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Tuesday, September 30, 2003
with a beach umbrella
for the eagles and star
lings
several different crusts
conjured the gulls and sand
pipers
two grabbed plastic
carrier bags like in
rock and fire tragedies
poetry like the crummy
gulfs and the birdgroves
full of lemon bulldozers
8:47 AM
Monday, September 29, 2003
'bombs made of sugar'
The world at dusk, tinder box
of dreams.
Lemons//make lemonade//
dream.
The gulls lower themselves to snatch
bread crusts
The bemused crowd
cheers on the soldiers
Is there light//
a tunnel//
This day more powerful than the wildest river
11:54 PM
they were freshly killed
which gave them good dinners
to be enamored of the
good musk the life is seeking
crane, tortoise, deer, and pine
visible manifestations of
the no-good edible and
the mirage in Libya
your cousins are heirs to
my meager fortune
because I write good cookies
3:14 PM
It's good
fortune -- drawing us to this table
shared meal of amber light
as if sound
were visible
Tributes
Tributaries is all forsaken
The river of song
But not one song
Thousands
1:00 AM
Sunday, September 28, 2003
Deer at the edge of the waking mind
Symbols of nothing but themselves, hunted
But we're hunting ourselves
in slow trucks with screeching tires
Gun rack poised
We're hunting our true selves down
10:37 PM
Friday, September 26, 2003
To write nonstop like driving through darkness until you're
streaming light
dragging text behind you so
fast it sees stars
9:26 PM
smouldering clouds
mountains turn to
dust and wrack
sapphires wrenched
from shore-girl’s hair
burn-tumbled ex
pressive as a blast
blows cool head clear
like steepy valleys
& the elves buried in
sky-neighbouring
drifts
all too often missing
in modern poetry
1:16 PM
Thursday, September 25, 2003
Poet-tree!
Poet -tri!
Poet-tra!
Poet-trahahahahi
I like to go a wandering
along the mountain track
and as I go like to sing
The poems in my knapsack.
6:26 AM
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
poetry left to
mankind are
doomed from
the moment of
grace in which
the “shambling
camels” refer
ence the doomwri
ting then it
dawns on us
even if it means
the digital revo
lution hasgiven
poetry an
another chance
3:31 PM
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
poetry is subsumed by
those bulk ideas from
drama, dance, and
graphic arts
publish your fiction,
nonfiction, love becomes
a delicate melding of
poetry and written text
conforms approximately
with unabated techno
fetishism in all
fields of art
3:13 PM
Monday, September 22, 2003
a lord in my yard
I never made but
one prayer to the
fifteen pink flamingos
in all their glory
and when I opened
the front door
the jungle hippie
didn’t invade my privacy
I was in the kitchen
on the ground floor
with the metamorphosis
and the cleansing
8:48 AM
Friday, September 19, 2003
That's hell on
wheels for those of you
not paying heed.
There's a loud
tree in my yard. When
the branch fell it caught
in a lower branch
and stayed--is it
alive or dead?
1:55 PM
well there was the tree falling
for one individual this situation
falls in a forest occasionally
to set a groove
your answer will probably be
the essence of the heart
even if this is only a fringe element
a continuing story we share
told like waves washing on a beach
and please look at the birds
I’m caught in a silent treehouse
10:17 AM
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