Friday, November 18, 2005
fire in the mishap

amounts to versions

temporary as. you.

i have something.

you forget. let it.

burn. me. cool as.

fog's edge & rot.



say arthur. and say arthurian. say author. say book.

a stringy bit of chicken in your teeth. a good guess.

we're made of articles as if we were articulate points.

say the wintry sky is made for sinking. say now this.

aren't you ready for gelato with that book. scour it.

build myself of an emphatic sociology wherein. i go

building all day your you-ness. saying put the arches

there. and there beside the difference. the listening.

it takes all day but i forget about the nervousness

that comes like a wild european daydream. triumphal i

in an orange overcoat have whichever answer you want.



Thursday, November 17, 2005
well i ain't gonna worry about it. you believe that

don't you. the red runner's gag goes far on string.

one string on night. maybe one other on leaving.

where the stupid morning shows how far everything's

gone. far as one thing. far as the church goes. a

final music that runs like a wheel so going down.



Wednesday, November 16, 2005
this state of mind
a ready listener

some time before
the word

ran away
set fire to a barn

spoken of as
hearing the word

learning what it
found

i was perplexed
i was satisfied

waiting
containing

praying for the
time i understood

always
to hear something

upon me
unloading

unasked
and asked me

for life
deeply affected

a pity
he said

that i should
and that i should

they said
be treacherous

men have been known
to their masters

good men have
remembered

it would be safe
doing so

to write my own
good chance

to write
me

the ship
a piece of timber

(found)



Tuesday, November 15, 2005
she's on weightwatchers and she weighs a hundred and five pounds.

he's an opening. and so scared it would anger him grieve him.

she's in the assigned seat beating her forehead against crazy parents.

he's pointing his ears up ready for a sniff of work suspended.

thrilling to an idea. taken in a rubber sack. a flowering genetic ore.



Monday, November 14, 2005
like some big. time or. woman or. maybe the sea.

in pieces not trivial bits. the best parts. kindness

as the distance covered. a section of light or an

acclamation thrilling as one quick blow. then

not much. a few older students waiting for now.



if i took the sweatshirt, i'd be more comfortable now.

it's an afternoon of honey locust pods and flying rats.

you are there in your marxian determination.

chained in private, we go on dealing with the realities.

my heart is inditing a tremor in the curse.



he says passing and cornering the rocket.

i don't even know who you are. and he.

say in the vortex of youth. barges on to

obliterate heavens episodes and details

unlike musical spears. that's to know or

breathe enough to seize an evolution a

performance of night turning to her kids.

and he. i don't even know who you are.



Sunday, November 13, 2005
this apparently dim
elsewhere

every window
retiring

a place of
sufficient importance

as an object
aged and lichened

coaxed and beckoned
within it

to spread
overhanging

whose was this
to find

was to be held
it was not

of lives is not
the impressionable

larger fuller more
to be seen

elsewhere
was a man

insignificant
but a woman

a dimension
the whole world

through her existence
only came

the particular year
the single

unsympathetic
chance

of less consequence
weary

the affection
under her

might not
would be

what had begun
could not resist

a tendency
aloof

as yet

(found)



Saturday, November 12, 2005
soon. a sumatran barcode set me going. then

terrific heads and necks randomized me. ugly

in the pummel. short on a salvific rumination.

i the prettiest cornflower barrelling home. i

a condensation of only red thoughtfulness.

breaking any kiss into any thousand collars.



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