четвер, 3 лютого 2011 р.

Voss Felvarg - The Whorl


I picture the nocturne
As forest-bizarre
With the trees
Which are child-like
And a dove as a hiker

There is man and a craft
In the fly over field
Which opens for hand
To carry in corner
Some mud.

"The ride
On a bell
On the way
Of the flow...

The hang
As hundred
Of one
on the side
of the moth..."

   Mouth stops.
At the very close
   To the night:

In the hoary -
The Carnage -

Shake to the hanging! 
Walk to the Face - the picture - figure -
Turn to the way
under voice of ever -

Drowning the top
Killing the criers.
Clouds come
By the fire
As a Wish -
As trap-trea-sure.

Tuning the voice
While freezing
Wide circles dance -
Echo of the stepping...
...Water -

And in the dream -
The wire
Moves to oblivion
To fight the sweet
By the wave:

Picture moves
And longing
Night -
Floats in the rhythms:


Up there to come down -
The colour to the air -
Blue Painful body
Which can look like the sun.
Tremb-ling on two legs
Before the wall of the he-ads tsss.

Up there - come down
Sharply - coiling
Into - Body
From the

From the scree
The grey face is watching
And watching.
From the scree...from the scree...
The grey face is watching-

-Watching-Watching -
Flavour -
Clowning -
Pitching -
In the wave
Of the body
With help
Sheer clay -
Enter the-
Enter the face - with One down.

So Time is sur-faced by the logs
And it's crazy
Watch skies - and sun...

Higher - in the eyes
There's love
Walking - behind the wheel
And condemning
With mercy:
Feeling the rush
From the down.

Delecto the silence
And f-ly inside
Fair with the wind
In the Rupture

Counting the doors
With the halos

Something high
Is in the eyes -
Desire to walk there
With the legs
That covered by the shoes

To put them near the wheel,
May-be behind,
And judge it by the way
To make it feel
The mercy
Of the rolling down

Dancers cast the paint
And so they draw
The street
Where figure stands
In chains of smoke

With the Vivaldi-sound
They dance
And so they sleep
They laddle out
And try to pull
Up from the brink

Something exhausted -
In the rave
Their bodies in the eerie
Go flirt with angels
Finding names for them
Pinching their backs
While they're punching their chests

In severe attack
Try stride and walk
To stay and rest
Exhausted - making antics
From the flows and strings
With something
Always lit and frolic

The read and Play
Of the Big Come in
And sucking corollas

Decide to pack up
Like all the matter
Insuring and orienting
Making body open
For the meddle
And juxtaposing it
Like way
Where all collect the money
From the ground
And bring the mad
In dazzle

To Stage the bed
And in the bed -
The unpredictable
And Imminent
And unconquerable

Attacking glitter
In anger and denial
In bargain and depress
Accepting standing in the Just
And closing in on monument

Comparing fantasies
And their veils
Handling the rough
And singing
More or less itself

Blue burns
'cause white
is on the riot.
It's bored
And it can stab.

While calling
Brand new jazz,
So hateful,
It can't fail as a bomb,
It clamps
And clamps like rock,

It's hatelull,
And it can't fail
As a tune -
Not down
Like death or glory -

Walking in jazz,
Walking on sidewalk,
Working and waiting,
By hear-t and min-d.

Calling the rocks
To lead the waltz
Of the rebels.
The beat is crooked
And the lightnings strikes into the corner:
They talk so crazy -
And this talk sounds like sin
Of back
In the calling of the skin
To come and surf and slip
As a parade
To Jam delights.

And later,
With the rock
In the hand,
Going to the red
And Listening
How door
Can sound like guitar:
A drop with groove
Stopping this world
In the magnificent dance -
Confused and cool.



In Pash
The lips
Are making shapes
And tongue is
ground of the back
So vast

"Yo Yo
Bum Bum Bum
Dum Tha-dum"

And voice
Is humming wildly deep
And roaring

With gloria
And halo

A storm
The Blizzard

Oh, has blown
And Rest
Is falling as the snow

It's hurls
it tosses
And throws
To Borehole
Stripped and
To prospect

What will be there?