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June 2008

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.

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

                    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.