**** LINKS TO CAPOETRY PAGES: See also, or first, a/my blog! ****

http://chris-mccabe.blogspot.co.uk see here a review of UNIT4ART broadside avec moi, merci!: chris-mccabe.blogspot.com/2014/04/pow-final-series-perrone-melville-vas.html?m=1

A bilingual chapbook made in Brazil: http://katarinakartonera.wdfiles.com/local--files/inicial/PerroneKartonera.pdf

At Moria site, scroll down to my icona, 2 chapbooks: http://www.moriapoetry.com/ebooks.html

https://mosstrill.wordpress.com/2015/05/07/charles-perrone-2/ 2014-2020

http://www.mallarmargens.com/2013/03/de-zero-ze-de-zigoto-morto.html?q=perrone bilingual

http://www.moriapoetry.com/perrone.html

http://www.moriapoetry.com/perrone2.html

http://www.moriapoetry.com/perrone80.html

http://www.moriapoetry.com/perrone3451.html

http://www.moriapoetry.com/perrone908.html

http://www.moriapoetry.com/perrone777.html

http://users.clas.ufl.edu/perrone/mandorla.htm

http://users.clas.ufl.edu/users/perrone/dirtygoat.htm

http://users.clas.ufl.edu/perrone/vortexaffinities.htm

http://users.clas.ufl.edu/perrone/etudes/etudeshome.htm

http://users.clas.ufl.edu/perrone/esprit.htm

http://users.clas.ufl.edu/perrone/dactylus.htm

http://users.clas.ufl.edu/perrone/Charles%20Atlas%20Course.htm

http://users.clas.ufl.edu/perrone/MGSL.htm

Local samples:

1) "Covering the Head"

Covering the Head

Epigraph or Caption: Hey, it's ME!

Call the captain, cap and bells removed,

to supervise the turning of the capstan,

the roping of this vessel to the school,

and tell the registrar the chamber holds no more:

capacities are reached

enrollments must be capped

and cap-and-gown investment must curtail;

it could further be a feather in your cap to know

that in a nutshell, a mediated capsule of sorts,

a capstone of caprice, a quay replete,

plus then to cap it off (repeat)

you might well write in captivating majuscule

the need to cleanse the body cap-à-pie,

dimension free and fairly far from flesh (freely

felt) to capsize here the certainty of boatswains

to make, in sum, the weight of distance melt.

2). Confession of a Sentient Pedestrian

When I went blind I didn’t plunge into darkness.

It was, in fact, a different kind of visual end

In transit between corners, from hedges to fences

—in the middle of the crosswalk of our edges—

my lenses were drawn toward a glow behind,

an illumination which so grew in intensity

that it soon fully occupied my field of vision and

my eyes’ vision of the field ahead, now un-seeable.

A great flash of white luminosity overcoming one?

They say that’s the sign of death. So I must now be dead.

Yes, my sense of sight was flooded with light, yet

I can still hear myself asking out loud what’s going on,

I can still smell the lilies, the asphalt, the air that flows,

I can still taste the flesh on the bones of my fingers,

I can still feel myself touching my eyebrows, my eyelids,

my eyelashes, my eyeballs, and my I, my pensive self.

And if I think, I am.

And if I sense, even partially, I am.

And I am partial to being.

3). this was a _whole page_ at <poetic inhalation> in 2003, there are 14 poems:

Travel Log

"Oh my God!" you exclaim

--and good day by the way--

your former de-filing and claim (Re:)

your ancient excavation, revindication,

has been lost ir-

regardless (of) your efforts

and furtive fortifications of the lot;

despite all care in the air (de, ir, etc.)

to fare well where no man has before,

to forge no manifold control,

to make some trio, two, or one

happy in a holding pattern,

to stay content, to accept the content at a distance,

safe-sexed-unhexed-and-free of all numeric takes,

full-noun explanations of destinies and / or sorts,

(lucks, locks, licks, lacks of lexical coherence)

hic et nunc, here and now, what do you expect?:

you're past the security check, frightful threshold,

you've asked (to be answered) if it's always this tight

and passed into the night, full of fear, full of life.

TBA (Giving thanks)

1. tricky business this task of assigning a title,

2. of naming a topsy-turvy entity of risk,

3. of tying together tiny strands of traits and ways,

4. intertwining tangibles of thought and bands

5. of tripping moves or motives to determine

6. key evidence, as twists and urns of eatery,

7. consuming tips of talking turkey, say, or tawny

8. chips of tuna taco, swigs alone or tipsy grieves,

9. to disentangle twigs and leaves in bramble,

10. identifying noses cleaned and never-mangled metal,

11. discomforting sensation of danger in sound?

12. tingle-jangle-twang-and-ring: an empty echo ?

13. to tickle the brain, the site of con and templates,

14. the fickle flights of trends, traditions,

15. eyes left right in a twinkle, a seaming tizzy,

16. after all five senses think, have taken part alive,

17. and twenty times, attempts, and tries,

18. to turn up sudden, fill the whole, the sides,

19. the number, size,

20. of triumph.

Remembrance and Its Counterpart

all to remember all to forget

calling recalling

a cauldron of drowning in data

apace with the flowing of vivid and vain

of rigid and reigns of desperate despots

against benign monarchs of memory

(re: me or my role as myself)

from the depths of stark chronos

to the chips of a presentified present

of gifts of the mind of repasts of events

recollected in tranquility matching

and rematching calm or otherwise paused

guilty not guilty shame blame or fame

deserved or not discerning or lost

lent unrecovered tools for getting closer

to the total whole that transpired and

released the binding of memorial gaps

recoiling unwinding becoming unwound

as the wounds of logos phanopoeia melos

dissolve without recourse

to restore

to rest or

to re

to

The Duchess of Argyll

He claims he´ll only take the finer stuff

while she´ll devise some new collective branch,

with products of a guild

(a union gap of aisles and golden boughs

are wilder expectations).

To quote, in fact, he says with wile:

"I´ll argue for our gilded sculpted pieces;

the Duchess here will certainly approve."

And thus the ardent match of chess they play

requires guile, and touch,

a much more balanced sense

of guidance, game and shame,

(avoidance of such retinal illusions)

perhaps a dial or staff of thoughts

of guys and girls, of waif and wife,

of women, boys, and folks

(W, R, Y, and kin).

And so, if searching for a title means,

aside from files or guides of real estates,

or nameless isles,

some sort of regal appellation

to dominate a phrase or maze

of sounds and airs that emanate

from lords or knaves

? or even boarders, boards of chance?

then opting for such stylish place locations

should only free the pair from deeds.

Gaming License

yes again I'd have to say that

in disparate displays like this--

a ludicrous spawning of spleen

in out-of-season spas and

saunas of trite preening downers;

another brought by loners,

crowing and actful,

demonstrative and up,

in active unrepose,

quite the moments indeed,

spurred on or at a notice;

from a house of dystopian awnings,

unable to guard

off dripping disrespect

for age, for love;

one more left near pawning,

indifferently agile,

hardly to be giving,

almost feigning to be,

and sagacious but in spite--

one should venture, deign to guess

(and careful gainsay might be right)

a few sure games could probably be had

some difference, then, ordained

Split Infinitive

For Gonzalo Rojas via Suzana Vargas

My Madness, be calm!

Put on your raincoat of alsos!

Not for a long time will you arrive

at the textile factory of your ecstasies

Mário de Andrade (1921)

trans. Jack Tomlins (1968)

the majesty of your lunacy? my madness?

is in the timeless liberty, the lack of lull,

the quickened transit, the full-force arrival of self,

a record of on-time departure to surely shame the scales,

impact without past, neither lurid nor lucid

yet clearly aghast at the suggestion of lust

not driven by natural impulse,

illuminations of will with little regard

for luck or last-minute preparations

to freely travel light, to slyly unravel the robe

the unsewn lines

between a glorious second

and a less than immediate first

person.

Coming by Forbidden Names

The price we have to pay today

to buy or take a map on sale or ride

an even larger passage

to journey bon voyage beyond this stop,

acceptable and mindful mid-way station,

an edifice of feeling right, or up or wrong,

or down or in or out or just above the cut

of finely wedged and ancient stones

or well beneath a plethora of arches

left echoing in clearly lawful shouts,

is lessonless in terms of engineering

(of building merchandise-removing shelves)

and yes in auctioneering art,

deflecting bids to rid us all

of inconvenient selves of chance

we might be bilked, we might believe

in proscript time, in further licitation,

be it here, or anywhere, before they call

for

bidding us

fare

well.

Moving Sale [after self]

Apparently the idea was to say

Let's get rid of all this

[mental] baggage

boxed cognition

accumulated junk

and [physical] knowledge

in order to figure out

[activate in-take, out-put]

how or if in any way or whether

this is moving at all

Moving on? off? in? out? up? down? over? Over?

Pick something to take, a selected quote:

what is thinkable is possible

modernism as celebration

eros c'est la vie, prier de quoi

l'un : nul

i.e., e.g., q.v., cf.

finitude-in-finitude: infinitude

finity-in-finity: infinity?

Interim Action

and in medias res

he went ahead and said:

I am indeed a member of the tribe

a not so recent addition

to the roll of census-makers

a taker of chances sometime ago

a veteran gambler gone left

right next to the middle

of the thing so begun

then led to bestow

and hold be and lo!

a happy end.

Conceptual reach

On the verge of al-

most having it com-

plete on the

?that's the what's the point?

of my tongue

fully at my fingers'

ends

wits, whips, quips in-

to shape

a ticker tape of stock

market-ed, cliché-d, quite-trite tries

boiler-plate replies

you could dis-

quiet discredit avoid

so simply by giving me

nerve leads clues to discover

blocks of frozen al-

cohol to terve, render one tipsy

the tip of the ice-

berg, as it were, in this

melting down solid of

time-inference-play

Halves and Have Nots: This became a broadside in Scotland!

kernels of knowledge

crackers of toy

chip crunching feral

alphabet porridge

sheared locks of joy

mind nearly virile

Choice Among Meals:

first choice, second choice, third choice, voice

of a few condiments for chewing and heat,

of a confident batter of mill flour and health,

of a new conduit to later and better still viewing,

and the gall to ask without shame:

for what, how, or will, all of this freely be taken?

for wishful to keep, repast, and pass on

a winning combination, the wares as it were

of favor, savor, feeling and sealing objections of fate;

for gazing and staring at dish-is-full and plate replete

remind you of the wealthy, your privilege and weight,

the flat and hourly rate of your fraught-yielding ways;

for half a ___sensical raise in something

not wholly understood

but broken bread indeed. . .

Welcoming and Intoning an Ordinal Letter

--for Alex Ross and "The Wanderer," Bob Dylan

\ once you decided that wistful /

would best express what twice

\ you'd perceived in willful attempts /

to waive blunders and repeat consequences

of wonder lust and wincing at thoughts of

awash in wry capricious waste years hence

to wade through mentions of honor

or tensions of other vessels' wakes

and tuneful wisps of lyrical wisdom

to weigh the rights of a man wafting in play

the rites of a clan with strength on the wane

whims a wish for whole notes faith and fans

then the final phase of fencing off the fierce

and apt attack of age and aphony

could up and down the scale ?\ / \ / \/\/ ?

come forth.

***

Spring action (April Fools's Day)

Feeling was driving, absolute affective motion,

yes, driving them (driving him, driving her)

toward a thriving rivalry and fleshing out

(not in members but in minds, nor on bodies but on verbs)

a likeness likely perceived to be lifeless,

or at least so far from timely foliage to seem lacking,

in organic ties, that seamless whole,

that meshing with nature and lushful friends,

that surpassing of seasonal drinks, carnival ales,

the ires of march, the meanest month of all,

and forward leanings, an attempted launch,

a crafted project of latching, theaters of action,

unleashings of leafless farces,

releasings from the tenor of lock down,

to let them be lauded, soliloquy free,

surrounded by linkage, sprouts, and branching,

and then finally turning the high-mileage page, off

no nagging emotions, to the next cyclical stage,

catching on the linch pin for their tenure.

MORE TO COME WHEN I LEARN HOW TO ATTACH PDFS. :)