Friday, April 16, 2004
not so... for the scraps... they make me itch...

they make the next line... necessary...

maybe worth a moment... what's ever...

next or next... all improbably merciful engines


Maybe I oughta get stuck into something... maybe

i oughta encourage transparency... or paint it... silver...

maybe i oughta lasso yr most improbable smile... maybe

you oughta come a little farther this way... and quickly...

maybe i oughta dress like an authority... in a spiritual tie...

maybe i oughta blend bicker slice fruit...till kingdom come


the biggest flirt or the most organized... here's today

in bifocals... a condition we took seriously... & changed

ourselves... we become the monument... and shine


Thursday, April 15, 2004
as tied up we were as... forbidden to laugh so we didn't...

but as tied up we were... one of our edges began to burn

and then the other... so as tied up as we were our heavy

pomes went all gooey toward a grin... but not laughing...


and stitchery... coming up scarlet... profuse as leather

bits in the vicinity of you... which stands for clothing

but might also be choosing... a new ranch or resort

another reason for staying out late... a brilliant cage


ornithology and memory... looks like a grouse

or a trio of bakers... stumped by the locust

leaking my last act... onto the hard branch


Wednesday, April 14, 2004
the truck hit the hard worker

the finger bent toward the light

the rude girl stood next to the entrance

the next time got ready to learn

the sentence found us yawning

the moon served an excellent dessert

the phrase rushed away from an elegance...


hollower and a good thing... two days...

and then an urgent combination... takes us

bleakly forward... but all the while we're

slinging song toward trees and billboards...

and the sun or is it an engine blows us

warm... take this version... for the papers


Tuesday, April 13, 2004
after i broke my murder into quiet parts

i isolated the hot core and let it boil

our lake into a viscous shadow... i put

it here and there like grape jelly... my

murder surrendered all my embarassment...

and i've finally got the feather pen right...

needed some help with the blotting paper


what style became when i put it out

i don't know how many years ago still

it became a secret knife and bled me

dry it became a hidden horse eating

all my hay... hey! you can't write that

it's already been done... o yeah...

watch me cut this cardboard scene


was it announced
this morning's death
currently studying
french for a moment

was it announced
a stretch of sisters
desperate patches
of cheese in drag

was it announced
new galleries glowing
very fine fruit lately
mown or old mail

was it announced
and denounced often
no longer possible
for old legs thickness

was it announced
or crippled mightily
as we returned from
the night pier budge

was this was it and
whether it was in
time was it where it
meant this and only


any game limits the eccentric... i'm pouring

my feelings out that's why yr so damp
...

here's the answer and the blue ribbon...

here's my urgent question... when you

pass all tests there's still one more...

it makes us feel sort of spongy and quiet


Monday, April 12, 2004
three points... one at the cupcakes

one at the email... one just now

at the history of a moment... then

a pelican in rough circles on the water...


what else goes around the morning

just the mixer...

not a mix master but a kitchen aid

... at the cupcakes... and a dog

resembling roundness in the sun

or the thought of a cat


still as a moment in a book...

permanently retrievable

imaginary shape... another night

or a rising you know

every place i look... these are yours

for as long as you want...

or a little less... as a certain piece

for warmth... the marks always

here but... not... understood...

cool and sufficient for sitting still


Sunday, April 11, 2004
you'd insist... on a plan i'd prefer

no plan... a shakey irrelevance in light

or fluidity bearing down on us... you

mean too much as it is... i'll mean

the antidote the scrim of goodly noise

but under-read... as diving to dinner

we're accidentally hatched... hungry


Saturday, April 10, 2004
not suddenly empty... but here's the polestar longing

for everything... thin light in our pupil... a very hard thing

in monotony: a concerto for oboes blown sweetly...

but empty as you surely have been... step by step

through the factory... learning names in wasp and fly


if she doesn't have any, i do... then some head butting...

a blow to the chest... slippery down to a dangle... run

and keep running from the... heron mask... being itself

while i'm thinking she hasn't any... in fact and i have lied


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