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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 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 back to finish your phrase currently  |
