Friday, May 20, 2005
if i did it in sleep it would be farther and more actual.

a course i took did it on its heavily booked periphery &

paid for it for a long time. but i did it standing in it shouting

& cutting my fingers. i measured it for angels too. & look.


made at last by a not very smart engineer to go. it goes

for a while. and goes in stitches as some birds will go off

across lawns and well-made fields. we're calling for rainy

mornings but it comes out artistic and going still going on.


i ardent & shining far like a star something. heaving.

there i go. & yours more like a spindle than a plow.

these all correspond when we turn them forty-five

degrees. to the right. as famous natives will grimace

when the lights go. as humans stutter when they're

possessing. i'm a border you get. to study or expect.


my only good writer has a logical humor. convey the good writer's

good moral to us. we're ready for the vehicle. uncertain & good.

mustn't. must we. must i. must a sound escape in a moral text.

we're ready to hear it. two for one. in a good field by the good

writer's teaching. it rises as a life-lesson window. we watch it.

and print it logically in brightening copies. my good writer saying.


and a hurt will come sooner or. a hurt will face me broken over

deep cracks. so what. i never expected much substance. but

an imitation of grey glories like deadpan naturalism & hovering

over terrible perils. hey lady i got terrible perils coming down.

this years ago in mad pursuit of triply itching transformations.

hey mister i just don't catch yr drift. but wicked nice. yes.


but first. he got no style. us in the windows we got

eyes to see he got no style. us looking for the cool.

finding in plastic ephemera. cool. he go forage. for

a good hook while us. who got no style goes on & on.


Thursday, May 19, 2005
pending disappearances as. fog.

the noose of a fetish. dog.

the pasture grisaille. clog.

wasn't it schubert's. frog.

interest in an ocean. log.

pertinent insinuations as. smog.


driving you away. my fodder listens to the chirping you make

in going. the difficulty sleeps back there. the radio's

german at last. i'm an archangel of cigarettes. and phony

losses. driving you away into desperate maniacal portions.

gulping them down like fingers. belching them up as news.


this polychrome maze continues to exert a beautiful.

something. we can't count on for long but for now.

and a bit more. still. the walls come travel with us

for incredible light. black & white decades. but i'm

forgetting my manners. please. let me introduce

you to the subject. its spry witness. its red bullets.


Wednesday, May 18, 2005
this man in a metallic braincap says he's kin to a once-powerful

tribe. who hid behind the sun for ages. writing sonnets of ruts

& curves. but now they're all. well. read up in the newspapers.

he's electrical but lacks the skill to guitar his ladies into verses.

so he walks & wilts. an inverted horizon always gets his goats.


if there's no good in the electrical. it's dawn

shun it religiously. bury it in residential ice.

all lines lead to. a certain obscure performance.

noted for having more children. at a loss we say.

good on the slope. not so good really. elsewhere.


Tuesday, May 17, 2005
understand this one bird. & you never will

well enough to tell. this place is not rough

up against the telling. but it's ruthless as

red in a new tree. this place is setting in

many shades of green for the moment. green.


and made the play the was

it is.
is truth

as the way

to be sets

a smoky standard

and makes the was a play

of going a way.


luxuriant. virtuous & vertical as

a terrible vine

reaching & wrought

i saw. it's 1912.

a god sits for lunch

over bread

& finds it funny

in the metal metro.


Monday, May 16, 2005
read too much of &

forgot what color looks like.

so isn't it a book.

in pieces. a restless

corporation.


why i missed

the floorshow boutonierre

a cancelled minute &

trudged on over

for your

momentary loss.

i wasn't

dealing from a

wide drawer. i was

a comfort. at last.


Sunday, May 15, 2005
just stop. it so unhealthy and disturbing the flock.

talk like a normal person won't you just try it to say

what the dirt wants. it wants you. to talk like a norm

that's got legs and mostly real teeth. in an actual

world. so here goes. pull out the flirty books. & get

ready. the norm comes sailing like a bad wolf. i got

it in my mirror. i can be what it whistles. i the finest

wolf whistle. and you get it. right you get the wolf

brings breath to earth for all the beautiful corners.

& here i am now talking the norm & you get it right.


my lean torments any. as song gives trembling

big thoughts. about the sky. look so. so big &

so empty of accident. wishing justice down can

make us sound ridiculous. on the soft heads of

whatever grows and needs. my cars go. my cars.

stay in light. stay put. as i put you lightly.


Saturday, May 14, 2005
for pushing hard all thumbs & words. this minor act

of faith thrills me. you too. falls into the merely

baroque. well-mannered heaviness of head if not his

heart. nodding into a merciful loudness i i i i i i


pushing too hard as forgetful. doorbells gone all christian.

feel fine about some transitions. after all it's saturday love.

i am constantly appalled. and oaks elms locusts colorful ice-

green translations. made me fade. i was fading into a vote

for sleep when you stopped by with your non-biblical irony.



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