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Friday, February 25, 2005 and a ghost for the river. still
over. this. let it be about rooms for crying or making food. let it be about justice coming like a mad dog. you have a complete version or one part. no paper wasted. no ridiculous announcements. but the horizon whirling makes enough. take this seriously. its a looker and a far song. word it so
the glop drops off. maybe a tree here. an ant or a flower. leave the birds out. word it pretty true. for physical drama. i'm stuck in the past. gone nothing but nice. so. today green tie. white shirt. hushed the
edges. better than thy stroke. the center gets me itchy for explanations and good mexican food. stepped through. that is passing the gaze. they give me a chance to say without saying. a credo for pixel wonder. it is nothing and you turned it into nothing so this is what happened when you went out to the book. Thursday, February 24, 2005 i meant a delivery from all such.
so i surrounded a theory with business. took it walking in firey time. as spiritual a thing you might think. but doused in paper and television. talked out into slick time. fed on virtue's flower. a boring kid linking the done with the temple's dour dream. a wire mesh future startling all his presents into chicken kebobs. and call this a mystic path. if i thinking
about spiritual things and then. an approximately condensed original. here comes mitch ryder. look it's not as if they're people. really good technology never gets going. when you say we there's really no we. and you ending with an h is cool enough. what works
in a circus goes for changes or staying put. any way. have you seen it? something in fire that noses us to dance. Wednesday, February 23, 2005 that was grammar with resurrections.
more dangerous at morning when we're heroic. gentle at any rate or an explanation in trousers. grammar swallowed anything we threw and wrecked everything. biographical and deaf for decades. the box is on the counter next to thirty frozen onlys. subjected and preposed to death. white swung and stung somehow in later guitar depth. they left
the museum in the car the photographers packed today. in the mall on the dirty street along the baseball across this basketball. quickly we said suddenly for a change hardly it meant sweetly we knew in fact. hugo put
his bricks around. night. the human catalyst. put his beginnings far from bringing. balls rolled to all their potential. africa is one. for example. walls and rebirths frighten him. as ugly in the same direction as belief. he sings of worn. of using everything for unconvincing ends. our ears typed far as drumming. then influence Tuesday, February 22, 2005 we used a language they wouldn't
understand. hell we didn't quite get it ourselves. but it pushed a light we meant. we meant the light. it bothered us for sad change. whatever we had. the language cornered for a note. the tune they said. was birdlike in its bones. i dare you to hang for it here. coming from where if dew was
just shadow. where i put my good copy. where the beard follows. where you wondered where this had gone. i'm not a farmer on the itemized terrain. but you note my verbals my tooled grooves. as one might drop one into the suffering. if kids were a class not bound but jumping. sneezing beans for bless you. o national bargains. information. happy natives. o big brown envelope gaining ground. ticking. o it's an urgency. and i'm an uncle in it. o next comes the fleece. the police oh kay. o jack review. in the back flap. jacket o what guitar. an insurgency. puffed. and nice. Monday, February 21, 2005 my mediocrity. is mine but welling
up from a vast underground ocean. where it's all opera. where the lights hiccup lightly against the deep shores of. almost. just about. where fish follow the breath of these delicate gentleman. where i'm swimming little by little. pile by pile up. to say. what's french
for getting your singing done in french. a line of skinny people. there just now. no fat french singers. but willows. pencils. what they had for lunch demands some dashing about. in rouen. fear of lunch turns into poetry as shameless. yr an island of french as two words on the plate wonder aloud in sad french. Sunday, February 20, 2005 my midwest of foupaws and dry roses.
took all afternoon to reassemble the. thing. and we're good enough to go. still. sometimes i wonder i might never get back. like the storeglass wind in my eyes i'm always missing my own manners to hurry back from work and find them on the lawn with a beer and some lame similes. grins and sweat like nobody's business. not like the time we left the tourniquet on too long and i sturgeon
stuck. throat merging with. furnaces. yes furnaces full circle. in which such as the essential swims. the fire smoke stroke. i'm an edge on the left where the cats wait. in order. to tell the needles down to bellies. for dogs. no promising
going on. no bursts of deviant hopefulness. no juice in the fridge. dry merchants. dry hands, dry as you know it's not going on. under conditions imaginary. saying things like there are seven stanzas of four lines. no real writing. no earth shaking. but. a literary thing. Saturday, February 19, 2005 ever been slung back to the page.
a cat said by shadows. a town by the season. ideas in loafers and cads. for no reason back to pages. how could this be a thought. at the wordstop's fine leather. from good cows. tasty dinner bits. we can't help it. there's no coming but going. it was language
put me. alongside the place we meant as in meeting two sets of eyes go quiet for saying. it was language in place of borders. settling for the sod hut the chickens talking to the dirt. language unsettled a row of wingless pleasures. for us and to blink us particles of things that live. timing breath in language. a wild man needs a moment. wild as. technically
not a hack but facing there comes another impious revelation without pay you understand. i'm a succulent advertisement. was there something you needed to say. i couldn't hear in the scene the footlights are screaming. for all this common property to be it's good
i was so little smart. thrown out. for drowner's got a right. a good tough line. fact is theater comes with tickets. it's me in a yodel and you have to. operate before noon. so let's expect how good it's so. not bright right now. just kind of slow like the swings. of perpetual suns crickets frowns for folding back to finish your phrase currently  |