As/Is

6.30.2024

Something Solid: Miscellaneous Sonnets: Pride (in the name of love)

 

The buildings are the road, voyage, reason.
The spirit you think is there, in architecture, is there,
along with other spirits, namely, spirits
hewn into coexisting nature, creating a sublime sense of
balance. Apotheosis of coexistences.
The collection of buildings here is resonant— shudders,
palpitates, resonates. Where & how you get touched
is the enchantment variable. It could be Fayette Street (two churches),
City Hall in May, Butler Pike, even the lunar landing
lunacy of Dekalb Pike. The road you travel on is into the cosmos.
This is it— my Philadelphia. The buildings say everything.
What I say now is reason again, to bring us
roundabout— the buildings are the road.
What is really in the cosmos remains the mystery.

***attached image of Calvary Episcopal Church, Fayette Street, Conshohocken***

posted by Adam Fieled on Sunday, June 30, 2024

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6.27.2024

Something Solid: Aughts Philly: Feast or Famine in The Seattle Star

Feast or Famine, double sonnet from the Aughts Philly section of Something Solid, in The Seattle Star.

Feast or Famine is also available as an individual mp3 file on PennSound. 

posted by Adam Fieled on Thursday, June 27, 2024

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6.25.2024

A Pit, A Broken Jaw, A Fever

Another keeper on P.F.S. Post from one editor of Rope-a-Dope Press.

posted by Adam Fieled on Tuesday, June 25, 2024

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6.19.2024

Dance Monkey: Beams: Barefoot Moscato

                                              They had Keats, I am told, in Avalon, Ventnor, Atlantic City,

                                                        now they live in anticipation from June,
                                            waiting (right?), for the king crimson’d, days-of-judgement

                                                          August twenties. Saltwater taffy sells all
                                                   along the Eastern Seaboard. Avalon bungalows

                                                                send signals right to where I am,
                                                        sitting on a porch in Plymouth-Whitemarsh,

                                                      sipping on Barefoot Moscato, an indeterminate
                                                                 wine beverage they reserve for

                                                         the precocious pre-teen crowd in Wildwood,
                                                               who “ah, happy chance” themselves

                                                           into positions of bureaucratic authority,
                                                                     plugged already into Autumn,

                                                   past Keats, who trips clumsily on Moscato bottles,
                                                           urns for this summer: the forever one?

                                                             “Those are some weird questions.”

posted by Adam Fieled on Wednesday, June 19, 2024

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6.11.2024

Dance Monkey: Apparition Poems

 Still in the process of writing a Beams sequel. The one finished section, as of today: Apparition Poems.

posted by Adam Fieled on Tuesday, June 11, 2024

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6.10.2024

Dance Monkey: Madame Psychosis: Fragment: Jennifer

Jennifer steps out of maggots & dust—
       a goddess of trailers, who’ll try, as she must,
                    to bless, as a cornfield, the rigors of lust—

coming from me into her like a spark,
       glazing with moonlight the rooms where, in dark,
                          the ooze of the universe made a new mark.

posted by Adam Fieled on Monday, June 10, 2024

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Derelict

 

Vladlen Pogorelov's Derelict.

posted by Adam Fieled on Monday, June 10, 2024

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6.08.2024

Dance Monkey: Apparition Poems: #2043

For God to be God
God has to be something else
the manifestation of a center point
of perfectly well-rounded goodness
incorrigibly manning the ambiguous
affirming all sides of every equation
responsive both personally, impersonally
conscious & unconscious

but then, being there & not somewhere else
the Ontological Argument falls flat
God’s not God
for God to be God

posted by Adam Fieled on Saturday, June 08, 2024

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When You Bit...: Sister Lovers: Big Black Car

Your middle: tongue
(hers), man (me), riding
together, I bitch (middle’s
middle). I tongue man
you, her, spacious, it, of
you, all of us, can’t feel
a nothing, I can’t. Not
of this, of you, of her,
of all of this riding, in
what looks big, black,
has tongue-room. I
can’t feel a thing. I feel
nothing of bigness, black
fur interior her you. Ride.

....image by Cesar Santos....

posted by Adam Fieled on Saturday, June 08, 2024

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6.06.2024

Dance Monkey: Apparition Poems: #2053

I have written
the poems
that were in the icebox
& which you were probably
hoping to power-block
forgive me
they are delicious
so sweet
& so cold

posted by Adam Fieled on Thursday, June 06, 2024

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