Friday, November 04, 2005
if this is the kind of thing you like jump me

like a fence or a rival nation. ask what the.

what the. a kind of somewhere agriculture

farmers get but hardly anyone else. a flat

accent astounding as anywhere illinois not

chicago. jump me as one of the folk dangers

burning on a cross of gold fictitious in all

my parts. i'm waiting for you. and your many.

just efficiencies. as in shakespeare's temp.



all references are static while we sleep

we get versions of old business and north

creeps down malicious and disrespectful

visiting silence with thick mitten material


we get versions of old business and north

suspects an illicit alliance among mistakes

visiting silence with thick mitten material

those who have acted are resting in change


suspect an illicit alliance among mistakes

and refuse to be comforted by rude technicians

those who have acted are resting in change

made of perfect hammers and lovely counterpoint


and refuse to be comforted by rude technicians

or in the case of years by certain vague heralds

made of perfect hammers and lovely counterpoint

witness and question timing and death ice and yes


or in the case of years by certain vague heralds

erupt to proclaim expand delimit and hack secrets

witness and question timing and death ice and yes

there are some crimes none of us expect to commit


erupting to proclaim expand delimit and hack secrets

we prefer to polish lovely mirrors and painted doors

there are some crimes none of us expect to commit

such as misanthropy handsomeness orthodoxy and genius


we prefer to polish lovely mirrors and painted doors

creep down malicious and disrespectful

as misanthropy handsomeness orthodoxy and genius

all references are static while we sleep



just before saving day. the road there's poem.


electrical chess. ashley sam erin and joe. pete.


these are ugly things. they are mine. mine. mine.


in a won't's blinky mug. in a trappist gladness.



Thursday, November 03, 2005
to have lost the way understanding that others slink

more efficiently towards the goal the prize the central

peg on which gets hung the goat.


there's a window in every map.



seizing holes o. twinish. o seizing holes.

next to fifty i love twenty-two the best.

encourage me in all the perfect numbers.

holes haven't. but edges have. o replied.

these in new york are odder than chiclets.

it's the traffic and the stone-filtered gray.

taking any chance into opportunity. i love.



turn away from these fictions. talk like a regular person.

if you love me i will give you everything. the trash is full.

never expect too much. what grainy individualisms.

i'm not the last of my kind but you may be. the last

of my kind. your back is always turned to. the farm.



Wednesday, November 02, 2005
what i meant coming over. you understand. i was precious

blue clouds all over my instants. i was arranging fresh and

foul for starters. what i might call you might call. a tempting

rust then the walls go for us. swimming in broken holidays

i'm the least of your problems. and yet we've all got to eat.

something. my old records for instance. so you understand.



flat wordly song my profanity.

my great intersection. go. no

stay. in the narrow gates i'm

doubting yr thrombosis & yr

snares. yr nets of blue rice.

so my forms and my planets go.

astral stump of my angel tree.



Tuesday, November 01, 2005
why don't the world. furniture. plainly spoke

as dirt we swept. out on it. why don't this

ruffling correspond. to the day. to the breath.

good questions scarcely. and appropriately.

when a farm boy. when a farmer girl. goes on.



a notorious tableaux

of foreign tenderness.

a portion for charity.

as twisted away from.

not easily scattered as.

truthfulness. say.

a real tic.



Monday, October 31, 2005
still. troubled by a crude aboutness i stitched.

it's about no i. in summer shorts. young & long

ago. why anything slanders i. in a burning world

we made it go round. tricked us into i. brought

it for i's own windowstill. now about this. i here.



i willingly as in combinations rude and delirious

upended an inexpressible. so what you get

tinkles. and what i get glows from the previous

suicides. our understanding an uptorn tree

measures our understanding the pages and blots

of infant melody. it's all a great wind we got.



mannered. see. i carved it from an old stump.

terrifically tender. see. we're supposed to expire.

this is the end of a mannered opulence. you see.

my necklace of bricks. see. a plastered halo. glug.

but not mannerly. an arthritic artifice. pieces &



Sunday, October 30, 2005
in the amalgam i found a crude picture of a dog.

isn't everything ready for our phenomenal slink.

yet in hands as willful as ours this slacker flies.

over here i'm always a listing injured passenger.

a print left behind for the drifter in barcelona.

it's heaven when we bark up the brightest tree.






how many unsorted at last. as the permanent backbone

triply trashed. or an accidental heap we get for being

kind enough. all my geese are wondering now. slabs

of plucky certainty. hollowed. no more lumps in grub.

but smelly like a bullyboy in transit. presidential even.

i'm the illegitimate heir to the old narcotic assumption.

my borders meet carelessly. habitually. blurred to tone.



Saturday, October 29, 2005
what loss last night by an inch an itch.

what an extraordinarily fine bazoo.

what the conjunction splattered all over.

what as in stuck as in unable to go go go.

what forever as in anthropoid sluggishness.

what toady what turtledove what foul play.

what yesterday homely as an aphid.

what. i was just looking. just joking. what.



a random hushing takes me far as the walk

then the trees take over. what they want.

they want. and i want. i want the trees to

take over. take cover. here come the trees

in high dudgeon. slamming the door in Meg's

face.
the door made of trees. as my mind's

tree full and hushed again. wanted an ache

of sweet tree syrup. got domestic injuries

to boot. besides. the trees as well. it hurt

my condensation. all these trees stoop low.

something the performance cut short. a blow

to the hush. goes ungarnished. frozen root.

inside i got these crazy dreams i got these



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