Friday, December 02, 2005
was the real hurtling past was it undressing.
when were we going to give our lives away.
what didn't matter what was at last alone.
what excuse could have ripened a whole continent.
why the dogma sniffing around anyone's butt.
so joliet joliet anchors and encores a bunch
of money. give me a bunch of money
and i'll go far away no justice in jumping
roses. so joliet goes as an anchor a stuffed
coroner said. beautiful in drawn out settlings
our hearsay christmas joke. so far it says.
this is what you lost. it was in your backyard.
how saying comes on. what was i thinking what
were the reasons or how it guesses to fill spots
open or nervously. look. what kind of talking will
we get when everybody's watching. electricity.
but if the light's changing and we're putting our
body there. in between the light and. any notion
then. then. saying comes to something as. a gain
Thursday, December 01, 2005
no sooner had i found
a way to step away
than it turned me
and stood me
out on skates
and stood me
up a jointed
this is just
i will not
be reading in
manhattan or san
sun or stars
today in my
and tie or
at 3:30 or
and that's good.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
as often something comes wrapped. takes off
and becomes a stage for a new kind of wrappage.
where the song would rather. be the statue.
would rather be. the radio. unwrapped in snow.
cute in tiny pieces but incomprehensible as this.
they flee from what they might have flown to.
it was old love all around the edges. typical of
some go ugly right from the start.
just ugly. just. i mean full of them.
as hearses in flames full of uglies.
some gone so soon we're blinked on
blinked off. a terrific commotion of
souring desire. we'd set them off.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
i wished the poem into its puzzle. meant it from the north.
thought it looked good in straw. black as hard seeming.
far. a signal of this orbit i'm just one edge.
heard me calling from the branch and bolted
one crazy person more or less well-begun as
the next hot lesson. scrambled as extra. what
are you doing with your life. where did you
finally put it when the big night sent you
to words as to one dry person who understood.
Monday, November 28, 2005
my gauge. o assassinate the chicken's pyjama suit
and stretch me to mars in a business hug. o blank
urge to pee from jupiter's vague hum again. i sign
for all indiscretions. i pay my touching out to
with less than five minutes talking that
twice invisible aren't we learning that
every song buries it's sister song that
the long way in never takes off or that
once in a picture we'll take our own time
Sunday, November 27, 2005
to thin lively pictures
under a bright flatness
we'll note a better
class of inkers bought
restored in arsonlight
cautious and politic
flat for fairness to
to buy our time to buy
graciously their light
represents our chance
to purchase one or two
about the walls here
roughly balanced as
catchphrase to tongue
limits every mind to
just one thing and
just what is thought
to be one's own new
thought not fully
but here and here
we're quickly just
locks to our delight
what trouble watches days and nights.
which one you donate depends on your mice.
what buttress might have forgiven its beautiful urges.
which took us up for pleasure.
which in some countries consists of encircling each theft.
what were agreements were such extreme indifferences.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
this is a poem about a woman who loses
her temper now and then. she owns neither
a dog nor a cat. but the poet suspects she
might have some fish. maybe one or two birds.
because there's that small smell they have.
in this poem the windows begin to frost up.
then the woman decides it is dinner time.
she cooks for herself because she has
no other person. you see. to cook for.
this is a poem with one blue flower
in the corner. a generally dim room.
but catches some light from a source
off the left edge of the page. in a
white cup. there's the blue flower.
this is a poem about a very angry boy.
he is doing something foul and thinking
he should continue to do it for quite
a while. that will show them and as we
see. they are in the kitchen. very
upset over something in the wallpaper.
this is a poem centered on the page
because it is a collision-resistant
poem. the poet has taken some care.
well he's out there in the language stalking praise.
thinking this best sweetheart a beneficial scrape.
i was wound up in light and set on the curb.
enough space and enough marriage all drawn down.
ones are for winterberries as lost compositions go on.
if in the looking you mount it.
unthreatening and placid without the pointing
we're lost as in an acre of god. unturning as
one stick under fog. it was an allusion dummy
now get to work. perilously camouflaged a red
we get for imperial furnishing before all the
paleness and stillness. a few years for study
and marching a thin gray hostility. blowing a
leg or a skull to mist. we were taught to buy
the perfect one. no bruises no chips or flaws
just brevities like nurses who come to flames
back to finish your phrase currently