Gene Flenady

Things to ask your poet

Perhaps if I leave this here you won’t find out it’s from me. I get blind texture and
               a fast in darkness, neither of which connect to my story of
Another bright middle of contents emptying themselves on the office floor. I
               could say it like I’m pressed against the wall
For the duration of sunlight except I’m also here at night. If you don’t believe me
               watch everything that living convulses into spring. Also do you think
The 20th Century is really over? Some say it is, but I go looking for the navel
               moment the announcement no longer expected to get hold of the moment
But remained like an egg that was shell all the way through. Everywhere in your
               poems there is this metaphor of determination to see yourself as the sun
Really is: a film oceanic in scope, but viewable only in the negative – unbearably
               bright midnights, black panels at dawn, egg-shaped eyes
Going for the rotunda with the relentless double of subjectivity: more subjectivity,
               more spring. Perhaps if I leave this here you won’t find out it’s from me.

The Bonne Vie

Couldn’t do it with ornament horns
On a knife – but a small pistol, yes,
I could end a staff meeting w/ that. Via mine own skull
                                                             Vistas, théâtres à l'italienne
Open acetate spectacles, the day demands tomato
Colour of leaking Northumbrian trees. Ond is milky,
The world is blood.                I continue to write a project in wood
                                              Championing Australian Design Promotions
                                              Dedicated to the bonne vague. Shameless, they stare
                                                                                                          At the camera
Truer than all of us
In this world be-turtled.                               Hence the earrings & rings
                               -truthed.                               All classy women over 50
AT THE START: Your friend starts weeping and then seeps
                               Under the desk. His dead cat happened
                               But my substance is only slightly confused.
                               Instead I’m off wandering in The Cannanes
                               Where everything is crumpled & uneven like
                               It really is
The spasm engendering you, so you
Shouldn’t be confused if expecting the eruption
                               Dots the flow chart of the emergent vista

Poetics 3

Not to drift from the planet and not to blame
Others for tying me to rising balloons dotting over Carlton
In the daylight saving dawn. Or squat for freedom like the air of dogs.
Or to bother in case you intercept the idea boiling in its room
And the mains go off while it changes shape with the Greeks.
Not to expect man will be first water and then steam –
Not to impersonate an animal and then market it –
Not to blame others for the raid.

All you can eat in the conduit that opens mouths
To trans-fats then turns to outer steppes. That can be cruel.
I take it I’m walking home and not drifting off
As you leave me to appropriate zeniths already approaching:
Dim the cabin lights across heaven in confinement.
The ship is squealing, the trees are speakers,
The people here are permanently stooped and
Not to enchant this speed being what it is.
The evening ends up mewling, but not to imagine the roar.
There are games that can help to
Tell the story of consciousness told from the point of view
Of that consciousness stepping off from transports to land.

Resident of Melbourne, Australia, Gene Flenady’s poetic work is concerned to turn the post-lyrical resources of language poetry and flarf back (?) toward expression, in the attempt to produce an expanded concept thereof. His first chapbook, State Philosophy, was published in 2013. He is also in the early stages of a PhD in Philosophy at Monash University, researching Marx’s reading of Hegel vis-à-vis contemporary ontologies.”
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