Greek-out with Jeffrey Cyphers Wright...

MADE IN ITHICA

As time trickles through the Chambre des Deputes

The tendrils of my nose crinkle at its acrid passage

Time empties out the notion of authenticity

Time, you are a nervous imposter

You can remake yourself in the blink of an eye

Rodin pestering Phidias, Nestor attesting to glory

Time loves the one who knows love

I guess you had better guide me through the ropes

I dreamed a white robe walking to Morgantown

My broken watch weeps in a false spring

I wake bound to the railroad tracks

Emily Bronte sitting beside me on a wasp nest

We wait inconsolably in our vast ardor

As time trickles through an excess of small delay

MADE IN CHINA

Come on down to my boat, baby

Ready to flame the lawless airbrake

Ready to dazzle the bedraggled marmadukes

Ready to fray the nightie of Big Foot

Tell me about it, Hermes

Chupacabre to the rescue

Because we have yet to reinvent the past

Ink from the pen the filthy sun begging

I woke as a carpenter measured my remains

Ready to rip the bark off the stars

And claw my way in looking for grubs

A psychotropic melody strips the veneer

Scrolling down Emily Bronte’s heart

Ready for anything you can see clearly now

MADE IN CUCAMONGA*

Astarte walks through the Negro streets at dawn

I said a hey babe, you are everything you are to me

Let’s throw some darts at the imagination farmers

Taketh my hand and lead me on

Exult in your originality, phantom grafter

VISIGOTHS PLAYING AT HELL’S DRIVE-IN

Astarte lies under the stars in Bernadette’s dream

Camilla threw her javelin across the Tiber

May spins its wrecked gentians across your path

I wake in the fugitive tunnel glow

Emily Bronte [mug shot] dying for sanctuary

Deserted abruptly Time’s raft pitch and toss

This is what they say about you, Astarte

The lion, the horse, the sphinx, the dove

*Shoshone for sandy place

"Jeff Wright", as he is known to Hollywood insiders, published the famed Cover Magazine from 1986 - 2001... 80 issues! (as a publisher of a much humbler print endeavor, I'm floored!) He's a terrific poet, curator (reading series at the Bowery Poetry Club, La Mama, etc.), and general man about town. He can even be found in various East Village Gardens beckoning fairies from flowers with the sweet nectar of verse and a puff of pixie dust... or maybe the pixie dust was just in the 80s... he even has a wiki entry... so hello posterity!