laurenelisevillone-blog

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

In the New Way

To pray viciously,

to pray monotonously,

to pray gayly,

to pray ceremoniously.

to pray fairly.

To pray carefully,

to pray youthfully,

to pray numbly,

to pray automatically.

To pray acutely,

to pray remotely,

to pray loquaciously.

To pray obtusely,

to pray spontaneously.

To pray readily.

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

All Eyes

A man and a woman

Carry their potatoes–

Brown, dirtied, weary-eyed

In a tattered burlap bag.

He carries them slung

And the weight tugs his shoulder,

While she carries them in two hands

And can hold nothing else.

The sun has never lit their way–

But fades their crusty clothes.

While grass to me smells kindly sweet,

It scratches fat, swollen toes.

Splitting the earth into infinite rows,

They sow. The seeds of their discontent,

Are never to nourish his starchy flesh,

Nor kiss alight her womb.

At harvest time, they think and say,

“We hate potatoes, the work and this day,”

And the ground yields them pulp. All eyes

And no flesh. So they take up their burlaps

And cry, till and carry

‘Till the carrying’s done,

And they take their last lay

On the soil  

Where nothing’s ever happened.

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Camera

Did you take me in

with your camera, there?

Did the sun flare your lens

and recolor my skin?

Or my face? And does that make me

red? Or beige, forest, pink? The same

as the birch to my left there. Or right,

as it is now– adjoined

to my shoulder. Inescapable, sutured

as we are, as its leaves

to the canvas sky, crystallized

as red, beige, forest, pink.

Will you frame me here

in this flower-scented grove

where the humming and rustling

is why I grin so wide

In your captured

rendition? Of these warmths

I fail to know, but at least

you have me captured forever.

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Poem On Sex

You have bigger breasts than me.

Pearl, Grapefruit, Nectarine,

Scrubbed, preened, delicacy that

Romps, ramps, scapes, scrapes free.  

So sex sells the fallacy.

Hot, wet lava cake sundae

Dream, that lives between pink limbs

And sheets that parch and wither

In bright light. Of hungry weeks

Between the fucks we give,

I am indifferent. Elephant, cheek

and porcelain, I am a woman.  

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Maybe art is what is left on your hands after you finish doing what you're doing...

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

I try to divert myself.

My focus like a flower:

Radiant but not,

Tumbling in some currents

Softer than my thought.

Turn the pages faster.

Read or else be read,

Deepen now

What else to find?

Dead, my thoughts in bed.

Wake again, wend again,

Nothing shakes the crumbles.

Soapy water, wash my brain folds

Saddle-up and ride the day,

Yellow thoughts indent

The pages you’re

Not meant to write

Until your mind ferments.  

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Archival footage compilation to accompany poem Flight. 

It is strange, when flying. The whole of the world seems to unfold beneath us...and we are no longer in it, but observing. Some strange voyeurism ensues, and we are no longer living but observing. 

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

We capture ourselves on plastic, perforate our edges and and ever so slowly, we become disembodied...our minds depart from sensuality, physicality– by the screen, we are in a sense dismembered. 

A revitalization of several archival films. There are three separate films repurposed, reconfigured and edited together with the above thoughts in mind. 

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

I Am the Secret.

A world without, 

a world within- 

I am the secret, 

paper thin. 

I show and tell to whom I choose, 

alive but not, so naught to lose.

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Picket Fence Fortnight

It wasn’t much a muddy day- 

I saw a little Jane. 

Crawl to walk and walk to feign- 

she and her mother in the rain. 

Pull focus to a thing without- 

that’s me, but in a funny way. 

Me to street and street to Jane-  

captive in my window pane. 

And I’ve a picture on the wall- 

not resembling her at all. 

The window like the picture frame-

makes seem she and I the same. 

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Cursed

Too many thoughts. Nothing on the paper. 

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Finally

Finally a thought too soon- 

we hadn't seen it coming. 

The moment when- 

by ink and pen- 

inject we foretold

rumblings. 

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

I contradict for I do not know; 

I'll even let you tell me so. 

Your thoughts are those of rust and bone; 

so why should I leave them alone?

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Melodrama [at its finest] :)

Lets cry together- 

you and I. 

No need to sort out 

how or why. 

Just let us now

together try. 

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Flight

Here we spy- 

not as the God. 

We're chasing the light 

in heaven's wake. 

Where fortune feigns, 

and peaky mounts

see not the gates as I. 

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Aujourd'hui je suis la chenapan 

qui fait toutes choses rime

et prudemment avec mon crayon et écran 

j'exprime, pour vous, votre amertume 

et pendant que tu dorme-

et mon ésprit a la liberté-

je suis une écrivain.

[laurenelisevillone-blog]

Vulnerability defends the monster- it is guilt cast upon the murderer that keeps safe that terror.