Friday, February 13, 2004
a is for the adipose we're growing...
a is for the addict in the tomb...
a is for the address i expected...
a is for the agile little womb...

a is for the agonist in agra...
a is for the alley where she sang...
a is for the alcove of the angels...
a is for the actor's sultry twang...

a is for the ambergris of eddie...
a is for the ambulance that came...
a is for the ambisexual butler...
a is for the air... its perfect aim


now heredity set these words to charlie parker tunes

unlearned the sinister fountains of fred... undermoaned

the winter cuts... bubbled heat through the glassy cold...

excuse me, gen'ral... very nice boxes for all your boys


answering the folded map... betrays the day's dependency...

will it blink and glow... will it cuss a velvet stream... will it

describe my fungal anatomy... never mind the gorgons

in the corners... sucking up the paper wind... i'm writ

all over coastal blues... i'm standing in the virgin's light


fuses for loosing memory... power planks depending...

a crutch in the silver joint... a thesis on the grey verge...

these finally tell us these finally tell us... one true gardenia

all over the bookshelf... here's to smother... here's to go

smother the carnal election... grateful and forbidden...

with losses all grazing... cold corners... humorless mouth


what had been a low flute pulse... reasons back to drums

a boy and a girl... their commercial likeness... rekindled anxious

yowling in the mirror... you who became in the electrical...

cat-stretched formality... dark eyes... under a chet baker moon


Thursday, February 12, 2004
well what you say is mean enough... take your fingers out of your eyes for a minute and listen to this dance... it's sunny here now... we've got good grades and plenty of healthy food... our kids are all gone... so why do you say that our work is too handsome that we should surrender... just give up... or because we say without thinking too much... just because our oranges have finally popped... you better see more... get a telescope heart... these are yesses all over your front yard... you better understand so flat on your back the scheme of things flies over... you... take the smaller role first... be a triple-a battery... just stand this for a while


and another thing... taken from virtuous nature... an island

cool and white... virginal even... astounds anyone...as the truth

astounds... we were rushing over like rational ants... to your side...

fearless... to eat your eyes... the bitter sweets in the dark ear cave...

what remains of a looking... a listening... life


sorrow's ridiculous... a weed... and boney surrenders...

faster than a dog might... fated... by the gong of virility

to growl a few minutes... to go away... then... or stay


Wednesday, February 11, 2004
gulping whole buckets of air... filling a stomach with holes...

belch o burp... o... gulp a whole bucket of air... swallow up

swallow up hole... o burp it... and burp it... balloonify whole

worlds of something... a stomach full of o... holes and... o

buckets of holes if a something goes... up without words


who's actually looking... comes in a fierce blaze... or sober

finally sober in the living room... before the guests... look...

none of this is certain... a maze in a muddle... but we

have taken steps now... and must proceed... exactly as

before... so that when the war stops... they'll understand





the position of the artist in this place... a letter here...

abandons all ideas who enters knowing... anything...

receding nature... gives us the willies... we want our

mirrors back... not black backed... shining about us...

heaving the artist... like a bad cough... up the shore

to the big house... picture any place... still... at last


Tuesday, February 10, 2004
inexcusable attributions... the worst of it... that we pushed

an edwardian maiden so far into the modern salon... that

the curtains uttered porcelain fire... reddish obscenities

spluttered from the wallpaper... we hadn't meant to... we

thought you'd enjoy our erudition... a good day's dread...

calling all the kids home... calling all the wild kids... home


if the word is important enough it will find it's mate

in the moment... i equals hours of blankness divided

by the necessary work times remembering wanting...

song of jumps and riddles... song of ticking them off

like pleasant shopping music... in the wrong key


saw the corners disappear and flare out

to broad green boulevards... nineteenth

century parasols... and hats eveywhere

collaborating with the zeitgeist... sent

this message with the boy whose left

eye swoops bird-like into auschwitz


not that this one needs to say

i meant the sky when i said your eyes...

this romance begins to... no... not a love poem...

avoid saying self... you'll be happier in the long run


Monday, February 09, 2004
only this... about the refusal to soldier on

in the face of extreme... confusion... a type

of survival with feet and ears... puts hands

to some good use... boxing pricking stamping...

what the headache saw... another flaming pigeon...

these boys need closer supervision...


i was a small figure... with nearly invisible hands

in the larger picture... hoping they'd meant me

to invent the next war... everyone comes to it

with misconceptions... we pile them in the center

with our shoes... we don't dance yet... we bow

from thin waists... extend nearly invisible hands


Sunday, February 08, 2004
arguably left behind... the rapture's poor god... gone...

we'll have to fend for ourselves... bring in the paper...

walk the dog... come to terms with the evening light...

the ordinary pieces finally left to... shine shine shine


three spontaneous conjunctions... a foot of mercy... blue...

hours and hours of truth... lacking distance... possession...

redemptive leftovers... newly hopped up... and vital

as grey corners... all of this i sent you... now all sent back...

without explanation or apology... a dash of yellow


this day... the permission comes.. it's safe

to look now... and here you are... a wing...

a chair... here you are... a gentle animal...

pretending the morning away... a piano

persuades the guests... whose mouths

are full of clouds... to welcome... you


Saturday, February 07, 2004
military sadness in a flower box... instants

calling three of four days to brightness..

you won it... now pick it up... now

put it down... one word sending word into night

this peace comes raggedy... turnabout...

this peace in a crate


or deny yourself the pleasure...

small thing... it's a...

better thing... and the day's...

set aside... if you growl...

grownups prefer astringent vice...

thin shells... translated bitter fruits...

black coffee... wounded tongue





but for how his bottle took him backward

under the hasty morning we'd never guess

the engine drove it down... a gust a brown

faerie in the middle... romantic riddles

put him out with the crooners thrashing

sticks if stumbling blind to the happy curb


assemble the violins... nobody cares that they're apolitical...

we want the bricks... ambitions... try these flights solo...

and you'll see... we've got birdy conversation taking

all over a skyscape... down through the tunnels and up

where nobody's hitting the high notes... but laughing


as usual... just... on the verge of paradise...

the primates are jumping the gun...

who loves the dawn... and spreads his fingers

like a mouth... everything is new...

and corrupt as any... strangeness


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