30 Sep 2005
the water that it takes to feed the tree. let's say
you live beside this park, that people are attracted to
the park, and you, you levitate
by reaching into centermost epitome
to meet the call for what a tree is to become
when finally in place. let's say that you are placed
"where you are planted," as your relatives once
said. and that charisma feeds the plants
that round the tree, that surfaces are only
evidence of what lies deep beneath
this planted obvious. this object.
let's say awareness is an artifact,
regardless of the rumor mill. let's follow up
with what this might mean to the minced thinking
that often wanders off into unfinished things.
let's say you have everything right now to do.
let's say you do it. let's say you do not sleep
except to warm your partner back to sleep,
so back to back you go, to soothe the worry
that occurs quite naturally, the rumor is.
let's say there is a festival, and you can look
at trees, and you can render unto the authorities
what they have authored on your behalf.
let's say you're tired of being thought about
like silk. that you would rather live.
that you would far prefer to be the water
or the tree and looked at in the light of function,
not taken for granted as if you were
mere decoration. is the aging process
holy as it was when you were young
and looked ahead? what age is perfection?
if you hear the answer on some random walk,
then tell someone, maybe the authorities.
perhaps explain with gusto. I don't know
what it is makes me look forward to
the next installment of a different hue of daylight.
something of routine. something habitual.
28 Sep 2005
Morgan SLIPS tireless cHesIre Skie is uniquef lengthen
verbs associated disorders fiscql tics slippage death of the author
parvinder/rococco/baroque/persephone leaf'outs ff off the scarp rummaging in fat hands of turneresque -Jerusalem- ah ah Turneresque q'uest que c'est ma cherie sJKies immor immor etc etc immor fataLityCAR
you are splashing
in 4/4, the metro-
nom(e) de plume
shakes view from
side to side
it's late and I am moved
to ask what are you
for if new light
could strain thinking
we might o.d. on
cataracts to come
then line the shore
of something constant
stamina refracts the kilter
one is out of in
the constant foreground
where you glide toward
vamonos and what
variosity comes naturally
to you and you and
when one sizes up
the length and width
of purposeful appearing
accidents one turns
predictable in one's
perspicacity as if
one falter were to turn
a faultline simmering
and what now what thin
reed comes close to being
taken for a mile-
stone in a random chapter
are you viable or
with gestures factual
and braced to have alighted
on the cinders and that
prior trail we let guide us
to facets not our own
primary depth comes
naturally to actors
not onlookers, analysts
or chums of ones
performing in normed
roles primary openings
any way but randomly
24 Sep 2005
20 Sep 2005
r sadnes. why
do you remain
sore in p
laces of your s
kin she mean
t the world
and now the
world is her
to be you
ear and you
am now be
I will b
17 Sep 2005
There was a time when we
that folklore could right the wrongs of postmodernity. I use
they are image, sound and language. Consequently
objective than intellectuality. Boxing is a
healthy art and
learning is common
becomes extraneous - the
formalizing of education has
16 Sep 2005
11 Sep 2005
are complications cloistered a
round runes what do they
venerate what do we
when the spool unwinds our
thinking tapped against
a pool of hall light
rapt poise of listeners who
rega in t he sen se of sigh
these recept- are they good at
what I am
and this is the fast-track
activated by and byline therefore
when I sum the squares
I get in line
u ubook exchange it u steemed nombres
niot thyat sheRReetheAA
chnce a fiction variable when shiela murphy when she cacies [parOdyoftyping~ intriur BIF
es a00 flagerywaters
ent too photogenetics nmorphonogenics humerics or stimplrey humour
caught vis a
10 Sep 2005
9 Sep 2005
listen: I have learned you, lost you, leavened you, lengthened you.
lured you out of one bed into someone else's
the upshot is comeuppance now and northernly.
I'm wan from tinkering with toy braids in mimesis
of these shade flowers.
all my time in fear has yielded
talent turned to sweat.
and by the way, the turntable you imagined moved one-way
is static now. all voltage wears on
just conceptual verging on song.
and still I sing it toward your visible breath.
I watch you try to sleep.
I watch damage control at work.
I leave myself to captivate if you are working anymore.
you narrate me I norm you I examine consciences
I think are not mine, but it's habit to perfect
what I can only dream of offering away.
and then I catch myself being another part of speech.
give me text and treacle. afford what I have won
and listlessly imposed. my energy is hash.
my jamboree exhumes your rapt and sideways
inattention. tendrils just perceptibly appear to cough.
and heat shifts substance of the flower
until its name recurs to very poised ears
trebling the encumbrances. a justice system
winces near plaudits when they're white if only for a while.