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Friday, November 11, 2005 he
turns this way. a reading crane constructing. once the conspiracy to denigrate becomes useful. we'll try it. dropping a load into the pit or the shell of what might have become the next greatest architectural flower. he's hardly ready for this close-up. telling you he's not ready and flimsy he forgets ... what the disarray ... the hype ... of the page. a ghostly father sprinting to towns built of distraction. where all his children play. inaccessible
is not the same as access denied. he could just be someone who doesn't know anything. never send the paperback to do the hardback's job. he could be saying anything and who would know. that it doesn't have a name and wouldn't. that he was not acquainted with any recent theory of. simply teaching is probably neither. because in english we say there are no other options. in saying it like this he is trying not to lie. the difficulties are all glass eyes and heart murmurs. wouldn't we and for what fee might we not. he'll use a handsaw for it and redefine the time. anyone
can see these are the ones they threw out. the abortions and tough indigestible bits. here's the snot-like sentimental hose. anyone's bad conception in concert with anyone else's. heroic little buggers a little gray spot next to a little blue spot. and a holy smush of golden glow. anyone can see how lost and protected
me for a few days but sooner then found me out. a gas bluing me over. pulling. here's the sight. an ordinary lot of stars in breath not so. chilled in regular study to knock me off to the shoulder. by the animals. what's at stake but my nerves. but our song. its shadow left off and nothing but night going on a while going on like new happiness. Thursday, November 10, 2005 who
he is on a string. a deception that breathes wait a minute and i'll walk with you. then shudder. it was the story i meant to tell that was more generous. who on the string accumulates light verse. tricked up nostrums. pieties for national parties. wicked green quotations. all of these in peculiar memorable postures. some in flight like o suffer
the exhibit. i had a blank once and when the blank blanked i knew i would have to blank ... but not before the dog did. suffer the light. it's telling all the way down. Wednesday, November 09, 2005 everything
was changed by the time i finished humming cherokee to my new narrative. i'm possible all over. barricades
of inklings. file under my cute. this terminal volute is neither me nor my oaf. i'm an excessive view. a bloody overlook took me. but in fact. i'm no more than tomato soup. rubber phrase. steepling to more general song. what he said entered the language as a bug. Tuesday, November 08, 2005 diagonally
toward the light. which could be god. well it could. but. if i put a fast car here now i'd escape this utterance. wants a wise monkey to chuckle out heretical nuance. in the porches of our hearing where the swing creaks. funwards. individually
we were more young and stupid than some groups. and freely. the rush to any landscape peppered the sky with our leavings. we were options in gray trousers. and happy for our singleness. but now it's the old story one word at a time. we'd forgotten how our becoming had mismanaged every intention. Monday, November 07, 2005 love.
locally or imprinted and sent there to. anyone is still the best word. creatures are fingers in any pie. as here we messed the figure gone chubby. o love where the god sticks up for dumplings and singly murders time. theatrical. small okra pods remembered and burnished as any cruel blind love. o love this is it. say
a black branch but in this light it's more gray. a mere brick. a crowd of uneven temperatures. in everyone's sickness the coughing attends. arcs of leaves. not petals. or pets behind curtains. say it's a thru street. good. it
sounds like you know he understands. it sounds like. you know. he understands. it sounds like you know. he understands. well. that's refreshing. Sunday, November 06, 2005 left
us guessing. nothing to these silly expulsions. justice requires a dictionary of out-and-out minims. we know he left one hereabouts. scuttled
for losing his orphan voice. he's a pan in the woodiness. older now and less ready to jump the conclusions. their virtues. their skies. what he said. was he meant. the air's untried. Saturday, November 05, 2005 i
stopped eating shrimp when someone called them sea-spiders. and will probably stop eating mushrooms. for a similar reason. he said. with an ocean at his feet and a forest in his ears. this tremble will not arrange itself into any useful pattern. i will be your wizard and you will collect samples of me. call me villain. forager. i'm nervous. all the time just taking my time. hoarding it in boxes. many
such secrets as a distant honking on the sunny side of the street. a troupe of vigilantes rushing home. my secrets touching upon the matter. twelve small charming pieces that will not let you in. many laid to earth. still as any cat. back to finish your phrase currently  |