Friday, June 17, 2005
plain white cupboards coming. pigtails and no characters.

white packing popcorn dancing back of a blue garbage truck.

red of a white blue smudge out back with the chickens.

these artists get ideas. they get brave. they get paid.

a world in stages we want. in habitats for flying & singing.

i'm getting over on a flat scale. my political nights are free.

fractured my life for itself. a dose of reliable habitual science.

there is my far pocket of faith. it was the whole big idea that

wrote me in passive voice. there it is going on. again over

an edge turned prairie hen grey. pieces after the battle bits.

it wasn't anger that marched us over. was it. was it boredom.

wagering on the outpouring

of his heart. of his heart the

rude outpouring. as a wager

on the outpouring of a rude

heart. so softly so simply so


still & difficult


difficult & finding


finding & still

Thursday, June 16, 2005
making my canadian bucks go. barging into some poets so

vertical they hum in the wet dawn. there i said it. an

icon flashes out. it's a goldfinch like a hotwheels racer.

coming our way like an experimental virus. to decompose

as a stag. wailing in flight standing up. my orders say

go up far north where a truly old way finds daylight

on actual mudbanks.
a treacherous fault. running off.

don't babble (desk puppet lovely ladies). don't clink

(fettered) bitter claimant. i'm attached to a turning

as one who seeks god in glass. not shelter but a scene.

i compare moaning to morning & make it next to nothing.

a cudgel babbling. a small dry rose. babbling hearth a

finding again what. the shirts dropped brightly. brook.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005
wrong about sinking. days and days of prematurity

filled us with loose changes. our pockets revelled in

a thousand inner destinations. we pretended to in-

vent the winds or windows of our souls. we got real

good at sucking delirium through pen stems. in fact.

we hadn't stunned the ridiculous but were trying to.

my thinking. in socks every day. manages

me in good files. to go as a freemason into

the sparkling heaven of men in tight pants.

there i go charging into each category as a

bullet might find something worth stopping

for. i'm torpid and it's raining harder for me.

loosen the gills. they need a fresh instant.

inattention combines with a blossoming bee. there

weren't any answers. i was asking for beauty and

got a blind hematoma. such on a day when sparrows

knock. this carving out of clocks our soft dances

would make anyone dizzy. i wasn't looking for it

when it came. i never am and blame myself enough.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005
badness of the moment. here's a bad. and a bad one.

a bad pome forcing itself on you. a bad boy in troubles.

a bad humor a bad corner. bad in all its features and

bad in its functions. a badness determined to choke.

all bad all very bad in days and nights. bad counters

bad pickers of songs. bad forests in violate shadows.

just bad for now and the rest of this baddening arc.

ended quarrelsome wanting a glance of whiling.

and i called you coming over but you turned and

became an ocelot frolic. there i go again. spiteful

in your goodness. a warped congregation. ants

above the celestial windows. i'm still calling you.

Sunday, June 12, 2005
what little in my human throat why

what little in terms of delight why

what little in practice come with why

what i meant about the beautiful why

what so few understanding combs why

what verges on failure's film why

what little i'm forging covers all why

make a mistake & again in voice.

as if you knew how. as if you

could tune to red. dread. shed

bed. med. & talking rabbits as

if hero fumbles desire. mars is

burning. hair goes dancing & i

get to bring my taste for ochre

sleep in circles. be as violent

they will get so indefensible. they will shudder

such nerve you get. they mess with yr peaches so

you get used to it & singing's a mess of helpful.

a hand of o porous black. as still pretending to

follow the blues with an outrage. fine somnolence.

parking for parched men. some good in a lariat

say branches & boots. pines too far away.

cities turned me out. so there. a cornerstone

strummed out for pennies & beginning to hum

country music. you go. country limits & thirst.

back to finish your phrase currently

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?