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Friday, June 04, 2004 if i stay my. thisness. takes over healing time with. things. part of an openness. staying brings me around. to stone again. being water under. the soil heated. not a doomy. shimmer complicates
the room... quicker than books... a flood of drumming... inside the walls... turn me into an idea and i'll bark for a bone... listening home on the legs of drumming... i'm finally all accounted for... no excess piano means
be quiet... be a stone in the street be one cord hanging in the drafty window... be quiet... a pencil left over... an envelope... be out of time... where piano means hush it's late... be a sore finger in a pocket... not so proud of it... piano... taken for brush... a vine... a contradiction without saying
the pressure builds without saying. the pressure builds i told my wrath my wrath did end i told it not my wrath did grow to rhyme with foe. without saying. foe. the pressure told my wrath. saying you foe you foe my wrath did end. did end Thursday, June 03, 2004 finish your hard candy. in a brain
making it hard to figure. we're hardly ready for car blindness. hardly tense as an atom. but quiet enough for chocolate shakes. quiet. dangerous corners. whatever came down. around. flags for instance or. an oral exam. on this tremendous news hardly printed. but understood by. the time we got home we knew. all. this day was hardest. of all. Wednesday, June 02, 2004 so collaborate. tuesday sufficiently west. then an urgent reply. so sorry to hear it. so bland in the rising. tuesday stuffed like the king of science. out walking and dragging. book tubs. sufficiently. hides well. originally fried. nervously posted. finally cooed. my dumb bird. my underserved paunch. never mind never. over against this pretense. i'll pretend. it is happening on the back step. ring it again. again. hero stooping. a good thing in the sudden crush. that these are the only reasons for falling. a good bind. and then you'll reason back to new products: a cartoon, a silver blimp, an eagle spoon. all of these hardy as the season's will. all of these. pretty useful for a killing. where little
man... shoes are wet and shirt is ridiculous... paying a politics of smellings... all burnt gardens... roses for butter... tulips for... hurt hands full of inkish dawn... little man breathing when... astronomy fails the day... little man on an orange peel... little man going... over!... cover!... lover! did the
terrorists steal... did anyone leave the phone off the hook... can this be done anymore... will my right hand heal... isn't it time for a change... a right hook... wouldn't i do it all... for you... i would... which is... only my fair share of a day... Tuesday, June 01, 2004 skinny scored line... put blue
and red together any more flags... put a tomato under a plum... push real hard toward the center... any more there's a heater in the sky... burning flags... i was taught better... better than that... better for a skinny ground-up flag... order chalk... never my
index... a testimony in clouds... an accurate count sizzled about us like rain lines... enthused by my points i forbade the going on... the going out to count... all political in the scraps... carefully left over... alphabetically strip of
paper said after a while... it's all bad fortune cookie... bad fortune cookie slang... as ripped sincerely summed in the sunlight... strip of paper said bad fortune cookie writer... help us... injure the day... in your sunny way Monday, May 31, 2004 didn't see anything today... ate
too much with eyes closed slept over gravel... put the carpet down through glass... now floats in fat... or indulgent petty signs... wonder how today went... your organization came too soon... but this will string along for lunch... amazed in the wrong light... where he
said: Provision for a little healthy rudeness, savage virtue, justification of what one has in one's self, whatever it is, is demanded. Negative qualities, even deficiencies, would be a relief. Singleness and normal simplicity and separation, amid this more and more complex, more and more artificialized state of society-- how pensively we yearn for them! how we would welcome their return! which he said when he said it and when... no one should
do this there's no reason anyone would care to... want to... need to pronounce sentences through beaten gray fences... over or over against these holes... nobody objects when anyone does no harm but wastes a certain portion of someone's share... and yet... not satisfied
he's hard to tell... i say he's given as taken... northern portions as granted generously forgive the southern ones... a villainous glance... this trickle is ours: bought with stunned purposes a brooding land buttered with large cities and sore legs... poor sentences... industrious deputations... rain and
in between sun with birds... pretending to be blackbirds robins... redwing goldfinch sparrow... pretending to be pomes in a second... a thunder made us blue... with sun in sun... all singers turning british... know this Sunday, May 30, 2004 here... here's my grammar... my
slow medicine... a walk under the glutton... here an empty hush... my fancy syntax... cold as the simple snake... set for the shot that makes us all good enough that story
consents... and said softly no justice in a clock... no eggs... and... still... here... a warped overture before the gong... a sentence trapped swallow... that story begs for an instant eventuality... a thunderclap understood and smaller let's
understand frames as they understand us... it's just a matter a moment of sighting a line where weeds grew... now a big tree wallows in wind we're comprehended... not bitter... i was walking and looking when the inside went blank for a moment the edges tore me happily up... i counted... one and on either side this stubborn one... no mirror and enough not me to last a good while...and thought frames as they understand us... let's understand Saturday, May 29, 2004 i'm insinuating a thousand wheels
and one cloud come as a gear and crunching forward... like angels in the kinesiology text... of that age... and smoking light dollops of thrills... greasing the air with words souther...
in the gray tune hear my flower... winter... or the slow bugs of memory... rising for the camera... melismatic lynch mob... hot for us rational diggers my strong
story goes like a skinny creek down the hollow... and where it puddles all the blue frogs sing... far from the willow grief... far from high brown sun... my desert story comes like a kiss surprised by itself in the wind... if you listen fast enough... listen quick... you'll understand it's all romance and a question... in italics... back to finish your phrase currently  |
