Friday, August 22, 2003
and candled like a flower... i stood on my toes

refusing the shadows... undoing sorrow...

getting it right beside the river... towing

the long dream of youth into day...

standing on my toes... my... okay...


dealing with the loss of... remembering your name...

coming to me after work... that question... you held...

next to the window... more light... more secrets...

i'm turning into a government agent... a kiss...


is the person here... in this ragged moment...

is the person an angel on the top shelf... all

fragments of light and shadow... is the person

considering your face... heroically... the person

tells us... now and now... the person sleeping


hush and rush.. you like it best when

the stories lie down like small animals...

an engaged lethargy... dropping usefulness...

take me home with you... sing...


new substance... slips from hands born... not made

framed like a garden... by the bigger...

hustle... call me when you think... i can

handle it... all these concerns... blankets

and razors... for our new wilderness


is this a grade... a moment... unstrung

and watched by... someone thought... better

than forgiven... graded and... forgotten...

the cracks in our faces... shine... shine out


Thursday, August 21, 2003
under tones that send us hopping...

we resort to insecurity... check

your voice mail... then... relax

into a usable moment... practice

your harmless... shrug


had flown... until the grey sun sent him...

home... don't touch me... i'm all

beswot...from the run
... justice

rains down... in heavy dripples... a voice...

you have gotten... we have gotten... i have got


Wednesday, August 20, 2003
now that wasn't so bad... you've had

your vengeance tatooed... you fingertips

bled... just a little... reminder... we're

coming back to wholeness and patience...

now that the service shimmers... under


yes... i'd like to break history

into sharp crumbs... refuse to swallow

them... laid across your chest... they

recall... barren years... and fire

that came quickly... bugs... a fountain

of hurt... children standing in windows


see what i told you... beaten

with a big stick... i was perfect... i was

a laughing horse... my tricks

removed all doubt... i was

a careful colorful map... and took

two million years... to get home


extensive optimism... like bad weather...

will always reorganize our approach

to the grand forum of zealots... there

we will pay for years of waste... grim

imagination... there we will pull out

our long-grass laughter... our luck


Tuesday, August 19, 2003
blasted forgotten and cold... which held my attention

while the orderly folded something... behind my back...

is it winter yet... is it stone... or i was counting...

or i was waiting for the message sent... and picking

refusals from the universal list... i was going away


inside out... i told you... my revolution expects

all natural simplicity to... fall... before a rigid hero

who comes in a taxi... with official papers

and serious shoes... and something to pretend...

for... an agent of ordinary... awe...

these tremendous beginnings... these files


Monday, August 18, 2003
believe me... i rescued the dollar and fell

gurgling through a rainbow of grateful shoppers...

i thumped the nave of an orange cathedral...

despite complaints of angels and clergy... incredible

as it seems... i buried the picture you sent...

but kept the frame... of kindness... remembered


varicose intentions make me crazy... you too

have a spiderweb program... that bugs

me... take your time... i haven't collected

any homework yet... but will soon...

take a deep breath...


how many miles on it... we used to put

our fingers in the sides of trees... daring

fairies to bite... no more... blushing...

questionable growth when the rings

spin outward... vaguer than television...

we hear you're... feeling better


Sunday, August 17, 2003
a dunder... you know... a trite formation

of umbrella whistles... along the road...

we stood them... and jeered them up...

fully compatible with yellow... and laughing...

fully ignitable... withering good matches...

play us... for fooling around... all adunder...

and we deserve it... we've got it coming





difference settled... for the time being... down

where our hands seem quiet... appreciating

the chance to turn itself over... as in the sun

we have to move... difference counts

itself... and grins... throws a rock... kicks

a loose branch... remembers city life... distinctly


Saturday, August 16, 2003
he isn't serious enough... look at his face...

all the lines run wrongways past his ears...

even when... he knows we are looking...

and we are very good at looking...

at his tiny fingers... for instance... they

remind us of... ridiculous sermons...


spotted answers like underwear... hadn't

considered your reactions... but no matter...

some generous questions spouted... whole

universes of smartness and success... like

a fortune cookie... that was when...

we knew everything... and kept it to ourselves


hey... there's no murder... under this rock


in tongues... now... a version

of my affection... collared by grey wasps...

stung out of... waking... you pushed me

back... i yodelled and gulped... all

the way down... and... hushed

when the crows... when the horny toads

aimed their sharp tools... at my song


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