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Thursday, April 08, 2004 who does laundry or knows the lists
these days... who isn't ashamed... of the smokey night we said i remember the cycle... i like the sweet sums counted forward into caring... we worked us out brittled and oud-weary toward a nervy compassion only defense...
a formula parched in the sky like a... blue burro stole my normal shoes... ate them even... like this... typing comes with its own reasons... a small paper bag... leaking marvelous
junctions these red birds... a clutter of gnomes... a miracle with brakes... well the day comes over... forgets to say... here i am now versify me... rain down a thousand avant-garde alphabets... a whimsy for the dark spots... i wouldn't expect... too much Wednesday, April 07, 2004 his leader... impractical instructions
from his self-esteem... our attention reduced to his poetry... conditional lamentations in his nerve... exceptional subversions of his room... uncertain sanitation of his wardrobe... suspicious origins of his past... our puzzling adherence to his bidding... lost in the clouds over Tuesday, April 06, 2004 some walls are made of dictionaries... lots of bad ideas... a stand-up cardboard vision of you and me... leaning... out like spiders... comic wonders... blind... some walls let you run right through i'm there
talking a new circus or a subway tunnel groaning i'm here freaks and televised bankers oh a crew isn't a team i'm a version of our lost interview and its dog once more at ten i'm then hope in a bunch i left at your door with the starry ink i'm a canon spent for a genetic split and objectivist murders o he's gone gone gone... o he's a gone... a real gone daddy Monday, April 05, 2004 since this isn't europe and night is replete with delights... here's the answer: collect and magnify a minute here and there... rain from europe.. not here... puddles through us as if lovers cared and there... since this isn't europe and cannot ever be... except once in the backroom of a failing bookstore we studied reputation and learned a secret: that paper rises to your hand so long as you avoid europe and love some small animal... a cat for example... enough... in the evening along an urgent waterway... the canals of our youth for instance... their terrible bridges useful in dreams but caught in fact like factories dying every few weeks... of european origin... and so... useless in practice while but
not during and just but not right now a thin cord... like a blade on a bright afternoon... will slice a finger but not before everything goes pretty opaque & i stay put like god Sunday, April 04, 2004 piece of a bad violin... kind of
sweet in the right mood junior isn't coming back... anymore... ma's under the tree lately since...
i was thinking you might fly off... into that impossible paper voice... i'd laugh until you came back... air thick... with dinner alone... uncomplicated... once three cups
of water... tipped toward my passage from animal to mineral... i stumble... but remember the address Saturday, April 03, 2004 what is he typing... i wanted a
less lonely pal... he's known for one thing and then another... always hits the space bar twice and checks a spot behind his left ear... none of the books deserved him... but the women found him rudimentary, piano- driven... an angel even... where i set him i'm an easier
fumbling... cradling good intentions as in the first installment with everyone happy... just before they start lathering the moon... wishing away death's glamour puss... their disappointment always spelled incorrectly while i stuttered my part almond...
the purest most useful... spontaneity they used to call it lost time... but that never fooled us... we riddled the whole class with prayers... for the soul of a song- writer... nutty conjunction of reds... blues with this
paper... my idea of literature washes by hand old shirts and socks before heading out to the movies or going online for a breather from this life in the body... my idea of literature hasn't suffered enough to account for the confusion of a single heart opening like the mall shops... tolerable sales and comfortable shoes in a moony lovelight entranced by my robin red idea of literature boys and girls mark calendars for the new hop... justice under a kiss... a president lost among bleeding lips... whose pages counter all lies back to finish your phrase currently  |