p l a i n e r

unlimited and incremental

Expect when joy comes around

Ours will shuffle up in hearty puffs.

Of poem. It's good for you.

O there will be above our noses and seizures

Of joy. A synapse. To match our expectations.

Where we meet the mid-man. In chaotic

Kindness nobody could appreciate without joy.

There again. Lit up like no joke. No kidding.

Except when joy comes around.

Ours wills itself a part. Full of stuff.

dese iconic instincts

Some words will repeat and you

Should be grateful for that. You 

Shoulder my responsibility like a

Good title. Sometimes I think a

Limitless ownership starts God

Forgetting what anyone's gotten

Over. So these words broke down.

Just after we settled in and said

They need a new tendency to say

The world's a fine and private pot

To. Well. Piss in. With ever enough

the state requires a name

The poem can make a difference. But not

As heralds diversify the air they trumpet

As heros give up to fall down for the end.

The poem may be coughing this morning.

It had a tough night among the homosexual

Makers and mysteries. Smoke, you see.

The poem had to give it all up because

The world was not its mirror. Catastrophe

Comes in short syllables. Gusts of guesses.

No solid resolution from off the big table.

next to a career in public relations

Weren't we an urge to Magic next to

Language in the taking of morphine?

I really want to know by the time you

Get this. How far you push it toward

The wearer's melodramatic context.

As a hat or a light shirt for summer.

Spells and offices. Money and breath.

and systems held sacred

Get me talking about what I want to say.

What I want to say. Get me talking. Get

Me what I want to say. And say it about

What I want to say. A song like a drill so

It runs to smoke. I say get me talking

And I'll say it. Running. Talking to say it.

we suspect he has one

Anyway. There's four of us, counting Barbara

Whom none of us know. But we're gentle and

Imprecise.
             
                    And we're here to express our

Or to venerate even. Our next few moments.

They cannot speak for themselves yet. So.

Here we are. Outside of the classroom in our

Hardhats shoveling toward this exciting event.

Not exactly suspendu, but maybe interrumpido.

Some. By our purple interiorities & fat chances.

Happy to be approaching a nearly civil Now.

or as characteristic of the time

There's room for fear, but keep it in your arms.

There's an optional boiling point. Mountainous

Concerts. And yet no one knows what you like.

Your obscurities are not sanctioned. A gassy

Blue journey taken blind & curtained up by

Processes mysteries abandonments & why

Not. Rites written next for pale lovers & true.

walk to a small town

I like that it takes you just up to here

Then breaks loose like a kite. For wind.

And all that poetic stuff in brains.

Designed to feel something in your hair.

Or was it an icepick. Felt like an icepick.

Could you come see me for translations?

Over lunch because dinner's too heavy.

It's a nervousness and a self-

Deprecation. So bring a dictionary.

Bring a cold spoon.

and she would seem ill-suited

Poetry follows the way Spanish stops

Everything. When Spanish is no option.

Take poetry home, for instance. Stop

Being so incomplete. Stop the instant

You sing O heart you make me tough

As Spanish verbs O heart the stopping

Brings me to the kitchen. Misterio.

Pérdida. Confusión. Following the Un-

Marked graves your too loud voices

Into English past poetries and pictures

in the water and sensible

It was mythic that I found the cave and the radio

At the same time. And this flaming syntax I took

For sunset. You looked funny in a large hat. Here

There's trouble looking inside and outside burning

Like an old book. I was trying to sort my fools

Into evenings and mornings. Great Mexican truth.

On every corner. Transmitting over unlonely pastures.

So. It deteriorates and composes itself in a heap.

there will be a coyote or two

What ruined then stood me up against the Mystery

Wherein no one spoke regular but called out Hymnal

Catastrophes and I fell down tremendously like Satan

Probably. It was thunder all round my head, I said.

It was the cause of this drastic muttish servitude, yes.

Wildcats in glaciers. Vestigal migratory dramas.

Calling from far-off irrigations and bits of landscape.

I mean I feel pretty good despite well yesterday. And all.

provided there's another subject

I'm post. A scamp. Post

An armory. An imposter.

Post. Minor. Post. Legal.

Post. The unravelling. Air.

rugged and rarely spent

Lots of color. Polychromatic even.

Squirrels. Coughing and sleeping.

Brief as pink. Absent from orange.

Delirious in their copper servitude.

Blue in their scattered solitude.

Yellow in their concentration.

Green in their sensible pretenses.

Gray in their parentheses.

Aren't they red enough by now?

Now accomplished past information.

Ready for a pale word. Translation.

more positive attitude

If I put characters here. You'd have a root or trunk.

A narrower field. With two boys in it. A girl at home.

But it's made of exhibition. It's made of praise.

Guess we''ll have to be not broken but terminal.

Spirits in tall grass that isn't only tall grass but tall grass.

Here you are. And I. Here.

So why not two girls in it. And a boy at home.

Why not a tremor. But where.