Mar 22, 2016
© Steve Gilmartin 2013
Cover designed by Dawn Pendergast & printed by spoonfl ower.com
L R Llittle red leaves textile editions
www.littleredleaves.com
© Steve Gilmartin 2013
Cover designed by Dawn Pendergast & printed by spoonfl ower.com
L R Llittle red leaves textile editions
www.littleredleaves.com
Comes Up to
Face the SkiesSTEVE GILMARTIN
little red leaves textile series
Comes Up to
Face the SkiesSTEVE GILMARTIN
little red leaves textile series
� 1 �
� 1 �
�FURTHER IN SUMMER THAN THE BIRDS�
A battery of Birdsong
Bled between Grass and Moon
Handed a Mess and
a reclining Nation.
Uneasy thick Security;
The battle stops at one
state of Spinning Litany,
the last to say, I�m done.
The Fields, when August
flies Flaming from its seat,
lie bewitched by desire�s trust,
while bald men dig and sweat.
Moments spit and Slide by
Throwing off Bonds and Ends,
banked interstellar formaldehyde
from which none of Nature bends.
�FURTHER IN SUMMER THAN THE BIRDS�
A battery of Birdsong
Bled between Grass and Moon
Handed a Mess and
a reclining Nation.
Uneasy thick Security;
The battle stops at one
state of Spinning Litany,
the last to say, I�m done.
The Fields, when August
flies Flaming from its seat,
lie bewitched by desire�s trust,
while bald men dig and sweat.
Moments spit and Slide by
Throwing off Bonds and Ends,
banked interstellar formaldehyde
from which none of Nature bends.
� 2 �
� 2 �
�FURTHER IN SUMMER THAN THE BIRDS�
Summer�s spating under the Birds —Our gray defenses circle the Grass —Fired my set of rings into the People
A one circus Mess.
This Kindness is southern Ritual —So all my likes end Nodding
Thieves sing of word-stoppers, elastics —Watch them zip you into their kit —
She fills with language and rises —
Above the sequestered heat of August
Staked desire�s soul is Bleeding
So sorry for the zoo-like conditions —
This one�s jailed for Nodding —These for things placed on the Ground
So doth one treaty Endorse
The spatter of Nature�s jets —
� 3 �
� 3 �
�FURTHER IN SUMMER THAN THE BIRDS�
Summer spattered everywhere —Over grieving democratic grasses —Fiery one-time People
A gift, dislodged Bolus.
Sugar Rituals you were saying —Such almanacs of Mercy
Tied up the song to unstop words —Timed to smear Courtesy —
The tongue fills her like Noon —When worship is still warm
The Bloodied half deserts
Its sorrowful commonwealth war.
This doubting night gives Thanks —To urchins who serve as Fur
The pagans have Association —
While light jets through Nature.
� 4 �
� 4 �
�I DWELL IN POSSIBILITY�
I�m at home in kite-flying altitudes —Not on the ground of Prose —A Fenced in kingdom and hell —Is Touring — one of those —
Poorly dressed Architectures —
Art, where ancestors shout
Edged in Heaven�s soft Pain
This beating Mocked, this rout —
Existence — of the arriving love —Social deformation — no Dice
I spring this small Hand weight
And dart into Paradise.
� 5 �
� 5 �
�I DWELL IN POSSIBILITY�
I own the best money lick
House built in the age of Prose —
Whiter than the empire of Windows —
Above the Circling fur —
the Cedar Archway —
Unencumbered by the Age
and one�s animal self
hung from the hook of heaven
the Beseecher — the Darling —
Turns Collared, House Detention
Another�s engine gleams
And to Paradise you�re summoned.
� 6 �
� 6 �
�I DWELL IN POSSIBILITY�
My House, it�s made of Bauxite
— darling, all Prose is —Window aluminum — Andre´ hats,
too high to make the Rounds.
Beauty becomes a duty
which forces pain to count;
That Dash, forever stopping,
a sign that Heaven�s Gambling.
The beloved Gasps Overturning —
must words arrange to marry?
These and not those,
bullcow, separate and tagged:
The off-Hand way I wait
for animals to bring Paradise.
� 7 �
� 7 �
�SAFE IN THEIR ALABASTER CHAMBERS�
Safe in their Alabaster room —
Unburdened by Morning —And unburdened by Labeling
Lie the Heralds of Hanging Offers —Sparring with Atlas — Dashed against Stone!
Jars — on Hallway mounds — Enormous emptying —Worlds visible for an hour —And Firmaments — wandering —Crowns — fallen — DO¯gen — surrendering —Nymph exoskeletons on Snow.
� 8 �
� 8 �
�SAFE IN THEIR ALABASTER CHAMBERS�
Safe in their Slots of Alabaster
flattened stores of Morning, of Midday,
freed Guild of Suspended Offers
Holes for the saved and the Inlaid.
This scenery House was great for Years,
worlds Weaving past End of show,
Crowns cascade off a Family
system Frozen in the Snow.
1 Slots of Alabaster� Alabaster Champagne
Alabaster Jars
� 9 �
� 9 �
�SAFE IN THEIR ALABASTER CHAMBERS�
Secured in the Carbonate of time —It�s a laugh how reading is like mourning —Or seeing your Own finger Mind
Forever mad and Friendly —A spare Atlas — a Dash of Stone.
Worlds Arch into the star Lake.
Listen, there�s motoring melody.
This White height�s a hireling.
Drop the Crown Victorias, the Dodge.
Each generation�s a slow-motion sneeze, punctuationless.
� 10 �
� 10 �
�SANG FROM THE HEART, SIRE�
Sang from the Heart, Sire,
My nose brought me here,
Hard for the Wise to unveil
The stitch that holds the Palace
Decomposed Fabric —
Designs of insect interiors —
Today swung from the sky
Its S-shaped armaments.
Dulled then it all sounds —
Held fast — stockinged —
Sight bounces off Satin —
Everyone blind to fur —
We died in Liturgy�s Stalls —
Chorale settings bright —
Souls all Undocumented
In the saltwater of Naming —
� 11 �
� 11 �
�SANG FROM THE HEART, SIRE�
Sang from the Heart, Sir,
Tied by smoke from behind,
That Ton, you said, turned on its toe
Tuned animal decay.
Garden of bright-haired memory
Skills aged in Cinnamon —
This Regime is ending
With arms and Birds.
Dulled by Ballads —
Linked — out of stock —
Then the Fade to I know —
Naught but animal hair —
Stand in Liturgy�s puddle —
Numbers swollen with Blood —
Peace is a hole too wide to deny
Inhaling Names —
� 12 �
� 12 �
�SANG FROM THE HEART, SIRE�
Blood of the People, Sir,
Touting all the picked pockets,
When the Weight of your trapped
One Bursts through the soil
Truth remembers Scarlet —
How Outrage turned to Tin —
Today is an Empire
Where weapons have Voices.
The Song dances Bluntly —
Nearly near — supplies end —Rights of the Dot to Fade —
Knowing I can�t suit you —
Stop the flow of Service —
War�s music in their Blood —
I�m weary of waterhole food
Of praising Names —
� 13 �
� 13 �
�THE SOUL SELECTS HER OWN SOCIETY�
The Soul digs through her mirrored collection,
wears but a sliver of what�s seen;
the godly Earn habitation
lastly learn proper mien!
Glass faults the scene, when a Carriage stops,
for my Torso and waist,
for my Standing; when a Ruler drops,
these ruts are erased.
I see: since they emerge as Fiery
protectors,
what wardens before Stone and cast iron
call Shelter.
� 14 �
� 14 �
�THE SOUL SELECTS HER OWN SOCIETY�
The Spirit waltzes with its Upper half —Whose least dip causes Detour —
Your anger�s a godlike Box —Warring with nothing more —
Unknown — a treasure Wagon —halts to drag her to the Tower —Unknown — till pain lets a Leader
Find favor for an hour —
I dress for the uncounted — each
Waltzed before me alone —Deceived — pushed by Wax and Breath
Through Stone.
� 15 �
� 15 �
�THE SOUL SELECTS HER OWN SOCIETY�
The Soul, interactive, joins
then closes up
the Divine Court —Says let�s be unspeakable!
Indifferent when a car stops
to pick it up,
When an Emperor stoops to suck
it does not stir.
I saw her peering out
from a train —Top-notch vigilance
looking for quarry.
Steve Gilmartin�s fiction and poetry have appeared
in a number of print and online publications,
including Café Irreal, eratio, Otoliths, Mad Hatters' Review, Eleven Eleven, Able Muse and BlazeVOX. In
2012 he participated in an artist-writer collabora-
tive project, Broadside Attractions / Vanquished Terrains (www.broadsideattractions.com), that exhibited at
Intersection for the Arts in San Francisco. Recent
projects include reworkings of a group of Northern
Californian Wintu tales and a mistranslation of
Cesar Vallejo�s Trilce.
This little red leaves textile edition was lovingly
sewn by Dawn Pendergast in Houston, TX.