Fresh Red Dog Pieface and Red Dog Pieface are Chris Church publications.
Fresh Red Dog Pieface: Saturday, July 27, 2002
The Vacyawn (Bore)
Much too muddled creature!
Always munching on intervals of silence.
Always invading earholes slacked to deaf
by your square ton tongue.
Heavy concrete resounds
Crunches private polite nerves.
So kindly close your hole
and shut it up!
posted 8:55 PM
Fresh Red Dog Pieface: Friday, July 26, 2002
The Thalament (Sea)
Ocena GR. [okeanos?, Oceana? See below.—Ed.] opposite firmament
ô dios aithêr kai tachupteroi pnoai,
potamôn te pêgai, pontiôn te kumatôn
 anêrithmon gelasma, pammêtor te gê,
kai ton panoptên kuklon hêliou kalô.
idesthe m' hoia pros theôn paschô theos.
derchthêth' hoiais aikeiaisin
diaknaiomenos ton murietê
O you bright sky of heaven, you swift-winged breezes, you river-waters, and  infinite laughter of the waves of ocean, O universal mother Earth, and you, all-seeing orb of the sun, to you I call! See what I, a god, endure from the gods.
Thou firmament of God, and swift-winged winds,
Ye springs of rivers, and of ocean waves
That smile innumerous! Mother of us all,
O Earth, and Sun's all-seeing eye, behold,
I pray, what I, a god, from gods endure.—Ed.
In the beginning, condensed . . .
you cooled your molten mother.
Now your wave-born children seek beach edge.
Hear shell-eared surfs of far pounding
Bottomless-blind to depth terrors
Thalament’s ponderous weight
crushes its own blackness
Pulls full moons down to sink below
This beast is daftly nervous.
Slightest breeze rhymes million-edged brilliants
reflecting alert sailor’s eyes.
This fickle beast prone to wild
twists and slashes chaotic limbs
to sound sky’s full measure.
Brute whipped by scream-winds
twirling swirling curling insane
calmly seeks its own level.
posted 6:54 PM
Fresh Red Dog Pieface: Thursday, July 25, 2002
The Altidip (Air)
Seeming from heaven’s glitter
sun streams iridescent torrents lightly
through surprised angel play
through transparent cloud happystance
trembling caprice breeze knowledge poised
on feather energy’s gift,
the sweet breath of life.
posted 10:54 AM
Fresh Red Dog Pieface: Sunday, July 21, 2002
The Tersed (Desert)
Poet’s misspelling of desert backwards
An everchanging beast melts timespace...
Makes ships recede crosspuzzled...
Forwards, Tersed is not the same as backwards.
It wrong spells lost either way.
Due to its hapless directions,
composed of infinite particulars
shifting continuously, seeming tractless,
Tersed goes past
Loneliest of the beasts, Tersed
wants to be alone with its own confusion.
Oriented to midday undulations
heat solving sin things
scatters occidental sages from one hell to another.
Covers all righteous paths.
Call it clear to
hear an evaporated tear.
In Tersed, poets become queerly sounded
if only for the mirage...
the shimmering voice...
(dedicated to 40 Days by ruth weiss, who
tried to straighten me out on this one.)
posted 4:46 PM
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