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October 2008
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December 2008

November 2008

invitation to the sunny air again

Moving from here you expect you have what you need.

[the new poets are young and/or handsome and/or pretty]

You suspect they've come with the best boxes, the surliest protective pads.

[the new philosophers are invisible]

And we'll get to our end without the extraordinary bruise or the catastrophic goof.

[the new president]

You might have failed, for example, to acquire the right paper, but this you know is not failure but opportunity.

[the new artists take long walks]

As the sun today hardly bothered the air.

[the new parents are with child]

It can get away with anything specific and not too expensive.

[the new fat people are more portable]

Spitting in the grass, and such.

[the new film-makers are in parentheses]

The insurance people come to gape.

[the new discussions explode]

So we pack.

[the new]

We want to bring it with us.

[the new]

We just do.

[the new disclosures are less offensive]

Our desire isn't the hubbub we thought we needed, and the end's a comfort even as improved oral hygiene is.

[the new farms are beautiful in morning overalls]

It's a convenience.

[the new delight congeals around a sentence]

And we're on our way


a kind of beauty you can do better

State rankings have come out. Go
    buy this book. It's our misery in a
        well-deserved coil of intimidation.  A column of

Failure to become various enough under
    everyday stress. Push toward the baroque
        you may succeed in skinning your knuckles,

but it seems I've taken you at your word.
    You don't enjoy the often bright polychromy
        the overall sense of awe.

Skimming the austerities,
    abandoning the contrapposto
        for a nervous boy foot-stuck to recite,

we're all in this evening. To create a clanging
    against the sides of our anxieties.
        I'm attracted to sense. How it

Pretends to know. Are you ready
    to set aside everything you thought
        bright? For something set aside.


justify omission here

What signals a saying. Inside any part here's the root.

You find that as winter comes warm centers deposit

Themselves. As solids. Against our blown-dry paper

Pasts. Now. Let me tell you what to do here. Stop

To pretend that die anderen Sprachen exist only on

Television. That your tongue is an arctic revelation.

Ceux de glace calve the biggest headlines. So rush

To each other for obscurities you can't find in print.

Align titulos subject to parental approval as far

As any of us can guess. Saying snow, for instance. 


says for all who watch the proceedings

You'll almost always find someone to like it. I tried

More than pitching myself away from. The idea reads

Me for a complexity because I have so much in it.

So much we'll sing it in The Activities Room once

They zoom us over there.  I'd stand up for more of

What anyone's ignoring if I could find it. Here's an

Utterless nearly an impiety. There's an excircle

Unrounded doing jealous things. But even on the corner

Of 4th and Walnut surely not as angels at my ears.


no one says steadfastly anymore

Is it wrong of me to like. Have been prepared

To like the oddity. You in razors of disinterest.

Them on the bankrupt ferry pitching me off.

A vertical cloud pointing noisily waterward.

Wrong of me to have scattered the catch. It

May be. This, after all, is not a rhetorical quest-

Ion. Even though it's rhetoric. And a face off.

Between your tempus fugit and my incredible

Electrical drone. One string under another so.


this is bad but i like the shape

Pick and run. To be serious we have to forget the usual.

    Not an athletic maneuver, a proposition for the alley. Three plus five is.
    Games are for kids who like to win. Make your selection. Press Enter.

When it comes down to it he's just not that smart.

    Generally lacks a voice. Last Monday was almost perfect. Real good.
    Yet it's hard to speak when you know each word will be
    scrutinized for traces of devil breath. One might just as well
    be quiet as hell. Maybe just watch the damn TV all night.

I was an ass finally. Free at last.

    So stuck on the tennis court until someone came with the keys.
    I'd been a bad poet so long I figured there'd be no need to swerve
    at this late date.  Then finally became no poet at all. Whose serve?

Consisting of The Obscure, The Willows, The Pool.

    The smallest puff gets altogether smaller smallest and is gone.
    A large sky with one little cloud. One tiny cloud. Does this to you.
    And you find yourself in tears again because it cost a lot.

Healing what can't be. What cannot be healed. Here.

    You may be stranded in the middle of the rainbow bridge. You just
    can't say where. But you may be stranded in between a desire for
    this and that. And it has hurt—must hurt—anyone into silence.

I mean Here to be anywhere it can't be healed. Here.

    & still making the world disappear? Bad journalism. Why
    keep roughing the edges the centers of sense? Just for the
    weather any one needs? For sense. Of Erie baseball obits.

Your volume turned inside out and warmed up mine.

    You just don't make any sense. Why can't you say what you mean?
    Then we could have a nice lunch gossip and recommend movies.
    Then everything would be right again and we could be sane.

I keep having to say that after this we'll have some fun.

    "It's true I'm hiding my best ones but what could anyone expect
    after all the whining. When I'm dead it'll be very sad for me and
    what a loss for everybody."

Even in pieces we run. Slack factories for everyone.

    The new president everyone wants to have something to say about
    will not be available to language for the next few weeks. Make pictures.

See. It's always the same thing in a row. Of unrealities.

    This just doesn't cohere. Anywhere. Does it? Will you surrender or
    must we threaten the uninsured kids?

It would be nice to have some time or space.


like that color photograph I found

Deeply felt. Yes. And plenty grammatical

too. Some things just aren't worth much

attending to. Slack purposeful commutes

to here. Colder colder. A stinging rebuke.

What's this. An actuality. Get a grip a leg

up. Yr credentials gone wispy through a

crack in the floor. Yr joining ghosts now.

Yr a poster a plumber a prophetic plume.

Carded outside the gates and roasted on

these crypto-carbon eventual emergencies.


removal by a priest without maps or

Now here come clouds of leaf-

    blowers and a scheduled descent to

        mad apathy. Told us we'd be up

all day with the accident reports but they were

    kidding. By noon we'd forgotten

        whoever'd been elected. And then

posted the chili. And shaved our heads.

    And turned to love all the rest of it.

        A therapeutic lunch of

refrigerated information theory and chocolate

    milk. Daydream distress.

        Still bent. Still bent for good.