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Friday, February 10, 2006 today
for one thousand ninety five i'm jumping or from. as a fire or a dead party. this party of one thousand ninety five i'm talking to you and to no one in cages. talking from a voice i should know as mine if i haven't used it or as many of my free voice coupons all is possible and yet nothing seems worth the trip through general forests of notions were we calling it poetry and were we settling in for a long nap yes a long one with guests who've brought dessert your imagination full of chocolate rough prosey brown krispies whipped green grammatical and resistant inflicting a slight wound to the tongue farther fathers and dots. more dots. raining dots ... packing one thousand ninety five with ... dots of waiting dots of pretending dots of losing almost every true word and finding how hard the reflection knocks ... me down for dots of breath i get miles to go ... and my books are brown they said i was an idiot and i believe them because this is what an idiot does with the present time he smells himself turning into language now turning into rivers of lakes of oceans of time while something important settles into the next headline an ordinary exchange of information's mortal halitosis makes me want to scream but who would hear? for them in the know know a no-no when it bites them in the knowing place. there is a castle built of sugar and sweet sand i'm the lonely prince but i'll get over it next lesson's how to be a better person most admirable and august ... as birth. all white and clean. as unmarked new space. i brought my crayons and rubber stamps but forgot it wasn't that kind of party. middle classes. midnight. partial to allusions. open ends all frayed like firey roads taking me home to anywhere. where i'll stay one night or another and become the teacher i was meant to learn what? how to read the edges the dog-ears flatness indelible shadows of crumbs or boogers or narcoleptic drooling pencils. reading for feeling. reading for dessert. for a change. say you need something and i've got it well yr welcome to it. but i will mourn it. grieve it just a little. but it's yrs for good. my secret lingo fort justifies a box of purple and a box of yellow flowers we'll need them when the indians come. we'll colorize our paradise or i will for you. for no lunch of newds (there. an arrow in the side of a perfectly good line turns me out. forgotten sebastian in a maze of cretan underwear. for allusive grit.) i tried to give it you gave it back. so the plan called for me to say here i am and you to be you just long enough for me to get past this next mother of a moment. there. cast off. youless now. a greyhound of smoke. circling back to desserts. unimaginable. rich. i am not an artist i am a small good. where are you where are you where are you where are you where are you slips back. i wasn't even trying. so beginings without seconds come next. as a game of risk without the alcohol. without the sexual tension that accounted for those explosive miraculous wings. calmness now in age. a well-considered an amusement orange as cholera. that marked me inactivist for good weren't you (again) the sky when science took me like a vulgar kid out back for a modest beating. you looked on like my nonpartisan papa and i came home sick of it. a thesis a thousand and more days long versed me in this voice because i been to school. i been a hoop for dancing i been the reasons i lined up for next & next in the lonesome counterpoint what flew romantic in a necropolitical face well cut me out and call me ken i been shuffling hard to duck this dumb labor you lack. a certain whimsical device. moist for all your ghosty theories. of how you became the very pigeon you pluck one day after another. you failed those books for listening. pastured impromptu self-snuck idiom. you. so careless with the clients ... and yet as we say and yet ... the parrot's descant coolly measured warbled as mottled dessert ... pleases unscrupulous taste ... just don't ask me over for it. i'll be busy just then clipping my overlong fingernails. philosophically there's been no forward progress still a boy still a boy still a boy still a boy a reason to study these books for the notes and test still a boy still a boy still a boy still a boy to pray is to dive deeper for finding an actual One still a boy still a boy still a boy still a boy to strap a line of fat white men before and behind still a boy still a boy still a boy still a boy there's been no progress forward philosophically for a loan i took it all for a loan so this payback anxiety seems all sometime i'm on cable in screens all over america my loaned up soul capacitor sparking spun thus this and almost is this for that in some say even desserts need desserts endings as boys finding ends in girls as in boys and gods formless air. records or plantations of. the seed knows itself and says smart things. the kids understand money better than poetry. the walking tries to get somewhere interesting. the attractions resist naming as colors. the intercourse requires lots of space between. the suffering goes on in smaller or larger parts. the lies never land. the pop stars are still birds coming out coming out. as this is just one part of the whole it wouldn't be fair to judge the whole by the part and judging is a clear glass i'm drinking down. in this part i speak plainly for the folks back home who were hoping i'd amount. i strap on the guitar strum a loud chord in my dream my parts flip out in color in irregular geometrical bits as bad seventies arena rock. still i've got the mic locked on the vocals for my turn my turn my turn my turn. it doesn't matter that i'm not or that i'm this or not it matters farther on that a space had a part for one and any in one and many taking time to follow what had to i follows everywhere Thursday, February 09, 2006 it
was a realism i shied away from ... a foreign port coming down like angels ... then i spied the guy .. and he spat ... i was woven all into shy paper ... and you said i couldn't come back ... a smoke a joke ... i'm the way ... all into paper up
without a white escort now as the anecdote first the bushes then barely a boy in the cabinet first barely then the cabinet in bushes a boy structured though fewer as anecdotes for breath taking simmering as one dark swimmer tuning to the next stations and stages live inventions "interesting as television" at least in bushes barely singly shuddered barely was it a shameful fever built up a few and the snails weren't calling a roosted boy barely interested as dark or anecdotal longing this photographic martyr is mine say to be to be in saying along way back from the cabinet in rags like a woman for disapproval he hated me then i stopped in it as barely a boy could stop and in rags going hot from a look and a word hotter for elbows knees and others in white stories sooner unravelled and told barely silver in with him i told you who knew it first i knew it Wednesday, February 08, 2006 makes
this your ... moment each word recommends a nest ... & you are completed .. now & now ... urged to mark ... what's falling in blacker crayon ... i am wishing you more and farther ... backgrounds for this trying to ... fix ... thing piled
and notched history has bones to pick to gather to chew to burn ... there saying things again ... history comes knocking with magazines to sell and a kid destined to rise no higher than ... the times i say look at me in this ridiculous dress ... am i not the truest guest ... where were my punctuations hiding ... were they not in the trance i threw ... were they not in the graves ... plumped with new dirt where my stops and starts go ... look Tuesday, February 07, 2006 mostly
trapped in a voice he never wanted ... who talks this way ever ... look out for civil wars in rubber shoes look out for life ... professor ... it's got a big butt and nasty sharp commercials ... he sings to black holes in his socks ... and we join in because we know history's turning to bad opera for plots ... & dumb description ... comes
to handouts ... we're perverse enough past raucous mystical deliveries ... we'll take the sky or an orange for it ... seeming pain gets all the archaeology lately and in our new decline we're asking politely ... arrows and chopping stones please ... that finally a handbook for coding trips on the bus along the shabby wires has come out ... and tall grass for tourists makes us seem useful in our pretending ... when the small birds come Monday, February 06, 2006 colloidal
... equivocal ... night rheumatic ... centrifical... touch ambitious ... millennial ... tongue not
believing or having been free ... to ... not having been such to say ... but seen in the right light ... which is never light ... seen ... having been free to say nothing ... it was ... and never having been right ... but losing each in believing ... for saying ... never over ... and over which having no right ... but for seeing and such as we are ... coming out to say ... without a right would
rippling has me in its famous grip then i'd spar ... like males of any continent ... them in dresses butting heaps of teachings ... about getting along or about an i up for grabs ... we look like snow but end up with burns still ... lining the double world with ... ruby dots ... given
means half-learned ... would means without show so given would mean inconspicuous ineptitude ... mine as an arm of light ... for example ... descends upon the arbitrary figure of an ox above the street's rosy commmotion ... making a way up to judgment ... given the times ... i'm fed generously for flight and grown by pounds unfinished as an author's blooming section ... i can tell you and then you will know ... some of Sunday, February 05, 2006 if
one were to map eurydice in the book she went on then the archangel falling and the penny on the track ... if one were in the same dish for dinner and dreaming and evolving toward a new color ... well why not ... one might register at last ... each right and wrong of amazement every cultural singularity ... bright star blundering as one in american might say ... love is not that great ... i tried it once ... caught a cold bringing
the ugly in ... the silk worried poem ... many proses in towns too gone ridden ... by hacks in ads ... how many nights coughing and pees ... in the poem right up to the door ... i want some ugly validation ... stamp ... on each old finger ... brain me if i don't go ugly ... in time i got guts and nerve cojones i got balls to say this ... any once ... and an ounce ... as red shoes ... long ago ... put his ducks in line ... for dinner and ate photographical ... and tasted good and ugly Saturday, February 04, 2006 i'm
not telling you to do anything ... not laying out a substantial bibliography ... telling the terms and worlds in color ... you get the edges all to yourself ... to unravel the mysterious and frenetic ... do the unthinkable rhumba ... slamming eyes doors ... anything fatal primal ... geological ... no begins
an over as any fact triples the gas to whisper yowls the fine black steps passes nervously if one is sleeps one sleep of a hole sees you you over here you falls final trampling some one is an open toon one is an other sun licit as an opening hearing. for writing the buses. reading the city frightening the peaceful ones. do you need to know it is a dream. a pocket farce day back to finish your phrase currently  |