Friday, December 17, 2004
handles. present to themselves along an axis.
mark me speaking. panoramic sandwiches eat.
well here we are we've got to do something. i
imagine a blue line. cerulean enough. strung
from a pair of lips to the winter venus. spoke.
i want words. to from in on and
pleasure. please my. please go
faster. words over territory. as
pincers. this the. o holy says i
got a good one. just marking a
silly one. and a stubborn good.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
say crooked straight. what ache
begs yr plain. open. choices for
rocky heights. subtle swamps.
i'm myself built. as now sugar
flows to the fat spots. crooked
not straight. we're posted and
if you feel that weird x-ray thing. bad words.
the zen of. file under that weird balloon. its a
shadow if you make it. home. once we were
xerox copies. now. at a loss. dusty old dust.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
when i'm telling you. here it's cold. then you say.
look. i'm coping. no hands. is this some practice
cobbled from dead spoons. nothing so. then i say
we all struggle with finishing touches. in gloves.
mid. being known in the letters. this romantic fascination
plunders me and you. we got nothing for it. splendid orphans.
tangled in graceful exercise. read his letters and know his
mysterious twig. a space then a bundle. another form.
can spring be far. from fame fine fidgety fire. a frame.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
what the sung said. and what the strung
played over. these are the deals of envy.
articulate pressure. messed a bleary goo.
into strictest desires. we watched it go on.
we meant to correct. some pronunciation.
darn. i got no. letting go
lies floating. then he hears
the writing saying. look.
his wife. his wife's death.
i don't get it. i just think.
as the devil. a twist in it.
Monday, December 13, 2004
i got more difficult as i went along. what you expected came
grinning comes with a spoon. in difficulty i'm to experience.
as i went along to the asks and answers. see. i got more.
tiny of alphabets. a circulatory problem.
soothes a classic paint.
carpet worth saving but his underlying tone.
graces a silky prison.
white scenes speaking to my inspiration.
accepts a wooden building.
pulling the craft. the chicken. the colorful
pockets a page at a time.
which comes to closing. hair lasts longer.
which prepares us for an abstraction. like.
which pulls us all down. to what used to be.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
pieces on stilts. or cheeses in a crossing.
my frescoes date from the 21st century.
meteorology comes rattling. but shoes do.
my choreography. distinctively grown up.
now colored smiling all gold stars. parents.
my iconography harks back. to the old age.
merging public. being man. renovating guile.
when answers happen to places. that's death
on a tight schedule. as brittle systems called.
me for the portent. coming like a rose red i.
still the beauty of modern life misplaced for
a book. a town full of geese. say. a plodder
into human corners. abandon me. to new drugs
rich in ornamental statuary. slithered bygone
gardens chronicles prices curves artifacts as
pretending comes back in style. but only once.
here. and here in good faith all our place at
mid-decade. nude as a line. lively whats in it
Saturday, December 11, 2004
so moving into the pages of any catalogue. death's
for the hip. obscure wells. congos of words hijacked.
and troubled cuz the sky comes down apart over us.
in surgery a river calls it home. high rollers for a kid's.
lethal as any explanation. ordered. as rescued. best.
for colorful detail. stand in the shadow.
for a defenseless city. remember the kitchen.
for love and life. dissolve into one another.
for a score of high renaissance adventures. share critical whimsy.
for twenty common tender dissolutions. sound terribly daunted.
for graphic. for shocking. work.
for a wooden pasture. distraction.
counselled to breathe. here's my exhalation.
belongs. to the nursery's Book of the Dead.
explain again what comes of. arms and years.
dying to help. to recognize my true nature
no more cobblestones. no more lush philosophy.
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