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Friday, May 30, 2003 in hand... the pen
becomes the past... of surfaces burnished toward some metaphysical... suchness... a sullen pocket... a clue ... let's look again... open that book... correct me... another
sad thing turns the year over to flight... an arrangement made quickly... he mentioned the sale of simple books to some who... should have known better... scribbling into the night... look again... our secret code an armature... bearing a most necessary load... simply valid... and stammered like thought Thursday, May 29, 2003 casual sequence... a black spider on my ceiling... no... it's a star laughing... and falling... i stand (tombstone)... old man... whiskers full of lunch... brushes a white crumb... no... a spider... from his shirt... i got little red spiders
bright as a toy here and there... walking blood on these white pages... not mine Wednesday, May 28, 2003 over words a summer hovers... calling restaurants for the feast... tumbling yellow feathers... we'll all wear feathers and eat birds... for their song and their flight... ridiculously but not finally... symbols... turned towards meat... a vast stuffing cool... we kids say...
sufficient... beautiful and surprising... when the rain is done... another blessing strikes... the day... dues all paid... we've finally breathed our first installment... not... finally... bled it... Tuesday, May 27, 2003 and rush... like a fleuve... a floater cashing in... another pretty recommendation... did you think you'd fly when they caught you... hurry... mister o so serious... stumbling when the bird laughs... now... three black ones and a grey... now... three green sprigs pushed up... not meaning but smiling at another dark morning... cough again... lift the next foot the obscure pome hits
a wall we made... slithers down to a puddle... quivers... makes a stupid face up at the sky... sings... o wall wall no elephant... no prescription for feathers... stand me home... wall o wall... rescue what the pencil saw... save the little book Monday, May 26, 2003 scattered they say... like a handful of pennies
skipping across that cool grey terrazzo... my idea... my intention... in pieces... descends and skitters toward night... let me say... a broken thing now that it's done... a once-useful ornament now incomplete again... as a name... my idea... my intention... spinning wild... settling down... over there Sunday, May 25, 2003 if i said my hands were thick stone that cannot remember a cold night or a hot day... would you argue that a metaphor is useful only when sadness has been put off like a troubling condition the doctors can't explain... and here we are healthy as cattle on some american range... now... would you finish my sentence... tear some bread from the loaf between us... smile... and say there's more to speaking than picture-making... there's a necessary wall of actual stone... you say... call it the truth... and still... i browse here... where clouds gather harmlessly there you are... the other side... up to your knees in trout and information... laughing... long after the sun has gone and all the nouns asleep... Saturday, May 24, 2003 remaindered... shattered under a deadline... all of us wait now... for the general collection... hair and smiles... eyes and... paper... lines around our tumbling galleries have been selling well... we all agree the new art is the best art... it's so new it doesn't matter...
something wrong with him standing under ghostly trees while you and i dance fresh asphalt sunshine... call us... we'll smile... our names are heaving now... out into the day everyone remembers his patience... we want all the clapping now... now bottle clinking someone
talking background.... saying about... past power... this song with a beat... soon a hit with the listeners... drummers lining up for joy... guitars standing alone on the ceiling... everybody looking up... for angels here back to finish your phrase currently  |