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
changed by the time
humming cherokee to my
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.
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