Friday, April 30, 2004
next to umber a seated portrait i'm winking... any new math

makes us nervous... still... there's this click like the ocean

warming up... for a good patron... a patriot in the shower

knows the tune... whom and what is served by nuisance...


how much for the parade a single one... a known trumpet

blown for the kids... how much for the morning... a robin

scuttled... hero-minded or slanted into... a rack of possibility


Thursday, April 29, 2004
if i didn't do it... every day... the strings and horns gone white...

the charts dry up and burn like breath... if i didn't do it every day

piano teeth gone gray... my history deserves a doing every day

despite the clock the mail the blues... my history gone to book


more language than coin... i was saying everything nicely

never complaining... each finger was a tongue or an elbow...

but my truly dark lies abound in back rooms... word-fogged

windows... papers the damp floor... pennies and... toes...


stand up for draining the world... starting with words... then

draining the light the stone the pine oak maple... stand up

for a dry time... put away color... flushed to vapors... o

give up... o laces lips... o farther of us all...
a missing game

mine for you hiding in plain sight... mine for a thousand clocks


which brow... a thunder from the pit and a squeak...

which brow studded... which bent like a worn machete

stood for how hard we tried... a brow listening to npr...

a brow in the center of the universe... which took all

grants all gifts all... indulgences... and painted them red

on a theme from tolstoy... in akhmatova's basement...


day asks... what the shoe says... any mystery...

here's the jab... day wants me... original and ordinary

called Room for Sense... i saw you Still in the flashing


Wednesday, April 28, 2004
my thought clumbers... a loose board

for a splint... which music merely held

stunning in this shirt... thinks a glue

then reasons... o strumming nicely

polite and... quiet as a pronoun...


storm surge... and blind as a porcelain cup...

mine justifies yours... and corners merge...

my useful hungers... your legal edge...

provides such guidance in the text...

we're useful as dawn... as needed...

storm surge... patterns in riddling... wind


wind... blanket

wind... in blanket

wind... of blanket

wind... or blanket

wind... so blanket

wind... as blanket

wind... and blanket

wind... blanket


whose bagel hums a madrigal... mister...

big opera guy... slide the cream cheese

over here... the morning's dubious...

lucid in plastic... whose cell phone...

goes to the library... and weeps...


Tuesday, April 27, 2004
howlin' in whitey county...

approximately...

strange enough for the talk...

we believed the cable reached so far...

to the moon... listened...

for the broken guess... a sordid explosion...

mad for us... illiopolis hollers

'cross the line... hey...

it's hell over here



he buys a house... a castle on the back of a truck...

the ad campaign... the one where they go to vegas

resembled... words on the screen... we were saying

the best america... a journal of virile abundance...


Monday, April 26, 2004
technically one penetrates the other... like a wall across germany...

how many fallen gods go up... when i play this tune...

my ugly arches praise modernity... here we come stand up

stand down for improvement... a new solitude without


between the floor and my step over it... a diamond

between the grill and its smoke... a pencil


already something rots... a hole in the form bleeds

intention... i scrape yr slobber from my shoe... mine


freaking urgent and told me it's lost... it's lost...

and freaking urgent to find
... will i finally call in

sick... loaned to the barrier cops for a weekend...

i'm ionic in the mix... i'm vetted and verified... checked

up the spiral stack of time... my embarassment ...

my indiscretion a wild bird... lost in frantic chimneys


Sunday, April 25, 2004
only there's no answer... it was no cuss... just missing

a motion... year by year... grease in the gutters... all

a binge... a nightriden joint for homing... pigeons all


quickly climbing to the number once position...

look at this feet... my inches turned over blue... and

sold behind the president here we go... collected nine

of the last forty bottles... standing in my own pasture


posted for the march past your green house

only here we're begging you... come posing

pope-like and serious for... we lack a

certain sobriety... as the eye of a skull

from which one red dahlia purrs... silly

in a low light... but necessary and here


which doctor snuffled a long stream... becomes himself

in the privet hedge... looking otherwise but knowing

self strides... approves a nose of such... moment...

which doctor creates a voracious cure... we're drones

of all good humors now... chi for the masses...


Saturday, April 24, 2004
course it's unusually whistling now that you've come...

back toward the circle... i was halting in the drafted air...

i mentioned a scullery-maid in melville i think... you said

here she comes brandishing a spanner... and a cup...

i remember with disgust we taught the pigeons... nightly


sure i was allegiant... counting on the elephant... the swing...

my incorporate surface looms... gleaming like wire in the sun...

match me under the bridge... with rushes and hurries home...

i'm a glide down the slide of... instances and parts uncounted


where's more in the thin cities than greening... a long haul

measures me and complains that i'm not... the author

gouged from the mountainside... a good man but a mummy

in the tight spots... i married and forgot about it... asleep

then just dreaming... here we come with all the other acrobats


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