THE

  PARTICIPLE

  POEMS

  by

  Bill Yarrow

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  1.Playing for Keeps

  2.Burying the Hatchet

  3.Staring at Waves

  4.Searching for the Word

  5.Looking at Waffles (8 Different Ways)

  6.Drinking an Orange Julius While Listening to Pink Floyd

  7.Crossing the Center Line

  8.Getting Home Alive

  9.Annulling the Future

  10.Theorizing Salsa

  11.Playing Pinochle in Your Snout

  12.The Knitting Needle

  13.The Learning Curve

  14.The Sticking Point

  15.Not Drowning

  16.Just Foundering

  17.Disappearing Ink

  18.Ash Coming on Second Wednesday

  19.Here's Looking at Euclid

  20.Villon, Stop Following Me Around

  PLAYING FOR KEEPS

  I woke like an animal

  breeding thoughts like flies,

  my arms loaves of bread,

  my eyes cups of milk.

  "Set the sawdust, I'm

  hungry for locusts."

  They never appeared.

  I ran grumbling 

  for shrubbery. Gone!

  The colors have no money left.

  The world was a leaf

  at the cockpit of dust. 

  I screamed and it shattered.

  Water poured through me. 

  I ran, a crazed rabbit.

  Shots rang out from the bunker

  ocean. I was laid low 

  by the shrapnel of design.

  BURYING THE HATCHET

  I wanted the pain to go away,

  so I let them stick me. No luck.

  I still feel rotten, and now my head,

  deliciously empty for decades, is

  clogged with thoughts of dying.

  I'm doomed. I'm a goner. Forget it.

  I'm riding the rails of deterioration,

  I know it. Soon I will be boneless

  and alone. But I am not alone.

  Not yet. In the other room,

  my mother is wrestling a mongoose.

  Between rounds, she sits on a

  radio instead of a chair. I can't

  quite hear what is playing, so

  I say, “Turn it up. Turn it up.”

  A fireman holding an ice pick

  adjusts the volume. The Chemical

  Brothers appear on the Jumbotron.

  Australia secedes from the U.N.

  STARING AT WAVES

  “In sequent toil,” my father was quoting

       Shakespeare, “all forwards do contend,”

  but I wasn't listening; I was staring

       at the waves, all green and gooey, all

  pommes frites, ruinous, insolent, half

       fractal, sawing like insolvency, Swedishly

  benevolent and Irishly violent, in whose

       reflection I saw deciduous shellfish

  nibbling a fragrant net; fit minnows

       winnowing a wave; sunfish at worship,

  contiguously religious. “I'm talking to you 

       about your future!” he was saying. 

  Me? I was wondering about the smug land, 

        the politics of weather, the insurgent sea.

  SEARCHING FOR THE WORD

  Searching for the word which might bring

  back better words, I writhe in condign pain

  witnessing the cacophony in which she

  twists. Once I jogged the perimeter of Eden,

  swam laps in the Lake of Siamese hearts,

  and hiked the icy top of Mount Amor.

  Today the pinkness of vision is blackened

  by the debility of having persisted.

  I separate my thoughts into two camps

  and rush between them carrying forbidden

  messages which I burn so as not to incriminate

  the pale sender or the ruddy receiver.

  There's no daylight in the life to come

  when the darkness is not medicinal.

  LOOKING AT WAFFLES (8 DIFFERENT WAYS)

       1. the mind (in its righteousness)

       waffles

       2. the conscience (in its scrupulousness)

       waffles

       3. the heart (in its cupidity)

       waffles

       4. the soul (in its annihilation)

       waffles

       

       5. the tongue (in its appeasement)

       waffles

       6. the skin (in its lethargy)

       waffles

       7. the body (in its luxury)

       waffles

       8. life (in its delirium)

       waffles

  DRINKING AN ORANGE JULIUS WHILE LISTENING TO PINK FLOYD

  I was strapped for cache

  so I called my friend Paolo

  who wears Ecuadorian gray

  and prefers Celine to Celan

  and asked him how to juggle

  all the crap life was throwing

  my way, and he said, “Boyo,

  take your chessboard to Andorra

  and mate someone” but, I had

  already done that, so he was no help

  at all, so I grabbed one of my shelf

  improvement books and read: “I

  saw the best minds of my generation

  enter law school” and realized that

  all the works I thought I knew had

  been defaced by assassins. I asked

  the Wife of Bathroom for a hit of

  Relieve. She handed me the anodyne

  and went off to make chicken

  á la Siegfried. I drifted into dream:

  A man in a turquoise slicker sat on

  a skittish horse wearing an iron hat.

  He was pointing at a group of children

  in the housewares section of Wal-Mart 

  playing catch with the throw rugs. A

  tsunami was rolling through the aisles.

  The man bellowed, “Watch out!” but he

  couldn't force their attention. The waters

  poured over all the products of mankind.

  Death came as a scythe of relief.

  CROSSING THE CENTER LINE

  He was a Decembrist but he was not

  one of the hanged. They dragged his

  frozen bones to Magadan where he

  toiled in the ruined mines. More than

  fresh air, he longed for glimpses of the

  speckled light that sparkled off the sea.

  He was used to the moldy smell of gold

  ore and the whiskey whispers of his

  comrades in hell. But he never adjusted

  to the crisp loss of Ludmilla to scarlet fever.

  And the white nightmares never left him.

  One day, he got a letter from his brother.

  Their mother had died in a suspicious fire.

  He lit a cigarette and filled his shrunken lungs.

  GETTING HOME ALIVE

   

  He enters

  the pavilion

  from the left

  and surveys

  the indigo walls

   

   

   

  In the alcove

  by the pond

 

  scarlet shadows

  thatch

  the empty bench

   

   

   
br />
  In a grove

  of dying

 

  birch trees

  a wasp loses focus

  a sniper coughs

  ANNULLING THE FUTURE

  If you can't consummate tomorrow

  you may as well just annul the future.

  That bride is a sticky risk anyway.

  Look at her—ruffles in all the wrong

  places. Her perfume stinks of wrinkle

  cream. She uses bleach to keep her

  complexion stiff. She's infested with

  multiple lovers from the past. She's

  not the future you remember. Her

  bones are porous from overexertion.

  Her glands are full of pride. You see,

  you see that push-up look in her eyes?

  How beautiful she looks in the indigo shade!

  Careful! She is a maid of weaponized affection.

  THEORIZING SALSA

  Janet and I

  had the tilapia

  fish tacos and

  talked about God

  God ordered the veal

  cutlet and was rebuked

  by the vegetarian Politburo

  The beer had a divine odor which 

  attracted the wasps of mortuary remorse

  PLAYING PINOCHLE IN YOUR SNOUT

   

  The paneled linoleum basement rec room

  with tables set up for pinochle, salami, and

  schnapps. My uncles, grandfather and father

  at one table; my aunts and mother at the other.

  The blurry TV on. The bookcases with glass

  fronts and carved locked doors holding auction

  volumes and foreign coins. My three sisters

  in ballerina tutus running up and down the stairs.

  My unemployed younger cousins on the back lawn

  smoking Luckies. My coiffed older cousins discussing

  the subdivisions of the Republican future. Albums

  of peeling Polaroids, dirty doilies, fuzzy rugs.

  The fetching wreckage of an arsoned heart. “Does

  anyone want anything else to eat? Anyone? Anyone?”

  THE KNITTING NEEDLE

  It was early in the morning when Lucien Carr stabbed 

  David Kammerer in the chest with a Boy Scout knife,

  dropped the knife into a sewer, the body in the river, 

  and buried the dead man's glasses in the park. 

  It was later that afternoon when Lucien Carr

  went to see The Four Feathers with Jack Kerouac,

  walked to the Museum of Modern Art to look at the Legers

  and turned himself in to the skeptical police. 

  It was a grey afternoon when Lucien Carr

  holding a torn copy of A Vision by William Butler Yeats

  pled guilty to first-degree manslaughter

  and was sentenced to a reformatory in Elmira, New York. 

  The odor of William Blake hangs over this narrative.

  Opposition is true friendship. Eternity in an hour.

  THE LEARNING CURVE

  There's always something negative to say:

  that's what she learned by listening to her

  bereavement and exercising on the heads of

  pins. In silence, she bakes zucchini bread

  and reads The Lancet a lot. There are days

  she opens the valves of her attention

  to the sprawl of phlox and felicity,

  but she's blind to the creeping peevishness

  of stevedore philosophers. Doesn't

  she understand the reactionary

  pessimism of the local helots?

  What she needs is a hot shot of Cedar

  Rapids, a close dose of liberation

  biology. Look up! Look up! She-wolves

  are eyeing the somnolent underclass

  while the bearded Cialis bankers hawk

  municipal treachery, sip Arnold

  Palmers, and feed on underdone seabirds.

  THE STICKING POINT

  I went for a walk to reinvigorate my head,

  but the grass on the side of the access road

  was wet, and the sucking mud stuck to the sides

  of my new shoes. I scraped my soles on a railroad tie

  and used a piece of granite to remove some of the rest

  of the mud, and, were it not for some sticking point

  I can't articulate, I might have been able to remember

  back to boyhood and its muddier shoes and scraping

  sticks and river's edge and summer wounds, but I was

  dirty and hurting and my mind was stuck in the ugly

  present, and all I could think about was funerals

  and me standing on a mound of dirt and me shoveling.

  And with each shovelful, I sank a fraction of an inch

  deeper into the dirt until my suit shoes were caked

  completely with black mud. Looking up, I saw the guests

  walking slowly to their shiny cars. The wind let out

  a funereal howl. “Get in the car,” my wife called

  from our van. “Hold on!” I said. I bent over and finished

  cleaning off my shoes with my debit card. I felt dark,

  dark, like a heron on one leg in a Florida pond at dusk.

  NOT DROWNING

  The young boy writhes in the screaming water,

  terrified by what's not there: the bottom sand.

  He winds himself around your neck and climbs

  up your head. You don't so much save him

  as not drown yourself. You were a buoy. You

  kept afloat until the tide pushed you into shore.

  As you emerge from the water, he's still hanging

  on to you, saying, “You saved my life! I owe you.”

  You tell him that he doesn't owe you anything.

  I didn't do anything, you say. It was the tide.

  The tide pushed us in. He's not listening.

  He doesn't care. He's got a hero and he's not

  letting go. He follows you around for weeks.

  At 9 years old, you learn how cloying gratitude is.

  JUST FOUNDERING

  “the savage sea-hawks sailed with sheathed beaks”

  —Moby Dick

  The savage sea-hawks sailed with sheathéd beaks.

  “Sheathéd beaks”? Ridiculous, but I love the iambic

  ring of Herman Melville’s prose. The line with its three

  long “e” sounds and six “s”es explains why Ishmael

  in the sea was not eaten by the birds. And the sharks?

  Melville has that covered too: “The unharming sharks

  [n.b. the short “a” in “unharming” + “sharks”], they glided by

  as if with padlocks on their mouths.” Only because Melville

  needs Ishmael to survive. Needs Queequeg’s coffin to pop up

  out of the vortex. Needs Ishmael “for almost one whole day

  and night” to cling to it until he is rescued by the Rachel.

  Otherwise, who would tell this first-person tale? Who would

  write this book? Li would

  first-person tale, is bookrvive. So Queequeg'terature, you see, without plausible

  justification, without a narrative anchor, is just foundering.

  DISAPPEARING INK

  The inverse of dis­ap­pear­ing ink

  is invis­i­ble ink, writ­ing (with

  lemon juice, for exam­ple) which

  can be seen only when warmed

  (that is to say, burned). I guess,

  their mar­riage was kind of like that,

  him writ­ing with ink that dis­ap­peared

  over time, her writ­ing with ink no one

  could see. As the years passed, she could

  no longer find him, though she looked hard.

  As the years passed, he couldn't read her

 
(could he ever?) even as she became heated.

  They didn't run out of each other's ink.

  They just grew tired of read­ing, I think.

  ASH COMING ON SECOND WEDNESDAY

  turning and turning

  because I do not hope to turn again

  mere anarchy

  the infirm glory

  shadows of indignant desert birds

  something upon which to rejoice

  and I who am here dissembled

  now I know

  the vapor in the fetid air

  I know

  the lost heart stiffens

  know

  the whiteness of bone

  moving its slow thigh

  HERE'S LOOKING AT EUCLID

  He's looking at Euclid

  but he can't concentrate

  The noise of Bakersfield cicadas is invading his ears

  He's looking at Euclid

  but he can't concentrate

  Hoboken memories are marching into his mind

  He's looking at Euclid

  but he can't concentrate 

  Far East anise is stuck between his teeth

  He's looking at Euclid

  but he can't concentrate

  The elevated smell of Delphi is seeping into his nose

  He's looking at Euclid

  but he can't concentrate

  A Catalan fishing boat is sailing into his eyes

  He's looking at Euclid

  Meanwhile, the sandstorm of time 

  keeps polishing the geometry of space

  VILLON, STOP FOLLOWING ME AROUND!

  Villon, you've got to stop following me around!

  It's enough already. I'm not going to tell you

  where I've hidden the loot. Touchez pas au grisbi.

  Villon, get the hell outta here!

  My work is dangerous and you're an orphan.

  Go back to the reformatory and paint with oil.

  Villon, I'm not going to tell you again.

  Shoo. Vamoose. Take a hike. Scram!

  If I see you here again, I'll beat you like a dead horse.

  Acknowledgements:

  These poems appear in Wrench (erbacce-press 2009), Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX 2012), Incompetent Translations and Inept Haiku (Červená Barva Press, 2013), and The Lice of Christ (MadHat Press 2014). The poems first appeared in the following journals: blossombones, Blue Fifth Review, Everyday Genius, Gloom Cupboard, Magma Poetry, Muse Apprentice Guild, Negative Suck, new aesthetic, New World Writing, OF ZOOS, and PANK