 |
 |
|
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 back to finish your phrase currently  |
