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Friday, March 28, 2003
did you think...
i had half a chance... no... the growing time left him smaller than the others... some essential nutrient... deprived of.. he was... so under cover of night he steps... into gray buildings that shine from the inside like oysters... and there he finds enough of what had been withheld... so you see... he says... i can print my sleep... my dance... and cover my sadness with these perfect hands when breaking becomes
a habit, remember the beaches and the mountains where time has
always pulled everything into a necessary shape, a shape we can
all agree is beautiful even when our broken parts fall from us
along the shore or along the trail... and this reminds us of
the ritual scouring of souls who tiptoe towards rebirth without
wings or gills Thursday, March 27, 2003
i'm not talking
to anyone... not to you... not to the troglodyte drooling over your shoulder... says air for everyone... eyes for the willing... then sputters up into the trees like a sick bird's buddy... never underestimate the horrors of spring a sugar curtain...
spider-spun sunlight drops down urgently over our mistake we hadn't fully considered about the whistling and the eyes... dragging hope like a weary flag the bad writing
will not say... or cannot so something else takes over... a will to significance upends our complacency... a better day... floating dumb as facts three inches above the desk... unleashes a fury... a clamor among the professors of literature Wednesday, March 26, 2003
said pathos... it
dribbles... inexcusably... we will turn away... then give them time... to compose themselves... as they say nothing comes of these bits dropped impishy here... between commercials when you go we become
ideas... thin and sultry... consoling each other with sighs and television... you hear us... at first... but then time and distance replace that motion with a standard part... the memory of how we wore shoes and took turns holding the umbrella... slips to a general portrait... less like a hologram than an old laptop... drowning Tuesday, March 25, 2003
could you push a
little harder to make it something... no question lacks answers... still... some doors are best
left open... you know... i had your interests in mind when... i mean... there's nobody i'd rather irritate... are you as
tired as i am tonight... nothing came back
from the sky... after the stone flew up nothing came back... but we had an idea that took us from there... and found us selling windows... a lot of emptiness...
a concept... three of us... despising the work... began to eat dirt...
without shame he wanted a wall
of granite set up here beside the pool... then money became a problem and he lost his will to build...
any further... so light splintered back there... and desire twisted into
a... wistful credulity... that some things are not worth waiting
for... when there's so much... already... to repair Monday, March 24, 2003
rain said... open
up a door... make a way for a teaching... break open these sour questions... verify next of kin... something hard is coming down... something certain... and cold... notify... tell us now... tell us while our eyes can know... before some hurt squeaks down from the roof... ok... here it is... a wise bird builds... no matter emphasize the view
from where any one of us may be sitting tell them about a sun moving slowly up or down making colors big enough to notice finally pretend everyone is happy here because we alone have money and stomach to buy what needs buying show the chroma-print brochure of reeds by the shore everyone loves reeds by the shore and they will too accept that nothing
comes from your hands... accept the price... suddenly... all of this advice will grind you up... convince you... there's fun for the desert when soldiers roll in... a topic... a definite topic... pursue it with diligence... wet newsprint fingers know... a certain delight before bedtime... sends us to dream a fire garden... you dream next... we will gently hum it to you Sunday, March 23, 2003
tell us you have
something to tell us... then watch us pretend that we love the ballet... that opera thrills us to our toes... no... better to sit still... eyes open and unblinking... ears capable... pulse slow and steady... lulled by that urgent voice... perfect for serious moments like this... we are yours... what did you say... you said what... we thought you said Saturday, March 22, 2003
come out into night...
fill up darkly... answer his question before you hear it... sink down to rocks and rubble... then draw what you tasted... a siren... a solemn duty to address the problem... go turn its round edges square... take off some clothing before getting it all wrong... falling down becomes an acceptable strategy... keep doing it fool doesn't get
it... hands me a beer when i don't want a beer.. i want a horse that lets me up easily onto his hard leather... from where i can see the horizon... smoke signal... injuns in this cartoon... nation... might they let me join the tribe... i stretch so tall in the saddle to see... how they might smile and wave me on... carefully... tepid
in the afternoon glare... walk around the craters... understand that we have nothing better to do... than approve of this... political action under a luxuriant bomb flower plot... o dear... it comes to teaching again... what had been forgotten again... on purpose back to finish your phrase currently  |