September 5, 2016KR OnlinePoetry

scandium; lithium; cadmium; zirconium


Sc— Bose said    “reality is    after all    too big for our frail understanding to fully comprehend” he knows 800 languages    but nobody gets him   despite Mendeleev’s Eka-boron prediction   discovery    patent    first isolation    what saga might burst through this semantic escutcheon he’s not talking yet

elusive they say & camera-shy    Cold War allergic to public places no-one can lure you out of your cave although spectral analysts claim to have glimpsed you in Iveland-Evje    your “Norsk getaway” & rumor buzzes a paparazzo chap has in his possession a sought-after snap of you lazing astride an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile miles beneath the ice    you are filled with suspicion they say    only read Salinger    first editions    only eat food with a Velcro spoon only feel stable in r-process conditions    don’t believe in the moon a tell-all with you would be bigger than Beckham in Zhovti Vody or Bayan Obo but I don’t buy magazines    & even if cyclists revere your name & there in the distance a Soviet chopper dices applause & Yankees sing their thin baseball hymns & megastores auto-open their doors & soft halide arcs sweep up & down aisles on each & every floor I-don’t-buy-what-they-say    you are not in Madagascar but here in bed    moving in me    swaying with me in nuclear spin inventing this moment of love & decay    everything’s a symbol


Li— ttoral    brilliantine    grease within her gears

all the way from Bolivia to here     you appear    inside my day    I go to the coast for my necessary necessary    & there you are    floating on water like some kind of Jesus beautiful bird    I thought you were still away    thought you were caught up in yesterday’s war    corrosive words disposable talks exposing your core to the air    I saw you react & turn black    strange how close to frailty you are    how you verge near the edge yet keep me on track my steadier steadier    my rhombohedral    personal battery pack    I search for you in brine & clay    kick mussel & oyster shells out of the way    o here is lustre    here is light    but nothing compares to your breakable silver-white heart    I miss your solid & salty    I miss your laugh & yes I am sorry    what-ever becomes    whatever ions    it is you my dear who evens me out    do not disappear up into the sun    stay here with me    “stone”    compound me


Cd— type galaxies    aka supergiant ellipticals    gleam with multiple nuclei within a halo of stars    they seem diffuse from where she survives    he does not seem to exist    on the other hand    Godzilla    up close & personal    supergiant star of twenty-nine films & darling daikaiju of all Japan gets murdered by missiles tipped with him in 1984    neutron absorber of monster breath    he shoots down the throat of our loveable beast & causes its {technically 4th & temporary} death    wow    she is impressed    a real-life killer at her breast    she rewinds the scene again    again    watches the reel right through to The End    this love will defend her from anything!

Monet ambles son beau jardin with seven jardiniers seven days a week for twenty years    water meadow    lily pond    Japanese bridge    too much to capture as la lumière arrives & then so quickly! subsides    too much for the plein-air eye    how to slow down time    how to heavy the minutes before one dies    dry on the palette stuck to a brush    o torment & joy    the colors of life    {lead} white    {chrome} green    {cobalt} blue    a little vermilion    madder    & you    how many colors in my life?    “toutes” the master replies    black-black but you can’t count that    blue yes blue & bits of you    transforming my ouch-ouch to light    you are the stuff that snuffs out my night    turns hell to Giverny    despite despite    & then this yellow! suddenly blooms & fills my room when you awake & enter my space & murmur good morning    {embrace embrace}    & then my fingers    skilfully lifted    from writing it    this    this


Zr— clan says    “Zero Regrets is now recruiting    you must have a 1.3+ K/D & be 13–16    you also need to have a mic & the availability to change your name in three days or less after joining    if you have a 1.5+ K/D no tryouts are required    however if your K/D is 1.3–1.4 tryouts are required    if interested in joining please kik”    of course she knows not what this means    he says don’t stress    explains how “some things are for real”    other things “just for game”

        you wrap yourself around dangerous things    to save us
        from ourselves    o tu es mon brave!    the unarmed guy
        who walks right in    to the nuclear reactor the incendiary
        bomb    & walks right out again    I try to say how afraid
        I am but the words won’t come    how afraid I am    not
        for myself but for world    & then they emerge:    o aarde!
        / erde!    o blue marble house!    builded from elements
        builded like us    iron-oxygen-silicon-dust    oblate spheroid
        terrestrial  globe    swivelling swivelling    hugging the sun
        world is Home for everyone    o monde! / mundus!    world
        has circumference    40,000 km Melbourne to Melbourne
        o tsuchi! / dharti!    world has density    5.515 g/cm    o gaia!
        / shijie!    world has gravity    9.798 m/s    o zamin! / zemia!
        volume    mass    world has interior    moment of inertia
        escape velocity    just like us!    you tell me “hush”    you
        tell me I’m loved    & breathing breathing    tracer-rounds
        fuel-pellets gone from my mind    & feet back on earth o
        dear sweet ground    & now I am here    & now you walk
        right out of a mine & you give me this    {points to ring}
        don’t stress you say I won’t go away    some things are for real

Jordie Albiston has published nine poetry collections. Two of her books─Botany Bay Document (Black Pepper, 1996) and The Hanging of Jean Lee (Black Pepper, 1998)─have been adapted for music theater, both enjoying seasons at the Sydney Opera House. Jordie's most recent titles are XIII Poems (Rabbit Poets Series, 2013) and The Weekly Poem: 52 Exercises in Closed & Open Forms (Puncher & Wattmann, 2014). Her work has won many awards, including the 2010 NSW Premier's Prize. Jordie has an ongoing preoccupation with mathematical constructs and constraints and the possibilities offered in terms of poetic structure. She lives in Melbourne.