Friday, July 02, 2004
arc as an error. following the wedding

we spotted a yellow train. arc in air.

vital every morning to rush. in or out.

kissing who needs one. spotted in mirror.

all these domestic. portions heaped.

all they want

is money. all

they want is

your healthy american

take them.

all is given.

complaints through the ceiling like a fiery planet.

there's a nest of pipes. grinding efervescence so

toggled and bolted i'm awake. isn't a daily curse

more than useful. more than a mammal can handle.

i'm an argument. in a freely appropriated space.

Thursday, July 01, 2004
just turning time. till the next major minute for poets

who've been. cornered or cast. imagine a dictionary open

to. molecule. the new music revolution in blind

wraps. just waiting actually. so we talk like. this chore

back with the goats unmilked. heard joy division

once more for an incident no one could foresee. sounded

like my heaven on stillness. back when we were modern.

none of my bleeding. none of it. newsworthy. i'm dust

for the tournament. tracked and hustled. mortal goose.

a vertical silence only poked for the festival of tin. tree.

as the swallow drew me. there i go. a tremendous.

when i try to place myself. this page just opens terribly.

there's no measure. i was a moment's monument. and you.

all edged in copper wire. a flood in our hearing. historical.

it's a good game of pretend. this making. up in feathers.

i can have the sky. or all its purposes. taken to book.

Wednesday, June 30, 2004
o don't it make you want to squeal... o don't it hurry home...

past all the smokin' borders past the furthest star... kaboom

o don't it make you want to shout for all the stoney organism

played like a woodwind... or critical of me in moderation

these pleasant tumors... dervish time... wall me...

haven't you ever punned a feather... a gas station...

no... not in my wallet but past the lake country... there

Tuesday, June 29, 2004
get these ghosts out a my salad... isn't hurting

no one but newcomers... not ready so much as done

our pants hurried outside without us... cussing the loss...

we shivered in the glow of a hearty new... ectoplasm

who. wouldn't

have it. or give

it. who put. it

aside. for no

reason. then.

said. here.

what was a sturgeon in the rocks. no. an element.

molybdenum. made mine mutter. elementary. water.

was a ground swell in my fortunate brain. complete

in the fly-speck cantina where julio plucks. a sonnet.

marred in the offing by a cold wing. so stumbling in air.

as a long fish tugs. as a pointed call hoots. in a din.

Monday, June 28, 2004

all these

bad habits you'll


achieve the

authentically baroque howdy-doo

a carnal justice right where the first violin swoops

the seventh time around... there in the hesitation

i'm an inorganic portfolio seeming to be... another

timer jingles me down to fortune... all's a ball stopped

here in the sunny moment... conditional merchandise

if you have to pee you might as well write

we all expect your coming out to astonish

any time to appear and make it known where

it may equal self, hand, a feeling, the past

or a similar ploy apparent to the dullest eye

as in peeing and writing the sun also expects

an answer or becomes a gilded fact to note

where only here when only now a circus comes

when and where there are no more circuses but

novel pleasures poetic strangeness one breath

leads to the next choice or sleep so you

have posted a standard for writing and peeing

a theory of knots over the day's bright sand

to congratulate the wind or shadows in work

where work may equal that which does not burn

or sweat or drive or speak a useful aphorism

but moist enough for fungus to come out fully

itself where itself may equal a stain, a threat,

or surrender enough to have become a fact to us

Sunday, June 27, 2004
my nest. my next impression wasn't going

so well & flights of ravens understood. so

bear me down to the caves the ditch. i'm

unexpected and an arrival then flourescent

my nest presented a resolution. we crow.

art sending you a happy death. human. on time.

packed in jingly bells. our season never knows

why he leans so terribly outward. wind-wrenched

on the mainmast. i'm a lousy painter but i care.

scowl. flora. impertinence. whirling. history.

secrets make you deliberate... dull in splinters

merciful under a cloud... and deliberately punctual...

as if interest came with a bloody edge... you'd cut

a bit off our gaze and feed the animals... wanting

turns the lights off... money doesn't grow on trees

Saturday, June 26, 2004
if i'm limping so

it's because i'd

rather walk

any way out

looking blue &

green or yellow

all aches in the

eye i

brought along

i larded it so good. i belindered a song

following the operations. and removed to

a cool room. song-festered. where you said

this commutes yr angel to north africa shores

i believed you. had an orange in my left hand.

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