Le Lapin • Cultivated by Mari Amman
Le Lapin
Poetry, Prose &Suche Vol. III
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Poetry, Prose &Suche Vol. III

Repose: to lie at rest; to cause to come to stop; to position a priori

The senses are yours to compose a world of beauty with the might of your mind.


Contents

. repose . recoil . rigour . resplendence


Repose

to lie at rest

to cause to come to stop

to position a priori


PREPOSTEROUS PUSS

The cat went crazy

as of today, hand to heart I swear, ’tis true

picked up his toy mouse, and against the door he threw
not the toy-but his body
beggin’ for some form of attention
his mew, like fingers dragged alongside a balloon

begged a purrty plead to pet his mangy coat-o-reeking fur pet

so I answered with a turn of my face attempting go get his needs met

to move away his pain, through a version of a sneer
sure his condition didn’t come by my doing

my roommate left him out loose

according to her wonderful ignorance of parasites or worms

so while the cat now damned near crazy
goes now to prove, water and food aren’t enough

when love and truth require more care
he pleads my temperament with a life or death need
as untrained in veterinarian services— I sink

a kind of remorse for wishing I could know how

to properly provide for this sort of demanding-
'gimme now’ mode of functionality

so that poor damned cat did go crazy
while I considered who or how to pay for such a bill

not tied to hand nor will, to incur

so instead of folding down such a wall
I took a bit of interest in a sigh long overdue
my situationally wagging finger

held back in more deliberation
as proof

neglect needs rarely to be spoken of

since form inevitably makes what is plain to see
the inner realm of that pet attestation mirrored

back to me how that damn cat went crazy.


DEEP BREATH WALK

Held beneath the ribbed cloud sky

containing vitality informing organisms

ready to drop into the below

the world breaths for what we call a universe

aggrandised by the ideal abjected from its animism

an imaginary choking on our own smog

or lands filled with waste, man-made ponds

created in haste

or countrysides accumulating iron and bones

such needs craved lay in waste

when a rest in doing aids

the subsidiary aches of belief-streams taken to heart

that part was imagined as not so long ago

a time romanticised as when people used to know

our small part grew a role evoked as soul

    an omniscient maestro

such existential issues seemed to loathe

the religions aimed to guide ignorance toward learning

instead became subjugated to the prowess

of personal pleasures warmed and warned

for even goblins will also devour truth

the laid down before glowing greeds

inside the minds with never ending needs

the continual scramble for purity breeds

a nature play with an entire handle on

each of its pawns, so then I yawn

when another lines up to feign to know

who gets to play god next— or go.


CHIP TO CHEW

One tough cookie

she spoke of me

and I pondered

if correct then

of what variety?

a snap of the ginger sort

a chip of sweet

or perhaps harden biscotti

what have we

then when packages gets slammed

what are cookies called then

crumble

hoover material

something to sprinkle on your cereal

the only thing cookies are safe from

are brooms with spaces

between each

of their bound up embraces

perhaps cookie was meant

to be nothing short of hell bent

on being whatever

buyer or user intends.


MAGNET

You possess

     the energy

to synch your stride

maintain

steady

speed

with me

  a companion

      my partner

in both heart

and but of course

mind

the kind

    of raise your glass toward

my love

we promise paths

to pave

      while all look on

with melancholic waves.


STOCK

Snapshots taken bending rules of thirds

behind our stock photo’d minds
perfect and in focus
life promises to bend all such curves
motion captured by lighting kits
read-to-go
paste in the internets
download books from the web
pretend to substantiate matter

when a look sometimes

is as it seems or only appears

as a ghost of a dream
a gag-reflex cliché

of one thousand words
silently spoken in an image
mulling over that thought
framed as subjective reason
breathing impatient sighs
I-resign to communal passive logic
so sure of choices

my doubts provide me sufficient shade

for greater good of man

likely not
I still take my hand
skim  pages of paper and analogue processes
as an alternate to the banality

your very own book of stock photography

can also become compiled too.


ALIVE HAPPENING

With a pound to the steering column
in a raised right fist to air voice
  - asshole learn to drive -
escaped my lips
  - a red-bottomed baboon would prove
a better navigator than you -

so I saw he had the I own the road mentality
to an extent I suppose we could all dip in
but when did that become an excuse for
the sort of sun in the eyes blind
to unsuspecting pedestrian
or line of student holding hand crossing
maybe there’s a baby in tow
or bad day black glow

taking a step into the street
to be grazed by tire tread
oh my-that’s not the consequence of a
busy be the life-
or cell phone to head
reach for spilling coffee
pleasantly distracted exuding

by proclaimed dreams as an excuse

the demand toward responsibility

remains porous as skin


just how the hell do so many
wear rain coats as a remedy
or find alibi in popping pain pills

or thickened skinned from tanning booth beds

the growing internet communication
in all its rumination
feeding tubes for a lack of contentment


yet also lets distance

minds know about

the flippancy toward bodies in the street

and the way writing poems

makes my throat sore

anything our lives require

surrounds our already here
warm sunshine 
peaceful breezy air
tender grass beds
flowering stems
blossoming buds
sharp hail or cleansing rain droplets
our nutrient dense earth
offers social skill lessons
from fawns, fish, babies and bunny rabbits

in their similarities are
perceptually discrepancies
locked within their nucleic acid

formative keys

such doors opened douses life

in opportunity, so I must warn
is this a journey that results in anything being happy
or does the endless searching for certainty
force us to choose so many state

instead of resisting the fear to incur strife
and in the fear succumb to just barely being alive?

All from nearly being ran over; I’ll keep making my chances.


PAN

Let me take a nap
I tried to say

because someone mentioned

it’s good for the body
but such force-ably made thoughts
only evoke wide eyed states

in lots of uncondusive
circular thoughts

perhaps spinning

a meandering dream
dragging alertness down

while drifting off
tugged by another sort of rope
demanded from this mornings
caffeine jolt
I
stand.


© Mari Amman. All Rights Reserved.

Poetry, Prose &Suche VOL III.

First edition 2023, electronic distribution. Text and Images by Mari Amman.

The poems contained within this volume were drafted circa 2006-2009, in Chicago, USA, and edited during spring 2023 in Paris, France, with the enormous support of The Trélex Residency.

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