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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
The terrace offers a point. From this point
a view. It's only a stopoff; it assumes
the motion requisite for temporary
stays will continue. The speculative
friction required to stop those passing
through would require planned extinction;
would require war against generations
of persistence across biome, suffering &
misery magnified it remains threatened
always. Building requires digging.
Digging creates hollows to be filled.
A move past botanicals—it doesn’t exist.
A pulse in the web. Walk toward beyond
the view: journey’s luck to close in on
production. Pace picks up, dusk’s dis-
appearing light invites one in: welcome.
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2021
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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
But breakfast’s subject beckons:
the booster affair effect in Tumblr-
land? The digital map surveillance
co-sponsor the soccer mom sauce
minivan project, relay & speech
to cell battery fiasco. Batteries
have lives too, reads the cloud script.
FML maxims of self-loathing guilt
& shame reach into their emptiness.
They find, feeding on excrescence
derivatives piling up in excess,
that death's preferable to that
I say so chamber.
& from such varied
buffets, on the inside, on
sublime regions of the in–
terior where everyday sound makes
in its own grammar –
as in, in the style of – subverts that ease,
brings pause; regathers fingerprint
to tensions suspended as if by
cables even though, between sighs
ataxia keeping pace without ordered
syntax & symbol graft’d to its surface,
ciphers eat lines of fir-tree needles.
Q botanical fur - Cy Twombly, first
Love of Rauschenberg,?caught up
in its stitch.
Slips emerge in a scene,
Allowing language to find body's instrument
To hear the dead who live in in it:
phone homes to homes are calls back
to homes no longer home to hosts.
In the a.m. a window
red nova
thread from bovine breast
drips squid ink in
a polypropylene bin.
No point a point still, none
but a collection of outside ofs
Whatever set limit; to be
as hunger takes each form
exchanges of fluids & food
to maintain, though phantom,
These forms. Children pass
comets in public square,
parentless parenthesis.
What begins in fold or recess
means to mean
good to friends, to make
window instead of transparency,
to paint orange-peel textured
walls with latex grey,
to tape every foot of trim
& hang doors, to keep a clean
line of sight, to thank the ones
who brought one into
this, the whatever it is form
& stranger still unknown
animating it, slow
but sometimes
with deliberation.
The chip man’s on the corner
with processors, off-kilter
hums come from alleys
& from above, not a man-
nerism crisp or elegant, ribbons
mis-guided in glue’s
normative guide–
voices adjusted, injuries
with long life spans.
Successive treatments
like going out fishing
in a lake unable to hold live animals
for a generation. The bets go out
anyway, thin necks, brains powerful
enough to bring contusion’s
combination dark blue depths
to bruising with an attention
to that man standing still
in the middle of an intersection
in the middle of a street
in New York City.
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2023
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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
Tonight the act of naming fell through the floor.
We speak permeable solids inflect’d by light.
Things move indistinctly: a pine palette floats
momentarily from semi truck’s bed, crosses
its body with windshield; ovidian shift from a
Forest to an old faux confectioner’s swatch,
lines up songs taking fleas for fleece.
A fawn fractionates its flecks & somato-
phonics, flees without need of adrenaline.
The plate? A plait whose pleats play’d
pleas against fetch’d plots until its dizzy
balance congeals into il canzioniere,
In service of blueprint architectonics.
Flotillas float low in shadows’ camouflage.
Hot air balloons cypher skyline celebrè,
Uniting you & prairie fair. Parcels're
parsed. Farmers burn burnoff in oil drums,
birthing coils of smoke in loosely co-
ordinated helices whose out of body ends
in the sweeping concentricity of hundred-
foot-long turbine blades. Say it fades it?
Thunderheads drift. Sin naps in synapse’s
nook. Haptics touch, from relation to
harassment. Earth’s got a wicked medium.
Acoustic waves morphophonemics
shapes complete exchanges in related
spatiotemporal contexts; what’s hatch’d
later is what’s desired & what will never
bring resolution. The figure applies epoxy
to a fence with excessive force. Transparency
leads eventually to blindness; just so
Boidae code’s got python script, diamond
syntax & dimensional ranges of black.
Eyes eye legend’s designatory sign seams
for scratch’d map & abandon’d quest.
The wet up-close extasis ten-lane road
splits, vents vulcan aurora; I want the aura
to aurally kick faith in the elsewhere
overlooked by the tyranny of sense. A
polystyrene quartet pitch’d on vector’s pastel
ledge steers into bassoonists lane at high noon,
cussing out coordinating chord machine
minting harmonies the same way sow takes
bolt to skull. A splenetic racket ejects me
becoming then in dense cordage fray,
in knots in discord notes caught in song
clots in versions below the taken planar baseline,
the surveyable limit recorded in perpetuity.
No, it’s a low harmony with plural means
of resolution. To the tonic in one key.
A singer alerts us to undertow brushstrokes
In Matisse, the quadriceps with a woven flexion.
We suck’d dry wax & comb. Nearby: a field
of lightning. Assn. of associations
polymer chains bind—strip mall froth
frosts the cartilagenous go-betweens
of chest cavities, the waste slurry ribbon
of a billion hogs looks blue-green from
pilotless drone mapping something in
the interest of greater returns; A scattering.
—share not hold but will nothing
bring halt to time? Constrictor vines climb
& strangle their hosts in increment. Magnolia
grove ungoverned in improvised grotto
heaves vap’rous fog over damp dark branches,
freighted leaves suspended by a gravity's
Gravitas, intoxicating a gay eden scene
projected from the wasteland of the real.
Leave a leavening, a painterly incompletion, poised
In a preludian phase of a departure departure,
where a puzzle of stratigraphy is left to machines,
poor things, their programming, so to the
lebible wed, they missed the bonds welded
in misreading each, in the striated earthen
crust— Walk with me through the forest’s ash,
thin grey trunks thick with newborn beetles
vibrating in the bark’s husky shadows, Pthalo blue.
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2023
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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
You can feel them move through streets
Emblazoned with sirens' primary colors,
A swatch of fjord's colonial flagship hues
Left to slap in the wind of reorderd forms
Until sheared into confetti strips. Scripts
Writ into a code are but partial prophecy.
The DA wants to press on with felony
Charges, I push the 19-gauge needle in
& the accompanying rush pushes body
Into a boundary line, the structure of
Which is the last remaining imaginative
Object capable of delivering feeling past
The anesthesia opening in a field. The
Chainlink perimeter under which a fox
Slinks prefigures a new condominium.
ICE & breaks in space by metal fences
Shows this complicity, shrugging off
The children & their parents. Dead signs.
Heart's venous throb generously snuffs
Out what is outside it for an interiority,
A maze academics dream up in Molotov,
Professional rebels rendering in febrile
Flame navel via strained restraint or ex-
cess. Case in point former piston pitch.
Grammy loses her mind in a house
She's got no memory of; she's three blocks
From mama's house which burned down
On Christmas. I managed to get the dog
& Grammy out; my mama was having a
Drink at Brenda's; woke up to crunching
Sounds inside the walls & a melting steel
Conduit burning my hand. Only did find
One extinguisher; the can went at its
Solo with undue gumption. I used to know
How to express love to her. Legibly
It read with regular meter & rhythm.
She helped my little brother evict me
From my older brother's basement late
In winter. Translating pain is impossible.
I head toward a motel looking for another
Charge or broken relation where the songs'
Derangements are far beyond the promise
Of beauty's industrial rows, though the
Furrows' signals are petal-like, freshly dead.
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2021
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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
You were sharp|ning grass
With your eyes | sit & fixed
Again | a substitute for mow|n
Machine chug|ging along lug
Nuts, molar friction | u - r - n .
Lawn stretches of up|beat
Beach | was there even wind?
Filet a cannonade me | see
The crayons fly | in a circle
A head | towards blu|er | stretches
There | where clouds resemble.
Light is a commodity, scream!
Silly | man | omnibus no teacher
Not even a man. Well still: Lorine
Niedecker e|merges like new
Breath, pulp come together
Mis|hearing cranes, a making
Multicolor wax, bending fuse
Forge |X| fissure for left foot |
Right foot,—we'll find a job a kind
Of game | it’s just planes turned
Paper crane | creosote guardians
A dead lean-to shouldering volts.
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2025
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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
To be a polylepis tree you gotta know
You're a polylepis tree & this knowing
Cements by being a polylepis tree,
Knowing between diagrammatic cracks
Fork'd already info knowing during descent.
Mud run through alpine meadow. Rubberized
Crunch on ruddy paths, rucksacks looped,
Deltoids, silly sound serious bulge spine
Ached before leaning away to swallow,
Sepia bark holding his musculature;
Paparazzi march out crimped edges
Of fungi, sussed then left together.
Glottal ribbing. Skeumorph thread
Discs, spades, b-side timpani under eaves.
Copper sheaves, wine burning in cups
Thickening until dark brown oozes
At a lesser velocity, blown eardrum,
Given the climaxes of greater viscosity—
Green epiphytic ferns stitch airy
Misconceptions (soil, root), the drawing in,
& expulsion, the search for a golden
Arboreal rat. A tunnel-maker
Said to be densely populated in woods
Near-gone to potato farms, cattle,
The absent lecture, then, on survival plastic
Spool of thread glued to the back
Drawn in a thin white line, followed
For ur-experiment, hundreds of feet
Climb up the lateral limb, down, dug under
Grass, tunneled, then over miniature crick,
Through nodule floor-sponge, a wetland,
A watershed for a whole valley, to grass
Again, below, finding elaborate nests but
The rat escaped, the sinewy string left.
A choreography misses it, an instinct
Closest but dull, so a blind sight in high
Sun, a canopy growing at itself not up,
Sift, shrift, the want to lay down before
Night freezes the water inside the air.
A return at night to the espeletia, giants
Sunflowers shocked by moon, switch-backs,
Doing Zs, squared, cubed to the tenth clouds
Departing, something horribly there not
Constellation no not a galaxy those are
Not things let them not be where’s the
Name laying in the grass, alpine creekline
Eschatological curvature, mutter, murmur,
A yellowing light flung, the cold how they
Open little air, the screaming sleeve, there!
Of not-this this, in it, out it, here & away,
Something recalled, what a string, rat,
What ways you move, only that body,
No containers for the humans so the sea
Could get that travel-manic blue, sworn
To make another moon of it, another go,
Unfixable, in need of fixing, air adjust,
An alkalinity expectant, a Sulphur rain,
Chattering cargo setting fire to night.
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2023
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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
I wanted to make something drawn from bosom
You & I gemini'd,
From the wells extract'd virginity untouch'd
by compounds—
Forgot to send it out, forgot to hit send,
Hello, anyway, to perfluorocarbon philharmonica;
Excerpt kernel unspool'd from wicker-dust'd
basket of comatose bolts.
Treated to alchemies together by you.—
See: your recipe book dries off in ricin.
Federova in Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 2?
You never listen'd to figure skater or
Tertiary form. The works of others piqued
In you nil, didn't merit any initial or
repeat listening. Agglutinative
stoichiometry perforating cold steel
stacks;
Attenuation, salve for keratinized eczema
In rash bloom ignorance, requires engine
Ego. Franny: flâneur are you ever not,
Rorschach metallurgy whorls, snowfall:
You draw the flesh with bloodless busted hands &
Tetanus blade; harmony's impossible.
Your compass knows only passerby when misery
May be by you increased. Tartar soul
Nucleotidality, unadorned rose, inkline crack
Collarbone transitive property: Hemlock
Dreams C++. We shared failure to manage
Being into a life ordering its living dead,
pit
Mine. Still, your bauxite soul below
Mine's bottom-most floor
Evades any operation of recovery or
Refinement. Croon of your mystic everyday,
Tributary whose water levels are skeletons
Of those who briefly met the castor bean oil
Bath you've drawn (supply & demand).
I want the all-night evenings we shared to
Have been a preview
After which we aborted. The mama of
you—That Kingdom a fantasy I'll never
Know & chimes windless night of
You & vast infinities—scion of necro-
perception.
But overfilled by dead enron relation of you.
Let Pacific bury you in blue, magnify
A thousand shades move barefoot, smolder.
Vermillion skyline churn, no bill it teases
Hourglass funnel web whose trophy case's
A trove of bodies, electrifying you. Here's
the megaphone
For a stadium of victims for whom you're
sorry-not-sorry,
Drowning out your pain with sentimentia &
The burial of any remaining joy left before
The victims succumbed from simple proximity
What, with that appetite for any calories
—husbands good calories once drain'd—
Even those who somehow made it this far
Together there in sacramental oak roses
Carved into confession chamber, situated
Adherence, permanent web & nest, hourglass
Red haze clouding widow's window night watch.
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2024
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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
Off from formal stage's pageantry
Collisions of pewter play tenor to horn
Vessels filled with mead, wheat-gold,
Foam. Monks trade lines with scops
Who tile a church, swapping agricultural
Know-how. The technics prepare
Bard for a solo harp song in a barn
& there’s to the Caddy’s tune gathering sway
Lost so unquotable. Nightshade, potatoes,
ions, herbs, good gods & the animalistic
Sex. From a source outside chaos:
Terms return thermal bundles,
Predicaments inside time's homophony
From alloyed spinal column. A donkey
Drags a blade through red sea's surface dirt
Meshed in with hay dank from contra-
dictory earth—these testimonies to greater-
Thans. Cyber sectors offer testimonials
As a means of convincing discerning surfers to
Bypass impasse & buy by following the crowd.
Data suggests but there’s this thing in hand:
A cattle-bolt electron split down the
Middle; a steel beam cut by narrow flame;
A diamond-footed tub with fresh extracts.
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2021
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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
Celia from 'A'
tenures the lot
Standing near those Grey
Bay's rocky scabs
slapp'd by tide
Stagnant water
Green at the feet.
Into time too
From womb birth'd
briefly hearts
Remark regularly,
Geiger counter
Measuring, drone
Circulating
A style that too
Tho pound for
Pound bests itself
Croons when moored
Hits the deck when able;
Dies. After all, that's
Part of circulations
Verse & volt what
Did they do
The songs from strings
The blood bells the
Thin pines at work,
’44 ash magnum
Coiling skyward?
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2023
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Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld Poem
Hydration day’s a month away.
Online belonging company’s an hour from
startup stardom. Titration hors-d'oeuvre
Viewfinder pigeonholed
to rooftop tourist
traps ruin’d carriage holy woods
Hollywood's margins, Carousel 13.
Things You’ll Bury:
molasses sourdough flowers crypto-
currency marginalia Lost (Bach set)
ghouls in blockchain interdigita.
Me, if I’ve missed anyone, LL cool j.—
< so. jersey. kühl > granary, dairy, cattle
Sandy Gwendolyn Sarah
Rachel listen to the sea churn wave
encrust land's end
to deepen their interweave
a sense of figuration.
Cluster moonitching for
missions in lilalc loan depots
& pine grove ketones,——not rose
maybe a geranium dandelions
20-buck solid solution:
selling weapons to a hopeful
ally composed in their focus
televisual special, skeletal
forms modeling in trying on
of Stalin's trousers again.
That hail? Sometimes
buildings powderize
lightning engrains
carboniferous sideways rain
titanium floss
sharpened velocities
collaging at-
mosphere
&
molecules
(SO MANY CRANIAL BONES!)
storybook unfolding
with each segment thin
as single hairs on mare or buckshot
photons from THE most efficient
serial mass murdering rapist:
(Such an inspiring marathon)
Really ruins
the meditative break
in the shade of citrus
where fornicating humans
exchange climax & body fluids
where burial is denied the dead.
The survivors of those
made monstrous by invention, what
with hunger for sending
dead men to live strong (like
Lance) by killing by being killed
to live for that dying to live a life
where living's predicated
on killing the living.
The sex is what exterminators
experience as intercourse.
The eros of mutilationist
necrophilia is an agate against
bodies, mountainous mudslide
holding chalcedony bodies
rapturous sex against which
an army of virtual prostheses
accelerates along
parabolic destiny of clonic twins
murderously fixèd
but elders
gathered under s
aturn's ellptics
in baobab redwood walking
palm forests wet red earth
body fluids blood sweat
armpit hips roundness gripped
wound perfect
in broken
halves fusèd
with the being of another
panting scratching thistlegrass
rasp heavy breathing honeydew
& kunafa aleatory making in a breeze
punctuated bassitonalities, daisy-
cutter shake the softest scratch
of front center incisor
down the lobe of the lover's
ear hear them whisper slight wheeze
& hoarse chords black infinity
of night blanketing earth
Copyright © Henri Wyatt Blumenfeld | Year Posted 2025
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