February 2012
2 posts
I dare you fill the room with smaller rooms and the smaller rooms with hard objects that will not break the density of the objects is not important because in the small rooms in the room they will be weightless unbreaking in the vacuum. This is one long long letter in the language you and I both speak. Signed your friend.
The sun blinds me and the earth blinds me and all the animals in the world...
The shore was long that ran from the fence to the end of the shore. She has a way with a piece of data to see her with an answer.
You’re a rascal falling
out of cabs with beer in your purse. The light in the office reddened I think I was drowsing. I woke up and weak light from the cellar-style window coughed
in my burned face. I own three watches and all the batteries are dead. The...
January 2012
2 posts
We keep track of what we bore, as if the boring into is the holes we leave by boring. It makes me feel like paper without the delicate.
It is of the utmost importance that I do not make you the places that I am likely not to go to, like I make the city stairs, rope ladders, dull rain and a dull breeze.
We talk about thunderstorms. I wonder if you smell like anything, like dirty sleep like I...
The face is always burning because of the glow of a computer, humiliation, beer, or motion.
Gesture is all pause. Moving is not moving, not silent. They rattle like a couple of cheap copper bracelets on a raised arm. We blink
over frames
and when you blink you draw a string map through a series of desks and chairs. We are the scratching and the scratched.
The wheelhouse, my energy source,...
December 2011
3 posts
First, the war, the act of war, the plunder, raiding. It’s like how hair could bristle before you even had your beautiful hair.
Look up from your computer like there’s no such thing as an armor piercing cartridge.
Your eyes are two harrier jets. Your smile is a harrier jet. Everything in you is named for what it hunted.
The agency has released its preliminary report on the Sept 15 crash.
Things can be too right, like really clean hair.
Be faced with what’s facing you from across the room. Later you
Relax. A few weird gifts in the bottom of a heavy bag. Nice vest, by the way.
The Mare
in Middle Welsh is
something
stuffed into
a shoe closet under
the computer
overflows with flowers
firemen arrive in the office and we
trade significant glances
...
August 2011
2 posts
The girl does not receive the pages but a history of the pages
does not receive the words, “give me your blonde, pounding heart!” in her ears but in her hair and fingernails.
does not walk lightly across the thin carpet and up the stairs and up the stairs
does not walk effectively over cobblestones in high heels, faltering (I want to break your ankle, carry you crying)
does not forge things or...
Crossing the street walk too slow you I stealing we don’t read the same.
You push gums to the bottom of the cup. Every story is litter then & wax paper You start
with trouble on cobblestones, pacing and soon you’re a leopard. I think it has something to do with darkness. Sheer like bus windows. The lance corporal is ignored and close to tears. Grizzly bear moves into his house, fixes
that...
July 2011
1 post
I lick spit and the fluorescent orange bean soup grease from the joint of your disposable spoon. Small white mouth parts,
I am like leaves floating in something because I have not properly been filtered.
Residual means you’re a little behind residue sticky like an infant I’ll ruin you like a pair of shoes I ruin in the woods, weeping like a reed because I didn’t want to be...
June 2011
3 posts
make it a sign for all your friends to sink you like a stone. a part of the hauling and chewing plastic one way to test yourself between reckless.
I’m reckless. I want a neater husband and deeper scratches it was special: breathe. a herd of buffalo: no one wants the best for us.
I want tectonic plates a garden hose
we are a national museum a grizzly bear stuffed and the button to smell...
Get rid of the last letter from the word I am either on the edge of this big rock above the water or an ideogram on the beach on the cape twice removed from you.
Make a list of things you’re not, like dessert wine and those weird dry patches on pavement after rain.
I literally spend the whole day stealing your bored clauses and rotations.
The cadet in every play, I look good in that skinny air...
May 2011
2 posts
April 2011
2 posts
The incompatible hollering
Terrible dreams from ghost-shows
And eating pizza way too late
“My name is Tanya, and I died for double-yous.”
I am the big lake and you are the sunbather. We sit
Through the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, touching tininess—
Real small.
“The Treasure
When colour goes home into the eyes,
And lights that shine...”
– Rupert Brooke, 1915
February 2011
1 post
We animals discover the blender, the humidifier. The manuals
we kept in that drawer have been thrown away.
They were more like litter, these tri-lingual pamphlets,
but with them
gone
we have a new kitchen with
new appliances.
We twitch in our sleep because we’re dreaming about being chased or chasing (give me your blonde pounding heart!) or our illuminated pelts
We light the...
January 2011
2 posts
“keep your unpeopled gardens careful, like with words.”
This is what the bear said to her while she crossed the river into the forest of weathered, two-tone doors, fragments of azaleas close cropped like haircuts in the chain link.
Then they were a pair and between two things: the smiling void. Everything in pairs inside of the hopeless field.
Fishing line suspended the old model...
December 2010
4 posts
i have more to say to you, grampa. i’m sorry for crying in that stupid army vest, sorry for defending carnegie. i just saw this thing on the history channel; i didn’t know what i was talking about. i hope other things made you proud, a little, like that i call my father “da.” you know, kids tormented me for that, but i never stopped. because i know you rubbed his head when...
I see you in the grain of everything
and in the final verse
and in what is thrown away
in those processes.
Making beer, hand cream,
those byproducts.
You’re beyond me when I’m sweating,
You’re
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?
Author//Finisher
She woke up and gave her a name, following the track that led past the big, rocky outcroppings just beyond a mild stand of pines, marking the almost-end of the lot. She woke up old and auricular and she gave her a name: “You will be mine,” she said, “the highway at night, a lunatic in an old building full of monk rooms. The odds of seeing you will be like the...
October 2010
1 post
He viewed her diaried childhood from the muddy foxholes
of his own. He traced her like a root with
50X field glasses through pine needles as she drifted
through mortar strikes across some field.
Here, the sound of her keys
echoed through the chamber.
Everything in his life lay before him, scattered on the beach, half buried by waves.
Some epic shit had befallen him.
The long night before...
April 2010
4 posts
Black Cloud
All of their belongings were suspended from the ceiling.
It was sweeter, looking upward at necessary things:
sunglasses, a coffee mug, electric razors and
regular razors and unused candle holders shaped like lily pads.
So these two sweet bone-yards looked up at their world.
The dander was quiet and thick, not damp,
not dry, but vaguely warm in that once-human way.
It collected in the...
Oblivion
He said to the Ocelot,
Give me my blonde, pounding heart,
and the Ocelot came down from the treetops.
- - - -
A slow, wet cat,
you climb stone fences, climb
bleachers you
crooked feet.
- - - -
Follow me
into the stuttering penumbra of the eclipse,
he said to the Ocelot,
follow me
with your blonde, pounding heart.
- - - -
Your arms are made for prince things,
said the...
Gift
Plain talk always cuts me. I’m not good. There’s no dignity in back problems, just the chairs, just a special way to sit, and here, sitting. You don’t have to look deep: it’s in the physiology, the half-openness like there’s a bird in there, somewhere in the cave, but there isn’t. There’s carpet or nothing. I held the bird, the ghost-bird you...
February 2010
4 posts
Nicer ways of looking at machines
This is pleasanter, behind the fastened ropes—behind them so that we’re among the way they work—and what they lift is anyone’s best guess, we can’t see that part.
Steam obscures the parts that make the steam, obscures the rope, a linen white wagon of fine dirt that swells you healthy. The central wheel is less central.
Shuddering is necessary if the wood is...
Old Friend
The top half is white and khaki
colored. The bottom half is well tailored and
black and leather.
I never can do the worst thing in my dreams. My back just
stiffens and my hands get like
foreign on their old spots where they weren’t enough.
The days is foreign like us legionnaires, we have this
weird sickness. What sees us
shopping what sees us agree.
Like where am I in...
How old were we then? The early morning
How old were we then? In those
early morning hours, all the same, the kids
own age, ourselves and full of half years.
We vibrated once
All of us all of us vibrated
our ages vibrated
colors our eyes were what colors of our eyes.
Prime #1
Sounds by the reception area
actors used to quote “stellar”
pinioned through a loose mob
one more time it mattered
have no support staff?
come to Reginald crib in
It seems like she got happier
base of the round, pretty head
the whole motherboard and blow
ship of six months or
publicly at the baseline of
need another shower
simple minded though not to
evening...
December 2009
1 post
Twelve Days of Xmas
1) I preferred the back of the boat, where the wind whipped me stupid.
2) Sunglasses and a juice box: these two things, see, are no enforcer. No, they leave us a little wilted.
3) The older the photo the deeper the lake: the newer the life, something about breathing. I don’t know.
4) The thing is, I don’t feel alone in the house, even though I like am.
5) What happened to...
November 2009
4 posts
25:4
mistake
glancing again
at my fingernails
He hands me
to hand
“There are reasons why
kindly a child
jokes on me.”
I drive I walk the smell
into
washed, cool sheets
my shoes in the closet
the smell the partially
closed and I
I call
another answers
25:3
Old
shoes
we can ,but
I’m beginning
Ah, now
a white
a black,
prayer
reflection
light along the windowsill.
in
nowhere
if nothing
done.
25:2
Alcohol’s us
described
by lightning
blossoms.
then?
comes
then
Fear.
one of you will understand!
babysit
him sleepwalking
or dumber than
his death.
25:1
What interrupts. A new couch a new
concrete
in for a picture
puppet
late and
All this
black coat
refused
often
concrete
just like you. window
the sheets
feel head under
hand breathes
October 2009
3 posts
Early Fall in Boston, Six Parts
I
Wrap your hands around the gaskets of a fire hydrant and understand the seasons.
II
A painter blocks the entrance to the cave, a ring of light embracing each of his oil edges.
III
Men in suits litter the common, digging for fish bones. Sturgeons gut the throat of the city daily.
IV
Ham says: “My troubles are over. My sisters are married to all of my...
The buildings get bigger as we move toward the center of the city of stairs, then we are among them, or they us. Either party, maybe both, always ascending, descending, catching glimpses of the dynamo at the center, or the guilded statue of the royal bedsheets.
September 2009
1 post
Two nobodys smell like ice. Their chairs are worn. I drag myself from the little box, two nobodys follow.
July 2009
1 post
Atmospheric pressure dropped and the artic air blew in begonia leaves.
An eclipse: The liquor store is absorbed by the mother and son. They are twin houses conjoined at the sink.
There is so much to steal in the big world. You are not connected. Good girls are good, like a regular glass or the perfect place for as long as you like.
It is less than a lightning bolt and more of an argument,...
June 2009
9 posts
The ferry goes to the island, comes back again. I wasn’t on it.
There are more birds here than I remember. Or less panthers. Both, probably.
See yourself in a sandbox. We’re there together, we’re children. The desert calls you home for supper.
You are more beautiful than the Lone Ranger at Normandy. Two flags become his canopy.
I haunt the beekeeper, and am paid accordingly....
I may not be much to look at, but I can hijack an ice age with my organ tan. I died in the desert, or the desert-like place of the war god. I became a bale of hay, among five child heroes, and now, I’m everywhere. I’m all over the place. It’s boring, really. It’s been too long a time. I miss the awful castles, the dust in my throat and eyes, the smell of blood. Full of...
I am born through a windowpane. There is no passing through, just before, after, and thermal glass.
The little box of French-Canadian bones beneath the floorboards.
Birds nest under the flashing on the roof. I’m a hangar from the Castle Harbor Hotel, Bermuda.
Miracle surgery for two twin houses conjoined at the sink. What is friends? What else is for everyone else’s yellow calm.
“Do you remember cheap year or two Hacksaw Jim Duggan grew on me masters of space...”
– A ruined email from Tim
