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Friday, July 25, 2003 yellow in color looks wally...
but in black and white... sting it with your cunning eyes... turn it over... you'll find the papers all in order... good for more crossing at the border... remote...
i sent a picture to myself... and shocked myself... telling you this becomes me... improves my color... sets me up for another successful gesture... hair will grow someday from this site... a useful poetic spray of hair... o so madness
now... i will resemble a spark... and you come have a danger... dance or hop... into the next word it breaks madly at your touch... i was being frightened under the bridge in the big storm... because the nazis needed us... no not that movie... you know what happened next pieced apart
you know... sorted again... my history wiggles away from... drinking wine i remember to drink some beer... and it hurt when they pointed... at a feeling on my head... let's find it... let's not be afraid... today standing
and swinging or... bending into terrific blue... at his tune... a height... a sonnet won't run out here... we are waiting for the next one... you might be... somewhere on our mix list... catch us talking for our health... going up... bird places Thursday, July 24, 2003 or play let me play... if you stand
for it... anyway a good day's pounding have it... any play here let me stand for it... without paying... without pay quieter...
inside a movie nobody sees anymore... i was making sense after dinner until you said just put me back where i'm happy... i see now... the silver screen intimidates darkness... sure it does but what were you thinking when... the folksinger fell to his knees... and a tumbling silence happened an art-clogged
drain prepares us for life... as a broken finger reminds us of important business downtown... moving quickly now... an earnest musician struggling with the morning's mess... enjoying coffee and pretending... always pretending... to improvise disaster... where there ain't none... i was saying only ideas
about falling... devoted nickels and pennies... traffic sending us home early... because feathers improve our vision... next to her stood a small man in a grey bathrobe... as summarized by willem de kooning in woman (the complete series)... picking ourselves up accounts for much of the day... strange birds in the reeds Wednesday, July 23, 2003 i will never talk to you... put
me somewhere... i don't care i have a head full of desire... and a heart of sharp ideas... you have my picture... it's a face like mine... tell me how much can you get for it... i am not me here you understand a verbal posture as well as anyone... you in fact are one too... singing in a tree... just outside bangkok... and this is something like... yes... i
am pretending to be awake... and spelling simple words poorly... this is a good dog... this cat sleeps all day... that boy... has a bird in his head... i am a list of vestigial parts... but you are my favorite guide to pronunciation... and travelling gets me all gathered in... pieces easily separated... symbols coming I say unto you: there is no beginning and
we do not tremble, we are not sentimental. We are a furious Wind,
tearing the dirty linen of clouds and prayers, preparing the
great spectacle of disaster, fire, decomposition. sit for the mud struggle... a portrait together... finally... has fair green verses long gone... has four grey voices... no new thing... blasted again and over again... buying everything buying it all... and paying next to nothing... what's a snarl when you got a haircut... you got no haircut but saying's fine hairs... a noisy gabardine summer dog back in the garbage again... and over again... in some context...
your hands trill like robins... your eyes are bright swimmers ... these nets improve sight... and strike the heart that knows... he's showing... out of context we're all freaks... my meanings go burnt brown... clumsy wrench on the bungled bolt... stranded somewhere... in context... a blade... leaning through ideas of meat and wood... the virtuous life... Tuesday, July 22, 2003 creepy enough... nothing was new...
rattled on and on about the same things... terror in underwear.... blankets... dropping everything to exclaim... terrific stuff all this you wrote! but when will it stop hurting, doc? o pretend... you have both legs both eyes both arms... a boy again all of this
singing... a hymn to life... we thought our words and lit their tails... set them running into fields we never plowed... o metapherein... all of this carried into the dirt... sundumb... finally tossed into the sky and down again... kids remember more because they live in waves deep strata
of cloth and something else down to bone cornered by a glass eye... cut bloody... stumbled lightly ready to eat... he said that hammered pot... let it sink to history... mean enough... staggering... unbeautiful eruption... take what you need... read the shards... "even mean I'm dose led"... drawn to appear sensible... when they come to see a carefully wrought mechanical daydream... push them Monday, July 21, 2003 small ways tripped us... gently
reorganized by texture and heft we remember trying each of seventeen nomadic operas... we danced old gentlemen across busy intersections and yodelled softly beside young walkers... it wasn't enough to convince them of immortality's daily pace... goaded by fame... o never mind... we hum our tiny anthem to you... and your island aunts and uncles... friends all bicycle has
a way of moving around a barking dog... unsettled by the new laws of time... everything comes back to remind you... low air in the tires... a description haunts us... how he said the sky shivered... with a growl and sparked lights... and slid from yesterday to thursday... braking swerving a bit... around the logical potholes hog windows...
a line through town begins at the river... we drew circles and stood in the center where no wind could find us... for awhile... then walked out to whisper through hog windows... where they kept the old ladies no crowns
this morning... a flock of wet grasses... a voice thrown toward daylight and splotched with forgetting... if you are coming to see us you'd better come soon... these arguments are touching heart matters at last Sunday, July 20, 2003 still it comes from nothing in
the sunlight... look out... girls with sharp eyebrows will erase
your heart... boys stand under streetlights... waiting for the
next wild moment... tell us one more time to behave ourselves hordes below
deck... on the plane only rude cliches... and singing for the captain... he has ruined our day... tell us another tale... the one where flight becomes a stone in our passways... a bug in the eye... only suspect... only detect... only resurrect... it wasn't
exactly a voice in my head... entrances and exits... a believable routine... something worth a dance or a drink... that helped us into dusk... and beyond... just lights and names for the business of the day... repeating predictable stories... loosens sore muscles... hurried like
a yellow stump... got bees all up in there... she says take your time we got all day... i know says i but the underside rusted out and the road shines through... all of this comes back and back again... we thought some justice had us by the hand... but we were mistaken Saturday, July 19, 2003 nobody's looking... stop drifting...
being so private in public... assume an importance... by nature we have hands and teeth... noses... for eating... when i come to pick you up will you be ready... seems a purple
crown wishes it were the sun... o walking took us to the water... found redemption at the riverside... saved for the evening... a crust of bread... emphatic deliverance from the sudden blues... gone down... saved for the good times to come when gentle
farmers clap their hands the whole field rises up swinging through the sun... calling out... jitterbug bopping... as if little stevie had just blown a round on his harp... or as if all electrical appliances had come on at once... just before the power goes out... forever back to finish your phrase currently  |
