TJ Desc


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Monday, June 30, 2003

this is why the outside
of our knees drape over
the inside of our knees
a carillon's playing
the ligaments, tuned

Sunday, June 29, 2003

eyes upside down
monkeying around
a long fall to the dirt
this is why the inside
of our knees hurt

Friday, June 27, 2003

17 right turns
73 parking tickets
256 MB
1 tired dog

Thursday, June 26, 2003

5 sushi restaurants
3 tanning salons

Tuesday, June 24, 2003

The Jeffers assignment teeters precariously
on top of a high pile of dreams
Don't fall down Robinson,
we're coming!
Robinson Jeffers
Tuesday Tuesday


Monday, June 23, 2003




Wednesday, June 18, 2003

speaking of
no rhythm hello

how many
vendor qualifications

do I um here
um operationalize

your adaptive
management strategy

of these words
wearily in two

and um go solve a
sweet tooth

and um the
duck survives

Tuesday, June 17, 2003

indelible ink
is no good for composing poems

I always use a pencil

The morning is soft, comfortable as mist
rolls across the hills like

heavenly tobacco smoke

Monday, June 16, 2003

indelible health
and freight loss
bombay me
with wreak

check cabs
for cheap chi
and generic

Sometimes I look into space
for many minutes -
I'm thinking about a poem
nobody I'm with ever gets it
sometimes I don't either.

If I try to explain, the words
don't cover the demands
of other words I'm considering,
when considering verse.
This is your brain on poetry!

Friday, June 13, 2003

hanging out
with Grandma Alfred

and Freddie Joe

of the car,
highly thinking


spare rows of
green beans

and half-cut corn
Not just the opera
but Alfred, Freddie, Joe

eating carrots
and thinking kindly

of soap in my mouth
or soap run over

the road
where my personality

was 'hanging out'
wiggling and well wishers

for well hung thoughts
sent on rather fondly
the opera was

like from only
three wriggles ago

or something

Tuesday, June 10, 2003

I stuck a pin
in it

to see if it would

it did
lovers and essential foils
A beautiful garden, serene and lush
full of soaps growing on trees

'flowers and essential oils'

Willy Wonka's chocolate edible stream,
in the chocolate factory.

Lush has blossoms you can
wash with.

Ah capitalism your glories
illusory and caught

like butterflies under glass

in advertising copy.
Lush is the quality of
having eaten

fizzy soap bomb
in the darkness


Monday, June 09, 2003

A revealing dorkness
shows the cool within
An elusive dorkness
hides the keys when
you're trying to find them:
'luck' as the quality of
having dorkness?

Saturday, June 07, 2003

habeas corpus
revealing dorkness
a lacy ribwich
gracing ear itch

Friday, June 06, 2003

stacy's clickrich

groovewire for soundglue
computateevee switch
to a performer person
got bushes particles all
peoplestuck and rutting

Thursday, June 05, 2003

Stasis Cliches Remix

Unable to wire for sound
Glued to the groove
Computed to TV
Switched on you
Informer person
People stuck
Getting and rutting

Wednesday, June 04, 2003

Stasis Cliches

Unable to move from the computer
Glued to the TV
Wired for sound
Switched on to modern art
Informed about current affairs
A people person
Stuck on you
In a rut
Getting into the groove

Tuesday, June 03, 2003

The eyes in my bed
should be in head

but are wiring prose
at the breakfast table

like subconscious whippersnappers whittled
by my car

and given to my car

don't go too fast
you'll park there
The eyes in my head
should be in bed

but at 3am
they are writing poems

like endless traffic tickets written
by my 'subconscious'

and given to my 'conscious'

don't park there &
you're going too fast!

Monday, June 02, 2003

Hanging low from the eye-hole tree
is a distant rumble of spoons

Let's go

Finding where eye meets
eye in the moor
Geez there are eyes

in the eyes of her skirt

eyes in the bark of the aspirin tree

I mean who is watching

who eating and eating

to get outside of / to pluck them from
the eyes in my bread
that I wanted raisins
steel spoon
steel shelving
kiddie-size scoop of
rising bread
the eyes in my head
are held by little
wooden spoons
that jut from my brain
which each scoop
an eye the
eyes in my head

I will always

leave you

Sunday, June 01, 2003

too blond to write up
too sharp to sit back
too left to write right