Friday, December 12, 2003
and the shadows... poultry and architecture... surprises

on the beach... all wound into this portrait... you left

some serious matters... unresolved... our associates break

under pressure... nervous enough with the police... now

cowed... coughing... for the ceiling's dim shore...


Thursday, December 11, 2003
solid raga flippers... a just bludgeon... three varicose windows...

all take me back to your house... i remember...

why the rainskin hisses and the firebook goes watchful

at night... it was politics bending over grey business...

your house full of sleep... your house in my black heart


you expected a redness... and then a single violin

from beyond the telephone lines...

but you got a large blue human blue sun...

rolling in with open arms... singing... what sounds like

bad kitchen songs... bad songs of the armchair... bad

songs... trailing laughter car noise memory ribbons...


and... humor... colored all thin edges...

you were very funny yesterday... my lung

collapsed... a bruised and battered child...

nobody wanted... to laugh too hard...

our laughter was never about... us...

it was always about our master's tenderness


Wednesday, December 10, 2003
scatterly... abridged some way... days

never sound enough like... the song

we enjoy... rough knuckles...

we write... you everyday... corporal

punishment... waves and grins...

this is what we get for wanting


it went all abstract... between the bells...

turned down a bright road... bit my doubts...

kissed my popular songs... it went all blinking


tissue is toilet paper hand me some

blow my nose... i do it for myself...

tissue is brilliant... thinking... offers

itself to my hand... flown at an angle

toward the nose... a subtle projection


Tuesday, December 09, 2003
and yr supposed to you better and should care

because we're counting the numbers in yr name

and yr a little light on the handsome double digits

so you better lift a hand lend a foot gather a storm

of useful topics for our next ropey carousal we're

counting... on... you... to... carry... us... through...


how much would be empty...

a book... leans to light...

freezing looks more like cutting...

an optional memory... face it...

we are making progress...

emptying versions of ourselves

into the light


man... turning into emily dickinson's driveway... honk

and wave... as if yr dactyls were gangs of dirty boys

come to wreck the garden... man... honk and wave

we'll yell good luck you spigot... you vincent van gogh


a noble and a fortunate composition... links us

to brutal tensions... and we've finally understood...

the heart of telling... it beats us into shapes


Monday, December 08, 2003
is what a tree said losing some steam

that's where you lost me i'm normalizing

my ears... look... we'll dance better when

homes are free... without curtains then...

i'm misconstruing all your creeds... and

you'd better thank me... oaks, chimneys,

free unpublished versions clutter me...

how about you how about you now


streets... says jessica ...

broken inside... you say

these have... edges

we'd rather dance... than

memorize buttons...

or park between the lines


death? no... a love poem... dark and piercing on the ears...

divergent imagery makes... the sea snakes... crawl...


Sunday, December 07, 2003
anticipated verbs... their arrival in pairs and desperate...

affectionate visions... like a lucky photo...

happening for blue string and auto parts...

girls and boys... avant something... behind the wheels

piled up... for the kleigs... an ugly time... good for art


this unknown... incident... missing a shoe... when he comes

you'll know what to do... under the scales... of glory

in carmelite vespers... shivering darkly... handel's bloody

nose... coming soon enough, angel... is history's proof...

every foot shod in glory... every song blood red and true


the poet's spiritual life wired... and finally bright

enough... but you'd kneel... here... still... until

the hooks rise... the latches catch... all the reasons come...


Saturday, December 06, 2003
stay please in the jingling door stay haply minted

green or bronze fields around you stay please

haply minted corners and walkways startled axes

bronze or flesh singing stunned forges haply minted

startled axes blooming...


and so... this goes on... right up to the white wall...

i waited... but you never came...


divine like he thought the rivers ran dirty

like he meant we had had enough and fell

over city mounds and country piles sounding

like wizards of milk money... only call it sense

we're after... divine and dayworn... terrible...


angular quandries... on every shelf... i was helping the women...

and they were helping me... and the green neighborhood kid...

so we know money... pronounced colors get me going... red

dollars and light... it reflects our faces... it reflects in our faces...

a cold winter's yellow night... for buying stuff... my face flying

from angle to plane... my fingers made of blue clay... all human


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