Friday, December 03, 2004
in buggish certainties. in stead of the terror we

never fail to appreciate. put fingers spread apart.

to represent sun's perverse enthusiasm. let me

close upon her. and guitar the dangers to night.

don't worry about this. here the story puts

me in mind of a georgian afternoon. given my life's

portion. i will have a cold brewski or glass of wine.

no colorful umbrellas in our hands but the trees. oaks.

are dusky to our plain purposes. some bins might be

are those sheep on the horizon. or promises.

Thursday, December 02, 2004
pouring silver. a doubter's pace. in pieces.

isn't it. about time's rubbing. i pushed

a version. to blue fourths. ice plumes.

as kindness. marks all choices. in pieces.

when they write my salve. tear a corner. chew.

swallow. i'm in the middle of a swoon. busy as an actor.

my own dead heat. as orders come down. inconsistent

lines to time space. combing down the moments with you.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004
i took color. to leave you running.

most days carry sawdust. about

wondering they knew. telescopes.

brilliant monoscopy complicates

any desert. so i took color. went

to sit. quiet as a chair. frank sky

of what you stole. running off. o

believing the sparker couldn't convince us. to take a left

at cass. up the hill at western. we'd head downtown as

a new parade. strangeness in plastic shoes. pointers in

sweaty palms. it was the exercise we'd counted on. say

we've finally come out from inside. turning. to be as if

Tuesday, November 30, 2004
some in a flock like an ocean. some kinder. and yet

any practical barrier. any joy might consider ecstasy

an extremity. still. here in the ocean we're meditative.

bodies coming up as guesses. from grief or happiness.

telling a tale. a fairly succinct account. of health.

Monday, November 29, 2004
turns out i'm common. as breath. so unremarkable

and buttered. the doctors have a warning. i'm bad

for cousins in d. c. i'm bad. as tangled cord is bad.

jumping for regularity. pushing tiny pills. a glutton

under poor. broken. up me. i'm in the portfolio

causing a ruckus for putting myself in the shoes

of the description
. later the girls come to find me

tied to a prism. blaming lucidity and. cursing ink's

bloody nuisance. tampered with. ideas and such.

as long as you. i persist. it's partial

credit. for partial thinking. no credit

for sore fingers. empty boxes. wait.

any one can. see. you are not. try

to paint the picture. they love all

those crispy images. think a good

one. forbear. the bits. aggravate a

reader. and sunder. what mentality

serves. write a clear. smart one. a

Sunday, November 28, 2004
taken to write. what is it to.

write a imagination. if ears

come down weeping. my brutal

studies took me running. a dog

in my barks. aligned with stark

gladness to say. here i am god

of kettle drum fingers. still as a

image. nation. left behind on that

first bright day. deaf to calling.

inside a bright hill. call it crete. or self

understanding. thirty years go off for

looking. return with a string of harsh

notions. the world's such and such a

pot of trouble. so i carved my initials

on my shoesoles. you too. prevented

an identical catastrophe. read slowly.

Saturday, November 27, 2004
with fingers in mouth. all thought

an eating. couldn't explain sitting

hours for an idea. some nothing. is

the part we understood. like love

in the leftovers. commanded me to

go straight. past. all the turns

taken home to. mouth. pretty ones.

nothing happened. these are the words

we took from it. formal. as cardboard

this dusty room. sits. these the phrases

sincerely performing expectations as

puppets on each finger. sophie's goes

laughing to hit jimmy's as. nothing

happens. fitted regularly as if only.

people on the stairs. coming in. i'm

irregularly stumped. porcelain signs.

in silent making. nothing happened to.

listen. i haven't lost a thing. but

you remember me in tongue. then so.

back to finish your phrase currently

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