terri friedman
uscha pohl
simon bill
robert antoni
max henry
max henry: 5 contemporary poets

excerpts from
Elegies to the Postmoderne a cyclic work-in-progress

Sonnet for E. de Kooning (W. de Kooning dead at 92)

O blushing woman
I the sole propietor
of the flashing wave,
I the gallent poet,
That ancient ago,
a trembling portent
To my palaver;

There lain aside,
On the floor
Pop song -
And the wife?
Is away cooking
(Somewhere expensive)


Destiny prays fulfillment
That language is mastermind
In a perfectly still monument
That language is mastermind
In a perfectly still monument
Destiny prays fulfillment
In a perfectly still monument
Destiny prays fulfillment
That language is mastermind


Dead               to                  the            world!
Shake    the    cobwebs,    shelve    the          memories,
St.   Telemachus    plays   on     the    transistor       -
Even     hardliners       will           tune            in:
as     nymphs           bathe          in        Baden-Baden
Tiresias    tires     of             his              harem;
Out               of                  the             ether, 
the    muse     shall      waltz      a             couplet,
it   will     break     the            sound         barrier
In    a         chariot     horse     go                aye!
A         gunny          sack        on      me        back,
Gunnysack            filled            with             book


In the year of our Lord AD. 1999
simple men engulfed the pronoun,
with slaked thirst and riposte,
their 'deed' had wrung,
that sulfurous waste, of ghosts yet to come,
endeavered indelibly by none;
For who portends the silent gesture when laden forth by supple shadows?


Somewhere grand and mountainous lies serendipity,
an all-pervasive yogi;
Who calls who unto the mountain?
One breathe without breathe,
magnetic resonance/intonation/fruit for the deities
A constellation of stellar movements,
Their withdrawal in the cosmos quietens profound


Prophets are never sad to see the seasons go
obsequious observers have pointed -
To tenemat flats and Pharaohs,
of millenial prophets and their like;
Later, after that spedfast joyride
The postmoderne poet lingers, abwhoring that rack ruined rhythm!


Where the Saints reside, ample & strong,
a sarcophagi of lauded voices
collated from the great beyond:
Have mercy will travel, reads the card;
"I travel light," said the Saint, with that he was gone,
he dematerialized before my very eyes....


Donnybrooks on Mt. Olympus are unlikely,
Black serpents chainlinked to the heavenly vestibule are encountered:
Saints alive!!!
"I'm not buried in mire nor clothed in dust, nor am I bound by exegisis,
congruently sepulchral, I feather the worsted triumvirate with ecclesiastical
specialties and doggone good banter"
"I dismay the stolen apples, the foreign fastidiousness of your anchoritic
pronouncements pinballing its way amongs the universal signum (-) not a
pocket square to land; I consider your petition to harbour the impatient
metaphor, for not man nor creature doth warrant this credo undisturbed"


Cyclids vast,
annalytic lore/hermetic computations/conceptual syllogisms
theos ek
deus ex machina


its crescent waterfalls,
engineered to munificent enter-attainment;
Ten commandments shed through the catalytic convertor
fire smoke cataclysm; conveyor belt arthritis, pauperistic pamphlets
handpressed handouts liturgical turgiding
cants re-cants dispersed papal consents outright annulment;


Where the confetti nestles, amongst industrial wastebaskets
a deafmutating caption parades across the inter-galactic console .---.---.---.---.---
harlequins for charlatans mummywraps for walking cardiograms
concomitants chaperoned by satellite picture props .---.---.---.---.---


Twilight falls on the effulgent rain,
vanquishing the flying Armada
towards destiny's comet ---


A street swan cranes
'to get it right'
to surpass the professional ennui
of malevolent gallery stares,
wakeful that the repetition
will fine tune itself;
the natural order of things the appointed rounds the collegial cocktail chatter


The docile takeover artistes
fiery Rembrandts among the few,
discern the profile of genius;
'B' plying the 'techno' rave of spinwizards
doeful to the relevant 'extasie' -
Alas, profundment!
Glamour, lustrous glamour, gams all around
skirt chasing over the circuit blast/
a 'dance' of 'earnest openings'
importunate to misgivings of critical digression;
callous remarks about style or lack thereof mendacious or not....


AC has a party,
'J' throws a snit fit, she wasn't invited;
Ever the towne crier she lets people know, 'the loop'
what a cretin this guy is, gonna take him off 'list'
something about a measure of respect


Hallowed halls could not have done better
conjuring contrived bloodsport
between glassblowers and smokeblowers,
stained glass the refractor;
numerous re-tread theories by insurgent intellectuals
'in affect' ineffectual


The swan remembers the graven image as foretold in a dream....


Here, is a 'Church' going lad, liturgically competent, 'Godly' in aspiration.
Impervious to doctrine for doctrines sake form for forms sake
Unwilling to worship heathen imagery
its myriad mutations
its brooding decaying flame
its tremulous pale
its 'elemental God',
the worshiper, unperturbed, awakens to a prosodic episode
reminiscent of another lifetime: "Twas but a dream of thee"
Language his willing servent,
A caretaker of the 'font generation' of, the font graveyard -


Were a cloud shorn asunder
from the icy summit of Mt. Caucasus
O grave and sentient Rilke,
would the chapel of Apollo
surrender its other-worldly visage
to the words limerical arcanus?
No concern concerning
the jurisprudence of multifarious muckrakers
can employ extemporaneous bewitchment -
No Parthian King nor Queen
can encompass le réticent
la manière de;
he, a languid spectator, she, a dull reader


Famished for wordship,
tearful to the mechanism,
the tenebristic school of 'linguistico'
cast its lovely space age spell;
Requisite to the founding dialectic,
A bastard nourishment, heir apparent;
a Lady orgies a sentence, all for the pleasure sound:
She who has the shape,
her restless knee about the waist,
all the years of want,
melt before her eyes;
desire is a strange empowerment,
flesh the indelible score....


A charmed hustler lessons ten year friendship,
to unreconciled breakup; wordless word spoken
foolish repartee, fallout -
There can be no wine elixir/no breaking bread
To mend the unmendable chasm;
We are animals at heart, tugging at the shirtsleeves
gasping at the fear gripping memory....


Let, the dawn of exile, mould a plot to glory
Let, the lasting ruins testify their laurels
Have the amateurs hitch up their wagons, the crackpots their caravan
May the unconquerable, be conquered
The imponderable pondered
May thesandthesea remain as one
May the dearly beloved,
Be loved
For what greater than great love?
For negation turns to love
What great, love
What great; love


I the avant
that sweeps the age of the garde,
Will go down kicking a lusty tome!
Stanchions will gate the way,
To my long reigning inexorable arc ~
O to be around the P writer!
For mere ambition but a plaything
Certain to endure:
At the end of snow year, my fallow friends and demure,
Maecenus at your hand -
A rare ability O consorts, A rare ability
And O what plume, what plume!


This lab do I conjure,
what less needeth I to re-defy augury?
O the sharp turns
the angled ways,
of the analysis, of the record chart
Flames flames, all around
Happily the rose continues


All that day brings,
its possibilites
its turnover rate,
willful burdens marvel at temerity!
Unactualized constructions
benefit believers,
not pocketbook nor stomach,
but the calling of wayward mercies,
the outward burst,
the fallen prayerwing,
the beating of.,


O to stand free among the living!
Ere's to poetics!
Ere's to the regiments of.,
The finding of the way,
The sendoff.,


O great soliloquy
What is life but death adorn?
How you become thee
For I fear thee not!
At my very trough,
I greater still,
This the outrage to you!
O fair God,
O fair fair God,
What hath become of you?
With folly no less
I surrender to your mortal trust, your immortal ways;
O first love poetry
I dare challenge you; that dare, in a lion cage: FAME
How sweet that be
That make thy splendour,
To reside where thou stay!
I plead with stride thy case,
For the world will not decry my porcelain scorn
When steep forth in cantos late.,
O wish: This ship sail I,
To lone shores
A bountiful room to gather thy perspective
For your patronage, your protection
I pledge thy gleam, thy sword!