1857
The issue being
How to "win"
Complete one example
Oblivion
Makes the noise
The steam of life
Of file
Every example in the dust
Paralyzed with rage
I backwards-engineer
A better cherry
I could tell you everything
But what you want to hear
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Saturday, February 25, 2006
1856
THE OVERTAKELESSNESS OF THOSE
I think it's bizarre to be so angry
As to want to scare little children
For three or four thousand years
Little children are mainly aware
Of these spiritual feelings,
And their representations are less coarse
Not wanting to agree with the opera
I went to the baseball game,
But it was only a marketing plan
And I would have been better off
Sitting in front of the piano
Or locked up in the attic writing
Quatrains in praise of bad feelings --
There would at least have been
The satisfaction of manifold reaches.
1855
When I want to practice a wide rage
It stills me, and presses into my hands
The book I have carried between houses.
This reservoir of response
And the torpid gneiss-dwellers
Who etch prayers on dried wood,
Are they neighbors in any other paragraph,
Or is this school fear
A white light to rehearse final staring.
1852
A COMPRESS
Placed on the running knee
For the Olympics of spring and fall
Under the ulp
Is a gargantuan prayer breakfast
Hosted by the family
Don't underestimate
That many round tables' worth
Of silence, it is a cup of wine
Magnesium
Is at the center of the cell
In the breeze, Popeye
Your aura says you could use more
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
1850
Mention the strange interest among these others
In what is not interesting in the least and you find
Yourself at a baseball game with a statistical manual
Reading the rules for search and seizure
Until the crew comes to quote you on the infield fly
Bevel the edges of the rotating gentry
And state your bad deposition into the coke can
There is a plural no man can conjugate
There is a trope no one can will
The crew, the farmers, the alibi chode
It all styles itself an abstraction
But is in fact the guest house of getting along
Which is in every case the fight averted --
It is time to have the fight.
1849
So when the playbook started taking up more space in the room
Than the team itself we knew we'd have to get the antidote
Even if the boss wanted to pronounce it anecdote as in nukular
I turned the spaceship's ignition and waited for the police
To sing elegies to the global struggle from underneath the rubble
There was always some echo relay in the credo's bathtub
Now as that varnish thumb-piano can individuate disco
From the musics pop and elevator that sandwich it we have hope
That the coordinates that came to me in a vision are not simply
Flying off as fast as we can according to decoy information
But vaulting through the ploy data to a biodiverse playground
Where what we need grows wild and won't be missed
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
1848
The standards have taken away the need
To feed anything besides the standards.
I would empty out what I carry only to cover
The moo-cow in its entirety
The worth of a shonda,
Is that the vacuous will make you vacuous,
The envious will misunderstand you to death,
And if you disarm them
By teaching
They may destroy you in a more legitimate way.
Monday, February 06, 2006
1847
This end-time feeling
A sheep on the side of a hill
Is no war gracing
The imagination's cavern club
With bituminous barkyard
Intimacy radios,
But a shall-I winter sport
Naturally shown the day
As a persistence
Cloud-like i.e. formed
By vanishing from the earth
To loom. It lowers the eyes
To deduce the slip of made
Room coasts, oh vinyl
In clack-rates caramel
Pin fastening the numb
Entry page to astound blue night.
Quoth the meridian,
Right, and indeed,
Coffee swathed
A cold glow into a cot.
The dream of a miniature,
A pantone grommet
Listing for reference to the trade
The facial expressions,
The speaking heart rate...
I can stage that rejection
In four brief notes.
The newsweeklies
Arrive long after law and unions
Are printed on rocks.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Thursday, February 02, 2006
1842
I show my ID at the door
And come barreling through the fire
I am chanting the news
To a team of steam freaks
They bleep my better ideas
But they're chuckling so I keep going
Now we're at the top floor
The upper echelons
The board room with the mixed pretzels
And I can't stop gumballing them
I'm like a preset troubadour
Jumping up on the swivel chair
They're all for it now
It's like a scene in a movie
I have yet to make
I'm yelling, they're yelling
The security guards come in
And they start yelling too
I'm having a great time
The weather is too
From up there you can see
Halfway to Delaware
Then instantly I'm asleep
In the back of a car
And the boss is smiling
As I wake up, you sure
Gave em hell in there
And I smile as wanly
As the hero rule book allows
And fade into a dream
Where I'm losing my teeth
And they turn into airplanes
Someone named Betty
Is making me come but I'm like
Betty, my non-dream body
Can't do that now, here's my card
1840
IT WOULD BE AN EXCELLENT IDEA
The bloop single
Sings to my heart
The dead father
Watching, bargaining
If there is any
"That would be fine, dear"
In this civilization
It carries its own bags
Prayer is its form
Of creative visualization
It craves the start of the movie
And regular exercise
Allah is more American
Than Buddha
1838
CONCENTRATING
Karma
Is the whole of the law.
Plug and play.
Lock and load.
I'm prepped for riots,
Made of mustard
And the chances of a guess
Are noticeable
In this rec room version of the thing itself --
Imagine those soft pools
Leading anyone into temptation.
And yet there is no cultural life
No one reads is code: leisure
Too much of a good thing
Along with education
And a savings account.
Time. Time is unavailable,
Sorry try again,
A soft pool
We wait in, staring at ads.
God I hate difference
And talk about anything but the truth,
The whole truth,
Oh look out here comes the truth.
The truth is I love you
And your wife.
You've got to live
To live for yourself for yourself
For yourself and nobody else.
That means getting away
From people who say how
You've got to live, fine.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
1837
VIBRATING UNDERPANTS
Megatsunami crunching down the island
Conspiracy theories make me sad
Now let's think fluffy happy thoughts
-- Money --
The sleeping and cycling
Cover me in reverb
An elegist, an epidemiologist
A fucking guerrilla general
Cleaning up New York
I stop at a truck stop somewhere in Pennsylvania
Or upstate New York and watch the young mothers
Surrounded by personalized merchandise
A radio-controlled savior
Nobody out. The twitching won't stop.
I am watching this network exist to pull all the energy. It's working. The clouds coughing,
The airplanes wheezing wherever.
Putting meals together for love,
For kindling, a little brandy maybe.
In the bottom of the glass, a watery cola blip
Nothing and nobody staring into what they love
It's blinding!