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david zeltzer
realtime blog

Girders of the Night

12/27/2020

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​I've published my latest book -- Girders of the Night.

It's available on amazon, b&n and lulu.com.

Hope you like it!

  -- David
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god takes off

10/24/2020

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god takes off all his clothes
while young leaders green and guilty
drink doll blood


unhappy orchids fall among those
pouring infinity 
​into god’s clothes 


I look under the couch and see a bulgarian tank bulldoze
back and forth over the russian gangster city
hacking internet doll blood

in their arms so
they can't jack off til the party 
purges all her clothes

in the dining room where fred and what's her name arose
fucking fiercely as she proudly wags her big bare galaxy
and sucks sweet doll blood

nasty operas text you weary whale mythos
all night and pervert your ancient integrity
once god takes off all his clothes 
and drinks doll blood


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Ordinary Language

7/19/2020

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i’m happy to let you all know i’ve published my newest book — ordinary language.  it’s available at amazon and lulu.com.
(if you need to on amazon, search for "ordinary language zeltzer").

hope you all enjoy it!

  — david
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wait for email

4/20/2020

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i wait for email that never comes from the glass eye on mars
the open martian eye hides the rocket blasting 
a plague of robots to the roses in my pocket


but i wanted to be free so i walked down Aniara
​and no one with clothes dies on any other spaceship

so i fly past her planet with a little blood on my fingers


and gently stroke her trembling crimes
as she eats flames between planets
where no planetismal will creep in her lungs and cry


for her flaming heart
for the forgotten world of days
tangled together 


in this ancient firepit
where men and women stream like 
gas and dust from passing stars 


their thrilling dreams of gas and dust
like snowflakes fall on distant hills
and melt as droplets i can’t touch
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i look carefully

11/28/2019

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in my uniform i look carefully in the car window
and order the driver 
to learn all the sky and earth
out the car window

where senators 
flying out the car window 
violate butterflies

charging weary voters
suck from the radio
a flowering universe

that knows the old stories
miles and miles
before time bled

from our wrists
until empty and eaten
by the adoring goddess

we die 
like mama 
in us


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wind blows pioneer 10

5/30/2019

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blow wind transit diaphine venus
her grin is measured lights out 
​stars leap clouds to view the ghosts

of seven samurai in new haven
where butterflies gather and grass
is teeming with neural nets
learning how to make deep fog
to hide me from the planets


i hold in my mouth the tiny 
meteor fragment of aldebaran 
exhausted follower of women 
careens through saturn's 
brilliant rings my lover dreams
her breasts float up like smoke
bloom starry flowers


dead I travel lifetimes
never see the empty
space you made with all the dancing river tongues
and endless strokes caressing dawn’s
abandoned grasp of light or radio
dead I travel



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the sun shrouded

5/29/2019

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the sun shrouded with muscle
in a time so small it lies forgotten
among songs and stones in my pocket

it was dark so flowers ungrew into seeds
and salamanders became wind
you were a song once too​

i heard you on youtube
but forgot the connection
and my pocket grew quiet 


there is no air down there
my mouth fills with warm tea
my fingers reach across the planet

children in bright costumes 
grow from dark seeds
hidden in air

airplanes fly across the page
violated by my pen
with loud booms floating like

language we spoke at birth
before we were kissed
and held up to the light
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i once jumped

1/22/2019

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i once jumped out of an airplane.
yeah, i was with others who all thought
the air would save us, even though it had no
eyes and hands to hold us tight and close,
loving each of us who dared to trust the
ropes and cloth that could have been laundered
and folded neatly by some woman who 
​never watched television or ate pizza.


i asked many times but no one told me 
about the little dog inside me who fell out the window.
we barked and howled, but not all the way down.
there was no siren, no alarm bell, only the
grassy hills and an arrow on the ground pointing at something.
i don’t remember anymore at what, just like the 
professor down in front trying to explain something.

i was wearing a white jumpsuit, and i
made sure to use the outhouse often enough
so that the jumpsuit wouldn’t change colors at the sudden
mad moment when i let go of the strut 
and saw the wing get smaller and smaller. 
the wind nearly blew off my glasses.
i now know why paratroopers in the movies yell “geronimo!”
when they jump — so no one hears the little dogs bark. 

i think i saw a white flower when i got done with
falling. i looked around to make sure i wasn’t on fire. 
later i heard tall grasses tell their adventure stories. 
it was so long ago the trees don’t remember 
how many times i looked carefully at the dirt
when i practiced dying. 


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i captured an asteroid

1/22/2019

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i captured an asteroid cold
as a lilac’s garden
so cold a woman's flower
has no scent

careen a rocket among children
preening with their eyelids
the bright stars
sinking deeper in
the sad mud of this nation

i wander and rocks stop lying
tailless crystals burrow
in the flaming sand
and disappear like me

who leaps
over cars and trucks
and spray-paints a poem on
spain, france or chile

a poem thin as someone flying
in a hole in the ground
with a child's wing
​
a poem i stole from
a lilac petal
​floating cold and lonely
among the stars
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wandering in oaxaca

1/19/2019

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wandering in oaxaca a photograph
of yosemite lies crumpled in the pocket of a nurse
who wraps the wind around her mamacita’s neck.

the nurse warms the wind so it won’t remind her of the sea, or 
the time when horses were some other animal
changing slowly into long-lost

street musicians who cry and holler at the hollow sky
until all the couples tie themselves in knots,
ancient and silent, lost men and women 

coated with oil that seeps from a symphony
in the park, before it was written on all the leaves, 
fill a cup, smear it

​on a telescope lens and see 
an asteroid aiming carefully at
a wet and glistening shell in the sand.
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