Friday, December 09, 2005
why works ... its regal notion batters

all my handiwork ... what did i do ...

i was ... a string of bits ... tinfoil

coffee steam ... glorious mountain of

works ... sayings and teachings ... no

i more or less than ... excuses and all



Wednesday, December 07, 2005
anyone looking into meanness sees one like everyone.

that is. in a bucket of gertrude stein. in a bucket roughly

the size of each misconception. my children drowning in-

completely unfinished in sleep hushing never never never

was i woven of them and anyone forging life to be. wind

still. here we are and we've got to say something about

the animal scouring our dirty places. but what but. what.



understanding the wild polished surface we're standing in

a pool of small and mighty rages muttering our names. i'm

an optical illusion for the one who learned and stopped

learning what it was that bent me out of earthlight into

this vague opera. you put yr right foot in. put yr left foot

out. sensing the classes i missed carried some weight. i'm

taking the new night course. you ... take it too.



Tuesday, December 06, 2005
we bored in

local things

are borne on

pointless now

to farther

light big

sight



what head

stung by words

grew it

long as envy

goes



Monday, December 05, 2005
could we batter it with our goodness. obscure

in all it's rare lithography. then we'd have a hit.

we'd set it up for sanity's sake in mall windows.

as plain talking folks from the next county over.

we like the shadows the organic fir well enough.



you. a water-linked paragraph as my hand. these fish

as leaves are struggling over pages for light or

you know i was coming back from lost articulations

the way you sent me. a small swimmer in mind. and

finally rounded all my corners and set up shop near

Blank Causality. there you were. in my still reflection.

a pressure on the glass. the unwritten book of you.



Sunday, December 04, 2005
guess what i meant and get a vocabulary of oneiric strings

plundering me hopelessly overblown in my own sleeping

chamber. then guess how many free sestinas it took to

verify my terrible warmth and beauty. i wasn't looking &

then i was prominent on the roof with a famous writer. i

on the cold gray stone beside the gargoyle. all over me.



watching the slats you get a fresher light.

maybe a line of braided corn-gods. subtle

stitching. i put the cat down and wash it.

watching the light you get a fiction match.

push it into the new oratorio see it burns

a cat in a thousand circles all lightly brown

never an open slat says i'm the lazier one.



Saturday, December 03, 2005
it's easy to obscure you to make fun of my hands

on the hymnal rigid as frozen cloth. see we're dressed

in cars and furniture. we're not expressing our inner

voices. they have disappeared anyway down the way.

it's a modern kind of typing with your teeth. we go on

to keep it simple. i'll mail it back to earth with this

that passes for soil on this new planet. i'm so simpler here

and miss you dripping from the shadows toward me.



line-cut trees in drama

lean for the certainties

while power strips us

we're in good laughs a

stand under all this ice

words in blunders & a

target we made of sky



her infrequently named birds assume a disguise.

they are all geese as each finger must be mine.

yellow callus dry pinch cluttered as winter with.

how the steam goes up and disappears. that's

bird-like in human hands. becoming distraction.



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