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UNPERSONS LYRICS
"III" (2003)
1. Iron Worn
2. Apocryphal Son Lying
3. Last Tear for a Fallen
4. The Actor
5. Sheath
6. Ligature, I'm Stolen
7. Beauty-Symptom
8. Blank in the Dead Light
9. ...Of Silence
10. Temple of the Defeated Sweat
11. Ukiyo, Black With Vultures
1. Iron Worn
stained, blasted obelisk,
pretty still and battered,
a denigrated method by which to subsist.
do they cringe
at this trend?
those, manifest of my kiss?
i wish there were other words to send
sprawling, spritely or even phlegmatic,
down the oft-tongued, imbecilic shaft
of the eternal cata-strophic
promontory.
it's got to stop.
its got to fall.
down the chasm.
2. Apocryphal Son Lying
crash my skin--
the jarring repose of
the deposing
hand.
the pose is
recalcitrant
and the motive
unlearned.
(and burn)
Thunder-covered voices in burnt spine.
Thunder-coloured voices and burnt spine.
Thunder-mounted voices resting, mine.
Thunder-covered voices in charred spine.
my charred spine.
me burn on.
--crash my skin.
3. Last Tear for a Fallen
unsheathe
the last
tear for a fallen...
out, the candle
in the leper's mouth,
brief shadow, solemn
and stupid:
them eyes look
to both ends.
them eyes closing again,
where crying,
where sighing, a
brief battle across the
barrier, he:
demarcated
trenches will run red
with shed. un-
stop your ears
and hear the slick edges
of the last tear
(gouging? yeah,
and unsheathed)
fly infinitely.
4. The Actor
no angel no demon
to play the part.
fulfilled in halcyon lies,
for the face is blank,
empty as the grave.
the symptom
is but the last quiver,
the victim
another mark in no book,
another scar on no arm.
failure
signed in blood
have no name,
singing
dust.
and not her scar,
a stolen look
an apocryphal book,
all given in furious dreams.
5. Sheath
he
the
falling sheath
a dream of
last
christ--
sheath
us cry.
6. Ligature, I'm Stolen
old time dolls,
like a match,
blacken eyes
(painted carefully next to her)
who would have no funeral at all.
7. Beauty-Symptom
beauty-symptom
i write three words
over and over.
8. Blank in the Dead Light
I.
queerly,
i can't breathe;
i will wear only my current
shapes;
prickly stolen shades
drapes the shroud over
his shoulder to the wheel.
II.
the invocation rests
sibilant
on his lips, slightly overdrawn:
a wuality all too familiar,
before falling
with a dead thud and a
silken-haired remnant whisper
onto the table under
the moon-lit
mounted stirrups.
down the ruined promenade he walks
and each grain refuses his talk;
and a subtle suggestions
reaches across a dim landscape
to the coldness
in his mind,
shaping the silence
with uncertainty
to name the symptom,
to rot the hand,
(is falling)
is flung
the posed
poisoned
curse.
III.
but all this occurred before.
the behest is still ending
even before:
sending some words
enough like these, sprawling
down a mouth
and
out
the only
9. ...Of Silence
exit seraphim and satan's men.
i meant to cover my names
if anyone came in;
but dear god,
no god
ever blocked an entrance
o, it might fall nice
on the ears
but it's...
...no connotation
so bold
as to save
the statement.
no foundation
can assist or support;
no grace can coax
the response.
between the eye and the sight
there is a spurious cloud.
a veil of malignance and nuance:
i hollow out my arms
like it was duty,
but is there a difference
between the golden iris
and the spectacle of yellow pariah fangs?
no confrontation so bold as to save the ruined wastes of this
fly.
fly infinitely away from me,
in
in
in
fly infinitely away from me,
in (instantaneous repose).
(this is beyond words).
10. Temple of the Defeated Sweat
if entered unseen, unseemly, obscene,
would obliterate.
however,
if noticed, heard, loses power, stumbles, crumbles
as breaking stone of a pillar
in a temple of defeated sweat.
the passive smoke,
dilated,
perfumed in air,
exhausted,
articulates with
poisoned tongue the
disease of the
rampant winds that burn
in a temple of defeated sweat.
11. Ukiyo, Black With Vultures
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