Friday, March 14, 2003

you don't have to know what they are talking about

to understand that everyone is losing something...

and that no one is particularly unhappy... this passing

from one state of loss to another becomes a friendly activity...

an essential pattern by which you may steer your own solitude

toward a crucial detachment... the kind of thing a sparrow

might try if it had an extra nest... in the same tree



something in the sky turns into a substantial problem...

why is it always light... a light... a screaming line of ink...

no... we'll have to surrender tomorrow before lunch... then

maybe... we'll have a safer song... and saner... one that goes...

something like the weiner song... but slower...



eleven layers of paint... and a bad cold

to boot... bogged down... suddenly

the prince redeems himself... thermal conditioning

to replace a thousand excuses... no one has to go...

but you'll be pleased to know... we're saving enough money

to please you... because he had his eye on her...

his intentions were honorable enough... a few clouds...

warmer tomorrow than today... so... happiness brings

its own bad jokes... no more money to be made



Thursday, March 13, 2003

the way we tolerate this quiet difficulty in a kid... this surly

gaze into middle distance... nowhere... some refusal to engage

that would drive us mad in someone older... like you...

what's to be understood in that... a kid doesn't have to smile...

like this... we understand... he hasn't cared to learn it yet



very funny... frank and larry standing with their backs

to traffic... that city held all the ink and booze they required...

then we turned them into tunnels toward a book... hang

it on your wall... get kenneth's number off the front of that

named but unknown apartment building... a simple pencil

rubbing... no more graphic devices... just wishing you

had said more before the shop closed.... a hint about

green, for example... a persistant french text



you can always imagine a life lit from the inside...

a gaudy green paper lantern... more cars in the alley

than cats up the tree... so tell us what you hate, or

what you have hated... if you are still living

where the bosses left you... and what you did

when impatience blew out your front window



stricken, for example, when the lamp fails to light

or when a tiny trickle from the roof finally appears

inside... this is pretense... the way you had to think

before you said my name... yes, you understood me

better than we understood electricity or rain...

still, we know, a hand shaken is not a hand held



Wednesday, March 12, 2003

paint... i don't get it... this blue curve

repeated knife strokes... angry...

in the surface grey and green... i imagine

of the black and white... as he said...

"get yr butt over here right now"

small red drops sneak out... away from silver lines...

how do you talk about paint... without saying

color here... this color... that shade... astonishing

frightening... never seen before... or since



this violence precludes... feeling bad...

or remembering where you're supposed to be...

cobbling the thing... a certain document...

into a flyer... for passers-by...

"and the organic intensity" of the noise

they make when left... to their own

purposes... surprises, delights and

teaches me to stand still... while watching



i had it in ninth place
because some girl was... lost

i had it in seventh place
because they hadn't closed the door yet...

i'll be awhile... don't wait up



traced a scrap of torn paper...

like an old friend... a fallen branch...

then we tried a new thing... it had

brown eyes and thin lips

we called it "our recent work"... to distinguish

it from our hazel-eyed past



Tuesday, March 11, 2003

this is my homework... it has a hat you can borrow

but only when you're done playing with the pencil...

take your time... my homework will never forget

how friendly you become so late at night...

alas... adieu... and o... remember...



i like a chinese music for the acrobats...

let them yowp a bit too... when they jump and spin...

then drag your teeth across the strings...

make everybody complicated before bedtime



make a bargain... quick

call for the restless... stars... all stars...

actually the ones we never notice...

numbered or named... sold to the start...

it's possible to try too hard...

you know... they never really fall



it's possible to see too many connections

and then you lose... you just lose

what you had taken from mornings and days...

bring it with flowers... set it on his doorstep...

still... not enough... to make a difference

just pretend we were happy... let your imagination

carry you round to the other side of this hole



not good... enough... in black affection...

half made of clay... half a moon of blue water

ground out of wind... traced like small fingers

bent back toward the light... the left wing...

props a little charity... suspects the life

everyone wanted... restless sparkling... good

enough for a guess... "pretend you are falling..."

still there... "look for future growth..."

always on the edge of a gray word



Monday, March 10, 2003

better tie it down.... big wind coming... and then

you'll see what they meant about the treachery of inspiration...

eyeballs blown out like tires on a bad stretch of road...

fingers trickling orange goo down onto the paperwork...

everything goes crawling away... like repentant lizards...

once the big breeze blows into town



caught up... or tangled... assumed to be

falling like small stones from somebody's roof...

you had me writing odes to the front door...

and to the back... these pictures were shaking on the wall...

but now the sentences cough... the phrases stare holes in the floor



Sunday, March 09, 2003

sun in my eyes o sun in my eyes

turn it off... i gotta blink... i gotta squint

so silver... so gold... so much fire...

bury the old dog out back... keep it secret

kiss emma just once for me... tell her i had to go

before the posse hit my trail... o

sun in my eyes o sun in my eyes



sadness and things...

have you got a better plan... send me out

with a book... a loaf of bread... give me

ten or twenty years... then you'll see...

something less sad than a broken leg...

something less sad than a forgotten friend...

o... you who sail the sea...

raise your hands to the necessary rope...

lift your eyes... your thoughts...

to this dizzy contemplation of the wave



Saturday, March 08, 2003

black baking in open air
pops out burnt and brilliant...
moments... trombones... and such
but mostly it's
too cold or too sore... so
will we not go off
to the ska band tonight...

joy postponed is life
dumped out on the stinking banks
of cripple creek... a negative
capable of feeding us
shadow milk black fish

or snow blown down from roofs
like ballet a perfect curve
in the gray air you call
"the atmousphear"... just kidding
all sudden shifts frighten me...

we had hands to go write plays
and feet to go play right with
the neighbor kids... but we
couldn't stay up so late...
to watch a fellini with you
on television... actually

french piano... you know hair
better than art... still it's so
casual and permanent... the mark
in your ear sends us out... bleeding
into the snow... living here



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