20090427

Sam Langer


ACTIVE ENVELOPE      6/3/09

                          I start to hate this room
                          with its fake German
                          soprano because it is
always rolling backwards. But wait
a sec, you’ve had a double espre-
sso in Berlin, or was that
“a cup of coffee” in their language
? On a famous street you squirm
because you can’t remember the
name. Supposedly I’ve lived but
never been larger than life in
the                   ways I               half
thought          I might             be.
                          This scale
                          made sense
                          to some-
                          one. Schön
                          berg?
                          I’ll out
                          grow it,
                          anyway.


     film rain envelope

           legs rain sprawl in the
           footpath of the day
that made you thud you can
recall dhal and a philosophy of
language learn portuguese before
30 happy endings aggravate sad
endings bore knees chocolate
disguised as acid fondue over
all this damp dim concreteness
your senses bloat
(you louche coracle
you) squats need you                x
greets you from an
invisible      teaservice               cats
flobbing along the
pricey            cottages                 need
you                  have a
                          nice
                          after
                          noon
                          can’t
                          float there without you
                          to be the bat crossing
its clogged purple sky


When were you my envelope

                               Headphones. Happens every
                               time: just for a little while.
                               In private life there is no
              difference between “that’s no lie”
                 and lies.                  Only time
              & rubbing can                 show that
              pens & pencils                 aren’t the
         same. Neither                        exists in
     headphones –                            you can
     just go forever,                          a shadow
     racing over an                     ocean of
rocks. Then you                               take
them off as you                                must.
Now tear                                            others’
voices, see                                      the
individually                                         described
hairs of a
photograph.



Sam Langer was born in February 1983 and then finished a B.A. in May 2007. From August 2007 to April 2008 he travelled in Canada, the USA, the EU and the PRC. At present he is concurrently an Ancillary Nursing Assistant at the Alfred Hospital (Melbourne, Australia) and a Job Seeker.

 
 
 
previous page     contents     next page

 
 

1 Comments:

Blogger Raymond Farr said...

great poems!
I love all of them.
Where may I find more of your work.
I found one poem on Cordite.
Where if any are others?
Do you have a book out?

10:17 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Powered by Blogger