September’s Search for Duende

(After Lorca, For Peter Ludwin)

 

The search ends when the

duende is encountered as the reason why a bit of bile

is stuck @ the base of the throat     clearly

not

a muse or angel   but a

power says Lorca

and

not an angel of protection   or  a latent antepasado

a lost ancestor to shape

behavior for the preservation of the strain ((the strand))

it

is not madness per se      but

a   reason  why the ear-slicing madness exists   the

struggle what makes it so.      What makes it so deadly

& fierce    the push toward homicide re-directed   yet

not  a  path  per se

a   notion  or

concept   concept what triggers the itch no skin-scratching will cure.

 

It is the fire Artaud knew

burns   the   cells  like  a  memory  of  crucifixion

the  muscle  memory  of  a  spike

blood w/ no avenue to splurt implodes  &  marks a soul

like a nuclear tattoo  or

powdered

glass in the jar we thot was sugar-filled.

That freshness wholly unknown

it requires a living body as interpreter

exhausts all intellect

that ultimate metallic quality of death

it coulda been an aneurysm    it

rejects measured rhythm    the wild river pours its own path

all the cows stranded on the last patch of higher ground.

The duende is what creates the subtle grimace as

sweet as prolonged uncertain childbirth   the

geometry of destruction

one force of nature mother didn’t tell you about

has pushed men to madness & Lorca

learned duende scares the muse    it may be

that sound behind you when the forest is on fire

it is the force what compromises your grip on the cliff    a rock

breaks off from under your foot & duende

w/ the taste of your heart in your throat      duende is

all smiles that you never see      the

styles you break from the moon on a moonless night’s incessant tug into the blood-filled dawn.

 

 

8:15A - 9.1.01