| hello ache |
[09 Jul 2006|05:04pm] |
and echo, like you do, like you
could want to. take my
druthers, swing them over your
shoulders, calling out to the
boys that its time to get
started.
i have better things to do, haha.
|
|
| i replied |
[01 Jul 2006|01:38pm] |
i have a lover and not much
want to go out and
feed myself. tom petty laments
over the speakers and
my back hurts, my spine imitating
snakes'.
i smoke a pack of 5 dollar
a pack cigarettes every
day, with memories of marlboro
reds and the ripe age of fifteen
when i was not normal.
i am wearing cowboy boots
and an orange scarf around my
hair, scabs on my face and hands
(...who neither much improve
my position at all...haha) who
tell the whole sob story very
quietly.
|
|
| invalid |
[26 Jun 2006|12:59pm] |
what my tongue may not navigate
pours out of me in sweat or swear
words who neither much improve
my position at all. and
laughing only makes me look
like some kind of asshole...worse
things have happened to impersonators,
and, afterall the work does not
do itself (wait & wait) and
we, so, then, lump ourselves in with
however many others it takes to assuage
the grief of what it means, finally,
being human as
the sun is coming up again and again,
even though, you know, the end and all.
what mystery cannot sate i havent yet
met & hangers on look forward with the
same kind of hopelessness as Pavlov's
dogs.
|
|
| for now |
[23 Jun 2006|01:00pm] |
in the night, your tongue
is a braid of wheat.
as the stars see, my teeth
are pestles.
at the morning, the bread
of our kiss is eaten
by very small brownblack
birds.
|
|
|
[25 May 2006|01:03pm] |
now
somewhere a bird pukes
for its offspring, & an alligator
is eating its'. it is
perfectly natural to
see formless time pass
through over under you, not
in front or behind, as angles
vary & the flux of such is impossible
for humans to measure.
and the wind
over China reminisces your hair
and hard fingers, now
bored with permanent
mountains & seas. you
have peanut butter & bread
crumbs on your face. you
are sound
asleep amid the cacophonous
world. you are
cashing a paycheck. you are
tossing another grain of rice into
another burlap sack. you
are pouring wine. you're
repeating the same story
for a seventh time. you miss
not knowing about time &
its tricks, about life &
its pricks. you miss
the bus again & have
forgotten your cigarettes, locked
out of the house once
more for the sakes of all
the dreamt tomorrows...
you find a few moments to
ponder the world. it is
seven o' clock in the
morning.
|
|
|
[11 Apr 2006|10:35pm] |
something, the word, will be
stricken. also except, also kindof,
also never, also always, and
nevermind.
|
|
|
[05 Apr 2006|10:29pm] |
a dog's one sad eye searches
an illegal warehouse kitchen for kind hands
while any 50 fingers are rapt with either
words or the future, which generally, dogs
havent thoughts of in particular.
meanwhile, you've gone away to ponds
and illicit consent must be implied at
this rate or any, really. of
course, ofcourse - Nothing of this vein
may keep its teeth for very long, as
long as there are taxis to get into
continnually, cigarettes to fold, confirmations
to ignore and long dead patriots to gossip on.
all mills and mongers on the scene...and
pause spells exactly itself ([what] is not there),
so tongues are overrated anyway. and
though stupefied, we are the only examples
that may be had.
|
|
| alonenola |
[29 Mar 2006|08:36pm] |
because perhaps the abstract is too
Too to hold we may draw pro-
still portraits of photographs of trees
and make sure everyone could see how
long it takes to complete a thing such
as so
immediacy gets a bad rap always
tends to negate the effect of that first
drag open on the road bowed full
of neglect and amophorohous tension that
may indeed still stalk the nights' panty line
rosy growing and atilt
|
|
|
[25 Mar 2006|06:25pm] |
so then, have only half of what you mean
and then try to see the breaking wake
of daylight much unearly.
|
|
| ...and with a quickness, if you dont mind. |
[18 Mar 2006|06:47pm] |
yes, because i am looking
to have my foresight applauded
and gain every inch of stature
that is at my ready access in order
to be completely happy, i will
have to negotiate good ground
for better ground and headspace
is nice, i think, and would very
much like some of that, please
and thanksalot.
|
|
| optional |
[09 Mar 2006|06:24pm] |
strange; i waited for about 45 seconds at
the busstop at 46th and troost this morning.
someone who'd appeared to be wait
ing too left as soon at the thing
stopped for us.
strange. and only about 3 minutes
at 39th and troost, where the number25
connects to the number39 which connects
to the number57 at main street, which too
was less than a cigarette's time in
layover. some lady told me my ears
were just darling. then she lit a cigarette
and looked down the lanes.
strange. the honeymoon was over
then and the day fell into place as my hands
cannot hurry enough in helping the hours on.
so then i have all the time in the world
devoted to the distinct business of sitting.
strange though life moves and
keeps us tuned, indeed...no(any)thing can be
mundane, except any(no)thing is how it was
made. see now, how
strange?
|
|
| how |
[08 Mar 2006|06:58pm] |
neil always ruins everything
for me. bob doesnt care either
way, but at least when he
doesnt know he changes the subject
completely. for as far as
ray knows his carrots gone blue
and his orange gone air in june.
the ladies all sit sewing Going
down into the tootache lapel
of voice. there are as many pricks
as buttons, it seems. dream up dream up
now on highway 61 still a fool for you
and spring is upon us again,
mostly.
|
|
| as though |
[01 Mar 2006|09:12pm] |
after he was gone, there was no
sign of him having been there
at all.
|
|
| palindrome |
[01 Mar 2006|09:12pm] |
so i know what this means:
now knowing is not the crux
begged or pined for.
now having is not the key
to possession. now want
is some kind of fresh
toy with which to mold
the world.
sense is as sense does &
mine seems to keep me indoors
a lot..&. &
& i have no complaints or
slant or stutter about
it; except Id demands
recognition & the gullet a
reprieve but its best
to get the thing done &
over with...
exception insinuates
itself blithely into small &
smaller spaces, never
mind what better one may've
thought about it from
the beginning. what remains
are palindrome answers to
anagram queries with
which no known tongue
is completely savvy & here
look at how this is going
now. i know what this means.
|
|
| evidence |
[27 Feb 2006|09:01pm] |
when you're not here
i do not stub my cigarettes
all the way
out. i bite off the dead
skin around the corners
of my fingernails & the back of
my lower lip
while i write, sitting
on blankets made by Mexicans
in Kansas City which
is home to me as you are
in a certain
sentimental way that binds
us through whatever
time & struggle or
rapture & mischeif may
distract us from each
other momentarily.
when you're not here
it is very quiet except for
the radio & i contemplate drinking
all of your coffee before i
leave except i wont. instead i
will find some subtle scrap
of paper on which to
copy down this thing &
leave it in a spot you
may not discover for days.
&, though imperfect, these
are the ways.
|
|
| wait & see |
[26 Feb 2006|08:54pm] |
laboriously, the word pursues
the air who lent it though
circumstance proves, per
usual, ingracious...& though
things have their
certain ways of run
ning on, can find (s
trangely) small
means of id
entifying the end they
(may) fulfill. numbers
migrate, people (aha!) are
different & digust(ed)ing
all over. & now(here) the
world has bee
n on the e
dge of ceasing, al
ways, as far as facts
may be counseled.
a werewolf, Luck stands
end to end all best guesses
and tastes (infects) each
one for its (best) salt while
i, bemused, can only
look on, enume
rating.
no(where) lines move &
are broken; end to end,
salt for salt.
|
|
| my eyes grow |
[22 Feb 2006|11:44pm] |
the night wears
me as a sweater
protecting again
st this man
made weather...what
(? we
have of what remains
is not so
easily seen or
named for all the other
ness it posse
sses. (here) con
densed & at the (ebb)
flow as if there were
n't a stop or end
to it. & (this is) how
it happens, of course;
unfelt unheard...except
One's very veins
know & id
entify while the flesh
disappears beneath
the stars' beat
ings. my eyes grow
tired.
|
|
| spoony |
[15 Feb 2006|12:16pm] |
yes so What has and may make itself
into something completely new by
the end of the day without punctuations'
way of ending things or addendums. yes
so How goes through(in)out with(out)in
laughing about its business, breaking balls
as bobby d sits in the window, looking
downright wistful.
around.
|
|
| special |
[14 Feb 2006|04:58pm] |
on today
How, the question,
hangs the gag, swingingly, toward half the requisite
effort. greetings fake execution while
saying mocks human endeavors toward
rhyme and rhythm.
halves and green flags break the sky's
image throwing wings at the wind
just to see them fall away.
though having is not had and
present tenses always find their
due in effectiveness. this does
not mean a thing, it
does not mean to war or to be
persuasive. breaking to broken pieces,
ranging, loft today; having need
without desire attached to it.
|
|
| sang-froid |
[14 Feb 2006|11:53am] |
again not any kind or type of
otherness may afford me the space i need
to reconcile the misdeed done.
yet, though, except i find the
break quite open and willing to be
delineated, dissected, plied with focal
strategy...so,
then, at that - going to get gone and stay
no matter the number of
paces taken in the leaving. my
heart has no shape, has no corners,
and sewing wrong things into it
the day chuckles with heavy breath over
my wince.
and then what may i be able or
willing to see through the cloud of pricks
coming at me, the pangs mold into fog that
one could cut with a spoon, but begs for knives.
as am i.
|
|