Volodymyr Bilyk

Been talking with O
’bout her Story and
’bout Story of the Eye too,
’cause y’know – gotta start with some pop culture namedropping,
anyway…

and then all over the sudden

i said:
“Sock is tossed”
and she said:
“and spool is pulled”
and then i said: “no,
Sock is tossed”
and she said:
“Well, if you insist…”
and i said: “no!”

Few minutes later
i wrote
“hahaha hahahaha hahahaha haha”
but she looked sideways and replied with easy-going strangeward Question Mark.

Indeed, “Sock is tossed” faraway…

We saw some dots comin’
with the train sounds
and then we saw them standing still…
they heard it fly.

“…waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come…”
…
and then the overarching booming voice cracks:
(the undermentioned dramatic event of
bother and vex
just passed by).

We felt whole load of dash curdling

dusk dying etherized,
do dooryards doubt?

Do Do do do
dress drop drown
downed drains?

growing hair hair hair hair!) hair
— half-deserted Hamlet hands
make marmalade, and matter matter;
if impossible

out overwhelming overwhelming oyster-shells:
peacefully! peach?
question question, question…
reverse.

singing skirts – sky’s
pillow-pillow pinch,
Slipped smile,
jaw meaningless
smoke
motion motion;
twinkle tide

So so so so
sprawling

Alas!

Murmur music
“mountain mountains mountains mountains mountains
mountains mountains mountains mountains, mouth”

brown brown brown brown
But But But But But But But But But but but BY
cicada’s chuckle
DA DA DA
la la la la

“sigh….”
as a backwards propellant
stirring
rather awkwardly.

“flash”: kinkle, twist.
– “gloom”,
crackle…

shudder: tears teeter
– “BILLOW”
scrawling bore…,

– poke out of nowhere:

– lip plop:
flap-flap, wink-wink:

spiteful stare exasperated
– tossed aside…

– caught piercing blow of air:
eyes thud.

sense of warp –
Shepard tone kettle whistle
disquiet
– meanders, halts….

…

refulgent luminous points in the sky
mesmerize and dazzle…

never thought you can wear a hat like that
it is perplexing to say the least
that tinglin’… mysterious
– ’cause you only got an indigo sky quake malaise
creeping on the surface from the inside
and an alligator heart beat
and that skull skull sax feather
and that crossbones lightning glimpse in your eyes

shucks…

and you can pour me that
what i knew was blue
and the sun comes up fencing rays against my chest…

– Smooch…

you got to hold on

take me into my shoulder
by this song so hard
cold lonely bit busted
but you’re a trombone hammer gone away
been crude before
and now it is not
but sad shriek doubts wind…

hold on

Rainbow again
see the window down in my hair
careful red dreams so hot necktie cries
Sweet – breath sublime
mamboing “huh” hook
buttonhole down
thumbs freezing dancing…

on and on

Pretend you slash kiss halfway through
that melody says clap
glance nothing pop
and the roaring cough heaves the dress up
wishing more to come
but nothing knocks out longing…

awkward wavering faltering stiff irresolution

blank whops
abysmal frantic strays.

bizarre
bevels the strident clamor

– dither, sip…
entangled thereafter.
sigh – odious,
an afterthought:

bellow and quack;

flap, flop, clap – slop –
kinkle vain plop:
unexpected
twitch.

the swish, the tick –
the fly rambles.

-blink`bat –
throbbing tired
plonks to shadow:
“twines smoke skew”…
quake void
…
–

tire beep dazzle
/ abash blast:
blue
.

viscid whiff
tinkling
inwardly
phit-phut:
pant-sigh
loured.

done…

naught
that vanquished the awkward,
a solemn flat-line,
thought to be a cliffhanger…

…that particular kind
of silence
– where the response should be…

this lingering folly,
a vapid contortion of sorts –
written off nastily
while longing for else
on a whim of spelling it out.

I saw an announcement of a film festival in Lviv.
It was about Psychodelic Cinema, but there were no real psychedelic films,
However, there was From Dusk ’til Dawn for some reason.
because this festival was by morons to morons.

Anyway,
i was chatting about it with the girl
with the starfleet insignia i wanted to take off
because…that’s not what the poem is about…

i was chatting about it with the girl
with the starfleet insignia i wanted to take off…
…and proposed my own version of psychedelic film marathon.
One film in particular had her attention
– it was Stay by Marc Forster.
And she wanted to watch it because i’ve mentioned it instead of Lynch’s Lost Highway.

Big deal, huh?

several hours later,
when i completely forgot about this conversation
and was in the midst of procrastinating writing of something
– she wrote “I’ve watched Stay and it wasn’t any Lynch, no-no”

And i was like (cue Julia’s Bison): “Of course!
What the hell was i thinking about when i claimed so?
Was it…a spin?”
I really thought about it for a moment or so.
It was really an engaging act of pointless musing…

And then i wrote:
“I wonder what will happen when you’ll watch Carpenter’s Dark Star.
I hope you’ll write to me something like “it wasn’t any Kubrick, no-no”…
because you know it reminds me of some kind of sacred cryptic spell…

(since this conversation was in ukrainian
that phrase sounded like: “noo ne kubryk, nye”
Which really sounds like a rongorongo spell)

…and if you spell it – it will cause something-something Leonard Bernstein.
I believe you have such powers.
Please Please Please Let Me Get What i Want!”

I’m still waiting for her reply.

eagerly waiting for a moment
to be blatantly missed
and torn apart preemptively
deemed utterly superfluous…

CREAKING door sound
under the curtain.
“for your imagination.”

though futile.

sitting still.
thoughtless thoroughly.

guess i should stand up and pray for rain
so i can think then.
or something…

waste muscles its way through me
spurting clouds through any aperture it finds.
turns out – there are a lot of them.

it’s quite annoying.

goose flesh ensues,
eyeballs rolling…

with the hideous leer
and the odious sound:
Crank the bubble –
yell!

when echo falls –
blink
and
mouth the hum unjustly.

sky will foul you.

clang knees
senseless,
snap below
into the breath’s mist
and lapse into unkind spot

– wait till something will occur…
wait until you swell…

and then – the timid tit
– swipes the heat
and rash ensues,

jib and jib and jib:

repentant yowl
re-bellows
sickly sentimental
deep
into the inmost hollow.

“oh,”
down the lewd
through entrails to dissolve in vain.

Throng of balloons
fled
because of the pinch to be sure
that
something in the air happened in a silent way.

Some quail and tilt
and then:

Apt pear appears
all over the sudden
abruptly stopping gorgeous throes;

elliptic shadow
falls –
and bubbles
come up in the air
to fight with naughty cloud of balloons
before the sun
because ridiculous must come off big.

And then: the clash is so and so
and lots of fluff and knack and knack
So eyes get very weary,
obviously
blenching back behind the lids – whack!

And then it’s over,
barring tingle, tingle, dither, heat

enough
to be thought and be mauled.