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.



one cloud one eye



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.

jugs

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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