Friday, December 26, 2003
wrapping paper... you understand it... justice and never

calling... once the kids are out... the hero believes in it...

the hero thinks about where light goes... mourns it...

turns... into... it.... as a flinty soul... goes a spark...


scraps of the land... on it... an industrial... as in it...

necessity... remove some part of the sky... taken away...

now a metal desire... a push on the road... toward heaven


Thursday, December 25, 2003
then falling away from jazz... hurry... we've got to breathe more...

a circular present... and longing... away from the blues... more

than an imaginary shop... for edible product... single songs

earning their weight... edging their path... to slightly less

terrror... day by day... we've been known to ask for less


and slick...a study of grown things... requires an urgent

technician... for dreaming... blackness back into theory...

the space requires... blue bottles... angry water... some

kind of music... or ice in the coming out morning... a new

feeling surpasses dollars... holds us in its pale teeth...


Wednesday, December 24, 2003
happiness carves and drives... carves and absolves... the bad moments...

as if random desire has settled finally into a respectable version

of our sundry... faces... as if the marathon we entered has run

us back... where birth brightens... and the baby fact consorts

with gardens... overgrown... we're just so overgrown... and happy


in handing over... handing over the eagle... biggest of all pictures

fixes a wing... sets talons... into a vague tumult... and pours

like eyes over a picture page... pours itself into light...call it

a world's work... trembling no more at knowing's gate


Tuesday, December 23, 2003
how some things carry all the weight... a frightened

methodology insists on... comfortable shoes... no tie...

when you release me i will sink... as warm stones do

through the ice of our time... kissing this and that

as they go... dreaming of the bottom... far and wee...


Monday, December 22, 2003
my formula's alright... what you said... what i read...

all the engines sputter... it's a winter... a wall...

in my form i get to... i get to... sputter... or dot

a few times... it stands for the hair i lost... the love

the horror... these finish first... a solemn guess


i was asking you nicely... and thunder... preposterous

as a goose... thunders...when the sky chortles...

i was asking you nicely... for better zoning...

so... now... we know it's not yours... to give


slung back to the light... an extra minute sizzles

bright pockets flap out... more more... utterly

more brewing... ahead... in plastic wraps... so

little to do with it... the tale told... in french


inside these miraculous interventions we find

a boy playing monopoly... winning the blue...

the purple... the green... a travelling shoe

pointed against gravity... a silvertoe disguise


Sunday, December 21, 2003
watch out
who you hang
around with
because it shows
what kind
of person
you really are


or interest me in
don't ask me
isn't a prayer
giving reasons

how far you like
your coffee beans
mr. cordiality

donated twenty
dollars long ago
for some
dark material
haunt

watch out who you
hang my goodness

it shows
what kind
you are


if you are alone at home... as i am alone at home...

go to the window... push your face into the window...

pretend the window is the ocean... ask the window

for some dinner... make the window fix your headache...

imagine that the empty house means all our suffering...

packed and ready to visit relatives in some distant land



under the limit... elephant had it hard... we're all

put together boldly... free vegetation air and darkly here...

a suspicion that the zoo never called.. but steam rises anyway...


Saturday, December 20, 2003
pretty picture and the words you said i got them

got them all inside with the pretty picture fixed

like a paper heart inside my bloody heart i got

an essential thought but nothing to say you see

all in a minute switched around for the sake of

this pretty picture it makes us wonder who's art


the work... bitter near the end...

the dove... an excellent legality

a bloom... back by the washrooms

the front room... desperate crush mortality

an uncle... carted by night off to rouen

his finger joint... any proof of god

sunrise... compensation for the little doggies

thee and thou... the yesterday of all my knowing

the last child... plain fever poems


back to finish your phrase currently

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?