Friday, September 09, 2005
actual intentional study of oneself in the moment
stuffs one full of terrible traffic. coming along in a
flat story. nicely physically with small teeth. finds
one screaming down a well in a bad movie. i'm a
human being. as anyone might wish to be. in a bad
movie. looking at oneself terrifically interested in
the paycheck pure as a shroud. scaring oneself in
stereophonic. termites. novelists. lovers. trucks.
excuses hardly ever produce effects equivalent
to those of acid rain. mine are spindly fresh eyes
intentionally humid. a clatter in the next room for
tinder. i'd rather burn at home. so excuse me in
all my distinguished overcoats. in all my exhibits.
we're starting to say hello. our jaws and our lights.
ours to give away they say. hello. is your luggage
feeling better this morning? what was that a freak
of punctuation. our teething is momentarily potted
as say a fern. so we accomodate the known conventions
and say hello are you greening today. yes fine thanks
Thursday, September 08, 2005
what a poem moves. a crated an urged
a red form a black instant. there it go.
annotated in spanish. a mercury glass.
fastened down below. a rude tortoise.
one trick to fifteen for rushing over. he needs kleenex
bad. then a word for the happy horn. a baggie full of
dimes. a shriek denoting happiness. morning pushing.
lonesome books of predictabilities. a critical thrush.
we broke in the shrieking. a cartoon of the middle age.
force was never likely. but our first thought shattered
then an arm through the pattern. say emerges and an
eye. out from the certain brown lines. it's our jungle a
practical license. hey kids. then a trombone a formal i
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
what woe which tract of sour temper.
bent me some. me in the firstness. an egg.
the other hand's alternativity eggs me on.
the folk. the tiny hard stone.
amassing a complexity of. them.
from the roof see the translation
into light. apochryphal sun. a tract
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
like. in building an enriched vocabulary we get
these poisonous flowers. they impugn our immutable
incarceration. then they glow. to deride hope.
these flowers of sulfurous condescension. we get
edgy of a gemlike secret pushing us lungward.
say this is the last day the snort the cold life trap.
say to run across some of them we'd have to grin.
say the fatal flaw's in the body always somewhere there.
Monday, September 05, 2005
what is not so already worn
that it stands. this rush back
to a pure idea. a tendency.
hail it philosophical. to
forge joy. quick notions.
unusual combinations in saying
turn to light. heliotropic
eruptions. you can't say you
never did it. look they are
lying all over the place. so
many if you just touch.
gently you may convince yourself
it's beautiful. this time's
idea. no mirrors. written blue
with gold flecks. think
a way out to find yourself
someone's formula. think.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
not that the grubby moon understands.
not that someplace is answering and unsophisticated.
not that scissors can sing under water.
not that questions can't shake their sullen good taste.
not that girl. not that boy.
not that queer sarcasm about the branches and the blood.
not that howling wouldn't search out an eventual ear.
not that an inch. not that an ell.
not that conscientious objection couldn't carry the lump.
not that under willows there's no frolic for some.
not that struggle that yellow that dove.
not that patience hasn't sweetened the daily cream.
not that eagerness to please to pick to traipse in doubt.
not that without credentials or paternity or maternity.
not that o never again not that ever again.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
missing art for knowing suddenly anything.
a rush of air when the door opens. then
not stillness not anything. he knows
skills have arches of possible effects.
he's under one now with a few pigeons.
but can't remember when he took the pill
that clarifies everything at last. goes
as a minor person out into the day. lost
balances and found in a small way. at last
average as anyone. the central path offers
small wisdom on a daily basis. subscribe
to that and wait for the mail. some where.
that. implied as calling a people beautiful.
nothing is allowed anymore. nothing said
at the street's end there's no street's end.
we're provided enough coffee. get to work.
the beautiful new violations crowd around us.
old monks were the new monks. then art exploded
nothing well. our current presuppositions.
and jugs of air. fill us. handled as if dainty
in a day when no one says dainty.
one cloud one eye.
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