[Collaborative Poetic Project Between Gali-Dana Singer and Stephen Ellis]
ELEVEN LINES [Gali-Dana Singer]
Perfecting their past, they gave themselves airs
Perfecting their past, he offered no explanations.
Perfecting their past, she completely forgot it.
.
Perfecting their past was tense, but not past repair.
Perfecting their past was tense, but they were eager to get going.
Perfecting their past was tense, but they knew what had to be done.
Perfecting their past was tense,
but the more it went on,
they were kind of chatting to each other and awkwardly laughing at the situation.
Perfecting their past while present continues to be torment enough
was tense, but nobody left. Nobody was left.
.
.
.
*
THE ALL IN EVERYTHING IS MOST LIKELY TO ENDURE [Stephen Ellis]
The air of the past is remembered but not smelled
It can always be spelled but has no scent
The air of the past can be sold for ten cents
It circulates invisibly in the folds of one's brain
Our sensibility makes is never the same
The air of the past is what keeps us in dream
We remain here but our full presence is gone
Why not refuse what makes us unable to forget?
Who are you surrounded by time you forgot?
The deeper you go the more you invent:
This is the progress of collateral events.
.
.
.
*
FUTURE AIR RATES [Gali-Dana Singer]
The air of the past can be sold for a song
by mutual consent of all parties concerned.
.
In futile hope no one will buy
I agree to sell to a buyer spurned.
.
It was the air well spent
and now it turns to cement
.
along with the air that seals concrete cells
that are built in advance under the City of Gold.
.
There are two we are going to fill ourselves
in the almost certain future
the air of which will not be cheap at any rate.
.
.
.
*
CLAWS THAT HOLD A BIRD IN PLACE ARE SIMPLY PART OF ITS SONG [Stephen Ellis]
Air is everywhere and often fair as in breathing
To let go of what we take in more of
.
Consent is but half of mutual decision
[Breath will always tell what's on your mind]
.
Response is natural but responsibility is not
Ethics is understanding how nature works
.
Gravity holds us to the place where we are
And air buoys us up in reciprocal vision
.
As a firm foundation permitting dreams of flight
[Lungs are a sun that make air a city of fire]
.
No matter the price, radiant presence is free
.
.
.
*
THE MYSTERY OF THE DISAPPEARING PASTIME [Gali-Dana Singer]
Questioning the past, she was not alone
.
Was the past perfect?
Was it progressive?
Was it continuing ad infinitum?
And if it was
and never passed
why was it past at all?
.
Answering it was another matter.
.
To make the short story longer
she chose the perilous turn of a sentence
and since was never heard of.
.
.
.
*
GENERAL THEORY OF THE 'NATURAL STANDPOINT' [SUPPLEMENTAL 'LACK OF DOUBT'] [Stephen Ellis]
Don't know where I'm going, unsure
.
where I've been: Who gives names to
living things that can't be gotten rid of?
The 'all' is incompatible with itself by way
as phenomenon of 'bracketing' / disconnecting'
[an 'attempt to doubt' is but a supposition]
If you have a home, why not go there?
.
[Like in a mirror, what's reflected back? Friend?
.
Foe? Or anything that befits the nature of who
you are not. A 'glass of water,' 'grand piano'
'unread books next to a chair one never sits in.
.
.
*
AN UNFOLDING REFLECTION [Gali-Dana Singer]
How did I get here, – she asked. –
The last thing I remember
was crouching down under the table wailing
‘I did not ask you to give me birth.’
Under which table?
Under a collapsible dinner one with greyish-white Formica coating
or under a solid polished writing desk?
Both stood there detached, uninviting
in the same room with a folding sofa bed and a folding bed armchair.
Few were the things that did not fold in this place.
The mirror was one of them.
.
.
.
*
'ENGAGED TO WED ANOTHER FOR ONLY THE FULLNESS OF A SINGLE DAY' [from Jane Austen] [Stephen Ellis]
Born to have to bear the weight of ' being'
One thesis is that 'experience' is 'lived'
But that we make no use of it except
to 'transvalue' how we recognize our place
in what happens to us and what we 'do'
into a strange but necessary means to
find our full freedom in lieu of attitudes
that generate doubt, that since our cells,
resurgent from daily dying, provide us with
identities that lose their histories in so-called
'time' yet always retain their authentic 'source'
.
.
.
*
TOO TIRED FOR WORDS, ASKING FOR A TIMEOUT [Gali-Dana Singer]
Time being the essence
of a bond,
don’t
tie me
down
to
the time table
for
the time being,
time being what it is and was
and sometime will not be.
.
.
.
*
TO OURSELVES LET BE KEPT TO STUDY ALL FOLIAGE AND BRIDGEWORK IN QUIETUDE [Stephen Ellis]
Sensibility remains
in some new place, even
.
when in transit
it has finished its offering
.
that is salvaged from
where previously it had
.
been not: Thrive
and wash with fire
.
that acquits its own
magnitude that reigns still
.
where creased, unfolds.
.
.
.
*
AS AFFECT UNFOLDS THE DAWN [Stephen Ellis]
Sift through all that remains indeterminate
credulous in its stratified touchability
unraveled in a world that casts no shadow
.
As what feels 'real' in the time it takes for
the distance between objects you only
moments before recognized to increasingly
.
Begin to look as ambiguous as a beach
covered by star light that gives no sign
that can be known as of but indifference
.
Of which 'enough is enough' although
there is nothing to be enough of except
for everything you are surrounded by.
.
The 'seams' that hold the world together
are no more than an arrangement of
loose threads that are as mercurial as
.
How tears can appear suddenly from
continual naivete that cannot be explained
and from which one walks away with hand
.
On heart to mind an agitated moon where
nothing is more significant than to imagine
a non-existent third party ecstatic to intervene.
.
.
.
*
TWO TIMES ELEVEN FOR A FOLIAGE OF DUSK [Gali-Dana Singer]
Suddenly, it was late.
Not late June or January,
just too late.
Genuine lateness catches you unaware.
It was light, and already it is late. And it’s not only lightlessness.
It’s less than dark, but more of a necessity.
It has been around for a while,
for an eternity and a week, let’s say.
And now it’s gone and she is looking for it for no avail.
And she doesn’t even know what was it,
but still it’s late. And it’s still.
.
Suddenly, it was time.
Not for bed or to leave.
Just time coming down.
Descending upon.
Closing on.
Not
white
wet
cloud
she thought it might be.
Only weight.
.
.
.
*
NECESSARILY BROKEN DICTION [Stephen Ellis]
When late is sudden, early comes
in gradation through changing streams
that shine forth in such distinct ways
.
It glides easily into what was late
and enters into combinations under
cover of darkness dispersed to be
.
incessantly modified, present
and past always never quite mislead
the long-stay ballet school of anima
.
and reflection where new domains lately emerge,
possessed where truly nothing new was won
but simple arithmetic and knowing
the lie of standard time though feeling always
.
its passage into evaporation
and cumulative of opposition to
.
one's 'self' where matter emerges
as mass that falls up upon one from below
..
[no evolution but those recurrent]
[forever too late for 'elegant vestige']
[where aftermath of former utterance subsists
We say what we mean when meaning nothing
but to measure all we are not
.
.
.
*
A WITLESS ATTEMPT AT INNER CONVICTION [Gali-Dana Singer]
Witness, how many windows were in that room?
I do not remember, Your Honour.
It was dim all the time, Your Honour.
It was so long ago, Your Honour.
It was so long, this 9 m² room, that two would be an appropriate number.
Then again, it was dim all the time, so, perhaps, there was just one, after all.
I remember the grey halo of the empty mirror
the sharp heady smell of new writing paper in the desk pedestal
a certain numbness in my head when I put it inside
and fake sunny voices from the radio on the wall, if I'm not mistaken.
I’m the accused, Your Honour.
.
.
.
*
THAT ONE IS 'ONE' AT ALL IS ALMOST THE LEAST SIGNIFICANT PART OF 'THE STORY' [Stephen Ellis]
My name? Why bother to ask since
I never know for sure. All I know
is that it is somehow based on
.
'the revolving door theory,' each
document signed in order to remember
anything simultaneously erased.
.
Otherwise, stand accused of being
the voyeur no one can help being
.
part of the 'spy ring' of: Everyone attempts
to hoard their shadow. My response is,
.
live a life of crime, but always die a virgin.
.
.
.
*
A CERTAIN TWIST OF A PHRASE MAKES EXPLANATIONS REDUNDANT [Gali-Dana Singer]
.
But did you have a face, - I asked it in my turn. It hid it rapidly with all three hands and turned.
.
It’s wasn’t better than a common thief, the way it took your own breath away.
.
I’ll do my best, - it promised and it did. It ran like ostrich on a perfect lawn.
.
The glass was green and dusty\dim and blue. Why couldn’t it choose transparency, - I asked.
.
The shutters were opened and shut, they were shuttered by the openness of why.
.
The mongrels it conjured last less than half a sec and months succeeded one another in a wink.
.
My favourite was cruellest of all. Why shouldn’t we be as cruel as we like?
.
I didn’t call it by its proper name. It wasn’t wise as anyone can see.
.
In higher places everything went wrong. It doesn’t mean that anyone was right.
.
It was transformed into a kind of father figure, by mistranslating ‘him’ instead of ‘it’.
.
‘transformed’ misspelled convincingly ‘transwormed’.
.
.
.
*
MULTIPLE DIRECTIONALITY [NO STEERING NO BRAKES] [Stephen Ellis]
I say my name but get no answer
.
Why not always flee back to the person you never were?
.
The redundant part is the fact one's still 'here'
.
Wherever 'there' is you'll find you can't arrive in from where you are
.
Naturally the reason for this has to do with how plants continue to grow
.
In the future I'd rather have been where I came from
.
Everything wrong is as right as how rain can do nothing but follow gravity
.
It's all correctly combined because each part will be always misunderstood
.
Rendered derelict upon emergence are the limits that precede everything that happens
.
Genius stands on tiptoes with hope of knowing nothing again
.
If I could I would always precede myself in order to prolong it
.
.
.
*
NEVER-ENDING SONG [Gali-Dana Singer]
Tick tock... tock tick...
Quick, quick!
The time is sick.
Where? Where?
Here and there.
Slow, slow!
The time is low.
Alack! Alack!
Bring a quack!
What a task!
Oh my! Don’t sigh!
Please, don’t ask.
The help is nigh.
Wait! Wait!
It’s too late.
The time has fled
and slipped ahead.
The time opt in
And then opt out.
The time has stopped
To fool about.
The time bled,
The time is dead,
No one is bereft,
No tears are shed.
What is left?
Eternal dread.
Don’t cry,
Don’t be sad.
Better try
to sleep instead.
Tock tick... tick tock...
The time will move against the clock.
.
.
.
*
HOW FAR CAN WE TAKE IT? [Stephen Ellis]
Birdsong in treetops
My heart's a high-flyer
[has anyone seen my
.
Needle-nosed pliers?]
I wander through space
That hasn't a name, but
.
Cannot become lost for
I'm always in place. I
Pick up small stones
.
To pass on-going time
And plan how to use them
In an on-going rhyme.
.
Think about time whose
Tail which we chase
disappears always as we
.
Alter our pace. Why
Sit still with an excitable
Heart? Time and space
.
Are the gestures made
In attempting to continue
Composing the whole world
.
As Art: Rhyme is not time and time
Is not space, as we allude
To the illusion that with all
.
We're combined. Nature
Is numberless yet arithmetically
Grows. The sun glows full
.
As the moon grows thinner
[This how we can tell when
It's time to eat dinner].
.
Life is all pleasure, despite
Feeling it fully is what exactly
Cannot be measured.
.
.
.
*
DUSTY TREE OF HEAVEN, A COMMON URBAN WEED [Gali-Dana Singer]
– What is there to take pictures of, girl? –
suddenly barked at me an elderly man in the street.
– That's what you must take a picture of, –
he waved his hand in the direction of an inconspicuous tree,
which barely survived in the muddle of an improvised car park.
– This tree is two thousand years old! Two thousand years old!
he repeated excitedly several times.
– And soon it’ll bear lemons, – chimed in his pal.
– Shoot it! Shoot! – they shouted in unison.
I willingly obliged
grateful for an object lesson in relativity of age.
.
.
.
*
CIPHERING THROUGH AN UNDERGROWTH OF WINE-RED MIRRORS [Stephen Ellis]
Ageless in unity, the world keeps
growing variations of itself that all
.
fit together by way of feeding our
.
imagination of what 'a whole' is,
as well as how it works, exactly
.
what we can't know objectively
since we are one of its primary parts
.
as the entirety we keep always in mind
[one can't not think about it, anyway]
.
as we hold it in our souls as close as
dear love, idyll [and fetish] of our fragility.
.
.
.
*
NEVER–ENDING SONG II [Gali-Dana Singer]
Time goes back time and again
and when it’ll be back there’ll be no back pain
there’ll be no back there’ll be no bane
there’ll be no bones to pick and nothing to pack
time goes backward in the garden of Israel
that’s not exactly the Eden and not exactly the Hell
time goes backward on the left handed clock
don’t be offended by the guard and the lock
that’s not exactly the front yard and not exactly the back one
don’t try too hard there is none to be done
in this disregard
.
.
.
*
ALWAYS PRESENT [ON THE EARTH] [Stephen Ellis]
Golden threads of thin cloud drift. If you
give a private definition of perception in
the form of an unusual word, how can you
.
know whether you have sufficiently undertaken
its proper use or know of what you are
actually referring to in order to concentrate
.
your attention on the feeling that created it? Or,
in the elusive yet constant grieving of times's
passage, can different species of flowers
.
share love of how they are not the same, yet
all remain rooted in the same intelligent source?
.
.
.
*
PLAIN WORDS OF GRATITUDE ARE MOST UNUSUAL OF ALL [Gali-Dana Singer]
‘Reading the unknown can impair your ability to think clearly’
is written across the sky.
‘An expression tree may not contain a call or invocation that uses optional arguments’
is written in a strange language I cannot understand,
and yet in my language it almost makes sense,
even though the combination of words ‘my language’ doesn’t make sense at all
in any of my languages.
A born Ausländer, I am foreign to all of them.
.
Image may contain: tree, plant, open air.
Image may or may not contain.
It’s only fair.
.
.
.
*
WORDS ARE SOMEHOW THE SAME 'THING' AS THINGS, IN THEIR DIFFERENCE [Stephen Ellis]
Language can make images of objects appear
in the mind, but make them absent to the senses.
.
But when images and things are aligned, any
'explanation' of how this combination happened
.
can never be as real as the thing-in-self already is.
The reason to speak is simply pointing to
.
something 'there,' about which you have no
preoccupation, except to sing in parallel. An 'instant
.
glance' of perception is all there is: 'Rhapsody' leads
always directly to the basic nature of how you feel.
.
Beauty has only one true function: To be beautiful.
.
.
.
*
THE SHADOWY DELIGHT OF ERRING FOR THE SAKE OF ERRORS [Gali-Dana Singer]
The day made a mistake and turned grey.
The weight of the mistake made everything heavy with regret.
Pearly transparent grey made a mistake
and smothered the day.
The night came to aid and tried to make everything right.
It was a mistake.
– Outward beauty is a subject of convention,
while beauty of voice is a matter of fact, – told Cicada
to the Whistling Kettle.
It wasn’t true, but thanks to the Window Pane that stood in between
it was inaudible.
.
.
.
*
'THE SECRET BETWEEN' THAT CAN NEVER ACTUALLY TELL OF ITSELF [Stephen Ellis]
.
Error reveals the open path to return
to archaic betrayals that happened
.
by accident: All error contains intent
that can make legible what was once
.
illegible, can make erratic thought
sumptuous in feeling full again for
.
the sake of delight, knowing outward
beauty can never be conventional
.
or that vocal expression is our only
fact, where in fact, neither yet both are
.
true, as rose petals teasing us with flame.
.
.
.
*
MILK BOTTLE FILLED WITH RESONANT STARLIGHT [Stephen Ellis]
'Women will always be cautious as long as men remain sentimental.' - Schlegel
.
.
There's a blue chalk line around the base of
the mountain, so we can remember how high the water
.
used to come. He knows he has to die, but not
before he reverses time and can go back, to be
.
raised as a girl, like Dionysos. Until then, it's all
a banquet, three-legged stool, rickety card table,
.
ace of diamonds [in case you need a companion
or communion], small dish of salt, peeled hard boiled
.
eggs from a black duck, a bottle of red wine from Tunis,
recorded music by Julius Eastman ['Stay On It']
.
and a bowl of dried white figs imported from Albi.
.
.
.
*
GATHERING FIGS AT NIGHT, BE PREPARED TO WRITE ABOUT FIGS THE NEXT DAY [Gali-Dana Singer]
.
Fig dry or not is a "false fruit",
an inverted flower
and a predator as well.
Its biting milky sap leaves sticky marks
on its way to the bowl.
Bottled up feelings
are yet too precious to be shared.
.
All this takes place in the present.
There is no time like the present,
as the present is not a time.
Is it a place after all?
.
.
.
*
NO TIME FOR A PLACE TO 'BE' EXCEPT AS WE 'ACT' [Stephen Ellis]
Figs and orchids both live in disguise,
like movie stars, always seeming to be
.
what they are not, 'figs' as inverted
flowers, and orchids using 'sexual
.
trickery' as both must be fertilized by
wasps in order to mature, from one kind
.
of deception to the next. Humans live
life under the 'false flag' of idealism as
.
'collateral damage' resulting from invention
of language. Speak, and be spoken for:
.
The theater of deception opens at birth.
.
.
.
*
FROM THE MIND OUT OF TIME PLUNGING INTO THE TIME OUT OF MIND [Gali-Dana Singer]
Women tend to forget easily,
thus spoke the voice in the night.
What do I know of women’s tendencies and what of men’s,
used to acknowledge just slight fluctuations of the air,
rapid changes of temperature and voltage,
blinding patches of reflected light and gilt glares,
tender words that are meant to be easily forgotten.
Do I forget easily?
Yes and no.
Yet, forthright and slow,
I make myself fit for easy oblivion.
.
.
.
*
NEVER–ENDING SONG III [Gali-Dana Singer]
Time immemorial?
Pray, what does it mean?
Aren’t you sorry all,
that it’s a sight unseen?
There is no there
and there is no here.
There is no reason for gloom
and not one for despair.
There are too many rhymes
and they all disappear,
But for misery there are none
and only one for anguish.
After all is said and undone,
better do not languish.
Where there is no memory,
there is no time.
Better, be wary
of reason and rhyme.
Better yet, beware
of your own old fear
And don’t forget this torment:
any given moment nothing is fair.
.
.
.
*
WITHIN ALL THAT IS 'WITHOUT' [Stephen Ellis]
Each object is [always] inconsistent with all
others, yet each individually makes a 'feeling
.
picture' of a 'whole' of which they are complete
yet but a part. Apart, yet nothing not also seen
.
'together.' The world can't help making itself
transparent in a way that we can't help seeing
.
in the reality of our imaginations: Your face is
framed by a window, but is not made of glass,
.
although ability to see a world through you does not
abolish your anatomy, but allows us each to enter
.
the laminated syntax of our functional hallucinations.
.
.
.
*
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