Friday, June 23, 2006
wind at this quarter-inch man ...
sparrows & wrens ...
then his masonic buzzsaw ...
a reichstag ... a white wall
the leaves said ... a puff of dust
these are the eternal verities
complaints ... blew black
into his eyes ...
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
in its reflections
the city hands itself
to itself &
about us in the shops
the city raining
likes each of the new
but close enough
to being nice
in the city
every line of walking
the city takes
for a walk
as for sleeping
in the city's eyes
enough to make
a new idea
pair of glasses
the city wants you
happy at last
a mile of light
in retirement spelling
there's yr girl she
put a whammy dawn
up the day
i'm not into that but
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
all of a sudden stops
a long light off stratford
a long fall through sweaters
a cough you can't shake
mind this isn't an actual
just a quiet raw affability
'd be very interested in
approval above almost anything else
were told correctly in conjunctions
were supposed to be self-
because we understood our own
better than the others could.
trembling toward prose i should
you might prefer a story
the bombing or the abandoned
of parents and their parents
grandchildren have been momentarily electrified
sent off to soft cells
mimes a giant wave smashing
the circumstances of their time
blue sense under old stones
the bottles or what you
they're finally good enough translations
into the original busy languages
have to imagine some noise
like never mind i don't
the greatest war film maybe
years oh it
former norm and
as the cause
industrial footage in
as if publicly
continuous musical denotation
of the poet's
mackerel and music
t o o
and ending with
Monday, June 19, 2006
some of these
but at least
see their badness
not fix them)
say some other
Sunday, June 18, 2006
my flickering nuisance in these caves ...
i'm a famous translator & yr my genuine protein ... elder ...
captain of calcium floats ... would be distillation of hubbub ...
i put my pronoun then my verb ... i step in a catholic gash ...
seismic stables ... stony steeds ... these are my verges &
my funny assumptions ... all about carpets & comic grammars ...
not a wet not a light in a fallen ... but pages & planks of them ...
Saturday, June 17, 2006
that there are wings and that i haven't got them is troubling ...
that there's some part of the world most of it even i'm not ...
that my windows are very small even too small shouldn't matter ...
that i'm the slug and there's the starkest crowing machinery ...
that combines with light to snatch me to its own black belly ...
that in this radio i'm the transistor not the tube that glows ...
that's no slinger of song or sensitive narrative conventions ...
that whisk away stony drops of doubt that there might be no end ...
that coming for me will entail a black bird and an answer ...
that i hadn't imagined how far i'd got along through delirium's wordy book ...
that pulled me like wings from cloud to cloud i was romantic you see ...
that which not even a carefully phrased death notice could do in ...
that because a kid goes on asking one need not answer just because ...
that everything has a reason but sleep is good too ...
that sleeping i stood through all the drowning bugs and icey leaves ...
that named me apart from themselves as one who might dissolve ...
that sunset wasn't all so beautiful as that not having wings ...
that shrill static frequency like glass is calling me names ...
that i haven't got like reins i dropped back in the nineteenth century ...
that i'm still watching in the tall grass whenever i see some ...
that turbulence could be moral kindliness or physical generosity ...
that these categories are boredom for no one's sake a laxative ...
that any failure to book flight continues and contains a long journey ...
that it's likely i never learned to grasp the quill properly ...
that even these are the days we need to apprehend in musical terror ...
that i'm occasionally the latter of two most likely outcomes ...
back to finish your phrase currently