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
& finds it funny
in the metal metro.
Monday, May 16, 2005
why i missed
the floorshow boutonierre
a cancelled minute &
trudged on over
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.
back to finish your phrase currently