Friday, May 14, 2004
while spanish took us... shrinking away into bones...
(an embarassment to find this)
we're courting the dry office... more mexican
(an exceptional heritage)
than a reference to mountains we've never seen...
(a current exception... an individual debt)
cinder-broken stallions... expected soon... lariat
(compensation for the patriarchal dawn)
tough faces... sol in the cielo... i mean i'm ready
(a lesser-known variation... an entry)
the saddle... the night... the sweet guitar
since i did it all over it's been done all over
this feeling i did it all over and this feeling
i had a feeling and i did it i did it all over
and now it is done this feeling and done all over
Thursday, May 13, 2004
washed when undeserving... a perfect fissure in knowing
our tempers cut back... and forth... we sometimes go real
dry... there's a blown out tire... side of the road... music
for the real people starts a... mournful bus... river body...
washed and taken... where the book sleeps... god goes
it was a cold... and then... the baby ducks shivered...
let's feed them the sins of our fathers... sinus
countdown: a chilling decay... within a (limiting) skull -
betrayal of an understanding... to fly where we go...
when we go it's always cold... when the air is on...
he actually said it... like that... as if you could...
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
minimal in our collection of 19th coping tools... my forest of pictures...
i took you in them... and listed the walls we'd need before night...
big wheels coming down... in a dogbone corset... careful as we were
our pants still caught in the chain... now it's all ruined...
we're wrecked... they've come for the machine... all our rats
not right but... i was never
so acceptable actually... kind
of odd... but kept my room clean
enough... smiled at the right
time... stayed quiet or put...
thank you i'll reconsider the dim light i set
down for a closer look and found thank you
thank you an earlier form of medical truth
now my brag is a luminous stain thank you
thank you now the communal kitchen rumbles
under this exhumed code illuminated thank you
thanks for seeming we are finally free to see
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
what what and what the use puts us out
turned like garden dirt... seeded nevers
but interested in what comes up... we're
still bundles still wary of the far clouds...
living under a light curse... imperfect fetish
only the corner of yr eye... off the red part
hardly anybody's business but here we are...
lining an old song... back from his blessed
arms, o lord... lining and weaving and so
the notions... mark us... a plurality... a stem
Monday, May 10, 2004
you will get your turn at the wallowing shore
at the vernal delegation at the merciful tide
you will get your share of washing and drying
of pinching paper reasons of knowing anything
just another dusk... just one more for us all
knocked of a pointer... i'm the wild zeppelin
unless you want to be... then i'll be...
hoarse in the nile's green flux... or a plump vendor
of killer blues... dribbling like silver thread sewn
the ghost of my beard... knocked of a cornershow
still we might take some small pleasure... here
mur... der... laughing at me
your place is... cold but i'm
a hero of the camps... knees
and rural fists... salute
the dead the boots the light
grinning me... under canvas
all these orders sound alike
Sunday, May 09, 2004
maybe john ashbery sneezes or i sing out gesundheit anyway
these are special occasions for the newly minted students of
exceptional in their hearings but i'm drafted in a whirlwind
my poets made me chuckle and weep maybe they were
okay but i'm shallow in the deep end as somebody sings
i see chairman mao very small i see him in paper in silk
his company has gone under nobody listens or cares
what matters to him anymore i see chairman mao fat
as a dictionary but not breathing even in a gale he goes
very small and still rocklike in abundance and scarcity too
with us it's all trying... i put my fingers in the wall...
your scissors believe what the air always says...
here's the beginnning of love... a shoelace...
with us the edge comes... in hope... like urgent ants
dim quarrels nickel-plated thumbtacks... with us...
it's always lifting the concrete slab to see and guess
Saturday, May 08, 2004
kindness the wheels and youth the flour
of a question i might ask... here's a way out...
a line of gilt benches for a pigeon string... say
you needed a quick response but every turn
makes blood and blood and blood and blood...
why sorry when everything makes a dark green spot...
turn it over... here's a precedent for you... always look
at the corner around which something comes... good
news and bad... my acolytes will protest... any arrival
comes in a drizzle of participles... or other tiny verses
back to finish your phrase currently