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Friday, April 29, 2005 on sorrow to go rudely... my condition
takes one... as the dirty principle messing with me... and you go to the electric clock... tell it to her suddenly & re-use it. now and then. as graphic laundry goo. being difficult for the sake of every room's house. the work
requests. what you couldn't know & should. see. unknowing will complicate you. a machine guarantees abundance. no one will matter as much. nothing precious to fondle or go delirious over. not a one. not many but. a string of crumbling in between. when you can. unsteady as meat. go saying. what a fine day for a tinkle. what an excellent pooh. for flushing the world back into shape. a natural round still. pointed and worn like a disaster. a goblet. a sober hobo joke. Thursday, April 28, 2005 i take my end from none of this.
line me out into fields of shaming. blinking torn and believing anything that comes ruling. here's a flintlock trick it off. here's for finding you home and restless so. good advice
in a corrupt moment. caught me off in a puzzle. i'm either book or scenic and symbolic. where's the poem in a shout. some argue intent. if they're so young they're theoretical history. i'm one or the other and slipping towards a closing. i cornered
a rock. vertical handed. up on it. for we're playing as astronomers in both skies. never turn the edges down hard as a chimera. we'll make do. for the length of an open education. what stars without double entendre call lucky. thank them. and face down to softer rounds. Wednesday, April 27, 2005 if you'd asked me to have an idea
i'd have flopped into a wounded seed. and you'd have as subject matter the losses. of a seasonal fault. mine going roughly through frame after frame of good taste but ruined by that heartlessness. at school again where i got good grades for sitting still. & seeming. about finding
in saying the corners the next reason. about finding what brain buried bottles bruised. as about the young reproduced in dagger biographies. about my own edgy cult my affectionate bells my about time to experiment with advertising objects. about mass cutoffs. the shoe. the markets denied. about me and you and a dog named peter old man. about coming in from praise and vitriolic geometry. about backing off from the moviestar news as such. as daydreaming
flays me but not you. you go out full-fleshed for the paper. i'm a little nervous near dogs. i'm partial. frank and solid but less than i'm used to. in my throttled syntax i stand for change. counting's
for strong horses. my bills undone. my heroic impossible condition. one and one. mystery in baseball mystery. in acceptables. how many will you take. all of them all of them. Tuesday, April 26, 2005 you there can tell from profile
i'm a crude likeness of myself in gilt trousers. burgundy cap. bells of soft leather. i winnowed my own and chortled long enough to know myself. nearly intimate with outer limits but pulled back in time to fat self-classification. an urge i fill with spoons and chairs. here the profile trembles. in the next scene i'm leaving on the window i'm gone. i parked
i forgot where i parked i parked over there on the grass. adjusted the eagles and went off forgetting where the angles collide. a gust for the clouded avian committee dinner. as going treated automobiles as centers around pork. i forgot what i ate where i ate it i forgot and i parked if in my
comic zeros line up for a dance i won't give them then why not pretend you have a headache or need a porsche. if in my codex germans lisp and wander in triplets off to golden halls then why not guess we're happy and well-stocked at home why not shuffle and huddle. why not screaming and staring. why not the green dress the yellow braid the boiling print why not in a pot
of portulaca the sun took us for students. tried. to roust a beginning. the sun forced hopes. like a far jet we're lining up. reading all the whites grays and indeterminates as non-binary delusions. but what had been red and yellow in a pot goes on & Monday, April 25, 2005 then description. marked me as
a start before here and now. you get to drink your ice tea & i begin with eyes because. something in them seems a crisis. a dog. a mulish slow disbelief. so i'm starting over your name. hovering on. rustling
to crack the wall. and begging for it. the gods understand but don't really care. we get to talk about anything. they let us. and we factor influence. the equation ripens in a double prophecy described by one as an egg of petty crucifixions. to which we each report. hard on the
fleur this teaching. i'll fix you grandly. plastic is a form of interaction among dreamers. i will not release you. hard on the levitation this egg. useless in a busy folk culture. but in anticipation. less imagination. i'm moving thru your awful heavy moon. Sunday, April 24, 2005 polka mama far off in the lethe.
rearrangements all welcome. polka in the bilge mama. fractured by the publisher. tepidly attuned and framed in a delightful blowsy evening. yo soy something or other in the sometime winds we get. i polka mama in your blue orchid. what zither now stiffness still. if i were
a china the old snow. arbitrary cuts. you mock my falling. if i were a tooth then for sweet random yes. chew mine over the pretty painted plate. i'm heckling the reaction. a rifle for a gift. a fencepost if i'm harming. nothing let's us out or off. neither off nor out but you. if i were a wake you'd see the dent and squirm away. and mortar
as a wall makes me. there. said you've got a long while yet. time to look for particles of yr day in every nook's curlicue. i was cute then. i pushed a nun. i run over what all the painters did. and called mine. Saturday, April 23, 2005 out of what you know. or any of
us. in the most celebrated history of us. the only ones with the talent or you know erudition to say. you are who the book turns into. in the end that's each of a long line of us. what you know can go sour or at least stark in time. will in fact fall. here for the credit owed to lyrical dawn. unlike a root. kind of hazed over knowing you called but unable to place myself. answering in a jingle letting a page flop over even in a shut up room. a gravity nobody wanted. and if nobody's reading well here comes a silence strung up in time. stare down a wall and come up with the next cool spark a hand no. you are alone and capable of an opulence. or a nap of uncertain value. to be read as an offer. i will resume
in sentences. meaning. if you seek it. coming black as new dirt. old as it. i mean. a sentence you can plant. inside the fenced garden. you get good tulips or strawberries. i keep wanting to say wake up to me sleeping. without sentences. a russian beats us in a fresh new symphony with thick black notes. but here i mean comes my sentence. scratch its old belly. sustaining
civilization itself. my isn't. going on. as a flu. on the nervous terrain i got the next copy. bent my iris over and made a big meal of popularity. hurt myself on the verb but. an exceptional craft as going out. for sailors sex and violence. but not us. for his first
ideogram. below the waterline. a vast pathos. then the second. under the nineteenth century casual gown. a small color portrait. the third. unflinchingly. above the sniper's grimace. tribal bravado in the speaking machine. back to finish your phrase currently  |