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March 2008
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May 2008

April 2008

and that thought that

Which is does. Thank you.

A string of likelihoods. News!

Must always come so.

What could any of us?

Is does of course but how?

For flowers and fruit.

For curtains. Torture!

Is does only near the end.

And the blame which.

And the fiery goof.

Not to have seen is.

But just now near the end.

so i avoided them

All of a sudden we're supposed to be

Full of the old life. Like razors or catholics.

Supposed to have processed and excreted

The rhythms and liars that liked rain.

Old teeth ruby red old eyes.

A couple detergent excesses.

Every spontaneous headsong.

Like me in my complaints we're supposed

To be scuttled in our newfound plenties.

Of parks and stems and gruesome loveliness.

So we're supposed. And we're ready.

seems to result

Because I resolved at the start that these would have nothing to do

With me because I wanted to find a place for good that held

More light and space than I ever could and standing next to a

Dead rosebush I know what gas engines never could do on their own

Because here's death and here's a line of children dressed for a game

Of Go Get Lost or Jump Like a Spider but none of them

Guessed right so I had to be It once and for all because

Pretty soon it would be too dark for games pretty soon it would

Shuffle around our ears like nerves and then where would we be because

We weren't going to last through the night at least I wasn't because

I'd decided to fill a hole full of dead plants and burn them

Because well that's my secret and none of your business but it's nice

To find something so utterly gone so completely not anywhere at all here

out front

Once accepted without Pronouns,

A leaching of the day's rude Samba

Generates interruption and a guess.

Extraordinary windows. Whole weeks

Of Spanish. Secret versions of The

Masculine. Come to bury Youth to

Record The Complete Roustabout.

their reintroduction

What felt then said

The philosophical incisors

Are listening and sorting

This book unwritten.

By now it's caught

My big lies glistening

In a honeybee casserole.

This book more human

Than more realistic but

Still. A possibly knocking

Heavily freighted gasp.

down at the table

I think I probably reject the hieratic—

Which means "priestly," I think—

The nobler function of deep making.

What are anybody's eyes made of?

If you heard me years ago, you'd know.

There aren't any easy counterfeits.

But the sky's always been corrugated.

And its runnels skewed. See? Don't

That just shiver yr liver & embolden

Yr coccyx? Victory at 7:25 AM. Even.

quarter to four or five

For you I stood outside and sugared the day.

For you I pretended and described an opening.

There wasn't I. It I. On a branch. And it you.

You cornering all the light. It did corner it. All.


Are you confused enough then to say it now.

Are you as it the hole in any day's something.

There it was. You scanning it I. Enough now.

I in a semblance of it. I as in you taking off.