shelter over the exposed add the fixer behind the bath towel, and socks and in fact the rest of the colorful ones their mint and sorrow, i think your face is beautiful, the way it is ardent leaps. in the thickest of woods, to a young girl one morning she combs scared knickknacks, idols there was a vase eaten with a dab of honey for aren’t allowed to fuck nothing is here i...
the time dropping forgets as seeing her drive away i wonder with the dust, who decided on these names for the goats, that are really popular around here these days. are they themselves taking the direct object or a weirder act is hiding here, perhaps like painted feet. they in a humble color of green, but she isn’t one of those goats. no painted feet either. but popularity aside it...
i’ve burned down the factory farm. this isn’t in smelly anger lights puncture night even when christendom refuses exist this horse apple line, an old snearing, which arose back when dogs could talk, then all horses appear like clouds are hot springs, by big sunflower river. i have made this happiness steeped in spanish scrolls where the dead dig up bodies taking your shoes off please
19th day: in ten minutes mister diary
no hazard with the gray outline is monday. a nappy place, four left of a tome few get meaning from graphed spirals. right there. that is morning talk, symbols but without any paper bones behind.
the plastic peach tree says so little in english pencil marks toward ceiling how to own person history ready clouds migrate over the periphery these platelets are metaphoric what flavor you want growing?
17th day: slanguage poetry and politics in the...
the first starts to finish grammar the first what? middle leisure class, we can ragged right. not necessarily twitchy, the optional to unbury our hearts when this is massachusetts, route 128 by the power lines. that second, freudian and the semen absolutely below the bust line. how is your traffic tonight? and his ambition is robbing the ‘wet list’ from some powerful perp....
box flap discarded near river edge everything torpid against a shrub torn from large boulder ground the trash cannot wait to be picked up
15th day: a list
one not ovid’s new army the driver confused of words combined with send the safety job personal taste but critical pearls two about my mediocrity of character these lenses give us a ward of going down right price confides in proud three telephones to be a man up with the yet forth come and get it with your grapes paid for breaking fast four half sad spots and listen...
the lights up. i didn’t even get to shake the man’s hand before, what do you get from this as bitter owls plunk about those stars are glimpsed as in somewhere night called chamomile. the characters are introduced as petunias torn pudding would be is, cheap to call them, enter the calm. oh the drama. then two iphones walk into a bar; and they chat about the old pharaohs and...
hat tear was a rhyme-jerker my cotton is accounted absolute inside a nine mile ring cat scamps through trash on living room floor temporary house it earned exercise and soap is rubbed into second shift emoting doesn’t invest verbs the naked neighbor i can’t music the hearing off freestyling while showering how sentimental
caught, chewing garage. you forget truth everything and a paddle of the forgotten music. without being curious, without. a special second apology, this one is clear (enacted.) chewing silicate minerals on bullet train, to argon for beautiful biting revenge: belief that bears sentimental filminess to a period canoe. some know that blank minerals, are all facts. every knowledge in...
11th day: sex and eastern philosophy in america
as with corners, most of us like sex those spelling blocks letters on them, most rain, beyond our world talk ha, those being figurative and anti-realist it is your turn, the safety word is violence
take the mouth agape and turn it in and around in your mind. exotic, south american, somewhere. our edges remain because we have decide on shape. the star this star does not penetrate, we you universe. with the time we have left, anyone has left, let us get sappy. the covering for our bread. i could say i like your hips. i could say. what drives a car? but the tone perfectly has something,...
9th day: e-poetry, on perspective, & noir
cat turning head sideways to look at the bubble downward floating. will history itself stop sculpting? grainy is sense. these lenses give us, when was the last, we stood by campfire light? hold on this isn’t an expressionistic detective flick?
did those shoes find me? did i find them, they were tan, then walking cross the crosswalk my mind is a zebra. made to make sense because flesh figures it out. stops beside the longer wall, but that only, anxiety. already over the crosswalk and gulped coffee. how the pigs feed. mysteries to no one. this is the right price. the weakness after seven days, for anyone. the voices don’t come from...
no arrival yet or a late appearance, up with froth toward a corporate bookstore the smell in a cooked chain, expect to pay for coffee change in the dark- ness is earned, the obsession matted down on having the book you want or the book i want, stroll in like you own the place and take what you need don’t pay for it, this is breakfast half finished, we are delighted...
the eleventh hour was when those ads were cast out of fashion, into a different style. the appearence of everyday things in a feelgood vibe, except for watches & calendars. a phrase like running time is hardly considered; this is a cold season for a freeway with a route number i forget. missing experience but inhale, inhalation will make you feel better more sexy even as a dime...
phone rings we the streams, by everyone’s ability here. you’ve a lengthy trip home, thanks tapeworm.
a series of unlikely explanations will only fit a few people’s gear boxes. public relations technique from a clipper ship — above us in sky is fog. the break in the room could be a conflict of interest, but what century do we live in? there’s a cold window through the other room, this shows me the door have goosebumps actually is a jaundiced outlook, a sunny fog with...
the sea shanty admits running through veins is what hustles there is it green that color for ireland i am a pause besides this being a pirate has helped my hearts boat stay clearer and pump anything running a sea shanty admits that patience exists somewhere this help pours gasoline into every body it certain isn’t very urban when looking beyond tourist self the most obvious...
where are we that lives then probably unwashed for bright poem today sun surprise by weather new and this day two the normal words stand out our spines the vital song while comparing fountains to youth this is what we own this second time is midstream to floor the objections fall like cat waits in fishbowl the normal words stand out like when dogs could talk my plan now wash hair...
we call ourselves by how we observe home. the motions through the elected moments in day, perhaps collateral mismatch but not getting hard, and the bread isn’t rising. our shifting minds grow, as smaller the numbers allow. a passion understood by so few. a picture drawn on pad of yellow paper, there is no cover and the pages have blue lines. this wonders who describes me. what...
Writing Violence: From "An Army of Lovers" by... →
writingviolence: “They had fought a lot about this, how to get themselves out of what they had taken to calling the impasse, which was their inability to figure out why they continued to write poetry in a time when poetry seemed not to matter, and when their attempts to collaborate with one or maybe two or maybe…
the simple pleasure is no pressure a sentence makes itself full with a ring encircles lunar slice after last sundown
I have been traversing the sunless territory of non-identity. A strange land. I...– Viginia Woolf, The Tides (via janakastucky)
is it summer yet? and i’m still grateful these loves are home goosebumps from large rooms of the past, happenings are
transit followed by and as action word. cat observation fascination. two other feline lines at farm new past old school. that road name changes. let it happen. i don’t steam, in tired light. oh okay transit as in a planet. back to earth, likenesses, who answer. family populated street probably. the common denial, clickable link to book below. more words to soak in. thinking is never...
It’s not humility I’m after nor the pit of my gums– Michael Gizzi
i missed that metaphor this morning a grape surprised with a peach pit at it’s center fleshed out by this seed remember but now eyes wander off and up a cobweb inches below the drop ceiling it’s smart to lead them but not display your education or mine what makes the connector strange without being there while i lay back a small draft blows this web around like a dusty...
and worth every price. weight of the price tag. what i mean it’s worth every penny, but want to trade. a funny jokes about “the business” sent along with snapshots. the screen from a calendar week. calendar the method to not starve in this department store of modernity is to eat the sundays. or snack on the dates. now it’s hard to measure my waist with all these syllabic...
none give gifts on other planets yet
before returning alive our plans fan out three times. here names are made as we look peacefully down at the earth. there is no thumb to cover. people the streets crowd. our lives, a sentence told in reverse. what desired is mostly to believe. the ambience forms a guilt trip. food stamps and a skin color. am i going to cook or vote? that’s the real question isn’t it. neighbors outside...
“tears, that could be the tone, if they weren’t so easy, the true tone and tenor at last.” — samuel beckett
there's a draft maybe the first one
tomorrow does have proof yet, it is still today. now perpetually, un-arriving. that said simple me, looking deep, today at what is defined. here the window does need to be left open, here is winter. the cat traveling by his own will — but the picture i stare at, connect conifers habitually with human lungs, (lain overtop in photograph) those aren’t, the facts, this overly emotional love...
uutpoetry: forlorn color shades/ iron of hat
apes and bears wise animals each fruit tree resigns itself the others follow dreaming the days go by i endure let the hour pass the day the same while underneath the stars appear like the image of bees that sets these deceptive rays in my hands having unhooked a star the blind man rocks a pretty child the deities of living dew the gypsy new in advance made us think hand in hand...
the smell of garlic cooking for the season ready before time arrives
conceptually should the kids be allowed to see...
a green pain hesitates on top of the festivities. how will discretion lurk around advice? advice condones the emerging fan around any cue. discretion moves a longest sympathy against the thoroughfare, animal. discretion fields advice above the pencil. our calculation clogs the middle postage. each representative succeeds averse a behavior. how will a booked elevator fear after input. opposite...
it’s almost, what you don’t say, “socially,” hold on i need to put in more hashtags
parental discretion is advised
making ourselves last in line without quotes this brown paper bag is a trampled flower stealing is popular after tranquil speed bumps along the weight and books heavier hair falls out sick like pleasure being bought flowers feels cheap getting the leather touch back sexual smart cheaters not to be a good nation of piles situations our hats are just sight snatched the closed...
the road tips toward east like a puddle left for a river. the lame drawstring, our weather staggering, the bite, why liquids are proud. this answer is an empty stairway towards the opposite north.
earlier than thought, but the plan was straight. my type for blurted obviousness. compares what will be in the picture frame but i already arrived in the square behind the gallery. the top of it’s skin is grayly carpeted & what eyes adapt to is called american primitive, the taste now, milk printmaking maps with large helvetica words over them, in the persona of loud statements. there...
we don’t get coffee for building blocks nothing by great balance as anyone hitchhikes from your eyes its thick cover unmelting snow and is painted deep blue indent your most beautiful hair indent that nothing knows names of car plates indent it has unusual shape is sight indent twice but bright opening in exclamations indent twice please give me the impressive mountains...
this is what i can’t stand, feeding the thank you. spilled problems of fountains. we speak, again. if we hear in the direction of signs, we are oil. the brilliance of how sing, these reflections of chair orchestras. that courses along, is crop circles ( aside cult oddity.) the stern grandeur of insects. let’s unlap life, the unimpeded face tears for, this can’t,...
cutting off on materialism, yearning and earning. about a week. the gravity being responsible. my life is huge. translated english to french, then back english, that’s composing entertainment a young poem. in notes for survival (job) i have a dialogue tuesday. everyone provides their perfect hunt. life happens. tomorrow an engaging party. quality. (music drops) to time it waters monday, or...
the ignorant riots over a breathed contract. near a bath talks a salt bookshop. * hesitate uncertain those fault lines longer than the length of my arm but they’re folded * what after tells it limping wire * strange fixture what a coincidence? * blue walls a stuffed animal three actors * gray could sense dislocation but a pickup could blush then flesh would...
I thought that if I where broken enough I would see the light– Robert Creeley
the green water drains from tub a yellow fiberglass. mantel echos reboot, with challenges from saint john’s wart, and brand new computers. inside outplacement, improvistations for elevators named planetary science. the sand left behind isn’t seasonal decadence but close-at-hand links never chained or funded by the ropes. while this commu- nity is at least thirty miles off. to...
yrouttasight: Soulsavers- All the Way Down I...
this isn’t the correct place. massed with a powder keg wall, yes, they still love light the fight, a decision to let the other one into the place they call home, trouble with gossip shells. men and women making another america public before a whole wealth of obstacles fixes to rip those old jeans. maybe this is an extension wire plugging the radio how the gaps become safer.