Friday, September 12, 2003
trusting not enough... cans of soup uphold a range of virtue...

understood to be... one of the lucky morons adrift in the day...

younger in confusion... what value fingered our questionable joys


before the denouement... we met in the maple...

conspiring crows... their delicious eyes... ours...

under blue clouds... our clouds... threat

for the day... a slight obscurity... here

none of our diction reflects... the enormity...

of our condition... our branch dreams us


hungry and then... an instant puddle... our feet

jump... we're watching them jump... for food...

guns and butter... a decent splash reminds us

of cherry bombs and harmonicas... go on...

in the papers our faces go green... so pale


Thursday, September 11, 2003
tangled and fell

who flew

and took

or made holes

gave knowing

falling

love... to float

far or know

what stood...

open... today...

a sudden... o

all around... in...

whose... air...

fell... there...


Wednesday, September 10, 2003
like these betrayals... these before your eyes...

a life riding blind ponies... is still... in motion...

lazy man inside the tent... where all the sultans meet...

asks for nothing... his hands quiver... his eye roars


on the other side... a direct and deliberate discourse...

plain religion... remembering gods and god... the weather

keeps inside... i mean... it keeps us inside... an ocean

tongue... marking shells and kelp... their metaphors

bind their ankles and eyes... all they know...


they punish their words... for their words...


or accumulation... meant we finally went blind...

there were so many interesting moments... or deaf

to the drums... what they lacked in intelligence

they made up for in barbarous languor... now see


various auto-pilot playfully ambi-meaningless experimental taste-defying word-gumbos

arrived with cigarettes, clouds, yellow teeth... a bag of dental floss and dice...

thumping the desk the door the floor... what did you say... arrived

in jockey shorts and auto exhaust... reduced the moon to muttering

careful instructions... we all know what you're up to... slow down...

arrived with eyes full of "quasi-Platonic dialogues"... destruction


The greatest and most influential of Plato's students was Aristotle.

resembling history... i wore shoes this morning... managed teeth...

pushed a pool ball backwards... remembered to stand

in fresh sun... logically... rendered myself adequate... are you

coming over... are you expecting me... regards...



following me... an umbrella... a fascinating fella...

an orange very... orange... but no football...

following my lead and falling... for a book

of rocks and clouds... patience...

geological... meteorological... imprecise


Tuesday, September 09, 2003
not to be taken... seriously not to be

taken... as if... you knew how much

to take seriously... he has not been

to class lately... we didn't like him

when he came the last time... and took

us seriously... as if... we liked him


far enough down... when you remember to stop talking...

everyone lines up for soup... give us... soup in our

forgetfulness... give us soup down here...

in our sadness... soup for soreness... soup for song


or fog is always different... and always... what if...

the sun doesn't come... doesn't come again... ever...

so seven hundred and thirty-two sentences finally

have to cooperate in darkness... up and down

the blind stairwell... was that a bird... no not here...


Monday, September 08, 2003
not here... no place to... say...

it's not meant... just sent... from a jump

to a lump... in a barrel... sparrow wings


hum theory... hum it... until you know it by hand...

the library winters... used books... we broke up

furniture to recall... theory's golden edges... which

surprised us... volumes turned up... happily here


a crafty version... we have settled on a plot... now

there's color to find... put the green girl on a horse...

yellow kids fumbling in closets... if you want quality

you'll have to review our circular
... Hero and

The Printer... a cautionary tale... Know Theory's Tune


Sunday, September 07, 2003



blanking up this morning... he's ready to bend

you've seen it... and now... hear it coming...

everybody's waiting... like friday afternoon...

and still... he's ready to choose which light...

i'll get there sooner or Later... on purpose

and silent as dirt... when nobody's looking


not one of you...trunks and tusks... unconnected and feeling

like a queer marine... blind and sweeping... what

fell off... when we wrecked the basement... my story

has no amazement... and my friends wish me well...

of you not one... tapped our sieve... or laughed


always a Story... and forgiveness by the window... say

to get Younger... you'd have to drink a lot of that

Water..
a long Story picking its way across the Ice

flows... turning back... When you had it... there


blanking up this morning... he's ready to bend

you've seen it... and now... hear it coming...

everybody's waiting... like friday afternoon...

and still... he's ready to choose which light...

i'll get there sooner or Later... on purpose

and silent as dirt... when nobody's looking



don't Step Back... you were moving with Distinction

toward Us... then turned... as if You had heard

a Motor revving... far past the Window... a Voice

Sad or angry... far from its own Words... just...


called solid grammar down on their heads... spoke

participles over troubled water... and you thought

she was only good for baking salads... mixing

our failed business into all her secret codes


orchidean thoughts like subtle predication... no

simple murders... our pretense... o look what i

said... o look...
our warriors have all gone down...

these bloody flowers... which means we'll have to

come again... dancing next time... singing


Saturday, September 06, 2003



My sissy remnant listens more carefully today... I am taller

with Resources... and Ears like ripe vegetables... it hears

Your tinkering... and the Bad Boys... never let go... I

will not ever Let Go... o sissy remnant Vertigo...


the net had... the tale begins... you see Me...

then it Said... had a Special Collection of objects

broken confused but also receptive to an Aesthetic

Pulse... recombined... as some wear Hats... Gloves

to forget... what the machines have Accomplished



whom I... suggested by the flicker... was I

that Geographical Emotion... you Knew my

usefulness... was I Carotid Necessity... then

pumped for export... a dangerous future... was

I losing your Sincere Appreciation... was I


new and certain... i come and i go... a flourescent slumber

while the talk goes on... in the next room... my place

taken... all windows half open... what happened

when he peeled it?
...they arranged

my vanishing pomes in semi-serious order...

i found them hunkered down... snickering


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