· the cultural society · » Joel Felix

What’s Keeping You

Joel Felix — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:49:30 +0000

Brewing wheat sticks in the down
posted to a lone, tufty stalk

 Assume the witness position
 Master of Revels 

Tune to what’s keeping you

when you lose possession
of your horse’s name

Winesap (Apple)

Joel Felix — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:48:29 +0000

a branch from
    the Winesap tree
                            long dead
                                    sprouts wet, new apples
                 nobody knows how

                                      — after Liberty Hyde Bailey

Api Etoile (Apple)

Joel Felix — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:40:34 +0000

A flower of wildness
walks the floor
we can never run out of:

black granite squares
    flash frozen at sea, the foot’s black windows
lit with rain,
          the night’s cup
put on your mind
              etoiles a-coil.

Sawyer (Apple)

Joel Felix — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:37:01 +0000

Sun, the world is thy
Curtain

Come on out
To meet me
Tonight

THESELFLIFE

Joel Felix — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:33:59 +0000

Spoiled light
Broke milk

Grew in place
A Hebrew Chattanooga

A word’s want
What I want

But
More

remains nothing
I was

Washed of memory
On the bed of wandflower

Galax
Taking the trouble

On the black plain
Of oblivion

Days and
Days without decomposition

Before me
the cup of Lethe

For you, Far-worker
My artful body

I’d drink
To your honor

The House Is Hostility

Joel Felix — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:31:12 +0000

To be taught the piano
is to fall in love
and the cause
of love
on the street
does not remedy
the house,
nor what it
stood for.

I Am Writing

Joel Felix — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:28:20 +0000

I am writing from the Bubbly Creek
I have a crush on you, my
Lord, Who pushes up wild carrots
from this bed. I pop them
to hear the unplugged earth,
the music of gasses that
mutters in your glass nipple.

The Golden Loom

Joel Felix — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:27:20 +0000

1.

Drainage rivulet’s
brown
and blue
chop
translucent —

the vows of coots
floating as tears
Friday Creek
rid of its
place
- ment

2.

The sun drying reeds
packed in
the ear
this light
rinsed thin:
It has been this
day already
all over
the world

under waxwings musing
How do they do
that aluminum moon?

3.

What held light
in Friday Creek’s
place
- ment

extensive

weather
- seized

to itself?

4.

And how do they do
living skin

within the final enclosure

set out back
this portable
screen

Friday
Creek
– ajar

Vancouver, October 29, 2010

On Pharmakos Farm

Joel Felix — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:16:48 +0000

Pain, join in my song
Flossing loopholes
Neath the spiny tree
For time has difficulty
Rolling uphill:

Nothing consecutive
On cloud-imitated mountain
Cluster and
Clearing
White flashes
On the backs of birds
The sound of cinnamon
What you get
On pharmakos farm
No cooling herb
In bloodless flowers
At the bottom of summer
Paper hearts

“Language wants to speak…”

Joel Felix — Sat, 01 Dec 2001 16:00:56 +0000

Language wants to speak. I
can’t pretend innocence that
this has nothing to do with me, who
am I to talk something else again.

Amarillo spills over.
I lost my hat. Strictly past tense, I was
shaped.