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
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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