A.J. Kaufmann - Three Poems

Transfigured Sailor

show me, great sailor
a womb of dismay
unconquerable African dusks
w/ which maddening tyrants
play, chaos drags them, lords
of bagpipe orbits; midnight masters
grading flame, ashes of every
forest

breathless zeal to give what’s never renewed
back to the cloud fleet: soarings, circlings
native rhyme bulks

from eternity springs ancient sting w/ flesh
peoples, grace, Dante's rapture
kind crime of mourning

are you still heralding the fire
now that sun's been betrayed
moon quartered, last quiet carcass,
once the fruits I could smell through me
in ecstatic prayer

brave Spanish master, show me
flocks of mind, your arrogant
blinding religion, can you soar on such
throne? hell’s cataract you climbed
spilling legislatures

pendant minds? inspiring lightnings?
today’s transfigured ruins


Soul's Eagle God

whirl yourself where
planet's sunrise takes it to the mountains
gloats in huge brains, rising from Earth's trashcan

black cosmic blood wings chant: to hell with fortune & generations
finger head & liberty
let’s blend the larks w/ weeds

this nadir-based
bone nation horror
no man's embrace
that chaos of a city
once great lionic soul, human lung ice field
boasts the flies
on & above ocean breaths

starry justice's spirit
shoots out
boa-like ages
sparks, blood-eyed tramps, 
mines, days, flowers: apex gory nights
luminous palms
must-have caves of the region

to all the monsters of America ghastly, of and about
the guns, thyme, false love, heaven feed columns – all that
& more, the subliming slime teaching me
w/ hastened dreams of every slain child
I lit up words that warm it
when demons slain saint’s people, okay,
what have I forgotten, by stagnant milk 
& hamburgers, I merged w/ what destroys me
souls echoed love
freedom’s columns said goodnight

true were those ages
now sun attunes my freedom
to invaders’ simple tongues:
wing-whir blood church floorshow


Great American Novel (Condensed)

chapters you read – surface that

American spirit – on mechanical
bloodstained
tools
of control
face the doctor
who seems to come
from lower breed
of fake ignored revolvers
& stranger covered
machine guns
obedience to the devils
and rare submissive crew
putting your beard
through outvoted peering
military
rush
pamphlets you read – inside that
UV joint
in kinetic print
assure you
that images fooled you
big time

A.J. Kaufmann is a young Polish poet, songwriter and traveler, the author of "Siva in Rags" (KSE, 2008), "Broke Nuptial Minds" (Virgogray Press, 2009), "Love Lions of Paris" (KSE, 2011), "The Golden Elephant" (archive.org, 2013) and other poetry chapbooks.