I just can't. Getting to
the heart of the matter,
destiny for eternal larks,
no; but love, maybe
and for a long time after.
Anything: your chest,
for instance. Certainly
not perfect, but for me
perfect. Had for no want,
let's say, in that time.
Couldn't have, for
absurdity that you were,
terrible hairstyle, silly
fad shoes, penchant for
black; in all things.
Would; how the face
moves, did move, the
literacy challenges
(obvious in hindsight)
the pomegranate juice.
30 December 2009
on the Beach
The whole gay political primacy
of us all being on a beach, me
smaller than any of the others, but
muscular, wearing a tightly strung
up black bathing suit, butt flat out.
I am getting a headache from the sun,
lotions and sand and cigarette ash
are one thing to me. That Cornell
should appear in Neuromancer's
sequel; too much. This is the bathing
suit that I'm talking about. And my
penis sit in it here, glans pointing up.
Languor; the moist, damp, jungline
greens. Cutting through the plants
with a machete. Having brown skin,
black, even.
Throwing away the book, itself
composition of juxtaposed elements
and not just bone, lace, marble.
Effaced thing growing in the breech,
and the breech growing around it.
The book upended two feet distant
with beach sand inside of it's pages.
of us all being on a beach, me
smaller than any of the others, but
muscular, wearing a tightly strung
up black bathing suit, butt flat out.
I am getting a headache from the sun,
lotions and sand and cigarette ash
are one thing to me. That Cornell
should appear in Neuromancer's
sequel; too much. This is the bathing
suit that I'm talking about. And my
penis sit in it here, glans pointing up.
Languor; the moist, damp, jungline
greens. Cutting through the plants
with a machete. Having brown skin,
black, even.
Throwing away the book, itself
composition of juxtaposed elements
and not just bone, lace, marble.
Effaced thing growing in the breech,
and the breech growing around it.
The book upended two feet distant
with beach sand inside of it's pages.
28 December 2009
Coalescing
The evidence is coalescing.
Fear of the real word. Yes,
but— People with guns, people
doing terrible things in public.
Skinny-dip and the dress gets wet
anyway. And it is made of tulle
and once white silk, it is a night
gown, really. While you are
swimming it is singing and
still getting more damp, and
that medicine is what God does.
You and I are like a palsy that
takes hold of the legs. So that
when exiting the water and
and getting wet in the discarded
dress, stands on a wet rock that
is overlooking the dark water,
someone still swimming in it
possibly, knees feel drugged,
ankles are noticeably thinner.
Fear of the real word. Yes,
but— People with guns, people
doing terrible things in public.
Skinny-dip and the dress gets wet
anyway. And it is made of tulle
and once white silk, it is a night
gown, really. While you are
swimming it is singing and
still getting more damp, and
that medicine is what God does.
You and I are like a palsy that
takes hold of the legs. So that
when exiting the water and
and getting wet in the discarded
dress, stands on a wet rock that
is overlooking the dark water,
someone still swimming in it
possibly, knees feel drugged,
ankles are noticeably thinner.
the Jonsing
Today I saw you older
and I still love you, thought
that I wouldn't, did. Less
in your face, always a
nascent anorexic. Grew
over a life since then and left
this. Color can no longer
hide your white hair, given it up.
And you're deathly thin and I
like it. Less between us, simple
new shapes of your limbs, joints,
the small of your back swoops flat,
and I am a monumental disaster,
I burned a hole through the carpet
by being slow-witted. I'll grow
Roman ringlets, eat better, eat
less. The Jonses are disappearing,
and you and me are like that,
we are like that one over there.
Swelling
I have no authority in that direction.
A handful of change, no reason
for holding it, nothing to buy with it,
not even enough change to buy with.
Other change ills, like when you stopped
being an alcoholic and our conversations
went to complete shit. You, not having
chaos and the balls then to use it. Fuck.
The good things go so readily, but
don't they? The God-given right
to compose novels of the lost Christ
which is all of us, sometimes. Odd,
how the hair still stands up, my unwilling
it, and that Patenson (whether right or not)
in an affectation lost, stays still, watches
"Alien," maybe, or "Alien: Resurrection"
because he is working his way through
french cinema, and can't stand it.
Considers cigarettes, regardlessly
unfulfilling and counts quarters
he would need to buy a new pack.
Because (though not inconsiderable)
a quarter seems not much to ask
of a friend, when in that state.
27 December 2009
David Lynch
David Lynch would
wear a tan coat
and have a grey
quiff all his life.
As a new switch cut
into the main trunk;
wears cologne too.
Tin can all semblences in.
The work of old boots
gathered into
a rubber band
that'll not last;
women too, that'll
sustain a facial tattoo;
or a dream tattoo
grows and still grows.
wear a tan coat
and have a grey
quiff all his life.
As a new switch cut
into the main trunk;
wears cologne too.
Tin can all semblences in.
The work of old boots
gathered into
a rubber band
that'll not last;
women too, that'll
sustain a facial tattoo;
or a dream tattoo
grows and still grows.
Passing Away
Why we dated; supposedly
awning of liquor for some time.
What behind bangs? What behind
'em?! Astringent for nought.
Jaw line also is for nought.
By virtue of their being chosen
forty two men hence turn
to forty six quickly. Oh my god,
quickly. Truncated, fucked so
well as to be sleeping. Until
coming hurt not in the body.
My bangs grow out over time
and will not say that whatever
surceases because does though is
so dull.
awning of liquor for some time.
What behind bangs? What behind
'em?! Astringent for nought.
Jaw line also is for nought.
By virtue of their being chosen
forty two men hence turn
to forty six quickly. Oh my god,
quickly. Truncated, fucked so
well as to be sleeping. Until
coming hurt not in the body.
My bangs grow out over time
and will not say that whatever
surceases because does though is
so dull.
a Tally
Got to fifty today in tallying
fuckable men. You were only
three of these; David, Percival (!),
Brad.
fuckable men. You were only
three of these; David, Percival (!),
Brad.
Love
Through ignorance and being
very busy this place tells me
to "make do." All of the walls
say it. When I am sleeping
and when I masturbate. Brick
take. And I took that brick
home heartily. And I am
here. Smear of new printed
material so new printed material.
So here and farther, though
transatlantic cables do connect us
so less than this. Love
I am sharing my drugs with you.
I am growing up a new child
having all of the right things been done.
I am smart, vocal, have written
a short novel of space bananas,
am broken, unbearable, go to good school.
very busy this place tells me
to "make do." All of the walls
say it. When I am sleeping
and when I masturbate. Brick
take. And I took that brick
home heartily. And I am
here. Smear of new printed
material so new printed material.
So here and farther, though
transatlantic cables do connect us
so less than this. Love
I am sharing my drugs with you.
I am growing up a new child
having all of the right things been done.
I am smart, vocal, have written
a short novel of space bananas,
am broken, unbearable, go to good school.
17 December 2009
Having Carried It
If I could befriend you
and the loving surcease
even tangentially
I'd begin by degrees.
Efficacy of this measured
in less drinking. Or I'd
move to the West Coast
like everyone seems to.
But Seattle and Portland deadening too.
San Francisco? does
the fog mean finding?
Increasingly finds life
living. And the little things;
facial hair, whether or not
to buy that breakfast sandwich,
if I should be dating
your old boyfriend are all
often; keep being. We
could eat everything. With
the color all leeched out.
What is in your leather brief
-case? Let us smoke together.
Waves are like this too, I
have seen them scattered
on a beachhead, here, some
twenty meters further, still
some two or three yards
past that, crashing. The moon,
she decides incrementally
how they whence, but not as this.
The old chest superimposed
over the new chest. It comes
out less, wrong. Wish you
could love the parallel scars
on my forearm I sustained
as a boy when dropping
the box with the jig-saw on top,
laid teeth up, and fell upon it.
And for you to be angry
that such a box existed and
that I should have carried it.
and the loving surcease
even tangentially
I'd begin by degrees.
Efficacy of this measured
in less drinking. Or I'd
move to the West Coast
like everyone seems to.
But Seattle and Portland deadening too.
San Francisco? does
the fog mean finding?
Increasingly finds life
living. And the little things;
facial hair, whether or not
to buy that breakfast sandwich,
if I should be dating
your old boyfriend are all
often; keep being. We
could eat everything. With
the color all leeched out.
What is in your leather brief
-case? Let us smoke together.
Waves are like this too, I
have seen them scattered
on a beachhead, here, some
twenty meters further, still
some two or three yards
past that, crashing. The moon,
she decides incrementally
how they whence, but not as this.
The old chest superimposed
over the new chest. It comes
out less, wrong. Wish you
could love the parallel scars
on my forearm I sustained
as a boy when dropping
the box with the jig-saw on top,
laid teeth up, and fell upon it.
And for you to be angry
that such a box existed and
that I should have carried it.
10 December 2009
This Thursday
On Thursday I will throttle you.
Drech of the week thinner, then
bacchanal on the tongues of
all choristers I am. And you too!
What loveliness when the grey
hairs return to your temples, my
choking the color from them. I
will not lie to you and say "This
is not a poem of my unrequited
love." Because it is. And how you
had so potential to make me
a better person, and I you. And I
am really trying to hold on until
Thursday. And you die in my
hands, and I you. And they
reconstruct us as one vilianesse.
Drech of the week thinner, then
bacchanal on the tongues of
all choristers I am. And you too!
What loveliness when the grey
hairs return to your temples, my
choking the color from them. I
will not lie to you and say "This
is not a poem of my unrequited
love." Because it is. And how you
had so potential to make me
a better person, and I you. And I
am really trying to hold on until
Thursday. And you die in my
hands, and I you. And they
reconstruct us as one vilianesse.
07 December 2009
Seeing
I don't know what
my body means
but finally seems
sensible, peeing
in a you-adjacent
urinal and you peeing
too.
Boyhood never was
like this but not
for lack of trying.
my body means
but finally seems
sensible, peeing
in a you-adjacent
urinal and you peeing
too.
Boyhood never was
like this but not
for lack of trying.
05 December 2009
the Exodus
Should this not be an exercise in faith
and not despondency? I wont to hear
you in whatever way again voraciously.
Up ended, again. Over the roakes, past
car crash-site, over (even) glowing piles
of embers to arrive at this. Ta! Fare thee
weller upon leaving than at first arrival.
Or fare farther, however. Woods sloughed
off this too while crossing through them.
'A psychosexual thriller' of waiting. Offed
these same woods, however made to
planks and into the water of not one
man, but three men: the overages of them
that pushed a space out in the sand
and made it glass by heating, so that
no one thing can live there afterwards;
water may collect there happily and
stagnate. And covering up this little space
that's been made by whomever.
The lip above of the turned-in ends of basin.
Why're they there? To corrupt this? To hold
this in? I remember laughter. Not from
anyone, but thrice. I recall the taste of liquor
that had no properties, and ice
that made one draw together, steele ones
-elf against the coming cold. Made one
consider cutting something out of life.
and not despondency? I wont to hear
you in whatever way again voraciously.
Up ended, again. Over the roakes, past
car crash-site, over (even) glowing piles
of embers to arrive at this. Ta! Fare thee
weller upon leaving than at first arrival.
Or fare farther, however. Woods sloughed
off this too while crossing through them.
'A psychosexual thriller' of waiting. Offed
these same woods, however made to
planks and into the water of not one
man, but three men: the overages of them
that pushed a space out in the sand
and made it glass by heating, so that
no one thing can live there afterwards;
water may collect there happily and
stagnate. And covering up this little space
that's been made by whomever.
The lip above of the turned-in ends of basin.
Why're they there? To corrupt this? To hold
this in? I remember laughter. Not from
anyone, but thrice. I recall the taste of liquor
that had no properties, and ice
that made one draw together, steele ones
-elf against the coming cold. Made one
consider cutting something out of life.
Something Glorious is About to Happen
May I know less about
your face please?
It's contours where pores
give way to hairs
sporadically. Jesus
Christ was once your
age, who helped lepers
and befriended them
—and whores! No
filthless wretch among them
filthless. But I You.
Your mentor is a farce,
I think; the cartoon part
of Animus; enough
for you to emulate, dully.
But who knows how
good music evolves these
days. Their prancing with
bass held out like a forecourt
of debauchery before their
pelvis. Litter of red plastic
tumblers. I love you.
your face please?
It's contours where pores
give way to hairs
sporadically. Jesus
Christ was once your
age, who helped lepers
and befriended them
—and whores! No
filthless wretch among them
filthless. But I You.
Your mentor is a farce,
I think; the cartoon part
of Animus; enough
for you to emulate, dully.
But who knows how
good music evolves these
days. Their prancing with
bass held out like a forecourt
of debauchery before their
pelvis. Litter of red plastic
tumblers. I love you.
04 December 2009
the Quorum
Patrick, it has begun
snowing again. In it, age
comes impassively as
eve growing over a scene
of old kudzu. And it has nearly
been a year since I cusped
on you. No recognition
of despondency. No thinness
after meeting, as a trace
covering of snow would be.
Or early April, after this
winter's over, when things
fell apart again. And you
stopped shaving to placate me.
I want to tell you what has happened
in the intervening year
but love metaphor too much.
I want to compare unfavorably
the intervening men and
make a quorum of us.
snowing again. In it, age
comes impassively as
eve growing over a scene
of old kudzu. And it has nearly
been a year since I cusped
on you. No recognition
of despondency. No thinness
after meeting, as a trace
covering of snow would be.
Or early April, after this
winter's over, when things
fell apart again. And you
stopped shaving to placate me.
I want to tell you what has happened
in the intervening year
but love metaphor too much.
I want to compare unfavorably
the intervening men and
make a quorum of us.
28 November 2009
Nigh On Transcendence
When this happened
all one wanted
was a moment
of verisimilitude, and
thought of that, and then
to find it!
even after just
having been the subject
of furtive glances
or a near miss
with Julian Lennon,
or wayward taxicab
and then done. One
awash still with the feel
of knees broken sideways,
still the soft starstruck
of not knowing what to say
to John Lennon's son.
Until after this malfeasance
a waving teen boy's face
in a train window
as two cars alight
in opposing directions.
all one wanted
was a moment
of verisimilitude, and
thought of that, and then
to find it!
even after just
having been the subject
of furtive glances
or a near miss
with Julian Lennon,
or wayward taxicab
and then done. One
awash still with the feel
of knees broken sideways,
still the soft starstruck
of not knowing what to say
to John Lennon's son.
Until after this malfeasance
a waving teen boy's face
in a train window
as two cars alight
in opposing directions.
27 November 2009
Poems I've Written
'Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull'
[A British novelist...]
[A taste]
[An Elephant]
[Ed Rucha, Phil]
[Everyone has ugly thighs]
[Growing in the grasses]
[I have a headache]
[Impromptu list un-]
[It's okay for you to be a slave to assonance]
[Oh bitterness]
[Oh even though]
[Olympics drawing to a close]
[one]
[Set]
[Simply put]
[Swimming down the rustic bay]
[The connect in]
[The cut's nor that bad—It's]
[They say you want it differently]
[Today I'm on the beach]
[Use the 12"]
[What depends on a Japanese man]
[Whiling away the hours]
[You can be careful with complacency]
a Bad Omen
a Bad Week
a Castle in Malibu
a Coup for Columbian FARC Hostages
a Gift of Anton Yelchin
a Life Bisected
a Paucity of Hope
a Pomeranian
a Proposal of Marriage
a Universal Declaration of Human Rights
a Walk
a Wallet, Found
ad Astra per Panton
After Polar Low
All Christendom
American Culture
Amply
an Albatross
an Andiron
an Idyll
an Ornithology Book
Analogue to Hope
Ancient Roads
Apples
Arrested
at the Sarlaac Pit
Autumn Song
Bad Teacher
Battlement
Beach Vacation
Beed
Being Careful
Betterment
Black Suede Jacket
Brett
Building a Tunnel
Building Love
Bums
Can Change This
Cavalcade of Want
Chance Encounter
Chicago Fire II
Chicago's' Greek Salad
Children's Orchestra
Classic Hallmarks
Classicism
Clear Drinks
Climbing a Cliff
Clone Wars Volume V the Best Blades
Coffee in a French Press
Coming Winter
Common Vole
Commuting
Commuting to Bliss
Concessions
Concretism
Condensate
Condensed
cone
Constancy
Continuing
Coupon Expert
Covered
Cursive
Cyclone in Burma
Dad
Dania, Dan, Cheeba, Return of the Jedi
Dark Horticulture
Dear You
Decency
Dedication
Demon Goddess Lilith
Destroyer
Directing Meaning
Dream of Love
Drudgery
Drudgery (2)
Drudgery (3)
Duum
Early Aughts Excesses
Earnestry
Economy of Pixels
Eire
Electrical Sockets
Elegy on Nietzsche
Exit
Expatriotism
False Prophets
Fashion Model
Fear of Displacement
Fey
Fight
Finding the End of Books
Finding the Rain Evaporated
Fixing Us
Fleeing and FIghting Anyway
Foal
Friends
Frontierism
Further about the tower of which you must have heard everyone speaking
Further Complications
G8
Galosh
Gentle Jig
Giving Up
Glass and Mirror
Glass and Mirror (2)
Golden Penny
Grecian Independence
Green Endive
Guns and Holsters
Halcyons
Half
Handicap Acclimation
Hard Luck Brothers
Hard Work
Hard Work (2)
Hardship
Harry Kim
He
Herring Bone
Hey, Moisturize!
Hi Red Center
Hissing, Spitting
Holes Darning
Holiday
Hot Wax, Water
Houndstooth
How to be More Like Robert Creeley
How to Buy Shrimp
Hurtling
I Don't Go
I Get to Wear Cut Off Shorts Too
I Hate Modern Photography
I Know
I make something. Things get worse.
I'm Too Fat
Ian
Imagist
Immorality
in Allusion to Olympia
In Soil
In the Bag
In the Tall Grass
Inside You
Is a Terrible Day for Gay RIghts
Is Miserabler
J.S. Leifheit
Japanese Maple
Jean-Michel Basquiat
José Begonia
King of the Hill
Learning
Light
Literature I Like
Lithely
Little Thrush
Lost Father
Lost Princess
Love
Love (2)
Love's Comeuppance
Lovers
Lying Lips
Make Do or Do Without
Makes Weak
Market Forces
Marriaging
Meal
Meaning Less
Memorandum of Activists
Mercury's Girlfriend
Mercury's Helmet
Mercury's Weekend
Merry Christmas
Messing Up an Internet Purchase, Twice
Meth
Mind Made Family
Missed
Missing Out
Mob, Moors
Model of Duress
Modernism, Postmodernism, Postmodernism
Moving Life
Mutual Assurance
My Bicycle
My Generation
My Love
My New Four-Pack
My Too Late Love, for the Mexican
Negative Qualities
Night
No Avail
North
Not Having Been an Internist
Not Knowing Better about Angela
Novilo
Obliviation
Ode on Geryon
of Triads
Offal
Old Designs
On and Under Large Wall
On the Road
Opening
Our Parents
Pail
Pax
Perpetuity
Pickling Liquid, Large Glasses
Plea
Plea for Better Media
Polyglot Response
Pregnancy
Progress
Pumpkin GIrl
Punctured Tube, Possible Futures
Push Hard Saloon Doors
Quicksilver
Quiet Living
Rawinsode
Reading to Children
Redwing Blackbird
Reliquary
Remarkable
Remembrances (Clothing)
Returns
Rewriting the Debut Novel
Ruins of Pride
Run Amok Animus
Rycine
Sad Penguin
Sapling Growing Cold
Saturn
Scorned Lover
Scrim Shack
Sections
Sending the Red Pennon
Servitude
Setbacks
Setting the Red Pennon
Slow Down
Smells
Solitary Holiday
Sounds Mimic Cities
Springs
Stay Strong Friends, Spring is on the Way
Staying Broken Up in Alaska
Stick Song
Stravinsky
Summer Wedding
Summer, 2007
Summer, 2007 (2)
Summer, 2007 (3)
Sunrise-Dusk
Switching to Digital Cable
Tantalizing
Tapes
Tattoo
Teenagers
the Art of the Unfortunate
the Best of All Possible Worlds
the Birth of Nandi
the Colossus of All Hope
the Compound
the Contropposto Youth and Hidden Crone
the Counterrevolution of the Problem with Avant-Gardism
the Distant Flap of Fireworks
the Dream
the Effect of Vinnie Leaving
the End of Anglican Communion
the End of Critique Week
the End of March
the End of Big Government
the Estrella de Mar
the Fraternity
the Full Tumult of the Fall
the Haunting
the Hellhound and the Platypus
the Last Great Snowman
The Life that Women Make
the Lonely Arts
the Object of My Affection
the Office (U.S.)
the Personal God
the Pressure Pattern's Millibars
the Pull is Here
the Quiet Collective
the Ready Descent
the Republic
the Retreat
the Reverse Compatriot
the Sapling Growing Cold
the Spy Park
the Subfusc Gem
the Three Steles of Seth
the Truth
the Twinning Council
the Wind of Change (for millennial poets)
the Winter and Our Escape
the Wooden Life
This, less, less, less, zero
Three Things that You Are
To Summer
to the Ground After Quake
to the Wheel
Tony Blair's Briton
Too Plump Cherry
Trepidation
Tripwire, Anxiety or Getting into the Castle
Triskedekaphobia
Trumble
Trust
Tumult at Sea
Two Tools
Under a Bushel
Us
Vegetarianism
Velvet Trap
Very Important
Veteran
Vortex
Wakefulness
We
We FIght
We War
Wearing a Wood Shirt
What
What Dead Does
What Happened Besides the Barbecue
What is embroidered into the conceptual space between wires
What John and I Were
What Love Was
When He Finally Resigns to my Loving Him and to the Family We'll Have
When I was 35
Why are you wearing boots and a fanny pack?
Wish
Work
Work Traveller
You are my shining star
You Can Do It
You're Hurting Me
Your Notebook
Zimbabwe in Crisis
Zombie
[A British novelist...]
[A taste]
[An Elephant]
[Ed Rucha, Phil]
[Everyone has ugly thighs]
[Growing in the grasses]
[I have a headache]
[Impromptu list un-]
[It's okay for you to be a slave to assonance]
[Oh bitterness]
[Oh even though]
[Olympics drawing to a close]
[one]
[Set]
[Simply put]
[Swimming down the rustic bay]
[The connect in]
[The cut's nor that bad—It's]
[They say you want it differently]
[Today I'm on the beach]
[Use the 12"]
[What depends on a Japanese man]
[Whiling away the hours]
[You can be careful with complacency]
a Bad Omen
a Bad Week
a Castle in Malibu
a Coup for Columbian FARC Hostages
a Gift of Anton Yelchin
a Life Bisected
a Paucity of Hope
a Pomeranian
a Proposal of Marriage
a Universal Declaration of Human Rights
a Walk
a Wallet, Found
ad Astra per Panton
After Polar Low
All Christendom
American Culture
Amply
an Albatross
an Andiron
an Idyll
an Ornithology Book
Analogue to Hope
Ancient Roads
Apples
Arrested
at the Sarlaac Pit
Autumn Song
Bad Teacher
Battlement
Beach Vacation
Beed
Being Careful
Betterment
Black Suede Jacket
Brett
Building a Tunnel
Building Love
Bums
Can Change This
Cavalcade of Want
Chance Encounter
Chicago Fire II
Chicago's' Greek Salad
Children's Orchestra
Classic Hallmarks
Classicism
Clear Drinks
Climbing a Cliff
Clone Wars Volume V the Best Blades
Coffee in a French Press
Coming Winter
Common Vole
Commuting
Commuting to Bliss
Concessions
Concretism
Condensate
Condensed
cone
Constancy
Continuing
Coupon Expert
Covered
Cursive
Cyclone in Burma
Dad
Dania, Dan, Cheeba, Return of the Jedi
Dark Horticulture
Dear You
Decency
Dedication
Demon Goddess Lilith
Destroyer
Directing Meaning
Dream of Love
Drudgery
Drudgery (2)
Drudgery (3)
Duum
Early Aughts Excesses
Earnestry
Economy of Pixels
Eire
Electrical Sockets
Elegy on Nietzsche
Exit
Expatriotism
False Prophets
Fashion Model
Fear of Displacement
Fey
Fight
Finding the End of Books
Finding the Rain Evaporated
Fixing Us
Fleeing and FIghting Anyway
Foal
Friends
Frontierism
Further about the tower of which you must have heard everyone speaking
Further Complications
G8
Galosh
Gentle Jig
Giving Up
Glass and Mirror
Glass and Mirror (2)
Golden Penny
Grecian Independence
Green Endive
Guns and Holsters
Halcyons
Half
Handicap Acclimation
Hard Luck Brothers
Hard Work
Hard Work (2)
Hardship
Harry Kim
He
Herring Bone
Hey, Moisturize!
Hi Red Center
Hissing, Spitting
Holes Darning
Holiday
Hot Wax, Water
Houndstooth
How to be More Like Robert Creeley
How to Buy Shrimp
Hurtling
I Don't Go
I Get to Wear Cut Off Shorts Too
I Hate Modern Photography
I Know
I make something. Things get worse.
I'm Too Fat
Ian
Imagist
Immorality
in Allusion to Olympia
In Soil
In the Bag
In the Tall Grass
Inside You
Is a Terrible Day for Gay RIghts
Is Miserabler
J.S. Leifheit
Japanese Maple
Jean-Michel Basquiat
José Begonia
King of the Hill
Learning
Light
Literature I Like
Lithely
Little Thrush
Lost Father
Lost Princess
Love
Love (2)
Love's Comeuppance
Lovers
Lying Lips
Make Do or Do Without
Makes Weak
Market Forces
Marriaging
Meal
Meaning Less
Memorandum of Activists
Mercury's Girlfriend
Mercury's Helmet
Mercury's Weekend
Merry Christmas
Messing Up an Internet Purchase, Twice
Meth
Mind Made Family
Missed
Missing Out
Mob, Moors
Model of Duress
Modernism, Postmodernism, Postmodernism
Moving Life
Mutual Assurance
My Bicycle
My Generation
My Love
My New Four-Pack
My Too Late Love, for the Mexican
Negative Qualities
Night
No Avail
North
Not Having Been an Internist
Not Knowing Better about Angela
Novilo
Obliviation
Ode on Geryon
of Triads
Offal
Old Designs
On and Under Large Wall
On the Road
Opening
Our Parents
Pail
Pax
Perpetuity
Pickling Liquid, Large Glasses
Plea
Plea for Better Media
Polyglot Response
Pregnancy
Progress
Pumpkin GIrl
Punctured Tube, Possible Futures
Push Hard Saloon Doors
Quicksilver
Quiet Living
Rawinsode
Reading to Children
Redwing Blackbird
Reliquary
Remarkable
Remembrances (Clothing)
Returns
Rewriting the Debut Novel
Ruins of Pride
Run Amok Animus
Rycine
Sad Penguin
Sapling Growing Cold
Saturn
Scorned Lover
Scrim Shack
Sections
Sending the Red Pennon
Servitude
Setbacks
Setting the Red Pennon
Slow Down
Smells
Solitary Holiday
Sounds Mimic Cities
Springs
Stay Strong Friends, Spring is on the Way
Staying Broken Up in Alaska
Stick Song
Stravinsky
Summer Wedding
Summer, 2007
Summer, 2007 (2)
Summer, 2007 (3)
Sunrise-Dusk
Switching to Digital Cable
Tantalizing
Tapes
Tattoo
Teenagers
the Art of the Unfortunate
the Best of All Possible Worlds
the Birth of Nandi
the Colossus of All Hope
the Compound
the Contropposto Youth and Hidden Crone
the Counterrevolution of the Problem with Avant-Gardism
the Distant Flap of Fireworks
the Dream
the Effect of Vinnie Leaving
the End of Anglican Communion
the End of Critique Week
the End of March
the End of Big Government
the Estrella de Mar
the Fraternity
the Full Tumult of the Fall
the Haunting
the Hellhound and the Platypus
the Last Great Snowman
The Life that Women Make
the Lonely Arts
the Object of My Affection
the Office (U.S.)
the Personal God
the Pressure Pattern's Millibars
the Pull is Here
the Quiet Collective
the Ready Descent
the Republic
the Retreat
the Reverse Compatriot
the Sapling Growing Cold
the Spy Park
the Subfusc Gem
the Three Steles of Seth
the Truth
the Twinning Council
the Wind of Change (for millennial poets)
the Winter and Our Escape
the Wooden Life
This, less, less, less, zero
Three Things that You Are
To Summer
to the Ground After Quake
to the Wheel
Tony Blair's Briton
Too Plump Cherry
Trepidation
Tripwire, Anxiety or Getting into the Castle
Triskedekaphobia
Trumble
Trust
Tumult at Sea
Two Tools
Under a Bushel
Us
Vegetarianism
Velvet Trap
Very Important
Veteran
Vortex
Wakefulness
We
We FIght
We War
Wearing a Wood Shirt
What
What Dead Does
What Happened Besides the Barbecue
What is embroidered into the conceptual space between wires
What John and I Were
What Love Was
When He Finally Resigns to my Loving Him and to the Family We'll Have
When I was 35
Why are you wearing boots and a fanny pack?
Wish
Work
Work Traveller
You are my shining star
You Can Do It
You're Hurting Me
Your Notebook
Zimbabwe in Crisis
Zombie
26 November 2009
in Allusion to Olympia
I would have commissioned
a portrait of you, something
of vinyl house paint and pubic hair
to hang horizontally over
the futon in your living room.
I pictured you reclining in it,
modestly (as if you ever could, you cunt!)
obscuring your genitals with a cupped hand,
because love means thinking
better of you than you are.
a portrait of you, something
of vinyl house paint and pubic hair
to hang horizontally over
the futon in your living room.
I pictured you reclining in it,
modestly (as if you ever could, you cunt!)
obscuring your genitals with a cupped hand,
because love means thinking
better of you than you are.
25 November 2009
the Contrapposto Youth and Hidden Crone
You please go
play baseball,
or fiddle little
violin outdoors.
I will stay here
with Sappho.
When you are
naked, hip thrust
up to meet your
lowered shoulder
blade, I'll hold you
thus in memory
and see the fey
sun alight your
contours, through
the skin as milky
ice, and will not
mar the thing
with what's said
but with another
looming corpus,
black, stony as
Rodin's Balzac
but silenter.
play baseball,
or fiddle little
violin outdoors.
I will stay here
with Sappho.
When you are
naked, hip thrust
up to meet your
lowered shoulder
blade, I'll hold you
thus in memory
and see the fey
sun alight your
contours, through
the skin as milky
ice, and will not
mar the thing
with what's said
but with another
looming corpus,
black, stony as
Rodin's Balzac
but silenter.
21 November 2009
What John and I Were
So much,
cut back.
This until
first appeal
is all gone.
Left with smaller
trapezoidal
thing.
The heart
of it, maybe.
How "Still
loving this,"
"still wanting
your body,"
"Thinking
you're funny,"
"enjoying
your company,"
is the sharp
edges of
hewn corners.
How we,
until were
this crystalized
thing, were
obese; yet
could not
see it.
cut back.
This until
first appeal
is all gone.
Left with smaller
trapezoidal
thing.
The heart
of it, maybe.
How "Still
loving this,"
"still wanting
your body,"
"Thinking
you're funny,"
"enjoying
your company,"
is the sharp
edges of
hewn corners.
How we,
until were
this crystalized
thing, were
obese; yet
could not
see it.
18 November 2009
a Paucity of Hope
Here is a test, and
here is another test and
here is another test and
here is another test. And
here is a paucity that is left
but's made of the substance
of constancy, at least. And the piss
and vinegar swill of you. And
the fire unquencht but provided for.
And the smoking hole in the chest.
And the still smoking hole
in the back of the chest, from
where the heart abuts up to
and upon closer inspection
can't tell if it's heat from the
cauterized wound that makes
this or if it comes from even
deeper in.
here is another test and
here is another test and
here is another test. And
here is a paucity that is left
but's made of the substance
of constancy, at least. And the piss
and vinegar swill of you. And
the fire unquencht but provided for.
And the smoking hole in the chest.
And the still smoking hole
in the back of the chest, from
where the heart abuts up to
and upon closer inspection
can't tell if it's heat from the
cauterized wound that makes
this or if it comes from even
deeper in.
17 November 2009
an Andiron
In this place I am
congenitally predisposed
to weakness.
And am thusly as one
andiron which is nearly
worthless
but for keeping the potential
of the smallest fires in,
if in an isthmus.
congenitally predisposed
to weakness.
And am thusly as one
andiron which is nearly
worthless
but for keeping the potential
of the smallest fires in,
if in an isthmus.
Wakefulness
He finally has come to rapidity, maybe,
too late. Like five'o'clock in the morning
when he woke up in a huff, crying, maybe
and the blank cameo that wasn't there
or still was there, which was worse.
And the trains that he boarded; late, or
crashed. The tin can of the tin can of the
tin can, indignant, unwilling to give up
the remembering and fills with water
and sinks promptly and irretrievably.
And when given him what should have
been a little golden Guadeloupe makes
him "nearly feel like" he loves you.
Makes him wake from a dream and think
what went too slowly was pushed quicker.
too late. Like five'o'clock in the morning
when he woke up in a huff, crying, maybe
and the blank cameo that wasn't there
or still was there, which was worse.
And the trains that he boarded; late, or
crashed. The tin can of the tin can of the
tin can, indignant, unwilling to give up
the remembering and fills with water
and sinks promptly and irretrievably.
And when given him what should have
been a little golden Guadeloupe makes
him "nearly feel like" he loves you.
Makes him wake from a dream and think
what went too slowly was pushed quicker.
to the Wheel
An abruptness volcano says
you are becoming sick of this;
and I am. The humming of
the grindstone against us is
wearing a groove that's the width
that it's flat cylindrical side is.
You are the grind wheel and I am
pushing the pedal and gears of life
or the great fleshy lack of them.
I know exhaustion too of what
flattens a life; of the thousand
small grains of sandstone in a pile.
you are becoming sick of this;
and I am. The humming of
the grindstone against us is
wearing a groove that's the width
that it's flat cylindrical side is.
You are the grind wheel and I am
pushing the pedal and gears of life
or the great fleshy lack of them.
I know exhaustion too of what
flattens a life; of the thousand
small grains of sandstone in a pile.
15 November 2009
Chance Encounter
Hope halving, each
having a little home
within that home, &
discovery of not
coming up by itself.
As much as you are
him, I am your dead
boyfriend. The long
-ing want of glance
gone straight through
my face. Inverted,
does too. You glance
back, you glance
away from my face
when irises uncorner.
You follow me from
the train, for a time,
& are erecter all
the while, thinking
of dead lover, of
now-dead lover. &
move over one step
in the gutter. Traffic
lane and then other
but the night empty
through plastered
brick wall and into
cemetery where he
is not, but's nearer
my house. And then
even farther, the
north part of town.
The new and ever
growing tower that
is rounded.
having a little home
within that home, &
discovery of not
coming up by itself.
As much as you are
him, I am your dead
boyfriend. The long
-ing want of glance
gone straight through
my face. Inverted,
does too. You glance
back, you glance
away from my face
when irises uncorner.
You follow me from
the train, for a time,
& are erecter all
the while, thinking
of dead lover, of
now-dead lover. &
move over one step
in the gutter. Traffic
lane and then other
but the night empty
through plastered
brick wall and into
cemetery where he
is not, but's nearer
my house. And then
even farther, the
north part of town.
The new and ever
growing tower that
is rounded.
13 November 2009
the Colossus of All Hope
If this is endlessness
than I am exceedingly lost.
If the wretch of anxiety
of all things I am could
catch up, would split
and become two images
that are the Colossus of all hope standing.
Stopping. Not revolving.
Not wearing the new clothes
that are pressed that I laid out.
than I am exceedingly lost.
If the wretch of anxiety
of all things I am could
catch up, would split
and become two images
that are the Colossus of all hope standing.
Stopping. Not revolving.
Not wearing the new clothes
that are pressed that I laid out.
10 November 2009
of Triads
Of triads, who cruxes?
My friend Dan has
a boyfriend too lad.
Lagers every night, white
gowns in the morning.
It's trying and they
are dying every night.
Artificially alights this
life, and loves too.
Growing up jubilant branches
a tad too florid, but expressive.
They went to a dance
together, Dan bought him
a boutonniere of red roses.
My friend Dan has
a boyfriend too lad.
Lagers every night, white
gowns in the morning.
It's trying and they
are dying every night.
Artificially alights this
life, and loves too.
Growing up jubilant branches
a tad too florid, but expressive.
They went to a dance
together, Dan bought him
a boutonniere of red roses.
04 November 2009
Our Parents
Cognac; what it means to both our parents.
Mine, sitting stilly in a parlor. Both hands,
both glasses filled with amber liquor and two
large ice cubes, disconcertingly devoid of milky
veil of air bubbles (how do they do this?)
And yours, hands crosst in their burlap laps.
First knuckles—where the palms are concerned
—are nearly rubbed raw, the red flesh below
the first layer of dermis on the thin skin of the hands
is exposed to plain air; all of it laid blandly open.
Mine, sitting stilly in a parlor. Both hands,
both glasses filled with amber liquor and two
large ice cubes, disconcertingly devoid of milky
veil of air bubbles (how do they do this?)
And yours, hands crosst in their burlap laps.
First knuckles—where the palms are concerned
—are nearly rubbed raw, the red flesh below
the first layer of dermis on the thin skin of the hands
is exposed to plain air; all of it laid blandly open.
Lovers
World weary as a state of first
existence when he harried by
newly white-washed walls comes
over, sees the walls, has brought
a small but lovely bouquet of flowers
all blue irises and florid pouf of a
white carnation set strangely
in the middle as a locus of us,
props up the flowers in impromptu
vase that's filled with water. Finds
himself silently unsatisfied. Diddles
a cigarette, plays with a tall glass
martini, drinks from it, maybe. Hums
a silent song from way back. Kisses
the cheek when first seeing after long
absence or when going into it.
existence when he harried by
newly white-washed walls comes
over, sees the walls, has brought
a small but lovely bouquet of flowers
all blue irises and florid pouf of a
white carnation set strangely
in the middle as a locus of us,
props up the flowers in impromptu
vase that's filled with water. Finds
himself silently unsatisfied. Diddles
a cigarette, plays with a tall glass
martini, drinks from it, maybe. Hums
a silent song from way back. Kisses
the cheek when first seeing after long
absence or when going into it.
29 October 2009
Halcyons
No abstinence left could prevent this.
Though separate we abut, adjoining homes
or at least our lots are touching. What
caution now but to prevent this the burning
at both ends of this, both doors out.
Though separate we abut, adjoining homes
or at least our lots are touching. What
caution now but to prevent this the burning
at both ends of this, both doors out.
28 October 2009
Vortex
VIbrant tones, this is not a poem
about the changing leaves of Autumn.
Is about the lonesome things up
-ended in a local storm, a very
local storm.
about the changing leaves of Autumn.
Is about the lonesome things up
-ended in a local storm, a very
local storm.
27 October 2009
Condensed
As a boy composed of both
is worth. Currently is
upswelling upon a constant
stream, bouyed up by Saturn
(apparently). Composite of two
Matriarchies, lifting on the bottom
of a surface built of I-beams
and steel bolts that maybe are
these women condensed,
crystalline in structure when together.
is worth. Currently is
upswelling upon a constant
stream, bouyed up by Saturn
(apparently). Composite of two
Matriarchies, lifting on the bottom
of a surface built of I-beams
and steel bolts that maybe are
these women condensed,
crystalline in structure when together.
23 October 2009
Hurtling
Laying sidelong in a ditch
and comforting in pitchy briars.
At least fire can't eat this
cherubic child, but I can.
The crown of his head
susceptible to large talons.
His hands and feet curled
in the exhale of a large yawn.
And if I ate it, I'd eat it
and ravage the fit of eating
and live a little longer for it.
And if I the child I would
fight for life from giant jaws
or scalpel-like knife.
A pile of old Harpers Bazaars
as a pillow; the plasticized paper
is oxidizing and the joints are
inoperable in wrinkled atrophy.
My being sewn by the pitch
to the dirt on either rising side
slope. The running past me
feather-touch of drainage.
The futurist sense of being
on the edge of something moving
quickly, exciting toward it's quarry
in the white torrents of a river.
and comforting in pitchy briars.
At least fire can't eat this
cherubic child, but I can.
The crown of his head
susceptible to large talons.
His hands and feet curled
in the exhale of a large yawn.
And if I ate it, I'd eat it
and ravage the fit of eating
and live a little longer for it.
And if I the child I would
fight for life from giant jaws
or scalpel-like knife.
A pile of old Harpers Bazaars
as a pillow; the plasticized paper
is oxidizing and the joints are
inoperable in wrinkled atrophy.
My being sewn by the pitch
to the dirt on either rising side
slope. The running past me
feather-touch of drainage.
The futurist sense of being
on the edge of something moving
quickly, exciting toward it's quarry
in the white torrents of a river.
a Life Bisected
When we said "Some of this will
lessen us," this is what we meant.
The curlycues of floridness, self
importance, and strange lexical
choices; and leaves a big piece
missing. The man that is bisected
putting putty on both of the flat sides,
but for some gyration, comes together.
And has a horrible scar across his
belly button, that is gnarled and
dark brown and purple. His lover
long abides with it. And he leads
a mostly normal life after it happens.
lessen us," this is what we meant.
The curlycues of floridness, self
importance, and strange lexical
choices; and leaves a big piece
missing. The man that is bisected
putting putty on both of the flat sides,
but for some gyration, comes together.
And has a horrible scar across his
belly button, that is gnarled and
dark brown and purple. His lover
long abides with it. And he leads
a mostly normal life after it happens.
a Life Bisected
When we said "Some of this will
lessen us," this is what we meant.
The curlycues of floridness, self
importance, and strange lexical
choices; and leaves a big piece
missing. The man that is bisected
putting putty on both of the flat sides,
but for some gyration, come together.
And has a horrible scar across his
belly button, that is gnarled and
dark brown and purple. His lover
long abides with it. And he leads
a mostly normal life after it happens.
lessen us," this is what we meant.
The curlycues of floridness, self
importance, and strange lexical
choices; and leaves a big piece
missing. The man that is bisected
putting putty on both of the flat sides,
but for some gyration, come together.
And has a horrible scar across his
belly button, that is gnarled and
dark brown and purple. His lover
long abides with it. And he leads
a mostly normal life after it happens.
22 October 2009
I'm Too Fat
The middle not thin enough
and does know the same difference
of self thickness of the middle holding
hating for itself, though inculcated.
Of the bottlekneck and basin we
knew this much. And the invitation
to hotel penthouses because one's
long hair that did what it wanted.
Because the greater height means girth
and soft features soften. And brie too,
and emulsion. And halogen excruciates
and not excoriates but lightens.
and does know the same difference
of self thickness of the middle holding
hating for itself, though inculcated.
Of the bottlekneck and basin we
knew this much. And the invitation
to hotel penthouses because one's
long hair that did what it wanted.
Because the greater height means girth
and soft features soften. And brie too,
and emulsion. And halogen excruciates
and not excoriates but lightens.
Love's Comeuppance
Not touching what some sinews
left as if an accident made this.
One series of hairs on a palm
back are more increasingly
disturbed and a habit forms;
stood valiantly up and then
stopped standing for that straining
reason, laid silent and glistened.
Solitude in love's comeuppance
as thin rivulets come together
and diverge again, or one
merges with other and loses it.
left as if an accident made this.
One series of hairs on a palm
back are more increasingly
disturbed and a habit forms;
stood valiantly up and then
stopped standing for that straining
reason, laid silent and glistened.
Solitude in love's comeuppance
as thin rivulets come together
and diverge again, or one
merges with other and loses it.
19 October 2009
Green Endive
I am from whence a valance descends
and am that decorative contrivance
of earnesty.
Honesty thence that's not cognizant
of the light that a valance doesn't hold
back.
Now enter lack to the cautious abundance
of first harvest that not assuredly
but
may be enough to keep us. New shoots
of green endive that want to be
whiter.
and am that decorative contrivance
of earnesty.
Honesty thence that's not cognizant
of the light that a valance doesn't hold
back.
Now enter lack to the cautious abundance
of first harvest that not assuredly
but
may be enough to keep us. New shoots
of green endive that want to be
whiter.
14 October 2009
Commuting
With all the expanses of an organelle,
how much of the world can one know?
Even the flagella in a whirlygig of locomotion
know the distance in the two and a half
dimensions between two flashes of flinty glass.
Relationally; the distance from Boston
to the Nile: forty-eight hundred miles
if the head exploded to selenian sizes.
And why trek for single cell all those miles
why plastered on the surface or insides
as if the viral syringe of the corpus thats
a modified and overactive podus makes
the decision.
how much of the world can one know?
Even the flagella in a whirlygig of locomotion
know the distance in the two and a half
dimensions between two flashes of flinty glass.
Relationally; the distance from Boston
to the Nile: forty-eight hundred miles
if the head exploded to selenian sizes.
And why trek for single cell all those miles
why plastered on the surface or insides
as if the viral syringe of the corpus thats
a modified and overactive podus makes
the decision.
08 October 2009
Concretism
What the luminous did to the already lit
oversought articles justified by that lux
in the night and chill winds, cut doubly.
What brutalist architecture of the heart
built up. Pockets risen to the surface of the concrete
finally unjustified when brought to light, and accepted.
Un-as in this life; towering monuments of short-sight
failing to recognize what sapiens sapiens delight in
the quietude of that soft and comely light.
oversought articles justified by that lux
in the night and chill winds, cut doubly.
What brutalist architecture of the heart
built up. Pockets risen to the surface of the concrete
finally unjustified when brought to light, and accepted.
Un-as in this life; towering monuments of short-sight
failing to recognize what sapiens sapiens delight in
the quietude of that soft and comely light.
ad Astra per Panton
Uproariously, too; as the small skein
of a faggot that's a fasces burns up.
Or the eight spoked wheel turns
and heats, and in it's turning melts.
Or the serpent that is us upon a caduceus
slips down the shaft and swiftly slithers.
Everything that is the flailing symbology
or that hesitantly turns on monogamy
or does undo this; the locks and chains
upon every verdegraaft, invisibly. Ad
astra per panton.
of a faggot that's a fasces burns up.
Or the eight spoked wheel turns
and heats, and in it's turning melts.
Or the serpent that is us upon a caduceus
slips down the shaft and swiftly slithers.
Everything that is the flailing symbology
or that hesitantly turns on monogamy
or does undo this; the locks and chains
upon every verdegraaft, invisibly. Ad
astra per panton.
01 October 2009
My Bicycle
I will carry the bicycle and not
ride it, any of the time. And
"none of this is coming together."
None of the watery chemicals or
diuretic cram for the passage.
I have a multitool that I got
as a Christmas gift once. Wind:
allen wrench; you: phillips; me:
some bulky needle with the eye
in it's tip, and flathead, and little wrench.
I have thread, many gauges of twigs
in a little case that could as easily
be found along any of the roadsides of this
country; all for the maintenance
of this bicycle, the contrivance.
I do not have but can imagine
a magical motor for pushing on the gravity
and keeping your machine aloft while mines carried.
I have a black neoprene facemask for cutting the wind.
I have a little fabric bag of extra buttons.
ride it, any of the time. And
"none of this is coming together."
None of the watery chemicals or
diuretic cram for the passage.
I have a multitool that I got
as a Christmas gift once. Wind:
allen wrench; you: phillips; me:
some bulky needle with the eye
in it's tip, and flathead, and little wrench.
I have thread, many gauges of twigs
in a little case that could as easily
be found along any of the roadsides of this
country; all for the maintenance
of this bicycle, the contrivance.
I do not have but can imagine
a magical motor for pushing on the gravity
and keeping your machine aloft while mines carried.
I have a black neoprene facemask for cutting the wind.
I have a little fabric bag of extra buttons.
28 September 2009
an Idyll
we both have. Early autumn, his
lithe little fingers come in evening
seeking toward the main like root
in reverse, or always was there.
And they do recall where the thawed
parts are and where the loveliness
lives, or once did (down Hermitage,
past Rose Hill cemetery, near Enid's)
The bastard son of what spring was
proffering as metaphorical alternative
to what spring wanted but was not;
new birth, quivering still-wet forelimbs,
new hope, blatancy of public affection,
the fiery plumage of an Indian Paintbrush
in a sea of other brushes on the prairie
Dare he still stay? as any seasonal changing—
like autumn—hadn't been intrinsic in our living?
Like what lived there, leaves; left, still chloriphyllic.
An idyll! in autumn! The waxed sandstone columns
and rostrum scattered in a changing scene.
So this tableau is—always has been. So drunk
on renewing emotions' euphoric ebulliency in dying.
A doves flight still flying, bearing berried boughs
and heavy billows of white cotton in the waning sky
enlightening the load of dotage, ornamenting naked
youths in piles of leaves.
23 September 2009
Classicism
After arising I miss the glint
of new sun in the oculus as
canvas cover emplaced and
removed ingeniously
and the little metal loop
and indeed every engineering
feat; I miss everything even:
that new sun, the cone of perfumed
oils melting on the crown
of a head; melting down,
the equally conditioning sea breezes,
the Nile, the beards and
barbarism, the tender kisses
and comically small feet, the
steady hand, the quivering one,
the unacceptance of abashédness,
Corinth, the metals that were white
hot in crucibles, the contraposto youths,
the glut of courses, the domesticated
feral cats, the eye blackening and lead
on the palms; cheeks; back of the neck,
the mounds of cadmium, the censers
of sandalwood and labdanum,
the sandstone; painted marble and
basalt statuary and large blocks
and the incomprehensible forces
at work for their creation, the Pantheon,
the sea; the distant sea and those
beyond the distant sea in Asia
(but not having known about that yet),
the startlingly advanced notions
of sexuality, the polished silver
sphere, the knowing or not knowing
of the equinox and subsequent
development of time telling devices, the
discovery of naturally-occurring bronze
on an island, the great Lighthouse,
the shooting—for sport—of slaves with a bow,
the precariously perched plinths and the
science divining their production,
the plebeian Succesio to Mon Emonda
and the Alepnstone, the Journeymen
Protectors, the development of algebra;
usury; W; optics; and the economy of want,
the worship of the Sun, and that no one
foresaw this further development
and then the downfall of all cultures
and then even further development.
of new sun in the oculus as
canvas cover emplaced and
removed ingeniously
and the little metal loop
and indeed every engineering
feat; I miss everything even:
that new sun, the cone of perfumed
oils melting on the crown
of a head; melting down,
the equally conditioning sea breezes,
the Nile, the beards and
barbarism, the tender kisses
and comically small feet, the
steady hand, the quivering one,
the unacceptance of abashédness,
Corinth, the metals that were white
hot in crucibles, the contraposto youths,
the glut of courses, the domesticated
feral cats, the eye blackening and lead
on the palms; cheeks; back of the neck,
the mounds of cadmium, the censers
of sandalwood and labdanum,
the sandstone; painted marble and
basalt statuary and large blocks
and the incomprehensible forces
at work for their creation, the Pantheon,
the sea; the distant sea and those
beyond the distant sea in Asia
(but not having known about that yet),
the startlingly advanced notions
of sexuality, the polished silver
sphere, the knowing or not knowing
of the equinox and subsequent
development of time telling devices, the
discovery of naturally-occurring bronze
on an island, the great Lighthouse,
the shooting—for sport—of slaves with a bow,
the precariously perched plinths and the
science divining their production,
the plebeian Succesio to Mon Emonda
and the Alepnstone, the Journeymen
Protectors, the development of algebra;
usury; W; optics; and the economy of want,
the worship of the Sun, and that no one
foresaw this further development
and then the downfall of all cultures
and then even further development.
21 September 2009
Mercury's Girlfriend
was in Taos for the longest time
and he hated it and found no time
to get there between tasks, watching
Bacchus and his own private drinking.
Let throat beard and fingernails
grow out of all proportion, assailed
mortal homes and the Underworld
with scrolls incautiously hurled
while at speed, stayed up all night
or couldn't sleep. And they'd fight
over the phone. He'd say "Venus, I
love you." And she's stay in New Mexico.
and he hated it and found no time
to get there between tasks, watching
Bacchus and his own private drinking.
Let throat beard and fingernails
grow out of all proportion, assailed
mortal homes and the Underworld
with scrolls incautiously hurled
while at speed, stayed up all night
or couldn't sleep. And they'd fight
over the phone. He'd say "Venus, I
love you." And she's stay in New Mexico.
20 September 2009
a Pomeranian
(for Dania)
who owns no indefensibility, yips still.
Fury of affectation contained in a ball
of ruddy cotton fluff. And it jangles,
extenuating the electric furor beneath
and still beneath. Who strains on a lead
who makes haste for the choke chain
and needs the tangle of fur in the metal,
or flesh too, and strains still. And
bleeds even, seeping from the little
pomeranian pulmonaries in a jagged
swirl about it. Ruddy still if lessening
so the flesh beneath the fur is whiter.
This effervescent pup is still alighting.
who owns no indefensibility, yips still.
Fury of affectation contained in a ball
of ruddy cotton fluff. And it jangles,
extenuating the electric furor beneath
and still beneath. Who strains on a lead
who makes haste for the choke chain
and needs the tangle of fur in the metal,
or flesh too, and strains still. And
bleeds even, seeping from the little
pomeranian pulmonaries in a jagged
swirl about it. Ruddy still if lessening
so the flesh beneath the fur is whiter.
This effervescent pup is still alighting.
Gentle Jig
by the tambourine driven insane.
Always driven, uneasily which
now must surely be less. Un-as
all dancers, seeks an opportunity
for stoicism; a silent center
of duress and no espadrilles, no
rolled ankles, no decorum or
strict adherence to regulation,
otherwise the evening winds well;
clear drinks and flotsam, cigarettes.
What repetition led to reticence? dance
Always driven, uneasily which
now must surely be less. Un-as
all dancers, seeks an opportunity
for stoicism; a silent center
of duress and no espadrilles, no
rolled ankles, no decorum or
strict adherence to regulation,
otherwise the evening winds well;
clear drinks and flotsam, cigarettes.
What repetition led to reticence? dance
17 September 2009
North
(for Marianne Moore)
Must too now do disdain, must.
Wild ermine attending on a cliff,
pert foxes; blood still on their
downy jowls, black bears, rex elk
foraging in a shoal of tinderous
pines atop a knoll, sagacious
rodents; gophers, ground squirrels,
and shrews can excruciate too.
Gaia, that total fucking cunt of temperate forests and silly tundras,
must do disdain too, must do.
Must too now do disdain, must.
Wild ermine attending on a cliff,
pert foxes; blood still on their
downy jowls, black bears, rex elk
foraging in a shoal of tinderous
pines atop a knoll, sagacious
rodents; gophers, ground squirrels,
and shrews can excruciate too.
Gaia, that total fucking cunt of temperate forests and silly tundras,
must do disdain too, must do.
10 September 2009
an Albatross
An albatross of want does dip
in the air over a corsair, the prow
unbeknownst to the water it cleaves
and that does dip and recalls
the ballisticness of recollection.
Everything at sea is two lines
inexorably drawing together. And
the albatross thinks how things
look better being thinner and dips
out of all cognizance and of this,
beneath waves, beneath sea, even.
in the air over a corsair, the prow
unbeknownst to the water it cleaves
and that does dip and recalls
the ballisticness of recollection.
Everything at sea is two lines
inexorably drawing together. And
the albatross thinks how things
look better being thinner and dips
out of all cognizance and of this,
beneath waves, beneath sea, even.
Mutual Assurance
I will always be terrifying, through
no incaution indeed often through
inaction. Why is a woman walking home?
How have we both decided that liberation
can only come from a reversal of what
the opposite sex takes for granted about us?
or indeed from the liberties that our own
sex feels able to take of ourselves?
no incaution indeed often through
inaction. Why is a woman walking home?
How have we both decided that liberation
can only come from a reversal of what
the opposite sex takes for granted about us?
or indeed from the liberties that our own
sex feels able to take of ourselves?
07 September 2009
What is embroidered into the conceptual space between wires
Indictely, ere sleeping. Ball
of tangled wires and branches
stuck in there too. And forty five
of of the past forty eight hours
is a life mostly, even if punctuated
by nightly attempts and fitful bouts
of sleeping.
And needs me, who is drunk. And
does need what system administers
have called ability. Hay-pennance;
footsteps clod, over clod, over clod.
Worriment over your absence, that
was there (I had seen it once) but
nows gone.
of tangled wires and branches
stuck in there too. And forty five
of of the past forty eight hours
is a life mostly, even if punctuated
by nightly attempts and fitful bouts
of sleeping.
And needs me, who is drunk. And
does need what system administers
have called ability. Hay-pennance;
footsteps clod, over clod, over clod.
Worriment over your absence, that
was there (I had seen it once) but
nows gone.
Lost Princess
There's a maroon awning leading
to where a princess! lived once,
but nows dead! Celebratory,
salvific, all water resistant canvas
had at once seemed and though
still over front steps moved
away.
Why can I find no evidence
of your existence? A princess!
in a white dress matriculates
and smiles and looking back
as would matriculate and is
exhausted. All of us are indicted
are accepted unconditionally
to this rostrum.
to where a princess! lived once,
but nows dead! Celebratory,
salvific, all water resistant canvas
had at once seemed and though
still over front steps moved
away.
Why can I find no evidence
of your existence? A princess!
in a white dress matriculates
and smiles and looking back
as would matriculate and is
exhausted. All of us are indicted
are accepted unconditionally
to this rostrum.
Mercury's Weekend
Wakes up hungover and begins with two eggs,
tomato juice, three pieces of dry toast and black tea.
And he thinks of vomiting and vomits not. Mercury
growing ever hotter beneath his sagging collar
and removes the toga and wears no undergarments,
but a thin sheen of ultrablonde hair and clump
around the pubis. He thinks not of this enswadled
in his erstwhile cloudy lair (not loving to be among
humans). Visits the vomitorium to huff over the silver
basin and drip saliva; his warped face looking back
at him. And he wonders how this sickness gets worse
and not better.
tomato juice, three pieces of dry toast and black tea.
And he thinks of vomiting and vomits not. Mercury
growing ever hotter beneath his sagging collar
and removes the toga and wears no undergarments,
but a thin sheen of ultrablonde hair and clump
around the pubis. He thinks not of this enswadled
in his erstwhile cloudy lair (not loving to be among
humans). Visits the vomitorium to huff over the silver
basin and drip saliva; his warped face looking back
at him. And he wonders how this sickness gets worse
and not better.
04 September 2009
Mercury's Helmet
Careening without want or intention
Mercury is amazed at what separates
us. And he knows the distance he goes.
And he knows he does hate one ands
disgusted by one other, and still owes
the usurious hand of the bank of gods
a debt of withdrawal, and can't get out
from under it. And he wavers ands
had too much coffee this morning and
all of the other gods and coworkers
seem to be moving slowly. And he
doesn't know why. And he flies faster. And
flies faster. And he escapes and is effective.
Now invective all of these, expectant toga, gold
winged sandals, and a helmet. What is he
now bringing; freshly cracked black pepper?
so astringent, a bag of tiny particles. He wants
so bad to drop it. He wants so bad to know why
Diana, in a dionysian act of adolescence, chose
this sack, why needed it all the way hence
—and hits a wall. And doesn't die because immortal
but cries heartily. All of this distraction; dented helmet
Mercury is amazed at what separates
us. And he knows the distance he goes.
And he knows he does hate one ands
disgusted by one other, and still owes
the usurious hand of the bank of gods
a debt of withdrawal, and can't get out
from under it. And he wavers ands
had too much coffee this morning and
all of the other gods and coworkers
seem to be moving slowly. And he
doesn't know why. And he flies faster. And
flies faster. And he escapes and is effective.
Now invective all of these, expectant toga, gold
winged sandals, and a helmet. What is he
now bringing; freshly cracked black pepper?
so astringent, a bag of tiny particles. He wants
so bad to drop it. He wants so bad to know why
Diana, in a dionysian act of adolescence, chose
this sack, why needed it all the way hence
—and hits a wall. And doesn't die because immortal
but cries heartily. All of this distraction; dented helmet
02 September 2009
No Avail
The chrring of a bird may be significant
or the bing-bang of a bell as it tolls away
the case for the litigants of this life who've
lived so long already. This casement
for those who've thrown open the doors
of embarrassment to the tabernacle of the self
to nothing. No avail. No particulate gas
rising from a solid body of us in this world.
No magical self composed of light only.
No magical smoke of drug-weilding delight.
No ice cream, no raw almonds, no fight left.
or the bing-bang of a bell as it tolls away
the case for the litigants of this life who've
lived so long already. This casement
for those who've thrown open the doors
of embarrassment to the tabernacle of the self
to nothing. No avail. No particulate gas
rising from a solid body of us in this world.
No magical self composed of light only.
No magical smoke of drug-weilding delight.
No ice cream, no raw almonds, no fight left.
Perpetuity
What wanted, dark clouds over the lightening sky
in evening even, or the high chroma red plastic
of a travel mug, not prepared for next morning but
used in the night.
Again coming back to entreat of hating ones
photography (or any other aspect of the body
or all others, even). What confusion then but
preparatory vapor all on what wasn't.
But artifacts; the black Ray-Ban sunglasses,
the wireless ambient weather station that never
worked, all the articles of clothing; far too numerous
to list, the touchscreen device, et. cetera.
The blush of those things now far distant,
the confusion of dusk-dawn and a stimulant
even consumed after cold.
in evening even, or the high chroma red plastic
of a travel mug, not prepared for next morning but
used in the night.
Again coming back to entreat of hating ones
photography (or any other aspect of the body
or all others, even). What confusion then but
preparatory vapor all on what wasn't.
But artifacts; the black Ray-Ban sunglasses,
the wireless ambient weather station that never
worked, all the articles of clothing; far too numerous
to list, the touchscreen device, et. cetera.
The blush of those things now far distant,
the confusion of dusk-dawn and a stimulant
even consumed after cold.
He
does know what dis-ease is.
The easement that had been
building up through carefully
penned documents fell through
as a full-grown man would
a parchment floor—ragged
the cellulose edges after him.
And what underneath it? He,
the age; same, face unchanged
though perhaps somewhat bloodied.
Vestment, all that vestment ever was.
Temperament—always was a trouble.
Thought, still fuzzy bauble. And capped
off with a cigarette, though quit smoking.
The easement that had been
building up through carefully
penned documents fell through
as a full-grown man would
a parchment floor—ragged
the cellulose edges after him.
And what underneath it? He,
the age; same, face unchanged
though perhaps somewhat bloodied.
Vestment, all that vestment ever was.
Temperament—always was a trouble.
Thought, still fuzzy bauble. And capped
off with a cigarette, though quit smoking.
30 August 2009
Cavalcade of Want
Filled life left great swaths.
Like how vapidity in sex lift'd
a rich inner life of mornings
and familiar problems avoided, return.
During the long shameful walk in
what would have been a new night
slumped into the shoes, slumpt into
too tight pants and large leather bag
of stolen artefacts lifted from most recent
cavalcade of want
Like how vapidity in sex lift'd
a rich inner life of mornings
and familiar problems avoided, return.
During the long shameful walk in
what would have been a new night
slumped into the shoes, slumpt into
too tight pants and large leather bag
of stolen artefacts lifted from most recent
cavalcade of want
28 August 2009
Where Dead Does
Severe as a specter's ghost was—
his face, or else another autoimmune
disorder, the vaporous vaporous
hunger to just condense around.
The velvet cart's track that
leads not where one dead wants
but just back in on itself. The beauty
stretch of long, haute, dead nose;
hair thats discouraged and flat
over said dead face. The sweat
-shirt that fulfilled him not
in life or still in death does.
Worst hill in death. Doves
mockingly flit over it.
his face, or else another autoimmune
disorder, the vaporous vaporous
hunger to just condense around.
The velvet cart's track that
leads not where one dead wants
but just back in on itself. The beauty
stretch of long, haute, dead nose;
hair thats discouraged and flat
over said dead face. The sweat
-shirt that fulfilled him not
in life or still in death does.
Worst hill in death. Doves
mockingly flit over it.
27 August 2009
Foal
Dreaming, a dead foal represents so much that is lost.
And an even smaller foal beside it may be dead or not
but stands on all four legs, proportionally smaller
than his dead brother laying in the growing grasses,
nuzzling his downy ankles that so tenuously hold up
the whole girth of the little horse.
What in this world does the foal ride? What promise
does birth bear and the death fail to give? Who is
the field for? Where're the keepers of foals that're
living or dead? Where is the sex that was eventually
promised them? Where are the equine lovers and
equine-lovers; bleating the fell foal and toll of the bell.
And an even smaller foal beside it may be dead or not
but stands on all four legs, proportionally smaller
than his dead brother laying in the growing grasses,
nuzzling his downy ankles that so tenuously hold up
the whole girth of the little horse.
What in this world does the foal ride? What promise
does birth bear and the death fail to give? Who is
the field for? Where're the keepers of foals that're
living or dead? Where is the sex that was eventually
promised them? Where are the equine lovers and
equine-lovers; bleating the fell foal and toll of the bell.
22 August 2009
Dad
Bury it in the documents. Dad will have been glad
to have his papers fattened. And I too! You know
how I love the notion of manilla. About how I love
the casters of an old grey Hon filing cabinet.
What did Dad do, essentially, in work, or in life too?
Why do I think that it's possible to find what I think
is implausible to find in my own life—know that it is.
Know that the small strife of getting to work, thinking
of calling a friend, regretting something, is what life is.
to have his papers fattened. And I too! You know
how I love the notion of manilla. About how I love
the casters of an old grey Hon filing cabinet.
What did Dad do, essentially, in work, or in life too?
Why do I think that it's possible to find what I think
is implausible to find in my own life—know that it is.
Know that the small strife of getting to work, thinking
of calling a friend, regretting something, is what life is.
Tattoo
(for David)
had a friend once who got a tattoo on his elbow;
drunk! The guy daubed quick at the bone
and said that "it seems to be bleeding a lot," and
Mark grinned. It really's just an economy of want.
But what's not? And that hand was numb
for a month or so—like a funny bone—and Mark
was afraid that it'd never feel right again, and it did.
had a friend once who got a tattoo on his elbow;
drunk! The guy daubed quick at the bone
and said that "it seems to be bleeding a lot," and
Mark grinned. It really's just an economy of want.
But what's not? And that hand was numb
for a month or so—like a funny bone—and Mark
was afraid that it'd never feel right again, and it did.
16 August 2009
the Haunting
The haunting wouldn't give it up
and loves the apoplectic pleasures
that dealing with blows and near misses
gives; in the being a vessel
of endings and of continuances too.
Maybe this new veteran who's young
and whose long sinews hadn't had
a chance to relax, yet; is dead.
Maybe his bestubbled grinning visage
is what carries the scent and dismisses it.
and loves the apoplectic pleasures
that dealing with blows and near misses
gives; in the being a vessel
of endings and of continuances too.
Maybe this new veteran who's young
and whose long sinews hadn't had
a chance to relax, yet; is dead.
Maybe his bestubbled grinning visage
is what carries the scent and dismisses it.
Continuing
If just one thing should let me be, let it be this.
That unruly mop of dark strands that top
your head remain on the heads of everyone;
and mine too, is halfway between you and this
and never has been or will be enough.
The makeover's broken; madeover nothing
but the travails that change by themselves. Sing
they will or have in discontentment and alertion
that "he is wearing the same exact shoes that X wore;
this doesn't mean anything. Pay closer attention!"
In the wind, I was caught up in the downturn. A
microburst of a life that really had no idea what it was
but lived often. Lived fantastically even.
That unruly mop of dark strands that top
your head remain on the heads of everyone;
and mine too, is halfway between you and this
and never has been or will be enough.
The makeover's broken; madeover nothing
but the travails that change by themselves. Sing
they will or have in discontentment and alertion
that "he is wearing the same exact shoes that X wore;
this doesn't mean anything. Pay closer attention!"
In the wind, I was caught up in the downturn. A
microburst of a life that really had no idea what it was
but lived often. Lived fantastically even.
Fashion Model
What kills is that what replaced is more ambiguous,
what commonality feigned, what legibility lessened
by the method of expression. Two tits, tantalizing.
And one old scrotum laced with healed lacerations,
crinkled as a brain is, and (if ever wasn't) the pubis.
Even what is desirable derides us. Even the three
expressions, expressed here in concert, "how is the same
face thrice differently?" What is not being paid attention to?
The nipples, are perfect. Acting exactly the ways
that two nipples should & you're jaunty, fashion model.
what commonality feigned, what legibility lessened
by the method of expression. Two tits, tantalizing.
And one old scrotum laced with healed lacerations,
crinkled as a brain is, and (if ever wasn't) the pubis.
Even what is desirable derides us. Even the three
expressions, expressed here in concert, "how is the same
face thrice differently?" What is not being paid attention to?
The nipples, are perfect. Acting exactly the ways
that two nipples should & you're jaunty, fashion model.
14 August 2009
When He Finally Resigns to My Loving Him. And to the Family We'll Have
Wide legged pants, however disconcerting. His face
when it comes to me, the zombie movie thats still
playing, (why is this movie always playing? who're
the zombies?) is alit from one lamp, shade of rice
paper, oblique shape and white cord running.
"Let's go away, tonight," nothing, "Let's go away."
The period is all I need and begin in on logistics.
Where is the plane? where is the duffel? love too.
when it comes to me, the zombie movie thats still
playing, (why is this movie always playing? who're
the zombies?) is alit from one lamp, shade of rice
paper, oblique shape and white cord running.
"Let's go away, tonight," nothing, "Let's go away."
The period is all I need and begin in on logistics.
Where is the plane? where is the duffel? love too.
Lollapalooza
Please God let Lollapalooza be over. I've absorbed
so much residue from my past revisited. The seizing
in chorus that left nothing but more ulcers
and a worse smoking habit.
I was certain that these people could or had
been compatriot: people who'd taken the Pixies far
too seriously, people who'd pressed their girlfriends who
were too drunk to stand against train car walls.
People composed imperceptibly as the Tom
Sawyers of my childhood, and the full moon too
and all that iridescence and disapperation
that goes along with things like the full moon.
And then that night, during an especially loud set,
(and only the bass crosses Columbus from Grant Park)
a dark swirling came over the cross walk or up out
of a drain grate. And it was not liquor and sweat,
or any confluence of bootlegged substances
—or men! and I couldn't discern it. I spelt Lollapalooza
backward and found no alchemical meaning.
I considered a werewolf as dark swirling
but couldn't find a precedent for that anywhere
—and looked! And then at work the whole park
raised, spun it's darkened liquid face toward mine and
spoke.
And he spoke and I tried very hard and succeeded
at finding something with which to distract myself.
I failed to make my peace and fell under the censure.
Where the President had stood! had come to this;
my ignoring something as hard as I could, and that what
looked lovely from afar had looked lovelier.
so much residue from my past revisited. The seizing
in chorus that left nothing but more ulcers
and a worse smoking habit.
I was certain that these people could or had
been compatriot: people who'd taken the Pixies far
too seriously, people who'd pressed their girlfriends who
were too drunk to stand against train car walls.
People composed imperceptibly as the Tom
Sawyers of my childhood, and the full moon too
and all that iridescence and disapperation
that goes along with things like the full moon.
And then that night, during an especially loud set,
(and only the bass crosses Columbus from Grant Park)
a dark swirling came over the cross walk or up out
of a drain grate. And it was not liquor and sweat,
or any confluence of bootlegged substances
—or men! and I couldn't discern it. I spelt Lollapalooza
backward and found no alchemical meaning.
I considered a werewolf as dark swirling
but couldn't find a precedent for that anywhere
—and looked! And then at work the whole park
raised, spun it's darkened liquid face toward mine and
spoke.
And he spoke and I tried very hard and succeeded
at finding something with which to distract myself.
I failed to make my peace and fell under the censure.
Where the President had stood! had come to this;
my ignoring something as hard as I could, and that what
looked lovely from afar had looked lovelier.
06 August 2009
You are my shining star
What comes from far away goes also.
The residue of glitter-blood on the deck
as domesticity fought to reassert itself.
You are alien and I am preoccupied.
You were here and left and came from afar.
And I came from afar and go too distantly.
I am Ellen Ripley and you are my shining star.
The residue of glitter-blood on the deck
as domesticity fought to reassert itself.
You are alien and I am preoccupied.
You were here and left and came from afar.
And I came from afar and go too distantly.
I am Ellen Ripley and you are my shining star.
the Art of the Unfortunate
What is left over in the practice of the Art of the Unfortunate?
The gorgeous and nearly imperceptible vein in the marble.
Honestly, nothing has so suggested itself to me in any or so
subtle a way, or weighed in on it even so clearly as David, stuck
between boyhood and the age of majority in stone.
The gorgeous and nearly imperceptible vein in the marble.
Honestly, nothing has so suggested itself to me in any or so
subtle a way, or weighed in on it even so clearly as David, stuck
between boyhood and the age of majority in stone.
Lithely
Cars are driving in every direction
and back in on themselves.
The tenuous concrete pylons
that hold up these overpasses,
the queer marriage of granite
limestone, iron that outclasses
the natural stone, the grasses
on all sides and in crevices, however
scrub, that grow still. That decant
still from their liquid forebears
and thin the way the moving looks.
And the self is a thing projected
in a sweatshirt. The zipper made
from metal too that holds both sides
together hangs as languidly
as if connected. As ingratiating
moving things on roads or us too.
and back in on themselves.
The tenuous concrete pylons
that hold up these overpasses,
the queer marriage of granite
limestone, iron that outclasses
the natural stone, the grasses
on all sides and in crevices, however
scrub, that grow still. That decant
still from their liquid forebears
and thin the way the moving looks.
And the self is a thing projected
in a sweatshirt. The zipper made
from metal too that holds both sides
together hangs as languidly
as if connected. As ingratiating
moving things on roads or us too.
30 July 2009
Returns
Is running through a backlog.
Videos that are interesting,
new news items, new messages
though ignored, stay in the history.
What goes away returns
inopportunely, or seeming so.
Is probably incognizant of my existence.
Is probably played out
or gathering back together.
Is never going to eat bruschetta ever again.
Is never going to see another film staring Amy Adams
Videos that are interesting,
new news items, new messages
though ignored, stay in the history.
What goes away returns
inopportunely, or seeming so.
Is probably incognizant of my existence.
Is probably played out
or gathering back together.
Is never going to eat bruschetta ever again.
Is never going to see another film staring Amy Adams
27 July 2009
Dedication
for P. who always and incessantly if only by me.
for D. who always and incessantly over me, even if.
for P. who in the beginning.
for D. who always even after, if little less to all else.
for M. who lovingly crutch.
for A. who always, and always and always.
for D. who always and incessantly over me, even if.
for P. who in the beginning.
for D. who always even after, if little less to all else.
for M. who lovingly crutch.
for A. who always, and always and always.
Betterment
I am not so much this and more this
but will take the "terrible," incorporated
into little face cloth, balled; that is my face.
I, two lines of bottles squeezing themselves.
All of the things that were inside of them (, me)
out, all of the endings a splattered mess of condiment on the table.
but will take the "terrible," incorporated
into little face cloth, balled; that is my face.
I, two lines of bottles squeezing themselves.
All of the things that were inside of them (, me)
out, all of the endings a splattered mess of condiment on the table.
the Spy Park
Watching, in the Spy Park, which may
come and go and does not need silence
but does need a semblance of things.
Or all of this isn't, most likely nefarious.
Or if I wasn't a constructer of meaning
or was would go redoubling and redoubling
this: lift up a parabolic member, set a count
in wan September or wan October when
the ball of Earth is muddied. Reticence
of collection or recollection or of holding.
come and go and does not need silence
but does need a semblance of things.
Or all of this isn't, most likely nefarious.
Or if I wasn't a constructer of meaning
or was would go redoubling and redoubling
this: lift up a parabolic member, set a count
in wan September or wan October when
the ball of Earth is muddied. Reticence
of collection or recollection or of holding.
19 July 2009
Under a Bushel
The shelf that is waiting to be replaced, itself
has a bump out or dimpled scar on the shoulder
and then I am a love that is hiding itself away.
There's a butt-joint to life, holding things together
with a little scrap of metal in the variegated grain
and I do not know what it is all about but can guess
well enough, or guess poorly but anyway. What
a strange marriage, I think and then whisk away.
has a bump out or dimpled scar on the shoulder
and then I am a love that is hiding itself away.
There's a butt-joint to life, holding things together
with a little scrap of metal in the variegated grain
and I do not know what it is all about but can guess
well enough, or guess poorly but anyway. What
a strange marriage, I think and then whisk away.
Perfunctory Characterizations
Jannis - #1 frenemy "friends since forever. But have since worked towards crossed purposes"
Elijah - Boyfriend, best looking, affords attention, can be used to distract. (stupid)
Ellen - Meeker, more conservative friend, (space cadet?) often sees past all of Alex's bullshit. (mature)
Brent - Elijah's gay best friend since childhood. Lives next-door to him. Savvy. Political. Gay-ish
Juanita - Daughter of wealthy Mexico City family. Moved to Boston in middle school. Acts ghetto when bitchy, smart
Scott - friends with Elijah & Brent through lacrosse, dates Ellen
Marcos - Juanita's older brother "Graphic Designer" drug dealer. Lives in Cambridge.
Elijah - Boyfriend, best looking, affords attention, can be used to distract. (stupid)
Ellen - Meeker, more conservative friend, (space cadet?) often sees past all of Alex's bullshit. (mature)
Brent - Elijah's gay best friend since childhood. Lives next-door to him. Savvy. Political. Gay-ish
Juanita - Daughter of wealthy Mexico City family. Moved to Boston in middle school. Acts ghetto when bitchy, smart
Scott - friends with Elijah & Brent through lacrosse, dates Ellen
Marcos - Juanita's older brother "Graphic Designer" drug dealer. Lives in Cambridge.
16 July 2009
This, less, less, less, zero
Even something else; the solution. I don't know. The solution
is to instead; pay for things now. And not pass on the financial
burned to our children, or any other to them or all others. And how?
And how? And how? By the using of overly generous plans.
By the taxing of illegal immigrants and unicorns. Everyone
should stop smoking so much. Everyone should stop drinking
so much. Everyone should stop. Everyone should. Everyone.
is to instead; pay for things now. And not pass on the financial
burned to our children, or any other to them or all others. And how?
And how? And how? By the using of overly generous plans.
By the taxing of illegal immigrants and unicorns. Everyone
should stop smoking so much. Everyone should stop drinking
so much. Everyone should stop. Everyone should. Everyone.
12 July 2009
Sad Penguin
"I have this massive defect—" & I have
a mouthful of knives and velvet flesh
for cutting up. He too. And wingsglue
made from the hollow bones, all in
the heinous lacerations.
White residue when drying in the mouth
with blood, who never moreso than this
which rejected and rejected and again
rejected was, and who awful with the trying
and reverb-reverberations.
"I have brought you this small gift." & I
have made it out of paper, baking, little
modifications to the overall design,
practiced nonchalance, and a borrowed
doodle from a friend of sad penguin.
Two empty ice cream pints, because
he cannot hold the spite inside, because
he is so impatient. Because he's been
too long outside the refrigerator
and the hotness starts inside the belly.
a mouthful of knives and velvet flesh
for cutting up. He too. And wingsglue
made from the hollow bones, all in
the heinous lacerations.
White residue when drying in the mouth
with blood, who never moreso than this
which rejected and rejected and again
rejected was, and who awful with the trying
and reverb-reverberations.
"I have brought you this small gift." & I
have made it out of paper, baking, little
modifications to the overall design,
practiced nonchalance, and a borrowed
doodle from a friend of sad penguin.
Two empty ice cream pints, because
he cannot hold the spite inside, because
he is so impatient. Because he's been
too long outside the refrigerator
and the hotness starts inside the belly.
thr Birth of Nandi
A weighty and a loyal beast
this bull, who splitting from
a side, or dropping, sloppily
into the sand of earthy beach
comes, hauls tail to consume
through weighty time
and devotion,
and ate that vile stickiness of us
and survived.
this bull, who splitting from
a side, or dropping, sloppily
into the sand of earthy beach
comes, hauls tail to consume
through weighty time
and devotion,
and ate that vile stickiness of us
and survived.
Economy of Pixels
—needs to find a smaller pixel or to make one. Who
has that small thin cell phone (in width) the shape
(basically) of a big fat bulbous pack of gum. (the old,
long, thin, rectangular one)
And I'm thinking of screen width, and the liniation
of a text message I've sent, to be received by this phone
maybe it would be right if there were just smaller pixels.
Maybe the text on my phone is just rendered too fatly.
Do you remember Kottke's 'Silkscreen', (and 'Silkscreen Extended'
which I never understood)? Seemed like it was everywhere
from appx. 1998-2004, and now we don't see it around. Talk
about an economy of pixels. But maybe that means something.
That we don't see it anymore, I mean. We've all seen 'Helvetica,'
and what was so impressed upon me by it was that what seems
so simple, so unadorned, and as though it's been there forever
has line-width changes. Swedish design doesn't predominate
because readers appreciate the subtle darkening of line width
as the arch of the lower-case /n/ breaks away from the main stem.
They love it regardless of the precise science hunched over desks
in the long nights under typographic headquarters in some Swedish
somewhere.
has that small thin cell phone (in width) the shape
(basically) of a big fat bulbous pack of gum. (the old,
long, thin, rectangular one)
And I'm thinking of screen width, and the liniation
of a text message I've sent, to be received by this phone
maybe it would be right if there were just smaller pixels.
Maybe the text on my phone is just rendered too fatly.
Do you remember Kottke's 'Silkscreen', (and 'Silkscreen Extended'
which I never understood)? Seemed like it was everywhere
from appx. 1998-2004, and now we don't see it around. Talk
about an economy of pixels. But maybe that means something.
That we don't see it anymore, I mean. We've all seen 'Helvetica,'
and what was so impressed upon me by it was that what seems
so simple, so unadorned, and as though it's been there forever
has line-width changes. Swedish design doesn't predominate
because readers appreciate the subtle darkening of line width
as the arch of the lower-case /n/ breaks away from the main stem.
They love it regardless of the precise science hunched over desks
in the long nights under typographic headquarters in some Swedish
somewhere.
Pregnancy
Helen knows, and lent us threehundred dollars
once. The kids are begining to notice the showing
and ask questions like: "Mommy, baby again?" or
"When're we having another kid?" from the eldest
And you the pregnant and not pregnant one.
—you the life decided for both of us, and the mouth
ful of razor and delicious paste replacing that life.
once. The kids are begining to notice the showing
and ask questions like: "Mommy, baby again?" or
"When're we having another kid?" from the eldest
And you the pregnant and not pregnant one.
—you the life decided for both of us, and the mouth
ful of razor and delicious paste replacing that life.
10 July 2009
Half
Even-ing and his response:
"I am dating him right now,"
little vortex of my heart
stops; does not start again
bland smile; "Why? What
do you know that I don't?"
The hearty width and
breadth of what I don't. of
what I don't. Childhood
endearing and wistful or
missing; creepy. Bitumen
wax, easing the echelon
over the other echelon.
"I am dating him right now,"
little vortex of my heart
stops; does not start again
bland smile; "Why? What
do you know that I don't?"
The hearty width and
breadth of what I don't. of
what I don't. Childhood
endearing and wistful or
missing; creepy. Bitumen
wax, easing the echelon
over the other echelon.
07 July 2009
03 July 2009
Marriageing
The zest of this new marriage is sex and the smoke pouring out of the both
of their mouths after it.
And the dirty socks, still piling up, day after day until a new pile of dirty socks
is all that is left.
Children's Orchestra
Musical education turns out not to be
a fundamental right, but the adherents
these half-pints, wrong-side-of-the-tracks
brown kids in this orchestra of light,
wrack heads, wash thoroughly and invent
their own camaraderie of spite.
In Mary Doria Russel's 'the Sparrow'
the Jesuits are an overwhelming force,
but these kids die to illuminate life—
gun violence being such a rampant problem
in the poorer districts of Puerto Rican cities.
Frontierism
Who so
concussed in
absentia as this
great wide scrubbrush bush
waving
under an equally undulant sun
as the movements
of the tumbleweeds
or dust rescind, take back
the movement from the meaning.
The lactic dross of dustfields
crosst, frontier homes strapped
together with no loss of sweat
of reams of splintery
slackwood beams and planks and
torn back down again and again
as haphazardly reconcstructed and
again deconcstructed and again.
Jangle and hoop of the no
wife in tow and the no children
on the popping sloop piled
high with the house that moves
and the nights too without them
and the night too.
concussed in
absentia as this
great wide scrubbrush bush
waving
under an equally undulant sun
as the movements
of the tumbleweeds
or dust rescind, take back
the movement from the meaning.
The lactic dross of dustfields
crosst, frontier homes strapped
together with no loss of sweat
of reams of splintery
slackwood beams and planks and
torn back down again and again
as haphazardly reconcstructed and
again deconcstructed and again.
Jangle and hoop of the no
wife in tow and the no children
on the popping sloop piled
high with the house that moves
and the nights too without them
and the night too.
01 July 2009
Moving Life
He lives his life on an articulated
lorry. And when the body shakes
the whole body shakes. Large metal
parts that makes up that conveyance
and small shapes, and white skin,
musculature, blubber underneath, moving
Moving. Not being outside the city but
far outside the city. Not having missed
the meaning in the messages but
not even receiving the least of them.
Not even missing the thing-holding
girl, but seeing her. And always the
seeing her.
lorry. And when the body shakes
the whole body shakes. Large metal
parts that makes up that conveyance
and small shapes, and white skin,
musculature, blubber underneath, moving
Moving. Not being outside the city but
far outside the city. Not having missed
the meaning in the messages but
not even receiving the least of them.
Not even missing the thing-holding
girl, but seeing her. And always the
seeing her.
28 June 2009
the Ruins of Pride
On happening upon all our desecrated sanctuaries,
the carefully manicured lawns and small reflecting pool
that have somehow grown smaller behind their wrought
iron fences for the detritus left and accumulated there,
our hero harkened back to their pithy construction.
The righteous indignation that he felt himself grow from
as a little boy into teenhood, was so justified.
The emancipation and commensurate construction
of copses, knaves, reliquaries, sepulchers, and gilt in
-ward looking glass tabernacles for the solemn reverence
and the eventual remembrance would seek out and place.
And he paces the long, long labyrinth in his head, and
he thinks of this nothing instead of his forebears.
It is a hot, hot day, here in January, and Hero beared
the weight of any and all generations; though not
having been asked to. And seeing the scrubby fey church
yard, away from him, and separated from his time by
protectionary forces built to keep him in and keep him out,
and they died, and through no fault of their own but through
ignorance, fear, and a possible premeditated government plan
he grew up again ignorant; and contributed to he, self,
as the Celebrant of spreading rubbish.
the carefully manicured lawns and small reflecting pool
that have somehow grown smaller behind their wrought
iron fences for the detritus left and accumulated there,
our hero harkened back to their pithy construction.
The righteous indignation that he felt himself grow from
as a little boy into teenhood, was so justified.
The emancipation and commensurate construction
of copses, knaves, reliquaries, sepulchers, and gilt in
-ward looking glass tabernacles for the solemn reverence
and the eventual remembrance would seek out and place.
And he paces the long, long labyrinth in his head, and
he thinks of this nothing instead of his forebears.
It is a hot, hot day, here in January, and Hero beared
the weight of any and all generations; though not
having been asked to. And seeing the scrubby fey church
yard, away from him, and separated from his time by
protectionary forces built to keep him in and keep him out,
and they died, and through no fault of their own but through
ignorance, fear, and a possible premeditated government plan
he grew up again ignorant; and contributed to he, self,
as the Celebrant of spreading rubbish.
27 June 2009
Building Love
Allowances, reconciliatory actions of those
who cannot consume the whole mile but
who try to.
And who, in their trying spit out and come
back with some witty retort about trying,
about staid extolation.
And ultimately deciding who the swallower is
and again reconciling the power of both
swallowed and swallower
and not assigning an ultimate value to that
but just knowing it. And then just growing past
knowing it.
who cannot consume the whole mile but
who try to.
And who, in their trying spit out and come
back with some witty retort about trying,
about staid extolation.
And ultimately deciding who the swallower is
and again reconciling the power of both
swallowed and swallower
and not assigning an ultimate value to that
but just knowing it. And then just growing past
knowing it.
26 June 2009
Summer Wedding
He, who is far too similar in tone to this to notice the telephone
ringing off the hook.
Meaning then that this has meant dedication to a new diet of only
aspartame and light,
and the heat along with it, of he; the repetitious heat makes me become
married to the summer.
ringing off the hook.
Meaning then that this has meant dedication to a new diet of only
aspartame and light,
and the heat along with it, of he; the repetitious heat makes me become
married to the summer.
21 June 2009
Further About the Tower of Which You Must've Heard Everyone Speaking
Further
about the tower of which you must've heard everyone speaking;
it's a silver thing and tries to break the schema of efficiency in packing
things; is round and in so being's less efficient. Has a useless
radio tower above its topmost floor
And was designed by man or more that man; or the least of men, or more.
It knows—as all buildings know—of the Sears Tower, even if by reputation only.
about the tower of which you must've heard everyone speaking;
it's a silver thing and tries to break the schema of efficiency in packing
things; is round and in so being's less efficient. Has a useless
radio tower above its topmost floor
And was designed by man or more that man; or the least of men, or more.
It knows—as all buildings know—of the Sears Tower, even if by reputation only.
I Hate Modern Photography
A modest bump of the crotch
A self-assured gay man, who
young and holding this modest
watering can of life in his pants
And he can be mediocre, he
can be bland and tan and
seventeen and can have Robert
Pattinson locks and his hair
on his head and his head only.
His newest body of photographs
have been used up. And his
pants—though too tight have
held the cuff and pleat, as
a little bead from his crotch to his feet
on both legs.
A self-assured gay man, who
young and holding this modest
watering can of life in his pants
And he can be mediocre, he
can be bland and tan and
seventeen and can have Robert
Pattinson locks and his hair
on his head and his head only.
His newest body of photographs
have been used up. And his
pants—though too tight have
held the cuff and pleat, as
a little bead from his crotch to his feet
on both legs.
19 June 2009
Tantalizing
I'm all about decimating every gladdening group of schmucks
that cross my path because of hate; and happily will smite
every translucent box of brownies and how sweet, but
have you ever baked brownies from scratch? from the finest
Dutch cocoas?—It's not too difficult and so not so sweet and
myriad boxes of plascticful of brownies, just as the arm to the sleeve
is rolled up to the bicep;
or the cuff, calf and pressed the sagely chosen fabric into flesh.
that cross my path because of hate; and happily will smite
every translucent box of brownies and how sweet, but
have you ever baked brownies from scratch? from the finest
Dutch cocoas?—It's not too difficult and so not so sweet and
myriad boxes of plascticful of brownies, just as the arm to the sleeve
is rolled up to the bicep;
or the cuff, calf and pressed the sagely chosen fabric into flesh.
18 June 2009
Bums
Two bums, recreational bums, little dog, mutt
in the park eating olives. Wet fingers and lips
moving like fingers. Disgusting they are, in their
dun browns and green browns and their packs.
And now they've taken out and're studying an improbably large map.
There really doesn't seem a point in working while these two alive.
Are they from the army? or deserters from the army?
Why their packs stuffed until bursting and not I?
in the park eating olives. Wet fingers and lips
moving like fingers. Disgusting they are, in their
dun browns and green browns and their packs.
And now they've taken out and're studying an improbably large map.
There really doesn't seem a point in working while these two alive.
Are they from the army? or deserters from the army?
Why their packs stuffed until bursting and not I?
16 June 2009
Concessions
I feel as though things need to become dirtier and more broken
but I don't know how much more dirty and broken I can become.
Maybe giving up on verse is the key,
maybe giving up on rhyme is the key,
or on form.
(Greenburg stands over me, as does Hemingway,
as does...as does...
I've heard of a liquid diet.
Maybe giving up on giving up is the key.
but I don't know how much more dirty and broken I can become.
Maybe giving up on verse is the key,
maybe giving up on rhyme is the key,
or on form.
(Greenburg stands over me, as does Hemingway,
as does...as does...
I've heard of a liquid diet.
Maybe giving up on giving up is the key.
Bad Teacher
I done with the taboos
here, and the surrender
or queers, or the fat
straight ones to the creeping ignoring
of emotional responsibility to anyone.
Gentle little prat, from Pratt
or Parsons
FIT, or RISD,
or SCAD, or the nearly albino fag
compact in the cowboy plaid shirts
who went to Sarah Lawrence
and comes back
to the high school
he knows well, as
fine arts educated
English teacher, who
just loves middle-english literature.
who rolls a joint from time to time, who
dates a ceramicist, and is an amateur
photographer, pornographic model, or
actor.
And the Art Deco remnants
of any and all generations
fall. The glittering gilt facades
and the glass veined with iron tubing
when the cock of some fit junior
at a flash falls out of his mouth
and finds it's way to social network,
and turns into neo-classical wreck
but postmodern;
White walls going higher, and peaking
out the sort of a spire of blocky top of columns,
windows.
Old avatar, or teenhood mentor
seen from peaking out that parapet;
a speck
grown smaller, and
growing, growing smaller.
And after silent thai food dinner
made themself a steaming pitcher
of coffee, and began the new trek
of coming back together through disgust.
here, and the surrender
or queers, or the fat
straight ones to the creeping ignoring
of emotional responsibility to anyone.
Gentle little prat, from Pratt
or Parsons
FIT, or RISD,
or SCAD, or the nearly albino fag
compact in the cowboy plaid shirts
who went to Sarah Lawrence
and comes back
to the high school
he knows well, as
fine arts educated
English teacher, who
just loves middle-english literature.
who rolls a joint from time to time, who
dates a ceramicist, and is an amateur
photographer, pornographic model, or
actor.
And the Art Deco remnants
of any and all generations
fall. The glittering gilt facades
and the glass veined with iron tubing
when the cock of some fit junior
at a flash falls out of his mouth
and finds it's way to social network,
and turns into neo-classical wreck
but postmodern;
White walls going higher, and peaking
out the sort of a spire of blocky top of columns,
windows.
Old avatar, or teenhood mentor
seen from peaking out that parapet;
a speck
grown smaller, and
growing, growing smaller.
And after silent thai food dinner
made themself a steaming pitcher
of coffee, and began the new trek
of coming back together through disgust.
14 June 2009
Redwing Blacbkbird
Redwing blackbird
whose song falls not
on thine deaf ears or
which does not come
from beak before thee
open in a pantomime
of speech or squawk—
in defense of little black
lover, hidden in
some verdant boughy
trellis. And both come
diving in on plumèd
wings of lust and of defense
and in so doing bring
night with them and in
vitriol raise hence
their song again to
utter ruination and
to fright
Flee
raise grimace on thy face
or faces and bat away
with awkwardly and too
big mandibles of hands
at black and plumèd
arrows falling and again
falling.
whose song falls not
on thine deaf ears or
which does not come
from beak before thee
open in a pantomime
of speech or squawk—
in defense of little black
lover, hidden in
some verdant boughy
trellis. And both come
diving in on plumèd
wings of lust and of defense
and in so doing bring
night with them and in
vitriol raise hence
their song again to
utter ruination and
to fright
Flee
raise grimace on thy face
or faces and bat away
with awkwardly and too
big mandibles of hands
at black and plumèd
arrows falling and again
falling.
09 June 2009
I Don't Understand Blaming Blogs
after Allison Glock's 'I Blame Blogs'
Bemoaning the proliferation of what I will call instant communications holds a curious place in communicative discourse. Voicing a disdain for these methods of communication can (as far as I can tell) serve either or both of two possibilities: 1) informing people of the vapidity of instant communications, and/or 2) attempting to affect a change.
It would be hard to find anyone who knows what the portmanteau 'blog' portmanteaus, that doesn't already know of the inanity instant communication seems to automatically produce. And yet, Glock spends half of her essay expounding upon just that fact. Perhaps she believes it will reach an audience unaware of instant communication—though why these people need to be dissuaded from a form of communication they are still astoundingly unaware of (and thereby will almost certainly never come into contact with) I'm not sure.
It seems then that Glock can only be trying to affect a change in personal expression in the age of instant communication, namely to excoriate the resultant degenerative qualities where (I suppose) the essential human spirit, or at least Glock's moralist sensibilities are concerned.
Here Glock proffers poetry as a solution, in effect to take our lascivious porpoise dreams, obfuscated them, liniate them, blend them with equal parts rhyme and meter, and finally (and hopefully) a healthy dose of revision (read: 'consideration', or 'restraint'). I will simply ignore the fact that revision in and of itself could be a perfectly viable solution to the aforesaid problem, if for no other reason than Glock herself does.
I love poetry, I can't imagine that anyone reading this essay (or indeed this response) doesn't. As such I'm willing to foist any verse, my own or any other's, on friends and family at the most unwelcome and inopportune times (through blogs, even). They don't much care for it. I don't think it is a difficult argument to make that poetry has a definitively limited appeal. Whatever the reason or ramifications, poetry has successfully failed to gain admiration in the public at large. Blogs and twitter, however stupid, don't share that problem, as indeed Glock points out in epigraph.
So then, Glock's essay has ultimately done two things: 1) informed us of a problem of which we were already aware by belittling what's popular for what we all hate about it, and 2) proposing an impossible solution to a problem that will never go away and is, if anything, getting worse.
So, in review, yes, poetry is great (we know), and no, it is not the solution to any problems (at least not this one).
06 June 2009
Covered
Covered in velour the heart
shudders, and stops, wears a queer smile
in death, and ultimately resigns in it
And after death, dying; the sun
also rises again in soft fabrics
gently the heather of variegated greys
shudders, and stops, wears a queer smile
in death, and ultimately resigns in it
And after death, dying; the sun
also rises again in soft fabrics
gently the heather of variegated greys
04 June 2009
Happenstance
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains. —Li Po
You anglophile prick;
we all love it. I am so sick
of running jacket, what
one thought would be
enough and isn't—but
turns out to be enough.
and he, huge arms and though
through protein and hard work
the body changed, the face
remembers
the neck, translucent skin
that holds together still the marks
of hairs' ends and blemishes
Excess leftovers, the
retaliatory actions of summer
to what the spring wants.
And growing
in strength &
in proficiency
in the longing wont
of summer's coming, and
in regularity. "Keeping
Up Apperances" sucks
because it's only one joke.
the hundred wrist bones
there in conflagrations through
the covering skin. And the eyes
are what I've made of them; bright
as much as fleshy baubles can be
and the irises
What is treacle for
exactly, but sweetnr?
He is what molasses
does, moving slowly
as some peach-flavord
beer or sit on some porch.
And the silence there
doesn't confirm or deny
that this queer sighting
is evidence of
things coming.
What is left
on the road
to Kent county?
or in lofty Donne?
or in Pepys?
bisected by page
breaks? The
words drawn
from the bright
sunlight or fey
dialect of distant time.
Or even further
back when our
English was still German,
or further back still.
We all can here know
what is left in a will, but
what's left for us means little
when the money does not
grow over the ages, but stays low
The changing room
that I was in,
all filled with the song you sung
all sin remembered and begotten
The hair,
as tousled...whatever, on the wind
of train platform. of lake shore. of
the precarious perch on side of ledge.
The fingernail— Oh! why do I focus
on the hands,—cleaninsh, the right
length and squared; as a man's is.
"Living," he said, as though Lord
Henry Wotton, "'s an art, and
I make it." So happen
-stance, so wattage on
wires that can't bear it
hence alight in wan red.
And then having enough
for right here and abroad,
and then smoking the dope
and not going off;
His hip waders mean nothing
to peat moss where he digs
with his feet, feels for the corpses.
And it takes them as dross as
it pulls, and it squelches in
with primordial drive for the win
and it suck the boots off.
and he's naked, from the hips
down, and he's sinking. And I'm
busy, I'm living, these lipids are
singing, they—
They sing. They have lists, they
—
They are a street preacher with
mic. And somewhere I hear in
his meandering blah-blah, and
I see—though reductionist—
the churches that spawned him.
And I see the wicker basket that
collected the cash that paid for
that mic and little amp; or maybe
he did,
but they cut thee
This facade of hate, not
as toward the French,
whose sole effete king
ruled, in the past, over
the Duchy of one heart.
Covering up like a tarp or
construction of plastic
bags and tape over the
broken window of a car.
—and I see a fist bleeding
and is hard for the tumult
as the trollop who sings
inside thighs that invite
just to lead to vagina dentata
in the frilled lilly that hides
all while promising these
earthly delights in a so
conversational tone
with the winks, the neck
bent, chin lifted that thinks
for you.
O! Gilead
or Palleaon
who so devoted to thine dasheeki
seek thee I, we
who never understandeth this, but
respecteth both, silly hat
& circumcision, and the foreskin.
and the vaginal that, whatever
disgusting appendages one has
and these tears, this fear of sex
of the divergence, of the dissolution
of Empire that we're seeing as
rising through the ranks & whatever
middling else these Moffs, these
bureaucrats who will take the iron
hand and still retain the bickering &
be content with it.
Ad infinitum these gunnels
rivers, or trickles to torrents cull
and return to the mouth or they
bore them back out and keep
coming.
What lunch, what wahat made
for What; delicious. Béchamels
kept in refrigerators flowing &
the man with these that cookt
them fore. I,
whore because of this.
The residue of this. I see
fingerprints; I see dust
The knee,
knobbly. The elbow pit
as crevice in some Pennsylvanian
coal hole; Bring out!
Bring back that thing
rented, and dismayed.
Inside the thighs: a sti-
ppling of age spots. &
I'm reading them.The
irony!
and little ridge at end of contct
until only the mountain remains. —Li Po
You anglophile prick;
we all love it. I am so sick
of running jacket, what
one thought would be
enough and isn't—but
turns out to be enough.
and he, huge arms and though
through protein and hard work
the body changed, the face
remembers
the neck, translucent skin
that holds together still the marks
of hairs' ends and blemishes
Excess leftovers, the
retaliatory actions of summer
to what the spring wants.
And growing
in strength &
in proficiency
in the longing wont
of summer's coming, and
in regularity. "Keeping
Up Apperances" sucks
because it's only one joke.
the hundred wrist bones
there in conflagrations through
the covering skin. And the eyes
are what I've made of them; bright
as much as fleshy baubles can be
and the irises
What is treacle for
exactly, but sweetnr?
He is what molasses
does, moving slowly
as some peach-flavord
beer or sit on some porch.
And the silence there
doesn't confirm or deny
that this queer sighting
is evidence of
things coming.
What is left
on the road
to Kent county?
or in lofty Donne?
or in Pepys?
bisected by page
breaks? The
words drawn
from the bright
sunlight or fey
dialect of distant time.
Or even further
back when our
English was still German,
or further back still.
We all can here know
what is left in a will, but
what's left for us means little
when the money does not
grow over the ages, but stays low
The changing room
that I was in,
all filled with the song you sung
all sin remembered and begotten
The hair,
as tousled...whatever, on the wind
of train platform. of lake shore. of
the precarious perch on side of ledge.
The fingernail— Oh! why do I focus
on the hands,—cleaninsh, the right
length and squared; as a man's is.
"Living," he said, as though Lord
Henry Wotton, "'s an art, and
I make it." So happen
-stance, so wattage on
wires that can't bear it
hence alight in wan red.
And then having enough
for right here and abroad,
and then smoking the dope
and not going off;
His hip waders mean nothing
to peat moss where he digs
with his feet, feels for the corpses.
And it takes them as dross as
it pulls, and it squelches in
with primordial drive for the win
and it suck the boots off.
and he's naked, from the hips
down, and he's sinking. And I'm
busy, I'm living, these lipids are
singing, they—
They sing. They have lists, they
—
They are a street preacher with
mic. And somewhere I hear in
his meandering blah-blah, and
I see—though reductionist—
the churches that spawned him.
And I see the wicker basket that
collected the cash that paid for
that mic and little amp; or maybe
he did,
but they cut thee
This facade of hate, not
as toward the French,
whose sole effete king
ruled, in the past, over
the Duchy of one heart.
Covering up like a tarp or
construction of plastic
bags and tape over the
broken window of a car.
—and I see a fist bleeding
and is hard for the tumult
as the trollop who sings
inside thighs that invite
just to lead to vagina dentata
in the frilled lilly that hides
all while promising these
earthly delights in a so
conversational tone
with the winks, the neck
bent, chin lifted that thinks
for you.
O! Gilead
or Palleaon
who so devoted to thine dasheeki
seek thee I, we
who never understandeth this, but
respecteth both, silly hat
& circumcision, and the foreskin.
and the vaginal that, whatever
disgusting appendages one has
and these tears, this fear of sex
of the divergence, of the dissolution
of Empire that we're seeing as
rising through the ranks & whatever
middling else these Moffs, these
bureaucrats who will take the iron
hand and still retain the bickering &
be content with it.
Ad infinitum these gunnels
rivers, or trickles to torrents cull
and return to the mouth or they
bore them back out and keep
coming.
What lunch, what wahat made
for What; delicious. Béchamels
kept in refrigerators flowing &
the man with these that cookt
them fore. I,
whore because of this.
The residue of this. I see
fingerprints; I see dust
The knee,
knobbly. The elbow pit
as crevice in some Pennsylvanian
coal hole; Bring out!
Bring back that thing
rented, and dismayed.
Inside the thighs: a sti-
ppling of age spots. &
I'm reading them.The
irony!
and little ridge at end of contct
01 June 2009
Giving Up
Has to make
concessions
as Wagoner
was loathe to
and I too; as he.
When absentee,
the last of the
second (leaving
one); irreconcilable.
And will re-compensate
ire to you, who was
borrowed from, or
stolen.
Hold then, the hand
-painted black spots
or the brown ones—
that're missing. The
composition; ruined
The windbreak and
lean-to and overhang
where the rain wants
but cannot
concessions
as Wagoner
was loathe to
and I too; as he.
When absentee,
the last of the
second (leaving
one); irreconcilable.
And will re-compensate
ire to you, who was
borrowed from, or
stolen.
Hold then, the hand
-painted black spots
or the brown ones—
that're missing. The
composition; ruined
The windbreak and
lean-to and overhang
where the rain wants
but cannot
Obliviation
Save your ruddy and gold-
white beams of light, and
little flourish.
I will save them too. Ap
-oplectic of this construction
of graphic
elements, confounded by
the din of broken electronic
sounds.
I need to burn the books, to
finish crushing old Atari, but
waaant
white beams of light, and
little flourish.
I will save them too. Ap
-oplectic of this construction
of graphic
elements, confounded by
the din of broken electronic
sounds.
I need to burn the books, to
finish crushing old Atari, but
waaant
Earnesty
Save the platitudinal
wreck, or excoriate it,
of "never having regretted
anything" or of the
primacy of the human spirt
to all else. And treat me thusly:
do not hate me
and do not placate
me or ultimately
lie to me.
31 May 2009
Beed
Beed, once
the long long trail
of things
left
beed the unpreparing bead
of sticking and
transparent caulk,
between the tub
and tile wall
of bathroom
between the you of
stone of ancient occidental origin
and water-holding thing of bath
beed
stagnant muddied liquid
and prevention
of getting to the studs
of bathroom wall
beed the waiting
for however fort
it all come in
through me,
through outside wall or
down
through broken ceiling—
water
Beed bed
one returns to after
beed dead
and bed one
stays in
the long long trail
of things
left
beed the unpreparing bead
of sticking and
transparent caulk,
between the tub
and tile wall
of bathroom
between the you of
stone of ancient occidental origin
and water-holding thing of bath
beed
stagnant muddied liquid
and prevention
of getting to the studs
of bathroom wall
beed the waiting
for however fort
it all come in
through me,
through outside wall or
down
through broken ceiling—
water
Beed bed
one returns to after
beed dead
and bed one
stays in
30 May 2009
Wearing a Wood Shirt
The oxford shirt
that the cartwright made
sweeping
and belt metal strapping
around
my barrel chest; and less
and less,
and less the space inside
I died
from crush descendt
on stuff
inside the torso
however
tailored the wrong thing was
that the cartwright made
sweeping
and belt metal strapping
around
my barrel chest; and less
and less,
and less the space inside
I died
from crush descendt
on stuff
inside the torso
however
tailored the wrong thing was
To Summer
Asleeping
on a conveyance
to summer
somewhere on an horizon
or to a pool there
or to the sun
where all heat and fusion
for parsecs in all directions
lives, emanates from.
or to a Goodyear '
or to a good year
or a good month
on a conveyance
to summer
somewhere on an horizon
or to a pool there
or to the sun
where all heat and fusion
for parsecs in all directions
lives, emanates from.
or to a Goodyear '
or to a good year
or a good month
Run Amok Animus
However subfusc you say
or lusty this or smoldering eyes
but eyes only, this animus
that goes unchecked
However the dead creature
reanimated to smirk only
to send signals only and not
hold thee
for still dead arms still
side burns and 1997 hair
& sensibilities
or lusty this or smoldering eyes
but eyes only, this animus
that goes unchecked
However the dead creature
reanimated to smirk only
to send signals only and not
hold thee
for still dead arms still
side burns and 1997 hair
& sensibilities
27 May 2009
All Christendom
The blessings
of all Christendom
upon the crown
of my bald head
—whose embaldned itself
who dances
the dead dance
of dead people.
Of dead people
who move still,
who're dead by
the right of in-
sipid choice, of
imagination,
ultimately.
The machinations
of wine blent.
Have you ever
mixed white and red
as an oenophile?
Is an embarrassment
of the ignorance of varietals.
Of the having a liver
and tongue,
and the nails
coming down
a chalkboard.
of all Christendom
upon the crown
of my bald head
—whose embaldned itself
who dances
the dead dance
of dead people.
Of dead people
who move still,
who're dead by
the right of in-
sipid choice, of
imagination,
ultimately.
The machinations
of wine blent.
Have you ever
mixed white and red
as an oenophile?
Is an embarrassment
of the ignorance of varietals.
Of the having a liver
and tongue,
and the nails
coming down
a chalkboard.
26 May 2009
Further Complications
I was little bit ill, and the
symptoms though only
simmering, still felt like shit.
And went out drinking anyway.
I bought Jarvis Cocker's new album
and though I'd only rate it six,
I can't stop
thinking about it, or bitching,
I was so excited about it's
coming out. I was so thirsty
I didn't feel the water's
tasting bad in my sick throat.
symptoms though only
simmering, still felt like shit.
And went out drinking anyway.
I bought Jarvis Cocker's new album
and though I'd only rate it six,
I can't stop
thinking about it, or bitching,
I was so excited about it's
coming out. I was so thirsty
I didn't feel the water's
tasting bad in my sick throat.
Reliquary
Am trying to find
something in
what was, what
is and still is, what
has been. What
could've been
what should have,
or what I wished was.
This...I know; I
apologize for
—But am the color solid.
Whose center is
an increasingly
middling muddle
of chroma and grey.
I'm sorry for that stanza.
]I believe (whether
right, or not) that
evidence leads
to understanding.
And it is so hot, today
is the first day that life
seems unbearable
again, as the second
summer with no air
conditioning.
I'm sweat, and looking
into the mirror and through it
into the past where my ace
remains unchanged.
and this:
to knowledge in the recompense
which's why I (who intelligent)'ve
stopt thinking.
New Section.
I've got the box fan
in the window, accept it
as a thing bequeathed
by friend long gone and misst.
What comfort can the air
pulled in by box fan and pushed
through open door give?
something in
what was, what
is and still is, what
has been. What
could've been
what should have,
or what I wished was.
This...I know; I
apologize for
—But am the color solid.
Whose center is
an increasingly
middling muddle
of chroma and grey.
I'm sorry for that stanza.
]I believe (whether
right, or not) that
evidence leads
to understanding.
And it is so hot, today
is the first day that life
seems unbearable
again, as the second
summer with no air
conditioning.
I'm sweat, and looking
into the mirror and through it
into the past where my ace
remains unchanged.
and this:
to knowledge in the recompense
which's why I (who intelligent)'ve
stopt thinking.
New Section.
I've got the box fan
in the window, accept it
as a thing bequeathed
by friend long gone and misst.
What comfort can the air
pulled in by box fan and pushed
through open door give?
Setbacks
T'was the night before
and then after. And then
all of the nights
were disaster that kept
comin' down the mountain, kept
comin' down the mountain.
How much more
more can one make
in a given space
of time? Now
I know
burgeoning beneficence
—so fast as to not remember it
or to not know it, not fully to know it—
and the backlash it brought.
The forward push
of sensibilities fought
unto an internal
counterlegislation
whatever caveats,
hold-outs, free drinks
and the like
and then after. And then
all of the nights
were disaster that kept
comin' down the mountain, kept
comin' down the mountain.
How much more
more can one make
in a given space
of time? Now
I know
burgeoning beneficence
—so fast as to not remember it
or to not know it, not fully to know it—
and the backlash it brought.
The forward push
of sensibilities fought
unto an internal
counterlegislation
whatever caveats,
hold-outs, free drinks
and the like
24 May 2009
Veterans
I, too'm tramplin' out
the vintages
I too bought this and
sat next to—
I too am who what
and what wax
es wanes and
the sanguine
sanguine. Marred work
and is so inarticulate
as to not be able to express
and through means
through the florid arch
of meaning and of strife
a genuine disincentive.
I believe
in a genuine disincentive
and of being unable
to express.
Us; artefical sky, as I've
said before (but of sky
-scrapers) how futile a notion,
to replicate the infinite
but in it's aiding recollection
claims a win from the jaws
of incognizance and lays
something lovely down
the vintages
I too bought this and
sat next to—
I too am who what
and what wax
es wanes and
the sanguine
sanguine. Marred work
and is so inarticulate
as to not be able to express
and through means
through the florid arch
of meaning and of strife
a genuine disincentive.
I believe
in a genuine disincentive
and of being unable
to express.
Us; artefical sky, as I've
said before (but of sky
-scrapers) how futile a notion,
to replicate the infinite
but in it's aiding recollection
claims a win from the jaws
of incognizance and lays
something lovely down
[Ed Ruscha, Phil]
Ed Ruscha, Phil
ip Guston, a new
sense of illustration
Walking down, stan
ding up, all of what
what what what what.
Use of eckses in
names as a /zh/ or
even an /s(h)/ is
asiatic. Or reads
that way. Rhesus
monkeys
up
thunk
he
ip Guston, a new
sense of illustration
Walking down, stan
ding up, all of what
what what what what.
Use of eckses in
names as a /zh/ or
even an /s(h)/ is
asiatic. Or reads
that way. Rhesus
monkeys
up
thunk
he
23 May 2009
Finding the End of Books
The onus of ownership is on me
and bereft of all meaning.
and all of this scuff unpreparing
and
straight
up the glassy things of walls
Oh! so how. All the walls, the
hat's brim thats prepared by leaving it
alone.
These Tomes stop toming and exist only
is
harder, I know, that these are not
discrete things though they aren't;
Funny
that Marx should finally rectify this stuff
and leave the solidness of this alone.
and bereft of all meaning.
and all of this scuff unpreparing
and
straight
up the glassy things of walls
Oh! so how. All the walls, the
hat's brim thats prepared by leaving it
alone.
These Tomes stop toming and exist only
is
harder, I know, that these are not
discrete things though they aren't;
Funny
that Marx should finally rectify this stuff
and leave the solidness of this alone.
21 May 2009
Dream of Love
How do I loveth thee, Love? In
—compatibly; Count the bitumen, I think,
the cornices: and it is this much.
No darkness around the eyes, my Love
no making up has needeth this—or does
Why mark the way that children dream it?
the tail of whatever in it flails, coils
turns, and eventually, by measures, ends
—compatibly; Count the bitumen, I think,
the cornices: and it is this much.
No darkness around the eyes, my Love
no making up has needeth this—or does
Why mark the way that children dream it?
the tail of whatever in it flails, coils
turns, and eventually, by measures, ends
Coupon Expert
(for Betsy)
Your thriftiness of this and this
is a model of excellence and this
and this and this and this
Your thriftiness of this and this
is a model of excellence and this
and this and this and this
Inside You
I have this secret golden thing shining
under a bushel. and when my hand
touches the small of your back
—oh so softly and comes out
with a kidney!
full of all of this!
under a bushel. and when my hand
touches the small of your back
—oh so softly and comes out
with a kidney!
full of all of this!
Friends
(for Avi)
Whether knowing, or think knowing
similarly,
no matter; both as if actual.
Looking down
and he too looking down and seeing up
The thread that one finds and pulls out
and replaces
Whether knowing, or think knowing
similarly,
no matter; both as if actual.
Looking down
and he too looking down and seeing up
The thread that one finds and pulls out
and replaces
19 May 2009
Hi Red Center
Hi sign so unmired in red!
in italics on a flag above
my dead body, above my
grave.
For drinking continuously
what's delicious but bad for
black coffee from a pint glass.
The ickiness of it distracts
with all the acids burning and
delicious browny fats that're
in there.
The bag of candies, or the
bacon vats of showmenship
and florid wings and leafy
flaps of serifs of red inter-
jective points on flags
in italics on a flag above
my dead body, above my
grave.
For drinking continuously
what's delicious but bad for
black coffee from a pint glass.
The ickiness of it distracts
with all the acids burning and
delicious browny fats that're
in there.
The bag of candies, or the
bacon vats of showmenship
and florid wings and leafy
flaps of serifs of red inter-
jective points on flags
a Gift of Anton Yelchin
And yet
there are problems with certitude, too
like that none are ever ineffable. Even
you, knowing that everyone wants to be
plussed and not minusèd.
The supple young skin of Anton Yelcin
that's served up and misconstrued—just
young, supple, full of blood, having hair
that still growing, excitable
responsive to the touch, and virile
there are problems with certitude, too
like that none are ever ineffable. Even
you, knowing that everyone wants to be
plussed and not minusèd.
The supple young skin of Anton Yelcin
that's served up and misconstrued—just
young, supple, full of blood, having hair
that still growing, excitable
responsive to the touch, and virile
18 May 2009
the Hellhound and the Platypus
The hellhound and the platypus.
and the dog bound up in complex
tux with a velvety cumberbund, descends
escalator and explains in niceties
the points of class to platypus.
and the dog bound up in complex
tux with a velvety cumberbund, descends
escalator and explains in niceties
the points of class to platypus.
Beach Vacation
It seemed like some sands
clinging—
and a flash;
what the tan looks like bespeckled
—it seemed like the brushing
away with the back of the hands
is still after.
clinging—
and a flash;
what the tan looks like bespeckled
—it seemed like the brushing
away with the back of the hands
is still after.
the Pumpkin Girl
Rancor thee
who could
take; and then again equally
leave all of this. A pumpkin-
smelling teen girl, long jersey skirt
quietly dark cotton swishing
this way and that on an afternoon
that's too hot for it. Could've had
a binder arm-clasped to the chest
looking this way and that furtively,
looking at me.
Over the heart
how when absent is hard to
see anyone. How when her—
when the beers come, one
after the other, after the other;
some time later—the world is
reduced to just bubble and hop,
and no man who reaped them,
or other friend who's drunkening.
Rancor, we. Bowl of potato salad
that one leaves, one takes home.
who could
take; and then again equally
leave all of this. A pumpkin-
smelling teen girl, long jersey skirt
quietly dark cotton swishing
this way and that on an afternoon
that's too hot for it. Could've had
a binder arm-clasped to the chest
looking this way and that furtively,
looking at me.
Over the heart
how when absent is hard to
see anyone. How when her—
when the beers come, one
after the other, after the other;
some time later—the world is
reduced to just bubble and hop,
and no man who reaped them,
or other friend who's drunkening.
Rancor, we. Bowl of potato salad
that one leaves, one takes home.
On the Road
Each of them on a ledge
be backed up, edge to edge
and the elbows
held into the chests
and slowly the breathing
and the bellows of their lungs
quiver. And I too, quiver
in breathing
Following the road goes
wherever the road does
and easing around that corner
together I would beseech her
and think of bellowing but
would not bellow, for know what
doesn't bend, neither grows; so—
So.
be backed up, edge to edge
and the elbows
held into the chests
and slowly the breathing
and the bellows of their lungs
quiver. And I too, quiver
in breathing
Following the road goes
wherever the road does
and easing around that corner
together I would beseech her
and think of bellowing but
would not bellow, for know what
doesn't bend, neither grows; so—
So.
17 May 2009
King of the Hill
Is this getting better
or getting worse? Slicker
animations (no doubt
they're Korean, (because
it's cheaper there) which
is fair) But—because,
today I read Bobby's entry
on wikipedia, and there's
some controversy over his
middle name—but not
really, because Butch
just comes from the episode
"Torch Song Hillogy" where
Peggy put his name on
Hank's old football whatever—
But she wanted Jeffery,
not Butch, but maybe—
Hank was so mad—he's
a man—Peggy, she knows him.
I wouldn't put it past him
to want Butch to have been
Bobby's middle name.
or getting worse? Slicker
animations (no doubt
they're Korean, (because
it's cheaper there) which
is fair) But—because,
today I read Bobby's entry
on wikipedia, and there's
some controversy over his
middle name—but not
really, because Butch
just comes from the episode
"Torch Song Hillogy" where
Peggy put his name on
Hank's old football whatever—
But she wanted Jeffery,
not Butch, but maybe—
Hank was so mad—he's
a man—Peggy, she knows him.
I wouldn't put it past him
to want Butch to have been
Bobby's middle name.
Duum
Never knew what
went well, as an oil drum
next to another one.
Hears the empty sounds
of them, and they abound
without beings struck
(or struck so softly as
to not be a strike, but
a barely caress) but
does it end?
went well, as an oil drum
next to another one.
Hears the empty sounds
of them, and they abound
without beings struck
(or struck so softly as
to not be a strike, but
a barely caress) but
does it end?
13 May 2009
Dreamt of You and Woke
Dreamt of you and woke
dreaming of you. So new
window, illusory casement
that I've somehow made up
from kisses and constituent stubble-burn
ravaged my lips and chin
all night and into the next day
waning red. I know you said
nothing.
I've never loved communication
so much—kept the photos
saved them in a folder on the desktop.
I know what being enshrined is like
and miss the shrine.
dreaming of you. So new
window, illusory casement
that I've somehow made up
from kisses and constituent stubble-burn
ravaged my lips and chin
all night and into the next day
waning red. I know you said
nothing.
I've never loved communication
so much—kept the photos
saved them in a folder on the desktop.
I know what being enshrined is like
and miss the shrine.
10 May 2009
Dear You
Dear You,
I admit to nothing
but being verite, who
am the recipient of
all-day-long fuff and
swallow. And the new
tower about which you
must've heard everyone
speaking, is being built
still, despite difficulties
leasing all the spaces.
I, gleaning all of this from
headlines read over shoulders
of dejected commuters who're
worse than us—or who
in past, with virtue of dis-
tance, I remember us to be.
I admit to nothing
but being verite, who
am the recipient of
all-day-long fuff and
swallow. And the new
tower about which you
must've heard everyone
speaking, is being built
still, despite difficulties
leasing all the spaces.
I, gleaning all of this from
headlines read over shoulders
of dejected commuters who're
worse than us—or who
in past, with virtue of dis-
tance, I remember us to be.
09 May 2009
Amply
(for my mother)
You
as Trianon or vermeil
artefact. This static (
O! how it resumes) &
it resumes—But you
no lessening of this,
but adding. And adds
here even after adding.
I love you so. &
So.
07 May 2009
Kosure Haiku
Haiku is a strange and specific art. These are the things I understand about it: 1) there are three lines consisting of five, seven, and five syllables; 2) nature should be a prime element; 3) the structure of Japanese (words consisting of monosyllables eg. wa, be, fu) make the lines of a haiku distinct tonally, and of regular lengths (this is completely impossible to replicate in English)—that's it.
For these reasons, and others I've begun a twitter account exclusively for haiku. Because of the restrictions of this form, I attempt to follow the poetical convention of representing liniation in-line. Normally in this way, line breaks are marked by a backslash surrounded on either side by two spaces—twitter only allows for one; my apologies.
06 May 2009
04 May 2009
Lying Lips
This shit, what it
means in context
—I don't know.
But think that
how the lips
move; worry
what in head
moves quite
constantly.
So, in absence
of sense—
of obstinate
cage for keeping
the good things
in.
means in context
—I don't know.
But think that
how the lips
move; worry
what in head
moves quite
constantly.
So, in absence
of sense—
of obstinate
cage for keeping
the good things
in.
03 May 2009
What Happened Besides the Barbecue
The bad part of town is
a home for some. The cab
comes in morning to take one
back to the airport, however
the night was.
The glut of empty streets
and darkness in that place
comes, as the sunrise does
or doesn't but sends a text
message apologizing;
the lake house is too nice.
The silence a solace from
the city is white rice steaming,
fork-fluffed and waiting on
the side of a curry.
The squawk's nice, this walk
ice.
a home for some. The cab
comes in morning to take one
back to the airport, however
the night was.
The glut of empty streets
and darkness in that place
comes, as the sunrise does
or doesn't but sends a text
message apologizing;
the lake house is too nice.
The silence a solace from
the city is white rice steaming,
fork-fluffed and waiting on
the side of a curry.
The squawk's nice, this walk
ice.
01 May 2009
Stravinsky
Igor Stravinsky had a hat
and I, don't know how to think
about that but through jealousy.
I, as the sages read endlessly, live
in the constant emotion of listening
listening, and I know that there's
inequity there, but love how the voice
sounds. Love how la seriozado expounds.
Love how to find oneself in the paying
attention.
and I, don't know how to think
about that but through jealousy.
I, as the sages read endlessly, live
in the constant emotion of listening
listening, and I know that there's
inequity there, but love how the voice
sounds. Love how la seriozado expounds.
Love how to find oneself in the paying
attention.
30 April 2009
Teenagers
Why the young ones so
an object of ridicule
among the old? Is it
jealousy of the longer wait
for death, or of this innocence?
They worry too, so.
This discrepancy between
grows as time goes, though
an object of ridicule
among the old? Is it
jealousy of the longer wait
for death, or of this innocence?
They worry too, so.
This discrepancy between
grows as time goes, though
Drudgery
He puts in the hours and thinks
of the sweet Swiss Cross, how
it's equidistance—
and how he thinks of this all day
long.
of the sweet Swiss Cross, how
it's equidistance—
and how he thinks of this all day
long.
29 April 2009
28 April 2009
27 April 2009
Finding the Rain Evaporated
Cares too much, and
cares not. How to find
an end to all these little things
red, overwrought and these
and these, and these and these
things. Knowing the ring you
beared, the fey jewelry and
the tickets and train
and the somewhere else
thats worth going to.
Locking eyes, and the sheet rains
as if from some film rain
machine, but isn't.
Is not replicated, but
comes from the sky and goes.
cares not. How to find
an end to all these little things
red, overwrought and these
and these, and these and these
things. Knowing the ring you
beared, the fey jewelry and
the tickets and train
and the somewhere else
thats worth going to.
Locking eyes, and the sheet rains
as if from some film rain
machine, but isn't.
Is not replicated, but
comes from the sky and goes.
26 April 2009
the Fraternity
And even you as much if
me the worst. Flaunting, as
they say, with the drape of
your dressings what furrows beneath
—the body!
Unsure if, when pregnant with
the possible—smells, so tied to
the memories?—carried. Unsure
if the parallax or mirrored lenses
still hide the eyes
finds the ends, and has
only loved—really—once
and released him in the
ennui of some other loss—the
Fraternité.
me the worst. Flaunting, as
they say, with the drape of
your dressings what furrows beneath
—the body!
Unsure if, when pregnant with
the possible—smells, so tied to
the memories?—carried. Unsure
if the parallax or mirrored lenses
still hide the eyes
finds the ends, and has
only loved—really—once
and released him in the
ennui of some other loss—the
Fraternité.
25 April 2009
Rewriting the Debut Novel
The adaptation that's authorial, but
apparently unfaithful. Apparently.
And what can mean anything after
the death of M. Kaplan,
your lover of many years
—How you loved him. And I
the Bruce Rhinebeck or Marcus
Schekenberg analogue.
I've got to rethink this aesthetic. Is
done waiting for this magic to appear.
Here
nobody gets what they want.
apparently unfaithful. Apparently.
And what can mean anything after
the death of M. Kaplan,
your lover of many years
—How you loved him. And I
the Bruce Rhinebeck or Marcus
Schekenberg analogue.
I've got to rethink this aesthetic. Is
done waiting for this magic to appear.
Here
nobody gets what they want.
23 April 2009
Printed
(for Vinnie)
Reifying this Earth, as if
another one existed. Wist-
wall coming forward with
all the Futurists' sense and
brevity, and vitriol, letter
pressed.
The smells are so incongruous
that come from this book
bindery; apochryfully they
opined plainly; smell these inks.
I will gild this shitted lily
and decide to quit, already.
Galosh
Every scent I hate because
the thinking of you surcease
and continue.
The leap-look leap of soft pink
underbelly, or pink striped shirt.
The choosing; so obnoxious
that one forgets the choice
and chooses. Sees the blood
on the hands, tasting copper
all day long, (is it stress? is it
the nose bleeding? is What
purring for attention—Yes it is
You flaunting the eat of submarine
sandwich I wanted; it, the slim
happiness that exists. Bologna,
soft bread splayed in a mess
of lunch.
The friend, who goes unnoticed
is much older, and eats other sub.
the thinking of you surcease
and continue.
The leap-look leap of soft pink
underbelly, or pink striped shirt.
The choosing; so obnoxious
that one forgets the choice
and chooses. Sees the blood
on the hands, tasting copper
all day long, (is it stress? is it
the nose bleeding? is What
purring for attention—Yes it is
You flaunting the eat of submarine
sandwich I wanted; it, the slim
happiness that exists. Bologna,
soft bread splayed in a mess
of lunch.
The friend, who goes unnoticed
is much older, and eats other sub.
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