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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  |
