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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. back to finish your phrase currently  |