Friday, May 21, 2004
has we done it... comes the thief and a point

in our backs... overlooks us blown down... has

we meddled at last... finished... has we read

the holy books from dawn... dim opal ghost...

has we meant our wings to drooping fathers...

been done and kicked for love... tended...

and sended us hats for the sun and the rain...


Thursday, May 20, 2004
the new is reasonably compact

striped and damp... a lesson


what present sent dark as old words...

my toes rippling machinery... given

a hearse... just a ploy in the blue duct...

take a laughing number... take mine

a long fence... wooden crypt... stuck

along the page i marked... for water


the pome suddenly... rises wriggles rinses roses... the pome

reneges on an old promise... it's coughing in the front pew...

the pome lashes out... pretty soon the tiny sting goes away...

nobody listening to the pome... nobody bringing cake or doughnuts...

pome signals its naked breakdown by dimming the lights...


in not naming the world... a slider comes pretending me...

i'm not naming the world... but here comes the world

naming my last known residence... my things...

naming the complete collection of all my parts...

naming the notion i'll have tomorrow around this time...

12:36 p.m. central daylight savings... time... naming

the glimpse of student past the door... his deliberate...


Wednesday, May 19, 2004
one day spun... it was an archaic language full of blenders and cathode tubes...

i warrant he'll need a variable dance apparatus... as do we all here...

one day in the colored dots... and we're blushing tulips...

and i'm useful in a brutally irish kind of way... lifting and poking holes...

one day... in the dreams of little people...


under (stand) the crowded time... nice pockets of words

or problems... believe me when i tell you i can't...

there is too much salt... i've been formulating a poem

and put in too much salt... against a chilly morning...

filing columbus under worldbreakers... filing kids under

ones who look and care but try hard not to... look


Tuesday, May 18, 2004
storm for trumpets and tiny metal bits... a long spell

goes blink blink blink... and must begin like a new kid


in between the quiet part... and the quiet part... shout





what i got and you didn't turned you into fog

you rolled into my cabin and rotted my socks

you painted the last of my coffee and trembled

my sunrise my smoking flower my bloody pure horizon

what i got and you didn't made us finally known

to a zooming planet that could never remember


Monday, May 17, 2004
dotted and doubled you get all the credit you need

we've always paid up front and now... look what happens

a greased illusion... my books tell me to stay home...

there's no one there... but there's no one there...

here no one but voices insisting in french and english...

we've got our rights and we'll march right up the wide steps


to form The Most Effective Assertion i'll have to engrave

an english verb not commonly associated with foundry work

but usefully tethered to hearsay... a sputtered darkness...

engrave this verb with a trifle... a line so thin it's gray

as an afterthought just as i was leaving and then unable

to make more of it... nevermind i was always saying

we'll come back to this once our iron cools... then


Sunday, May 16, 2004
has his singing tended... has his ruined corner seemed...

has his whittled baby almost... has it china has it pearl...

has his garden come unfiltered... has the knobby kitten...

has it... has it been a while since breakfast... has we

so so busy been... on the stages of his learning only...


now a tack... a gentile borrowing in horror the breezes

owed... already turning brown... what you need to do...

is re-con-fig-ure...
the center goes all wobbly when we say

anybody can get themselves saved... with the proper equipment


Saturday, May 15, 2004
what the broken mutt said with his bloody

tongue... the thick hammer told in the dark...

the choking worm sent back to mud...

the overturned bucket sang shadow to so...

what the gimpy foot said to the highway

that's what i said... that's what i kept saying


that's it let's get all surrealistic and brutal on our butts...

that's it carpet stains... a dead red salmon face...

that's it all blond after ten a. m. all shined up terribly

clamped and blustered... let's get all dismal on the rich

boy that's it a curtain spread... a passive clatter...

a nervous looseness... skittering down... that's it


something too precious in... his ear his hearing goes

tall his hearing's a cloud... and i'm a small plane just

coming out... just coming out with a bird in my tongue


jumpy leg all jazzed in a drummer's brew

helps myself to a wild telepathic god...

back in the day we sauntered but... cool

impressed and pierced... to the pockets

a nod... a nod and a wink... and a shrug

go cat... go man... go dust... go light


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