Friday, April 21, 2006
ok if i pony into doggertown ... stirrup down the graded valley sky ...

sure of dusted lorgnettes & rascal pages ... ok if i forget anymore

the reaches of what you wanted & i never needed ... a god-framed whatever

sure to lean off right when the twisters roll through ... dirt on my

loafers ... ok i knit what i said & stuff the next hole with it ...

against the hard guesses ... what i meant for living stood a good

long while fireside & went brown ... & sizzled & slurped ... i guess



withering old flap for scandals ... a vanishing spike of dream ...

can you say that ... the nervous worthless words exposed & iced

for wandering if you're talking about escape ... then sign us all up ...

what were you wanting when i said ok ... wouldn't the diabetes do us all

some good ...



what long alphabet i get rises for the petted sun ...

& i knew it had no eyelashes no cuticles no tongue

& i knew it for the inner breakfast i'd begun ...

what long alphabet made a breathless liquifaction hum



when i got out of the joint my knuckles went looking for mercy ...

and found it in a terrible drink mixed with sameness & coincidences ...

i staggered past my suburban ligaments & the next window ...

there you were in a logical sandwich & i took my shot at the miracle ...

& my animals came out in corduroy ... they sounded like radio announcers ...

they breathed small caskets out of the ground ... they never stuttered ...

& you thought i was kidding but i wasn't even close to ... kidding



Thursday, April 20, 2006
what prayer disordered. i walk on. a noose then.

scuttled & debunked. the right sky & the finished

maker. turn left & willow. set fire & say this.

is what i asked for demonstrated. all at once. &



(like little prayers these go off gunpowdery.
i catch my thumb on a spark and suck it.
i own every myth & bramble.
weren't we going to. and didn't you say. even those.
like rising from a long bit of business into a quickly faded. cloudy. flatbed.)



very like a rock and frothy ... very tumbling

brutal in our tiny poisons ... walloping shore

of ... mercy of ... sickness ... preciousness

we steam of thought ... we rubbery water ways



ave cool liquidator ... passionate loser on hinges ...

here you go horsing around in leather goggles ... twin

spectre ... of my immigrant privacy ... triune bluster

i get no refund & you get that lemon face ... flowers



Wednesday, April 19, 2006
i am not contemporary not the bleeding jar of airports ...

look for stone facing you ... you're the lake and sun ...

i'm not the phony taboo ... a nineteenth century

diction in my ... settling cells ... like aspirin epitaphs ...

wringing me nearsighted ... i'm not seven but i may be eight ...

a flight or a farmer in whittling words ... something

next to bright ... like breathing eyes ... i'm not fattest

in a range of talking clouds .. i'm the sitting fault ...

the range of motion ... the spoken intestate othersea reptile



Tuesday, April 18, 2006
where lou of the medicinal belly signs his name with y ...

there the sky feathers outward toward walking trees ...

there an instant game descends like bloody hydrogen ...

where philip of sincerity on guard marks an l through his leg ...

there your kindness disturbs each of my fragile stems ...

there any reasonable kingdom's come dancing ...

when it teaches and totters ... when it longs and ...

whiles and intimates a dazzling green ... there we go



not split it ... not without ears or tongue ...

spoken without conviction from no necessary place

and still this attempt to say ...


weren't we thinking .. it

finds a moment if not a single ear

not shadows or blood in it ... not as trust

but the rust itself ... guessing which foot

i stood ...

and there in my green pants making it up

not splitting it ... not into sun signals

blurring myself into yourself ...

as if there were an other but there never was ...

and this big fiction starts any day ...


today is especially bad ... everybody's

green mouth ... blued for

everybody's eyes ... not the yarn

not the hero but the falling boy ... just that



Monday, April 17, 2006
what has happened to the world in the poem ...

where has it gone ... there is no world

in the poem it's gone ...


one should not propose the absence of the world ...

this confuses the places one ... where are you ... what might

one believe ... a crossing ... that water tastes like ...

or as forcing night down anyone's gullet ... where worlds

in ... o solitude ... paper to paper ... had one sense to know

liking a small one better than ... the world gone farther on ...


a lack one thinks of ... and a house full of lies ...

for belief take a goodness sakes alive child you're burning up ...

take the bill back it's too much in the wrong direction ...

hadn't you thought enough ... yes hadn't you gone on ...


enough


for anyone ... for bridge-building ... for any of wood on fire

a bucket stands for ... a reason stands for ... nodding into day

a day at a time one finds the likelihood thrilling ... going on

to say the world looks like an edifice today i'll buy it ...

grinning an idiot riding a bike ... the simplest things grown

out to you and me in our happy daily decisions and deaths ... a poem

contributes contains contradicts confers congregates considers

its day as easy as breathing ... whittling ... the lost art of ...

staying put for the next savagery ... say one has to look and comment ...

one must say something falling about ... and one must

stay falling in order ... as sense goes ... the world ... on and gone

one must listen again for breaking news

there ... there ... you hear ...



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