1

kummerang

 

krummer als ein pisang,

pest du den hang lang,

                        gehst weg

und kehrst wieder,

     flugs klanglos

wi’im krebsgang,

so lang wie mein fuß lang ist,

kommst du

immer wieder,

doch lässt dich kaum

einfangen

      und kreist und kreist so lang,     

bis du

alleingangs,

von mittenmang baumgangs,

                      merlenfang, pfaufang,

von deinem luftgang,

                   grenz

-gang und talhang

zu mir

zurückkommst.

dein drall

zurück –                                           

drang nach

dem anfang :

zwar zwang nur,

wenn ‘s ziel verfehlt;

kommst immer

zurück.

 

 

 

und wäre es pjöngjang,

kämst du

zurück,

kämst du mit yinyang,

dugong und oolongduft,

     umgeben von linsangs,

                 in seetang getauft.

wärs kanaan,

     kämst du

zurück,

kämst diaphan

als ein rührmichnichtan,

     eskortiert von zehn

xystusvandalen

mit khanskurtisanen,

von schneckenmilanen

aus grüncellophan.

     vielleicht kämst dann

   toboggans

zu meinem wigwam,

mit pavianelan

und als trickschuft,

als mezzohetman

      mit tukanuntertanen

– die merluschkamähne

stünde dir gut.

kämst

zurück wie ein mustang,

     kämst

trabgangs, ganz frank

ohne gruß,

zwang, zug- oder zungzwang,

doch mit recht artigem

jubelgesang – kein kappzaum

zurück, kummerang,

von gimpelfang

und von kulmen

zurück.

 

 

alle kummerangsnücken

(kummerangsnucken),

kummerangsgucker, dumpf,

die cancanierenden kummerangstücken;

all das kummerkrummbücken –

kummerangs rückenkrümmung nämlich

ist krümmer,

als mein nasenhang krumm ist.

so kämst du

mit stets krümmerem rücken

zurück, kummerang, zu mir,

krümmer, verkümmert

und immer viel schlimmer

         als noch beim letzten mal,

da du mich sahst.

 

– doch wer warf dich,

kummerang,

ganz sicher mein arm nicht,

     bestimmt diese hand nicht,

sie vermochte es nicht,

dich so zu werfen, dass du

zurückkommst.

 

darf ich mal ?

würf ich nämlich,

kämst du nie mehr

zurück,

schössest zielhaft

aufs ziel zu,

ins schluckloch des schummers,

und verschwändest für immer darin :

 

kein schluckloch des kummers bliebe hier mehr zurück.

 

 

aber du pest

und zimperst nicht;

aber du säst

und pimperst nicht;

aber du äst

und klimperst nicht;

aber du mähst

und wimperst nicht

einmal.

 

aber du schläfst nicht.

 

der schlummerang kann dem kummerang nichts anhaben.

 

 

 

 

wie bang ist mein fangdrang :

 

fang ! fang ! fang ! fang ! fang ! fang !

 

ihn, der kimmlang den himmel belangt,

mal seiger,

im windfang

des kumulus kumulonimbus :

du bist der versehgang,

das kummerkoma des flügelschimmels.

 

so lang kreist er

und kreist schon,

der kummerang –

stunden-, tage-, nächtelang

kreist dieser kummerang

um den kopf

und im kopf rum

              und kommt immer

wieder zurück.

ging rum,

um den kummer

beim morgenspaziergang

abzufangen,

zu befragen,

fing

aber nichts

undsoweiter

und rang mit dem kummer,

rang mit dem kummer,

dem grabskummerandrang,

kummerangsandrang

                                  bis sonnuntergang

seit mondaufgang.

 

der kummerangeffekt

unterscheidet sich also

von jedem andern :

 

er färbt wellen

in das kleidgrau

der klageweiber;

er zerrt welt

durch den blaubau

der sageleider;

er lehrt, bellt

das chałchał

der widdermeider,

behrt die welt aus dem pfau. –

 

 

 

 

pomuchel der kopf,

der glaubt, er mäandert :

 

denn er pest

und zimpert nicht.

denn er sät

und pimpert nicht.

denn er äst

und klimpert nicht.

denn er mäht

und wimpert nicht

zweimal.

 

dies jedoch vor allem :

 

er schläft nicht.

 

 

(spinnerlied, auf eine melodie aus mary poppins)

 

                       kummkummerang, kummkummerang, bumsklenguruh,

     der kummerang hüpft nicht, hat kein blut, keinen schuh;

kummkummerang, kummkummerang, bumsklenguruh,

           der kummerang kennt nur den schnellwendeflug;

          kummkummerang, kummkummerang, bumsklenguruh,

den kummerang nennt kein spezialwörterbuch;

kummkummerang, kummkummerang, bumsklenguruh,

der kummerang hockt am pistolenabzug.

 

 

tornada

 

enlaidiert enziane;

fern spreizen

       geköpfte

vulkanpelikane

speiend die riesischen

feuersschnäbel.

du liegst neben mir, wach, kummerang

– die summa vielleicht etwa wäre :

verrückt, wie gut wir doch

in löffelchenstellung ineinanderpassen,

ich und mein buhle, der kummersatan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

fakultative beschwörung

 

 

 

komm, kummercombrus, komm, kummercombrus,

kummkummer, komm. kummkummer, komm :

komm, kummercombrus.

kummercumbrus.

kummcomboros. kummers oroboros

(uroboros), kummriger boris, komm, kummerbolos.

kummers kümmerling, o komm, kummerkloß, -joch,

-last,

-see,

-los.

hab nur paar

kummerkrumen –

o kummerkrume, komm;

                  hab einen kubbenkrümel,

ach kummerkubbe, komm;

     komm krümeln,

so himmele, komm.

und wenn ?

warum in dieses

kummerkruch verkrümeln ?

 

     die kummerrunen. kummerline.

daginias kummernun.

daginiakrümelkrumm.

mit kumpfets kummerkamm (das nur für den frank), klamm,

     kump kummermann und hier die galgenmiene,

klumpklar, kleinlamm.

 

     die kumbermuhme.

mein fieberkumbermuhmenbann.

ne muhmenkumpe flammt und fumpt den kummermann.

 

da : dies ist seine bumsal.

 

kumbers cumbrus – cumbersamba – kumbercumbrus – kummerrumba

kummertango – ummen mamba – kummermambo – warum das ?

   kumbers cumbrus – cumbersamba – kumbercumbrus – kummerrumba

   kummertango – ummen mamba – kummermambo – warum hast ?

      kumbers cumbrus – cumbersamba – kumbercumbrus – kummerrumba

kummernumbfuß – kummerlambda – dummer cumbrus – KUMMKARAMBA –

 

 

 

 

auf kummerun. ins umbad – schnell, schnell,

aber geht das ?

 

kummerskunde

kündet pfunde.

 

doch hier vom kummergan.

kurzfuß, armekurz, kratzfuß :

da kommt der kummerang mit seinem kummersklan.

(tak, tak : szklany.)

(sind fahrende.)

 

postkarte

 

kumm’rang heut

in sankt kummer

und como

(pagane veranstaltung)

 

                                                           karawanen kommen herum.

                                                                von makaras karakaras

besetzt ganz karaman;

     und kommt dagmara,

     kommt auch kumm’rang

                                                                       klags auf den karagan.

                                   (immer will sie

                                                    dann zu ihm sagen :

                                                      huste mal.

                                              yychu. yychu, yychu.)

 

ich komm wohl nicht

da kummerrum,

ums kummergarn,

ums kummernun,

     und karakumschwarz,

hummerhungrig,

komm ich tumb,

komm lummerlungig,

     komme, komme,

komm ich, komm ich,

            kumm’rang, komich komm ich

um.

 

 

 

gloomerang

 

Translated from the German by Joshua Daniel Edwin

 

 

 

 

 

 

you race along the furlong,

crookeder than a barong,

                                                                                                          you go away,

                                                                       u-bend again,

                        in sidelong zippersong 

            as in crabwalk;

                                                           so long as my foot is long, 

                                   you’ll always

come again,

                                                                                              but you can’t be

                        snagged

                                               circling and circling, so long,

            till you come,

                                                                                                          alone all along,

sprung from the oak-rungs,

                                                           you fan out, fangs out,

                                                                                  from your flightpath,

                                                                                                          (carving headlong

down the valleyslope),

                                                                       you return

                                               to me.

                                                                                              your spin

            returns—

                                                                                  (oblong) a craving to

begin—

                                   it descends

                                                                                  when you miss a target;

                                                                                                          that’s when the gong

gets rung.                   

 

 

 

 

 

    and were it pyongyang,

                                                                                  you’d come back,

                                                                                              you’d come with yin-yang,

                                                                                      dugong, and oolong-scent,

                                                                                         surrounded by linsangs,

                                                                                                christened in kelp.

                                                                                              were it canaan,

                                                                                  you’d come back,

                                                                                              you’d come diaphanous

                                                                                      as pale touch-me-not,

                                                                                      escorted by ten

                                                                                              sandaled vandals,

                                                                                      genghis khan’s courtesans,

                                                                                              their private scandals

                                                                          bandaged in green cellophane.

                                                                                     perhaps you’d come

                                                                                                                      by toboggan

                                                                                      to my slack-walled wigwam,

                                                                                                          with baboon-elan

                                                                          and legerdemain, 

                                                                                              as mezzo-hetman

                                                                                      with a toucan-right-hand-man

—the astrakhan mane

                                                                                              would suit you well.

                                                                                  you’d come back

like a mustang,

                                                                                              you’d come trotting,

                                                                                      completely frank

                                                                                  without salute or stink,

                                                                                      sturm und drang or harangue,

                                                                                              but with quite correct

                                                                                        oberek-step,

you’d come back

                                                                                        as bridle, from scamming            

                                                                                       and summits. gloomerang,

                                                                       welcome back.

 

all this gloomerang-caprice

                                   (gloomerang, capiche?),

     —oh gloomerang-gazer, book-nosed schnook—

the cancan-ing gloomerang-beats,

                                   all the gloomcrookedstoop:

                        gloomerang’s hunchback, hooked as a scythe,

will outhunch

my nosebump (plumb out of line).    

                                                                                  then you would come,

                                                                       with your ever-bent back,

                                                                       back to me, gloomerang, bent

                                                                                  on return, vestigial,

                                                                       and always much worse than you were

                                                                                  the last time you bent

your flat gaze back to mine.

                                   but who threw you,

                                                           gloomerang,

                                   not my arm, certainly,

                                       not this hand, there’s no doubt

 it’s in no condition

to throw you so that you’d

                        come bending back.

 

                                                           so may i, this time?

                                                           i’d toss you, somehow,

                                                                       so that you’d never

                                               come winding back:

                                                           you’d shoot target-wise,

                                                                                  to your target be tethered,

                                   in its bull’s-eye gulphole        

                                                           you’d vanish forever,

                        your bull’s-eye of gloom banished into the ether.     

                                                          

but you pester                                  

                        and never relent

but you bluster

                        and never recant

but you rupture

                        and never repent

but you hector

                        and never relax

even once

                                   into something resembling sleep.

 

                        the snoozerang cannot bring down the gloomerang.

                       

how wretched, my catch-stress,                                                       

                                   catch! catch! catch! catch! catch! catch!

                                                                       you, that gashed heaven’s latch,                                                                                once match-straight

                                   in the windbreach 

                        of cumulous cumulonimbus:

you are the mistake-hatch,

            the gloom-coma of wingrash.                        

                                                          

so long, you circle,

                                               have circled already,  

                                   you, gloomerang—

                        hours-, days-, overnightslong            

                              in gloomerang circles

                                   over my head,

                                               in my head, and around,

                                                           and always you come

back round again.

                                               i went round

                             in the gloom                                                                                

on a morning constitutional,                                                

ambushed

            and questioned,

                        collared,

                                   but not—

                                               and so then further on,

                                   i grappled with gloom,           

                                   i wrestled with gloom,                       

                                   with the gravegloomcrush                             

                                               and the gloomerangboom                  

                                                                                  from sundown

until moonrise.

 

                        the gloomerang-effect

                                   differs thusly

                                               from all others:

                                               it colors waves

                                   in the dressgray

                                               of mourners;

                        it tugs earth

                                   through the blueweave

                        of weepies;

                                                           it teaches or barks

                                                                       the cha cha

                                   of crossed stars.

it sands corners away.   

only a featherbrain                           

                                                                       believes it meanders:             

                                               though it pesters                                

                                                                       it doesn’t relent

though it blusters

                                                                       it doesn’t recant

though it ruptures

                                                                       it doesn’t repent

though it hectors

                                                                       it doesn’t relax

                                               twice over.

 

                                   this above all:

                                                                                  it does not sleep.

 

 

                                   (spinningsong, to a melody from mary poppins)            

 

                                               boomgloomerang, boomgloomerang, boomboomcheroo,

                                                           gloom never skips, has no blood and no shoes,

                                               boomgloomerang, boomgloomerang, boomboomcheright,

                                                       gloomerang knows only quickturningflight,

                                   boomgloomerang, boomgloomerang, boomboomcheree,

                                                       gloomerang slips from your dictionary,

                                               boomgloomerang, boomgloomerang, boomboomandbigger,

                                                                       gloomerang lands on a pistol’s hairtrigger.

                       

                                                                                             

                                               TORNADA

 

 

                                                                       battered gentians

                                                                                              scattered far

                                                                                                          and beheaded.

                                                                                              gargantuan

                                                                        volcanic pelicans

                                   spouting firebeaks.

                                                           you sprawl next to me. wake, gloomerang—

                                                                       the facts were, perhaps, somewhat

                                                                                              demented. how cozily

we fit, spooning into each other,

                                   me and my beau, the gloomerang-tempter.

 

 

 

optional: incantation/invocation

                                                                                                                                

 

come, gloomer glowmbe, come gloomer glowmbe

gloomgloomer, come. gloomgloomer, come:

come gloomer glowmbe.

gloom glúmian aura.

gloomcomboros. gloom oroboros

(ouroboros), gloomygus boris, come (in gloomerbolo).        

suffer glum solo, o come, gloomypuss, gloom-lump, -yoke,

-load,

-rake,

-drum.

 

so, have a couple

gloomercrumbs—

            o gloomcrumb, come;

                 have a rugelcrumb,

                        yes, gloomrugel, come;

                             come crumble,

thurderlette, come.

                                              what then?

                                                                       why crumble into this

                                                           gloomernook?            

 

     the gloomrunes. gloomerina.

daginia’s newgloom.                                     

daginiacrookedcrumb.

gloom came in troughs (that one’s for frank), clammy,                      

     in font gloomyman—and here the gallowsmien                 

clump-clear, littlelamb.

 

     the muumuutune.                                                  

my fevertunemuumuuspell.  

a muumuutrombone booms and flames up the gloomyman.                        

 

there: that is his gloomstare.

 

lumber’sglúmian—cumbersamba—cumberglúmian—gloomerrumba

gloomertango—mamamamba—gloomermambo—watch your waist

   lumber’sglúmian—cumbersamba—cumberglúmian—gloomerrumba

   gloomertango—mamamamba—gloomermambo—watch your haste                   

      lumber’sglúmian—cumbersamba—cumberglúmian—gloomerrumba

        gloomernumbfoot—gloomerlambda—dumbencumbered—GLOOMCARAMBA—

 

poolside in kumba, camergloon—wait, wait,

­—does that work?     

 

            mooning gloomy

like a lounging loon.

 

                        slogging through toxic glumes,                  

                        clubfooted, bowlegged, arms curtailed:     

here comes gloomerang with the whole gloomclan.

(tak, tak : szklany.)

(carnival hands.)

 

                                                                                  postcard

 

                                                                       gloom’rang here

                                                                       in old st. gloom

                                                                       and como

                                                                                  (for the pagan jubilee)           

 

                        caravans come round here.

     karaman’s been full besieged

by makara’s caracaras;                                                          

     and when comes dagmara,

     then comes, too, the gloomerang

harping on the karaghan.                                                                  

 (then she wants

     to tell him:

       turn your head; cough.          

chuyh.)                                             

 

                                               most likely i’ll come

in looming turns,

fate’s gloomyarn                                                       

           its evernewgloom,

and karakumsandblack,                                                                   

caviarstarved,

i come dumb, 

come bargehearted,

     come, come,

i come, i come,

            gloom’rang, crumbling i suc-

cumb.