Friday, August 26, 2005
is this competent work. a courier falling down.
a cancelled check. desirably gnawed ephemera.
competent as dust is. stable in parchment. an
active scarcity seeking one out to be moot. raw
if i had to steal a word from your construction
i'd make it someone. not that i couldn't
have used it myself and not called it stealing.
not that. but called it dropping to the surface
of some normal terrain. collecting specimens of
daily sorting. wrenching my sticky thin arms a
grip around one or the other flatness. taking it
wholly away. past all brash figurines. a thought.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
potted potted plant potted calamity.
reckon how the numbers fall. singly
measured guessing us. supposing
a viscious augury. potted as plants
we unruffle evening. we go holler
morning come potted clay potted in
a row. i get my enthusiasm from a
whispery. into broken pottery. and
these fictions itch in summer. you look like a persistent
stereoptype and everyone stares. itching in fictions of
summer. you forgot to pack the drum but no one cares
enough not to dance summer's salvation fiction's itches.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
i didn't. it was talent broke in. took
yr golden mess all to pieces. claimed
you got a bum deal. flat talk in the flat
while the downstairs idiots reinvent the
homeric accordion. it was talent got all
spondaic when you needed one. talent.
really wasn't i in a tangle. the whole room quiet
as a piano. the beguine. a marked man complete
in a butcher's apron. there. it starts and we move
to it. you know like. the trumpet was just for us.
he want a lost poet. and whole sentence
want a government. of pieces and parts.
he in the forest of limber miracles. so said
the youth. the youth in kilts of anger. he
prancing over meadow mist to the town
home. a bit irregular. he want the sparks
to leave it alone. smoother. quicker. soft.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
an impertinent shape. i go reeling
to notice. what we're doing is we're
a poem about time and in time. there
a splotch of something black. you know
yr never going to make it as a.
poet. who'd care. yr divergent
in the usual ways. a feather while the
broke-neck bird gets tiny red ants
all het up in ecstacy unbalanced as a gift.
Monday, August 22, 2005
masted as bad art in a gale. there you have it.
we're on the trikes. a sullen arrangement. sifting
feathers. buttons. they go together. sonorous
pockets. aloof at last & at yr disposal ma'am.
i was a trick i played and everybody laughed
even the emperor was. a smirk. the right breeze.
which real. the real. there.
make me a face in it. in a
well of it. not that thing a
better one. says i'm not a
painter. go study to make
objects wriggle. as to sip
a long wooden spoon we
need better faces to say
we require an articulate a
bushy one. the real there.
as soup in shape. and ready.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
suffering in the close shadows one picks up
an approximate plan for saying chaos loudly
into the faulty microphone or distinctly. a
terrific sphere. a seraphic tremor. imposed
on the neighborhood. beats just making this
how hard he hit. like a peg in a sure spot.
and he hit right as he got it all wrong. he
kept quiet and hitting an open spot hard he
left for a minute and hit for blood then he
found his spot and he got it right where he
knew it was finally right where it wants to
go over close enough and. then how it hit a
row of them all. to his peg in a sure spot.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
also farther. in such. which is quiet enough
telling. for stillness. also as in smallness
that's farther on in without saying. here at
an edge i'm too round. at once concentric of
bigness and noise. a turf of such. a pinched
past it all. common sound for sun down kooks
for the farthest getting farther. disturbing
as we go on something like this is certain. as going
shortly from understarched minimal engines of breath
to his funny exhortations around the sacred bubbler.
bound to excite us to a wonder. a wonder and a pop.
then it's back to all usual detours. we go for mud.
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