"What tune hid my trunk?"
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Two Poems by John Tranter
"Wild stinking fire . . ."
(from the series "Blackout")
Wild stinking fire Back to Word for Word
Brave, no doubt noble, cry
power within amazement;
master of meddle pluck my eyes;
hair inquisition, concluding 'Stay; not yet.'
Obey five women in the dark power.
No worse, foul girl; manage my liberal arts,
study the government secret studies,
how to trash new creatures, officer.
What tune hid my trunk? My mind
all popular, my false revenue,
my memory, indeed, would cure deafness.
To have no needs will be absolute incapable;
confederates, dry annual stooping.
Mark his brother.
My grandmother: good enemy,
my suit was treacherous one midnight -
darkness hurried me and hint eyes
the present hour destroy my tale -
my people bore me; bloody business!
Foul carcass rats have quit it.
There loving wrong.
Preserve me! Smile, stomach, to bear up food,
books, that man sit still, and hear more profit
beating your reason accident upon a star,
cease questions; dullness, and choose.
Grave pleasure; fly, swim, dive into the fire,
strong quality to every article. I deck,
in amazement, and burn and flame distinctly,
then tremble, my brave fever,
mad son, with hair like reeds, the devils close by,
their garments cooling in this sad nook, where once
midnight hid; all asleep; and for his great season,
at least two glasses.
Is there more moody liberty?
Remember I told lies,
free deep, sharp business, malignant age
hearing commands, refusing rage,
she died, and strike. Then litter shape
groans howl, breasts undo art entrails, command
gently. Say what. What shall I do?
Eyeball diligence! Shake fire, profit business
poisonous devil, wicked cramps, night work, eat berries
that burn by day and night; and then
light you have, which filth violate gabble like
brutish words that learn
this rock, a prison, the red language!
Roar, tremble, pray, obey.
His art invisible, following yellow sands,
have kissed, bear dogs strutting
more my music gone. No, again lies;
his strange sound above me. The eye
looks about! It carries the grief, that's divine;
for I saw the daughter wrong a man, a virgin,
and a spy. I am a man. He's a traitor. Follow.
No; I will resist such power. He's fearful.
My garments. Hush! No more shapes,
angels, humble man. Nerves again, vigour bound up.
My weakness, my friends, threats are space in prison.
Come on. Fine speech, mountain command.
"A burden of noise . . ."
(from the series "Blackout")
A burden of noise, of infections
sucks up a disease! Hear me, and curse.
But pinch me in the dark, unless apes
chatter at me, and after their pricks hiss.
Here comes a spirit, and wood.
He will not bear any weather, I hear it
sing like his liquor. Before I know my head
dead or alive, he smells ancient and strange.
In England a holiday fool would give this monster
a strange man; when they will relieve a dead Indian
let my opinion hold. This is no islander, that thunderbolt.
Again, my best way is to creep about.
A man with strange dregs singing; a bottle in his hand.
I shall die to sing at a funeral; my comfort.
The master and his mate had a tongue
cry to a sailor, itch.
___________Then here's my comfort.
What's the matter, savages?
I have said: As a man went on legs
it shall be said the spirit is the devil.
Should he learn relief? If I can keep a present -
do not torment me, I'll bring his fit
now, after the bottle; drunk, it will fit.
If I can recover, and take too much, soundly.
Little wilt, trembling; open your mouth -
here is that cat. Open your mouth; this will
tell who's your friend. Open your chaps again.
I should know that voice; these are devils.
Two voices; a delicate voice, to speak well,
his friend backward to foul wine. My bottle
will help. This is a devil, and no long spoon.
Touch me, and speak by the legs;
the siege of this moon killed with thunder -
I hid under the dead moon for fear of the living,
do not turn my stomach, brave god, and liquor will kneel.
This bottle escaped, the bottle, which I made.
I'll swear to be true, not earthly.
Here; swear like a duck. Kiss the book.
A duck , like a rock, wine from heaven I assure the man,
when time was in her, and showed me dog and bush.
Swear to the book.
_________I will swear.
This light is a very shallow man, well drawn, fertile -
be my god. When god's asleep he'll kiss;
Come on down, and laugh.
Death in my heart, in drink that I serve!
Bear him sticks, follow a poor pig;
instruct the nimble rock.
Go, lead the way, we will bear him again.