Friday, December 24, 2004
swimming the north side. nasty stuff. he came to the states
in a trunk. hiding the hitler bomb in his trunks. they traced
a slim one back to the netherlands. now in black churches
the singing reaches up to a better land. hanging post haste
like christmas lights. my path is brighter. in the lake sun.
my zero. yrs truly counterfeit.
put on the five o'clock misery.
but this myth of presence comes
vertical. a swamp of yeses. sign
of terminal ifness. sticks and
stories. gilt-edged. lit ever.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
which opens to day while we ride in the back.
or sound. a vertical drum from the pond wished
me well. the trip took us through vermont. city.
photocopies of an orchard. snow. snow. breeze
in the back. rumpled. which everyone knows as.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
coffee forgiven. chocolate sunshoes. as breaks in the humming
reminds me of the time the archduke broke. a brittle fool and.
heroically darkening first tricked me. then he coughed russian.
with no financial incentive we're toddlers. say me again papa.
the haste of the seen. a decision to call it
or anything nearby a particular duck. no time
for singing. that's a ringing in our ear. the blur
synaptic. understood as we who are standing
compel a yes. from the days. the lockers click.
Monday, December 20, 2004
hark. a ukele's condensation. warps all my sentimentals.
you too come. evocative in the roasted languor of noon.
was it the cowboy song that rhymed so. cruelly. fenced.
life with my attractive wife. young. son.
scuttled hopes for a quick resolution.
i took it on the lam. buried my sofa deep.
wintered in old books on cardboard sleep.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
o. was i talking
me as the old
woman i was.
and the urns
i carried to cups.
for votes i said
come again. be
an american fence.
be windows. be
round and last
they plot an
apology. i take.
scratch my tin ear. the text reveals. he
never could dance. this ethnic boogie
makes me possible decade after century.
ornamental gardens. coughing elms. he's
rougher with the children than. the mosh.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
complexity. here on the beanstalk.
talk we do. but the weather comes.
come. say yr happy i'm here. i'm happy.
happens the cathedral's empty. but
button-sized legumes drizzle down the
theoretical buttress below. so tiny our
orderly calls us down. to stuff bernini's
can say because. all 1,500 inhabitants build.
all 26 masterworks massage. all 103 languages.
into a house of plaster. my freedom. what is
that smell. that recovery from illness. that
say formal invention. drawn out to a surly us.
mustn't be stainy glass. mustn't be modernish
sequences of americar. protected because. first
they don't exist. then they come. uncomforting
as beautifully built fun. with a virtual result. i
back to finish your phrase currently