Friday, July 08, 2005
steering hard. toward all the white people.
most in wheelchairs or. vastly overweight.
someone kicked down the antique limestone
burial signs. wintering by a. lincoln's icy
palazzo. i'm keeping eyes on the bill. i'm
counting the flatness as it chases us down
a heaven without apologies. as acres of corn
Thursday, July 07, 2005
tea with paintings in the style of keith haring.
tea far from all our african dreams.
tea in trouble with the second law of thermodynamics.
tea grinning like an uncle.
tea for dosing sick children and pets.
tea under certain constraints.
tea nervously tea with gumption tea as an acrobat.
(counting as if in balancing tea and check books)
tea. the banker's thin daughter.
tea as a limit beyond which only the vulgar move.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
this heavy. as half a
rabbit left over. the anterior
a novel with unpleasant characters.
plastic discounts in my poems.
there. you got one right.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
funny book in the belly of the saint. i bought it for a buck.
trained me to dance like these kids on tv in my brain you
understand. i'm merging with the currents of the under-
served losers brothers sisters. one with your holy nevers.
and the one about eliot is a scream. reminds me of any
of a thousand axioms dribbling here from the skylight.
there are worse kinds of purely rhetorical abuse.
worse in that self-slaying configuration we get
that punchy bold complication saying moralism's
bold in shimmery fatality like pigeons in a row
shimmery democracies of any crowd we might make
of lost rights saying let's kill it by the next vote
rights to depend on an entertainment calmly as
depend on mother father brother sister to get it
mother in this context an invalid a cup of willing
this to count for something hoping it won't at all
Monday, July 04, 2005
for example the exit mistaken for an aspirin.
i took it grudgingly. or for example the edges
of a reputation for the primitive. wilder one
an actor with blinky eyes who never sweats.
collected and boxed for joy. for example ice.
politics. my companions rocking out spiritual
positions as if they were cereal boxes of joy.
dx describing art commences at ten lps
as an integrity suspended bni fighting
turnstiles turning into cw nursery hip
rhymes pz rz fz and so forth until its
lastman standing wf or i'm confusing a
rt with a handle for lifting hot things
from stoves q. period. theses look side-
ways thinking. j enough for nw i'm cold.
yd free sure. and coming to get yr vlm.
disconcerting. no tremor blm to hushes.
pretty soon in pieces.
safely put stay here while the thunder.
newspaper hints a broad decorated rump-style.
next to the vulgar. americans predict rhyme.
startled to bits.
a watch. a scrofulous temper. body silt.
guess me what i wanted here. just guess.
fragged and sagging on eveyone's birthday.
pockets. it was pockets in a delirious pot.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
when do they stop being terrible fledgling tongue-sprockets.
when do the belly for it end. when do good insects cry uncle.
when do it stop unlawful as a feeling plastered over itching.
when do sharp sighted and thick come up on the ruly mishmash.
so for luminous parents let's dangle from trees in full sun
damp socks wrecked rubber flippers sodden overripe fruit.
our parents' handles are wooden now & splintered rough.
still. we need them windless days. pointing both ways we
get to go shopping at each reformation stall. selecting a
skill. an obsolete indigestible bone for dinner. we eating
turn to life as the usual the ordinary lumber of listening.
surfaced and scoured this is the temperature.
i meant if i were. in the heat of subjunctive faith.
this nervous boy takes his gills out for swimming & finds
a couthness and a scrupulous oath burrowing
through the black rubber seal. as william blake
goes walking his mooncalf on a spittle-chain. we gape.
and hope it will not make poetry on us.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
hardly a word the body bears it as contagion.
we stand in it with our hands.
i militate against it in a fresh uniform.
its chastity is profoundly disturbing as a dog's might be.
surging to right and left reminds its timepiece.
to fall from a tight shelf is about all.
the body used us as salt and for counting.
in virtual shame it reasons back to its mouse form.
let licking go on. let it lick as a prophet. lightly.
what's happened to the rubber stamp of the grin
that it's a beachy landscape without birds or parents.
what it means communes with damp spirits or calls
me names like August Ape. Causeless Pragmatickal.
stamped in silver green I get to go roving some more
by the fingering waxing moon. i go tramping. a wave.
entitled as cornstalks to soughs that speak & wince.
here it's happening. buzz
dusk and the brass bell
remember what chip asked.
we're all membered so far
as it counts one nightbird
one was it a bat one light
sharpening and gone coded
for a gust. i get the top
a week then dream bottom.
useless as a story we got
plenty to tell to tell too.
bejiggered or then tottered for swooping
what's left. once the hawk has flown the
small birds toss off luggage. as in biaritz
the indigenes know how to breathe. as in a
portrait by eakins the light slumps down
to the left. for freedom's sake you get an
extra day to do nothing and then you get
to give it back. sharp-sighted fathers. this
set forth a gentle new path to lycanthropy.
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