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A. K. Allin
A. K. Allin is a sailor, climber, traveler and poet. She holds an M.A. in Creative Writing from City College, City University of New York, where she produced the graduate reading series "City X-Posed." In 2005, she released a CD,
The City Within, featuring CCNY poets, artists and musicians. Her work has appeared in
Crab Creek Review, La Petite Zine and Snow Monkey, and has been set to music by singer-songwriter Humberto Cordero. She works in a boatyard and lives in Seattle.
a curious collaborative combining
words wanting sentences
fragments wanting wholes
possibilities wanting meaning
progress is rapine now
the cubes are putting themselves back together
the grass has picked itself up
&put bits on bits
to make a meadow
there's an augmentation going on
so press me further
ohplease do
it's strange how our people path
how they bind &cleave
vanish somewhere
try not to bbinary
better to be tri
try &beyond
He ended, and his words impression left…
– John Milton (Paradise Regained )
kitten in a dinghy
dreams of
the gates
what laybeyond
battle scars &wales
in media res
waiting for piranesi kahn
hopkins bachlard &cole
for fame &fatal key
for even
cumbersome thing
&candlestick
lay watching
you behind portcullis lithe
enduring nathless
at the cope of words
too too much to bear
the day that never comes
but always almost could
i serried
long in limbo
you spartan lived
you composing died
i my faith a rive
arbitress
smooth &scurf
from down &soft infixt
of equinoctial winds
tanned &lean
anchored off some spanish
speaking shore foretold
how &oft i lived
&mah injun to
the smoky overhead
recites the only other ones
which mate for life
doves wolves some ducks
the world stood &listened
i will always leap for you
which it will come to that when
one day you wake
the ballet russe de monte carlo
krassovska that reed
bent to tchaikovsky
arms waving spanish
aloft &fluttering
giggling shoulders
&swoon
bowoom her skirt
blasts its note
to the troupe who
vite comme le diable
drives a ring around
headsup headsdown
in undulant train
then everyone to the wind
&the ballerina in space
on the black stage
in black air
a breath
in costume
gasping for air
against the grainy night
a myth suspending
fanning
the blackdead night
a venus
on drury lane
resurrecting diaghilev
who fromthewings calls
rond de jambe
plié
pas de quatre
like a dream
on the danube
like a dream
thensuddenly
an open field
a saison russe
at the metropolitan
&this is the nature of dance
to exist for but a moment
as a baby ballerina
a sylph
rouge et noir
rumor was
Industry, overwhelming us like a flood, rolls on to its predestined ends. The
father no longer teaches his son the various secrets of his little trade.
– Le Corbusier
you had to payyourdues
apprentice to a master
learn by dint of sweat
a trade
the borders need patrollin
lest the hun…
ah guess ah wuz sociallydriven
by the expectations of
my aspired-to-caste &c
never found my master
hobbled a composite
of mah own
really i thought
you wanted to be corbu
do you know now
for still u pay your dues
do you know how
it's been half a dang lifetime
where is yr curve
yr reverence
for each new moment
you learn again
despite knowledge
as i convey to thee
the canopy
granted you already had that
but ha ow
pale in there
&plaster inmyhair
i go to school
itisntthe thing
i pay the bills
itisntthe thing
i climb
anyway isntthe thing
i sail
put together the organization
the webpage
the meetings
tho isntthe thing
this is the problem
with life &art
remind me why
i pay the bills…
to reduce the recidivism
of the blossoming e'lan
je vous accueille à la cité radieuse
welcome to the crackpot house
copyright © A. K. Allin
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