wMillion Poems

Copyright Jordan Davis.


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wSunday, February 26, 2006


The issue being
How to "win"

Complete one example

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

posted by Jordan #

wSaturday, February 25, 2006



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.

posted by Jordan #



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.

posted by Jordan #



Give up this darkness of the prairie,
Standing in the way of what does not exist
For the beet-colored cubes

I have borrowed some paleness from ice

I keep a set of ledgers
To make me aware
Of all that is ordinary

Don’t hate me for helping you

posted by Jordan #



The value of a public memory
Is that it is free to cool to a gracile barrier

And be decorated
With the growing posse

Of those who would make a show.
But if it is, say,

The biggest anything in the world
That in itself

Mystifies and compels future memory
Beyond the palace doors.

posted by Jordan #




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

Is at the center of the cell
In the breeze, Popeye

Your aura says you could use more

posted by Jordan #

wWednesday, February 08, 2006


The chock-full-of-chickenshit feeling
Now is never
So put on the gloves
Give me a hundred pushups

Did you ask me to freak out or break out

posted by Jordan #



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.

posted by Jordan #



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

posted by Jordan #

wTuesday, February 07, 2006


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.

posted by Jordan #

wMonday, February 06, 2006


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.

posted by Jordan #

wFriday, February 03, 2006


Morning will come play
Its now and then song
On the tops of the trees
Down the side of the hill

"Go along, run along
Get where you belong,
The declension of sun
Is not a long song.

When mid-morning comes
And the shadows are gone
Get along, get along
See what you have done."

posted by Jordan #



I am filled
With the fear of difference.

The fly I tie is the horizon.

posted by Jordan #



The human anatomy show
Part of a horror movie backstory?
Called the western world

I wouldn't claim otherwise
Loop sleeps on the total control metaphor

Any such failure to believe
Is punishable by memoir

Pat them on the head
And push them out the cargo door

posted by Jordan #

wThursday, February 02, 2006


I just want to give you the news
I don't want to be the truth man
They tend to kill truth people
They being anxiety at difference

posted by Jordan #



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

posted by Jordan #



In the sense of morning practice
Of sun salutation
I am closing my eyes
Something once they judge recitation
On eye contact I will
Feel the sting
Of competition about
And compiling the prayers
The wishes I am placing into the conscious
And unconscious collective
Activity of ideas.

posted by Jordan #




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

posted by Jordan #




The sun is a perfect turd
Our little baby hydrogen made
Just far enough from where we sleep,
What a good baby!

posted by Jordan #




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.

posted by Jordan #

wWednesday, February 01, 2006



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!

posted by Jordan #