Friday, June 11, 2004
these window blinds cut us up into strips of seeing.

this sound resembles an indifferent auction.

this going reminds us to sing in a whisper or not at all.

these trees would notice the sky if we stopped cutting them.

this opening offers a world of yawning.

these reductive gods wait for their numbers to be called.

this whoopee being made restores the ugly sentence to its proper home.


once for the shaking fever brought on.

by unresolved emotional toughness.

once by the side of an elevated sign.

here in the dry parking lot. here.

on hot wires. blinked bird-form.

once in a bloody fine sufficiency.

not far from the drunks. just once.

a sliver gets higher marks than a.

a view of them. two damp pronouns.

calling america collect from a kiss.


see me shaking... it's a holiday

under mulch... a proportional fête

grub-wise in thunder blooms...

catches me plowing shadow... soon


hey... how... can he be...

some temptation to... say... shout

but the widow's tremor lacks

hope enough... easterly... nervous

machinery ever knocked out

on the boards... of a shack

takes me well into daybreak


Thursday, June 10, 2004
ever since. i put a foot i been a fool.

mine has a yellow eye. you got one too.

a feeling very cut up. a feeling homeric.

ever since the day. i put a finger. on us

the saints. of trouble come to judgment


in signs. an edge. a sill for starlight.

and i'm the big reason. the damp soul in hell

rolls over. for blues walking like a man.

one shoe full of blood. in hell.

consider the rain. somebody's grim apple.

over the black line. chickens. in hell.


where's my hill. gone poetry.

this incision stays up home.

gone fog. in contemplation.

no truck. where's yr fly pole.

gone to needles. by light

we're a waiting. studied

and gone daily. news takers.

a slow gunner. why gone low.

gone clear humble. so political.

no precision in the air. less.


Wednesday, June 09, 2004
you you. you. it was you

in the sand you in the searching

you it was in the pattern cancer

in the gorgon tale you for good

you on the mirror's mind you in

california. dreaming. you in fire

like a whip storm in the plodding

pretending this morning. you there.


a long question to thin us. forever. night

keeps us near the early guess. ask for it.

they'll send it in. satin. polystyrene faces

east but my love for you is. scientific.





Tuesday, June 08, 2004
or less on the perimeter. we bounce.

voracious in fiction's prayer. counting

once more on these sidereal organs

you'll come too... when they shimmer


can i fold your interesting arm

into my luggage poverty? can

i manage your hopeful thumb

into my bountiful trunk? o you

heaven of indigence. o you sot


cool sun monster i'm making cool

small suns in a cup of monsters

tinier than a spy than a plot than a


Monday, June 07, 2004
owe it to know the name

of anything set aside

here we come laughing

and owning all the names

owed to anything at all

before dusk in any language

comes to collect the debt


before he cannot say he says

it's not a wide conversation

it's about a cloud and a tree

they shiver at the telling they

compose themselves like mice

and then they hear him say

nothing stays in the sky

for long but we standing

here recite it by the moment

under pressure to say it for sure


never had. nothing to say. and busy.

saying it. here. a copy of the year.

a bush of red flowers. said happily.

why this is. a constriction. site.


Sunday, June 06, 2004
off blue windows we called

for a corner. in a plague. spot

on my street. not yours. or a

ministry. none of this is mine.


as degeneration phrases a new ironic economy so too i.

am calling you. come forward to splice your timber to

mine. we'll sail to a new day unironical. of pebbled

exchange. vermillion currency. broken roses clipped

& in the know. as phrased by the green path. necessary.

of falling limits. a chaste betrothal. bet. and spoken


pennies found... daydreaming or blind on the road... old

currency driven to new urgencies... we'll take it... forth

and thereupon... thither blent of copper ways... we've

got it... now... i mean... you do... so why not take it


with the music and the arguments... seeing facts... just


Saturday, June 05, 2004
many more than. a sore bunch here we go. count them.

us in the final days. taken for quiet passengers. we knew

you had them counted. us. uppermost secret and afraid

of the next rain. we. huddled toward historical graces.

you counted on them. many more than an urgent. one.


(say garcia lorca)

composing a pointed cloud. fatal as wire. beginning to rise. shaping the heart. of old leather.

conditions an artisan to heave. complains mightily in drunken corners. smokes his fingers. in heat.


with a terrible sky. under branches. there's nothing to do. but sing.

with an arm full. of white birds. with an arm. full. of green stems.

with a fatal dose. of light. pretends to stammer in his. direction.

pounding and cutting an angle. into a city. énorme et méchanique.

we had him. swallowing the music and. laughing at shadows.


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