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Improbability in Upswing

from Evocations: Cyclical Wordplay by Rusty Kjarvik

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about

I wish to dedicate this track to the victims of Fukushima. It is my wish that this world be healed by the negative multigenerational trauma of irresponsibility in the nuclear sector, with regard to both energy and weapons. May we know the peace within ourselves and stay true to the words of the great Persian poetess Forugh Farrokhzad who said with a burning mind, "There is no shortage of ugliness in the world. If a man closed his eyes to it, there would be even more." May we look and listen at the ugly beauty and beautiful ugliness within ourselves first and foremost, so that we may peer out into the immediacy of the emergent present and smile in the face of God.

This track commemorates the release of the chapbook, "Aircloudsky" which presents the first section of selected works from the Cyclical Wordplay book of essays, art and experimental writings. The cover artwork has been exhibited for numerous publications and galleries, including Baltimore Review, The New Post-Literate: A Gallery of Asemic Art and In Stereo Press. The first piece of writing, "Improbability in Upswing" was published at poeticdiversity: the poetry zine of los angeles.

lyrics

The tongue
a slick wretch of smoldering ash
phasing out into the bright eyeless morning.

The belly
a hurling progress of air
folding tight over scratchy blood wisps
in proper disarray

From the asshole
light as moonshine songs
on the back of a long-necked blonde
ruining her penchant for stout drained
and bearded Jewish gods
and an ugly sour moves
breathing shifty smiles

In the upswing of a jet train
cooling into the sonic blues
of a new world horizon
soothing the answers of the afraid
in mundane pockets of strange insignificance
a judgment inane

Re-working fluidity into the brain-splotched hide
of a perfect whisper
into the historic tribe of ancestral compromise

Heading strong into a battle
towards the away
in a perspiring lawful gyration
engraved as Ouroboros;
a serpent that shall die
from a pandemic hung over Amazonian lakes
triggered to fuel the toxic lust of a few embittered white slaves
launching figments of the imagination into a monkey ruled space
afloat on an ocean of stolen Mexican or Indian gold
and providing torturous vandals
with a home and name

Rocking through the amniotic
flood of the saved

We shout in stuttering ruminations
over a nihilistic desk
and attempt to cry
weird helpless short stories
into the mud of our breath
and as the whaling shores reach single-handedly into the rug of traditional mores
we become suddenly attracted to the lady who has been through at least four wars
and animalistic, from a drive outside in the shivering lows
there arises another incapacitated fjord-shaped mugger
singing to the groove of a healthy malaise
in a wild out of tune way
ranting all along about the next probability

Tuesday, December 29 2009
1.48pm

credits

from Evocations: Cyclical Wordplay, released March 12, 2013

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Rusty Kjarvik Brooklyn, New York

My ancestors are from the lands in and around what is now Norway, Poland, Germany and Greece. They lived above the Arctic Circle, spoke Yiddish, were Romaniote Greek, English settlers during the revolutionary war of America, and from Germany pioneered in 19th century Alberta, Canada where they also took Blackfoot names. They were buried in religious fame; and so I also go by Menachem ben Asser. ... more

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