Friday, July 04, 2003
that nonsense tumbled down so we wanted more

butter for our corn... we were afraid of death this morning

while they shaved us tenderly... that nonsense

arrived grinning and drooling... so we pampered it...

our fingers ached from plucking tiny truth...

no toothpicks, no napkins, telling tales of brave ulysses...

i will invite you if you promise not to speak


terror duet...
gumption rusted...
historical pollen...
tree belly...

these fill out the sunshine diagram...

call it hysterical kindness...
a better day...

jilted under the cumulonimbus
an... inheritance... gutted

welcome home


more than a hundred things each look something alike...

a family resemblance... each one swearing the other is crazy...

but you can't tell the difference until you've lived

with each a thousand days... peeled each... stood

in the shadow it makes... named it... given your waking

and some of your sleeping to a consideration of the wrinkle...

in each...


now turn away... notice the white storm... gone west alone



Thursday, July 03, 2003
empty this... had you forgiven a politician...

the winter settled all disputes... a polite disagreement

with spring... and war came again... no politician

remembered us freezing... or bleeding... so stand still...

while we empty this bucket... of muddy clothing...

a prayer rises... off... to the suddenly polite treetops


as in your peas... your mashed potatoes... your brocoli...

the ragged command to hurry the day... spells us

uncarefully... toward death's stubborn gate... rusted

at last... and screaking effeminately harpsical... motors

rush to night where dinner waits... and grace


Wednesday, July 02, 2003
it has eaten most of our nervous... strangled most

of our doubtful... and yet... a green light rises

like justice... so we shiver shimmer quiver...

a yellow dream has taken us for a drive...

a certainty that leans into american wind... fills

out a verse that knows us... foundering towns


astonishes a long sleep... becomes a simple

idea... and a cute one... sentimental lies yawn

to the treetops... full of.... what pleases...

no villains... just dogs... birds... well...

the shadows do lurk pretty today


Tuesday, July 01, 2003
do not elaborate on the report... tell us

to mind our own business... tell us how

food may be gathered carefully in daylight...

we might earn a few dollars in the trees...

spending will quicken impulsive mercy...

the victims will walk off... grey butterflies

fallen to pleasure... wooden fire


meeting a cardinal... whorling... and known

to suspect we are islands now... fingers like deserts

in which the final questions have private names...

brilliantine... forchando... siblector... dozel...

we talk to each other across the tides...

and remember the great lost birds...


Monday, June 30, 2003
going to click... going to... with a satisfactory click...

everything happens... and then i remember to say...

this will be me talking... a rich metaphor... for hoping

that everything is going to... satisfactorily... click


actual numbers... stripped us of our tremors...

shaking now... only... when the count goes down...

i wished a fever for you and it came... embarrassed

by my hair... everyone fell into our dream...

so perfect in the mirror while we multiplied...

counting degrees to fill the public space with light


at hand a specific red... never call it a favor...

the silent gunnery locks down midnight...

the next russian follows the last russian...

children cry for summer... everywhere ...

here they just cry toward the great grey moon...

please tell us the frogs and the willow...

tell us the father story... sunset... please



Sunday, June 29, 2003
since we don't say things... we'll have to dance

and knowing the dance to do permits a laugh

and a smile... since we don't "say things"...

here is no talking... on the porch... lightning bug

classes are full... everybody's blinking tonight...

the chain link fence is full of excuses... nobody cares

because the wine is good enough...

and helps us not to say...


carpentry stopped when all signs triggered

a reminiscence of rejuvenation... they looked it up...

found the french had eight handles on "menager"...

you can never go wrong with french... boy...

to probe a fresh wound beneath some chemise


some hundred lines... a pack of smokes

converge at the corner... where joey met jim...

debbie met sue... home in 1958

we called it... the carburetor stomp... a gas

already... lost out by the slough... no gun





excited as an animal spirit... a pixel

leaps... regardless of the juice... over

here we have a strange new language...

made of vegetable fiber... illustrating

places dark and bright... you may come



an organization suspects... frivolity will need

patient reaping... pretty soon... go on

tell us you have better things to do...

i was walking without you... long ago...

sunny days on pebbled feet... water

cf. my feelings in appendix one



Saturday, June 28, 2003
able standing makes us feel better feelings

properly up to face whatever sky plunges down

we all wanted to go somewhere before they took us

we find things are sullen now and want a change

so a dream studies us inside out... you see


all across america they were trying... trying... trying...

to reverse a concentric circle... flowing deep...

go away... you cannot write a political... it's all

all across america... small brown bugs find ears and eyes and noses...

wear expensive plastic helmets... assemble juice music...

and vote for evening over and over again...

taking eden out for a spin... trying and trying... trying



a fear and then another
it's all fear and frightening

o some poor imagining struck
the day in a fairycar

ten old ones shuffled names
good people have forgotten

barely distant folded close
like the sunsplotch warm and scarey

all the kids ran out in rain
shrieking lost metallic syllables

you burrow into this brilliant page
and i go faster for you... faster


back to finish your phrase currently

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