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Friday, September 26, 2003 for dinner tonight... we're getting
lost... speaking french or italian... having light or darkness... and always losing it... always losing ourselves... over dessert what the
ground said and the rain guessing tomorrow... allied to death or pretending to stretch into light... my piano stopped breathing... took history for granted and married a water nymph... not so useful until you turn them inside out... and even then... not so... like dry fingers on a page they're looking up to the next one... some adventure charted... going on despite bad weather... or a presidential edict how big a
laugh... reaches through the drums... everybody jumps but not simultaneously... or all the words pile up because... we couldn't master the instrument... cutting it up... and... ready for the slow... dance Thursday, September 25, 2003 stupidity... well that says enough
doesn't it... i was going to expand... but the room's not big enough... i was sharpening my knives... but remembered the smell off the page... when they cut him open... and the bishop had not stopped... just then or serious
enough in the back we said... there's something to see... look it has no nose... o look it's a fallen... lute... plunging tunefully past our banal inscriptions... we had to go see.. and it yawned for us BAN
Wednesday, September 24, 2003 some neil young in the morning...
versions of life worth something... and our clothing with spangles... an idea towards freedom... still in uniform... a portrait of the land stretched to a limit... we're all in it... hoping and sleeping what you
call... tired or a bit weary... who talks like this inside a room... so trembling jumping down from the day... it happened goodly... i stood up... you watched from the tower of thought... you sent a bouquet... for this goodly day... all jumping still bunt and
call it... bunt and open it... bunt as if your eyes bled fire... your tongue ponderous... what the selection suggested... a new day at last Tuesday, September 23, 2003 "who will sit
in a corner autistically counting sand grains" my arms under water... going horses... going through tunnels... others leaving horses... and in one or two places... they believe in orange winters... like going horses... or Arabia of edges... my corner goes... horses and northern kings... eggs for one or fun...
more happiness... a fortunate whackiness... Let's Go... look at the grouse!... and other exclamations sub luna... actually frying chicken parts... and eating them... for laughs We are logically embroidered... judiciously matched... We are wearing bloody red vestments... under these perforations wait it's
happening here... a colossal refutation... a fortunate blue grin... this was the day our qualms walked away... turned left... headed south... no more calendar chairs... a long sufficient early humor... don't give in... don't wear that shirt today... Monday, September 22, 2003 so this machine relaxes... when
you get home... it stills a gear... a vibration... how about another cup of coffee... yikes... goes the television... a whispering woman... now in hand finally
i got it... and stood for a still moment... this prejudice... this copycat wanders nights... while i sleep... out in the morning we've got only eyes like tiny white flowers... that should not be blooming so late... in hand... understood and active Sunday, September 21, 2003 taken... seriously taken... one
small yellow note stuck to the top of a larger yellow note... unread as a silver vase... there... see... you knew you could... a thin slice of victoriana... taken seriously thought had
to send... an arm for teaching older students... yes we now take visa and mastercard... or ugly things... this sounded... it sounded... so pretty... when he said it... an edge set
loose... a long improvement cuddling hope... a winged thing more blue than brown... energy listening... a refusal to step on the toad... all of this mesmerizes fact and gels attention while others skate unctiously here... "that they move independently when set free... is the mark of their... value"... wcw said then... mere sentimental
like and as you said heroical slashing what i said just forgotten under water... this is called poetics i confused myself when the rock split open and gas come up for vision... i was standing inside out... trying hard not to simile... a sentimental jerk bound pastward looking for a pretty picture to take to make your approval now requires... a different approach... i'll think harder read more puzzling... sentences... for starters... and called you up without your name slanted toward any like or as...and yet it lingers in the verb we need... or fending off the mob alone forget to end with a frightful saying... ducking... Saturday, September 20, 2003 when is it time when is it... when
it will go... when it says here we are... a losing moment... falling off when it studies eating... dancing... when a prayer earns ten bucks... i knew it had a clock... and here we are counting... to ten undone and
yet complete enough... the arrow... the committee... turns its back on the versions... reminds itself of other gardens... once we were winter tulips... once a feathered grey bud... condensed and derided... any fingers might indicate... yawning how one of our own... settled and vanished in the oyster bar surely basted...
for good... under my eyes... with enough sense to cover any drippage... you've got turgid ears... i've got money... a little money... i've got alleys in my eyes... the dumpsters overflowing with beautiful harangues... malingering smoke back to finish your phrase currently  |
