead

 

Black and hot my coffee

 

         *                                                                                                                          

 

“Where of one cannot speak, there of                                                                                                                                                                                          

one must be silent”

 

Rising up and down

counting repetitions of chair squats                                                                           

inhaling exhaling

 

Perfect numbers                                                                                                     

 

Perfect numbers and             

our need for proof  inhaling  exhaling 

the camera zooms and pans

 

The Ludwig Skulls

 

Every day bears the data 

side by side they are two  the dome

of the skull sawed in half 

 

The jawbone hinging unhinging 

Cursing  Howling  Singing                                                                                       

 

No balm in Gilead

 

Black and hot my coffee                                                                                     

 

        *

 

“Evolution is smart  clean  clear and simple                                                      5    

hungry or thirsty  eat or drink”                                                                                    

 

An outline shapes itself                                                                                                                                                                             shapes itself out of skull fragments 

shapes itself like a puzzle                                                                                                                                        

 

Out of Skull fragments                                                                                                 

 

Twenty-two bones                                                                                                                                                                                                   each successive bone splits

vertical/horizontal 

 

Out of cranial bones                                                                                                                                                                                                 

 

Forty-four bones each                                                                                                

successive bone splits vertical/

horizontal

 

Out of skull fragments                                                                                                  

 

Sixty-six bones each

successive bone splits vertical/

horizontal

 

Out of cranial bones                                                                                                  

 

Eighty-eight bones each

successive bone splits vertical/                                                                             

horizontal

 

Out of skull fragments

 

One hundred seventy-six

bones  each successive bone splits

vertical/horizontal

 

Black and hot my coffee                                                                                       

 

        *

 

“Only art and science can raise men to                                                                 

the level of God”

 

Out of the coldness                                                                                           6                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 and darkness of the Gothic Soul

out of the dominion

 

Of geometric rigidity

digital letters spell ‘The Sons of God’

every day bears the data 

 

Side by side they are two 

 

Beethoven  Wittgenstein 

the camera zooms and pans

zigzags of black lines

 

Vertical/horizontal                                                                                                      

 

The dome of the skull

sawed in half  the jawbone hinging

unhinging 

 

Cursing  Howling  Singing                                                                                        

 

No balm in Gilead

 

Black and hot my coffee                                                                                                                                                                                          

                                

              *

 

“By ‘life’ we mean a thing that can nourish                                                              

itself and grow and decay”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

                           

Skin and hair shed                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

dead cells and dead cells clothe

and feed the flies

 

The laboratory technician                                                                                        

pulls on her surgical gloves  work is                                                                                                                                              

a binding obligation                                                                                                   

 

A set of skills in                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            sequential order  splicing  cutting 

grafting  data of body                                                                                           

 

Body of data 

 

Black bile  yellow bile                                                                                           7                                                                                                     

mucus  blood  the shape of the head 

the size of the skeleton 

 

Vertical/horizontal

 

Multilayered manipulated

images  a hand  a knuckle  a foot 

scrotum and pudenda

 

Wedding bells  Wedding cake

 

The camera zooms

and pans a breast vein as thick                                                                                

as a finger

 

A montage of bite marks

 

Playful the unborn babe

in its amniotic sac  carnal/spiritual                                                                            

moving back and forth

 

Death strapped into riding boots

 

No balm in Gilead                                                                                                          

 

Black and hot my coffee                                                                                              

            

          *                                                                                                               

 

“Human experience from the center                                                                                                            

to the margins”

 

In a bucolic setting

sound waves enter your ears                                                                                      

ornamental letters spell

 

Music & Storytelling                                                                                                                     

 

A latent image appears                                                                                     

disappears  the camera zooms                                                                                

and pans worms and bat droppings

 

Amorous the greedy seed

 

A pale green lily                                                                                            8   

emerges from the mud  deformed

diseased  devouring

 

Carnal/spiritual

 

No balm in Gilead

 

Black and hot my coffee                                                                                                                                                                               

                                                                                                                      

               *

 

“I shall seize fate by the throat, It will never                                                                

bend me completely to its will.”

 

Your bloated tongue and

blood-packed eyes  your hand

balled into a fist

 

‘I love a tree more than a man’

 

Moisture and nutrients

flow in your brain  Earth  Air  Fire  Water

seized with jittery energy

 

You must find the demon

In everything  Inhaling exhaling

perfect numbers  each bone

 

Splits vertical/horizontal

Inhaling exhaling perfect numbers

and our tiny galaxy

 

Counting fragments of bone

 

No balm in Gilead

 

Black and hot my coffee                                                                                                                                                                                       

                                      

                              *                                                                                                        

 

“To imagine a language is to imagine                                                                                                                                                            

a form of life”

 

Every day bears the data

dead cells clothe and feed the flies                                                                        9

Earth  Air  Fire  Water                                                                                       

 

Molecular the skin’s mind

moving back and forth  back to front                                                                   

to back  digital letters spell                                                                                

 

Lament  Heartbreak  Genius

 

God  Suicide                                                                                                    

 

No balm in Gilead

 

Black and hot my coffee

 

        *

 

“The human body is the best picture of                                                                         

the human soul”

 

The laboratory technician

peels off her surgical gloves  work

is a binding obligation

 

No balm in Gilead

 

Black and hot my coffee

 

        *

 

“Applaud my friends, the comedy is over!”

 

On the monumental screen                                                                                             

zigzags of black lines  vertical/horizontal

ornamental letters spell 

 

Melancholy  Passion  Death

 

In a triangle of solar light                                                                                            

two bright ovals appear  disappear

digital letters spell                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

 

Beethoven  Wittgenstein                                                                                           

 

Inhaling  exhaling

perfect numbers  perfect numbers                                                                       10                                                                           

and our need for proof                                                                                                

 

The dome of the skull                                                                                                   

sawed in half  The Universe contracts 

                                 e    x    p    a    n    d    s  

Blood in  blood out                                                                                                     

 

Earth  Air  Fire  Water

 

The R U I N S C A P E  appears  disappears

No comments: