Friday, May 07, 2004
over again into the fuddled weeds... paper words knocked out

in the ninth... or tenth... always did the eponymous... the

boogie boogie... back to the ropes... a thrilling metallic

darkness... asking... and meaning... who put the trees in here...

where there used to be just... a few chairs and a Piano... ?


girl of a noble family... matter of fair exchange...

pound for pound... whose heart is no matter... being

a faery substance... cut from wonderful incorruptibles


as is... a circle of onion bagels... and

it takes... just one... bite... a galaxy...

with pictures of the atrocities... one

bite and the world... circus... stunts

our growth... listen it's cold out there


Thursday, May 06, 2004
asked for opera in the baseball park... found it forgotten

on my bookshelf... as usual these mysterious quietudes

demand... no life but a fallen imagination... corrupt as a

fine institution... which means there's never enough

air... inside an idea... for my short-stop brunhilde's...

shot to first... i'm coming over... i'm coming over there


thinks it's cool all those big words give

him a better opinion of himself kind of

lift him up above the crowd makes him

wish he'd worked harder studied longer

taken something serious turned into a

person he'd admire if he knew he'd ask

himself out for a beer and find he found

a new best friend one who understood

him just as he wanted to be understood


nothing
here... to
dissuade you from

your
first... just
and pendulous remorse


isn't it... sensible a brown field goes thrashing...

goes wondering off... to the printer... cuts a deal

for all the rights... isn't it very modern to remember

all the birds saying this and this and this all morning

then... draining the sky... casing the joint... freaks


Wednesday, May 05, 2004
the real put its foot where i heard laughing...

isn't too proud to beg for a hammer... a nail...

surrenders my passport to the proper official...

the real... reasons me out of a tremolo funk...


coded for blue eyes... a selection tipping the new

world toward a fine effect... sometimes it's just

bad writing
... that keeps us young... sometimes

archangels thinking backwards... toward a prism...


here and here and... here

it's seeping out... and i'm

a flower... really tougher

but all the losing... gets

my syllables... aching

all the losing sucks... all

the losing is a mirror... there

we are... there we are...

in all... the cool oozing...


when the dark corners...

as if a string of pixies mastered

believing... strong in centers but

timid by the clock...

i'm concentrating on a red rocket


Tuesday, May 04, 2004
in the background... a deep grief...

to which i have no more right...

than... but...

in the smaller notes

hear door wall ceiling floor...

stripped back... no stopping sound...

just moments going on... as if up or down

or out toward a certain brittle line...


i ask him...

but... the bells

are always

this this and

i have to...

are we going

to...

are we coming

back...


words went when... i mismanaged all the big ideas...

the weres... for example... went... where all were

safe... behind heavy furniture with the worried cat

and... behind the crushing parts of heavy speech...


misses any one thing... terrible tunes know it

these are the puzzles... and the song fits the cracks

imperfectly... but an urgency... too many words, love


Monday, May 03, 2004
where the music feeling good... goes for heat...

i repeat... little days and horns... mary on the long shore

singing ain't finally bought... we bring our own beat... down...


organized to say... anything... mouthing footsteps

behind us... he's always been the slowest one...

or my poem got stuck in the porta-john...

says the brightness... give morning a thesaurus...

links of chains and chains of links... this open here


which clarinet strung the news along... barely

touched the eyes... and blew holes in pessimism...

culled the beast... with a long yawn... made me

different in the thorn tree... made me... happy


Sunday, May 02, 2004
he's for stories without arms... lucky to be...

no good stories... no bruise unbattered stories...

ready for onan's nighttale... certain refusals

gone public... for golden kids... inheritance...

stories thin as light... stories gassed and garroted

in the market... tell me tell me... when the

shaking stops... what the sky meant... to our book


sand for the coffin...

i'm a vertical artery... laughing...

dinner took all day...

sand in the coffin...

i'm nursing an old stone... it's breathless

heartless... affliction


if it stops calling this mine... and puts in a tree... well... then

ok... but if it goes mine mine mine mine and lashes

itself to some overworked national prototype... then...

it must be misled... a naked place... a definition... or a...


excellent position... the eyes of intrepid seafarers...

caught me... calling and bowling... illuminating a small shelf

of stars... i'm winking mapward... in a paper day-storm...

drew near... collared my tongue.. tangled my major event


Saturday, May 01, 2004



i'm standing outside like the rain changing

the way... if your birds in the noon dream

pass a long disease through cattle or preachers

i'll dance with them... but for now i stand

like the south healing an arm... a mystical

threat and nobody crying booger booger...

i'm the last bully raging... now... isn't it time

to give up when fathers come home for food...

isn't it sad on the sofa... early news agnostic

despair... standing outside like smoke never

asked in for a joke or a haircut... my blue

rivers go faster home... but i'm the trickle

done for days i'm standing outside like a young

fact holding red stones up high... and ready


my distortions perfect enough

my fundamental grim

my jumpy wallows free for now

my hearty going on down

my understated binges heroical

my such a thing known

my interested bird flight

my tiny spotted versions booked

my least of all coming and going


natural bonus pills y borf rauwch... and a sensible life

in the papers... admirable for its restraint... noble contest...

sent me to the vortex down by the whippery stream... or

all the natural bonus pills you want and need... a

virtual choice... for all of us... on our knees... trying to know





maker gets to riot... insurgent... a flux for example

this river continues chaos past the day... core's

been rendered delicious... by the fuddled light...

me... i'm a hole in the paper... where the tree went


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