One hundred hits of faze
the berlin youth thinks of
really really silly swans
they call them “bionegative”
irrelative, fricative
they rough them up
they love the swear word:
corona pig
well,
swans can show up
on a baking sheet
or
on streets near the rhine
within mud & rubble
or
on a receding oil bubble
one can not get things back
to straight
to kick up the back side
hey, Lake “wendaaree”
… go away …
toleration
sufferance
no equal status
i can’t go to bed
i can’t get out of bed
the forest of Katyn keeps me awake
as do the swans
dunes in the land of eternal Blue
a constant harvesting
eternal topography of brooks
these dreams of blueness
what do they want me to do?
hello reality show
so-so i am not the modern type
i go for black swamps, for owe
drying up & reappearing
black swans, purple swamphens
the dusky fairylands &
never a cookie sheet
what rhymes on base, on ringlets, on dressing?
marvel’s deadpool 3 & a sun dress of 1957
300 gray flannel suits & the eternal
drawing room of madame de noailles
well, these bees are dead
they died on white tiles in the bog
Le Style Frank & its flag-lite version
loop of braid & cord, semi-aquatic
ultra-fine
shades of blue
shell-pink
which is not “Die Schwarze Botin”
no thick
no narrative
not even a platform for students
rather the insistence on negativity
ruthless negativity
so, don’t start the backing sheet
don’t even pick it up … the swan theater,
it bows in Southwark
as they say: it could affect the green lit round
of buzz
the word brouhaha
dark mark park bark
outargue
hark marque dork nark narc remark
embark debark uncork watermark
oligarch tide mark finger mark
patriarch disembark matriarch
meadowlark
paper bark, reembark
—Martina Gertrude Siebert
