Friday, August 29, 2003
o who's taken this music away... that made us so happy


go away... nothing here... this rock's mine...

an ungenerous crossing... we had of it... boys

like rough formulas... let the details lose or win...

remember... i didn't know what i had... done


Thursday, August 28, 2003
o my swineherd... courses of rain.... blue thunder

hovering heron... words had me... i couldn't help it...

all my empty head... the goddess restored...

large animals preparing the earth... here


it's a hard world and going away is too sad...

there was always a tough kid... never had time for him...

it smelled like old leaves... do you remember that scene

in sunset boulevard... the one with the monkey...

nostalgia is a fine thing... but fix your nose...

i'm pretending that nothing has happened


as if... your center were a thought

a semi-porous brick... as if

something shuddered in your calm green park...

setting all middles on fire... as if

it mattered... and words are ashes...

you said it yourself... as if

only knowing that... counted...


Wednesday, August 27, 2003
flat... flat boy... flat heart... flat... a penny

and a paper... flat... flat floor... and a

lostness... flat... named flat... born

flat... and spent... going flat... flat


once i realized i was missing you before i knew you... i found

myself laughing... this is no metaphor... the quest had turned itself

inside out... i decided to read a lot of pornography... and then

i decided to look for god whenever i was awake... or asleep...

and then i lost myself in a flash... and felt real good


i wasn't pretending... i was real... and calling

destruction down on the heads... all the heads...

of rotten choices... sloppy thinking... dreamers

under covers... i was actually there... casting

death down to the bottomless box... really

letting them have it... boy... really bad...

you shoulda been there... flames and all


finding death has an awkward smile... i'm laughing

to find that death has bad shirts and ridiculous shoes...

the cool kids have nothing to do with death...

a mess... a freak... a nerd... so gay...

takes the regular bus and sits in the middle...

death... nose-picking... day-dreaming... death...


my password mumbling... no no no... never

say that... shut up... no no... my password

heading for nebraska... wherever ballerinas

spin... wheat fields... my password

expecting rain... and getting mugged...

for a studied pose... every morning knows

i turn right then i turn left... yes... yes


trusting sight... we draw a cert... no... what was i saying...

i was walking... and the sun and the shadows made me...

and then the fog... made me... i was a nature boy...

and you were all wrapped up in language... i made you..

then the city grumbled... we turned ourselves inside out...

and saw our secrets... and wrote the fable that goes...


Tuesday, August 26, 2003
no... i prefer not... the phone frightens me... when it rings...

you always sound like i never knew you... someone

always asking... but i've never had an answer


monkeys and weasels... gypsies and thieves...

popping up in the most unusual places...

we bear luminosity in our motor-hearts...

we remember silver defeats and golden joy...

call me... we'll get together... inconsequentially


Monday, August 25, 2003
i've got it happening... and hurrying through the romantic

period to get to the modern... i was dropped on my head...

next to you... my frisson... my puppy... grieving came

naturally... suddenly we knew how to stand up... and we did...

a mild objective chill... rushed through my shoulders... you

must have thought i was... in love... but it was patience

with the words we had... pasted all over our living


accept the limit... you stood it longer... and sure

your sizzling heart... played nothing nothing...

like paradise winters... confused.... going out

wishing... you get the picture... or move on...

no blame... just pick up your feet... jack


supposed an excited one... slipped over... then

touring old bookshops... found masterful work

on every shelf... supposed to be pedalling harder...

in the bright parisian sun... supposed his arm

flung out... through brainy traffic... paper-bound

volumes struggling to rise... trying harder than ever


i'll string it out... thinner... o... you'll never guess

how hard i worked... my hands... studied... prayer


clicking through the wall... a voice like... road dust...

not from these parts... he's loose in the world now...

quickly... speaking quickly... a middling art... swung


Sunday, August 24, 2003
doesn't like this kind of thing... it's creepy...

you never know where you... he said...

something about a mirror... kissing

a dictionary late into the evening... o gee...

and something a little edgier... a shelf...

a gutter... windowsill remedies...

that kind of thing... huddles like a stupid boy


flaming since the fifties... a crude horror

turns us yellow... and yawning we roar

through morning's delirious song...

i want you to take me somewhere...

the view from mt. rainier... has begun

to interest us... but first... we must pray


she was making a moral out of... string...

it reminded us of the day before christmas...

and we said so... but she didn't understand...

she kept her fingers busy... and seemed content


or putting up with... comes to blind walking...

a rusty regularity folded into quarter sheets...

clipped along the edges... more careful...

than turning away mid-sentence...

to consider the sky...


Saturday, August 23, 2003
what part of the light held your day... hallucinations

come like spiders... when you are good... trying

your best to adapt... and all my friends... say so...

bound like spiders... and eager to remember... like

spiders... the fun we had in bombay... sunsets


what about... solitude... pretending a rush...

then letting nothing... drop down... having

a thought instead of an operation... calling

me your inevitable artificial... your old lady...

under three-day stubble... saints like... these

wild nights... the changes... the startling

uniformity... unsingable... unsettled...







as sweet longing... accomplishment follows

the road-spun violins... o you know

the dance... had a frown and a grin...

i stepped on your shy... terrible...

in its sudden hands... while you took

everything to eat... and ate it


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