Why Did You Waste Your Time?

Created From Nothing, One Is Horrified In The Glass of A Compass, Exhausting Categories Of Change Or Inertia In A Whale’s Breath, Whose Fecund Utterance Wandered And Trailed, Speaking Of The Lunar Incubation And Reflexive Arc of Empirical Knowledge And Its Electric Signs--Of Which An Owl Without (Quotation Marks) Would Have Been Spitefully Perhapsed, In These New Depths Of Distractions. To The Roots Of Impenetrability, Ever Knowing Anything Of Inconceivable Scripts Of Sleeping And Waking Against The Calendar, Worms Walk Off, In Modern Light, On Those Grounds, In Freest Modus Operandi, And Swinging; Encounter These Bodies And Their Full Effects, All Their Wonders And Riots Of Living Phenomena Passing Afresh--A Call To Be Thinking.

Of A Meal : Through The Marketplace Massacres Of Capitalistic Flattened Time Perpetuated, I Saw (As One Who Looks Directly) It Burst, That Which Was Intolerable, In Its Nakedness, From A Cemetery Plot Of Raped Human Skin, As Deep As Sepulchres Trimmed With Armed Extinguishers, Who, At Risk From Banqueting, After The Starvation, Took All The More, Evening Over The Pavement--In Dante’s Time.

As Country X’s Growing Arrogance Became Manifestly Intransigent, Squads Of Soundless Lone Miners, Between Eras Of Opposing Continental Shores, Mastered Seismic Trawling Dilation; Losing Was A Forest That Spring (Of Blood Away), Wherewithall, A Language Digested--Making Coexistence Impossible. On The Earth Stood A Glass Coffer Inlaid With Sandstorm Membrane, Containing (Behind The Passions) A Rejection Letter From Was (Who Committed Suicides), Next To The Singer, Whose Exposed Throat Hovered In Paroxysm--Forming All Of The Unknown Derivatives Of :

Apotheosis! Apoplexy! Apogee!

--Outside The Library, Above An Open Book Of Chess, Archaeology, And Museums.

© Carol Maric
All Rights Reserved

© 2006 Carol Maric - Being: The Obsession, Continued . . . A Raging Epidemic !

Reviews

[Julian Gallo]

What I love about this is that it reminds me very much of William S. Burroughs and Bryon Gysin's experiments in cut-up poetry....although I am not sure if that was your intention here. But it really does remind me a lot of that kind of work...which is a compliment since I always felt they were taking the idea of "poetry" into different areas.

[Mike P.]

brilliant and absolutely f*****g chaotic. really really good stuff. this ones a keeper for me.
Hail!
6

[Michael Angel Cabrera]

Maric.....
You are f*****g talented. I have never encountered such passion, thank you for gracing my eyes with your words... I know that made no sense, I am a dirty mexican....hehe.

Keep kickin' chicken....

Michael Angel Cabrera

[Selena Chapman]

So many images, like a kaleidoscope, varied and interesting and beautiful. I think it will take more than one read to comprehend all the ideas put forth here.

My favourite bit:

Speaking Of The Lunar Incubation And Reflexive Arc of Empirical Knowledge And Its Electric Signs--Of Which An Owl Without (Quotation Marks) Would Have Been Spitefully Perhapsed, In These New Depths Of Distractions.

Read's like a conjurer's philosophy discovered in an ancient tome...

[Kimberly]

Why Did You Waste Your Time?


Created From Nothing, One Is Horrified In The Glass of A Compass, Exhausting Categories Of Change Or Inertia In A Whale�s Breath, Whose Fecund Utterance Wandered And Trailed, Speaking Of The Lunar Incubation And Reflexive Arc of Empirical Knowledge And Its Electric Signs--Of Which An Owl Without (Quotation Marks) Would Have Been Spitefully Perhapsed, In These New Depths Of Distractions. To The Roots Of Impenetrability, Ever Knowing Anything Of Inconceivable Scripts Of Sleeping And Waking Against The Calendar, Worms Walk Off, In Modern Light, On Those Grounds, In Freest Modus Operandi, And Swinging; Encounter These Bodies And Their Full Effects, All Their Wonders And Riots Of Living Phenomena Passing Afresh--A Call To Be Thinking.


Of A Meal : Through The Marketplace Massacres Of Capitalistic Flattened Time Perpetuated, I Saw (As One Who Looks Directly) It Burst, That Which Was Intolerable, In Its Nakedness, From A Cemetery Plot Of Raped Human Skin, As Deep As Sepulchres Trimmed With Armed Extinguishers, Who, At Risk From Banqueting, After The Starvation, Took All The More, Evening Over The Pavement--In Dante�s Time.


As Country X�s Growing Arrogance Became Manifestly Intransigent, Squads Of Soundless Lone Miners, Between Eras Of Opposing Continental Shores, Mastered Seismic Trawling Dilation; Losing Was A Forest That Spring (Of Blood Away), Wherewithall, A Language Digested--Making Coexistence Impossible. On The Earth Stood A Glass Coffer Inlaid With Sandstorm Membrane, Containing (Behind The Passions) A Rejection Letter From Was (Who Committed Suicides), Next To The Singer, Whose Exposed Throat Hovered In Paroxysm--Forming All Of The Unknown Derivatives Of :


Apotheosis! Apoplexy! Apogee!


--Outside The Library, Above An Open Book Of Chess, Archaeology, And Museums.



intresting read

[Writes Like A Piece Of ..]

I am astill learning to comprehend your mind. You make me work hard, and I am grateful for that.

[Sel Whiteley]

really love the freeflow here, the energy and immediacy. It reminds of the Beat Generation, especially Ginsberg's 'Howl' because you seem to be experiencing that sort of desperation and excitement at modern capitalist society. I could really feel visionary qualities as if you were legislating for the whole world. For me, and I have probably misinterpreted, this poem was about a person's thoughts on the war on terror. They were from a particular place, perhaps New York.
The first part brought to my mind the idea of the impact of modernity on physics: I could see neon lights and human beings across cities waking and sleeping determined by time in a world beyond comprehension.
The second, and for me, most elevated part, seemed to reflect two hells: Iraq 'Through The Marketplace Massacres Of Capitalistic Flattened Time Perpetuated, I Saw (As One Who Looks Directly) It Burst', and 9/11 'Sepulchres Trimmed With Armed Extinguishers, Who, At Risk From Banqueting, After The Starvation, Took All The More, Evening Over The Pavement--In Dante�s Time.'
The third seems to show how their can never again be unity and peace. 'Losing Was A Forest That Spring (Of Blood Away), Wherewithall, A Language Digested--Making Coexistence Impossible. On The Earth Stood A Glass Coffer Inlaid With Sandstorm Membrane, Containing (Behind The Passions) A Rejection Letter From Was (Who Committed Suicides),' for me, this is Iraq, 'Glass Coffer Inlaid With Sandstorm' and how far it took the West from the Muslims. 'Rejection Letter From Was (Who Committed Suicides),'
This is just the images and suggestions it brought to my mind and one of the wonders of this poem is the different meanings people will take away.
I thought that the Capitals gave the effect of forcing the reader to stop on each word, like an exclamation mark, and added to the poem's exhilarating openness.

[Crap!]

Mr. Buoneretti could see the patterns in Mr. Pollocks work but I wonder if the untrained eye could be as astute in understanding.I found this to be a bit pedantic. Or it may be that I, like T.S. Eliot claimed of himself, am a bit obtuse. Whatever the case might be, I must say that reading your reviews is a great comic relief.

[Bella Cohen]

Wow. Seriously. You're THE best poet I've read thus far. I saw pictures and everything was so vivid in my head. Completely amazing work.

Bella

[Summer]

I loke this one, its pretty cool. I'm a literal person, so I picture exactly what is typed. My mind was spinning with pictures. Whoot!

[Tamela J. Gordon]

This was fudging amazing. Really reminds me of Barth.