Voss Felvarg - The Whorl

PREFACE

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.

ROAM

"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.

Cul-De-Sac

Tuning the voice

While freezing

Wide circles dance -

Mirage

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 -

Glass

Floats in the rhythms:

...

SWUNG

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

Scree

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 -

Empty-ness

Enter the-

Enter the face - with One down.

So Time is sur-faced by the logs

And it's crazy

Watch skies - and sun...

MONO NO AWARE

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

PILGRIMAGE

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

WOBBLE

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

Paltry-paltry:

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

RUMBLE

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.

---

Pash

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

"Yo Yo
Bum Bum Bum
Dum Tha-dum"

And voice
Is humming wildly deep
And roaring
Gloriously

With gloria
Behind
And halo
Above

A storm
The Blizzard
Tempest
Gale

Oh, has blown
And Rest
Is falling as the snow

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

What will be there?


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