tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37747862011-12-16T11:16:44.126-05:00Million PoemsCopyright <a href="http://jordandavis.com/">Jordan Davis</a>.<br>Jordannoreply@blogger.comBlogger20241100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-60385833653512094642011-08-31T08:44:00.000-04:002011-08-31T08:45:01.559-04:002047 PLEASE NOTE This posting is not for resellers. Everyone in my family has better handwriting than I do. The time frame for submitting Disability Blog Carnival has now elapsed. Tom and Jack love their garden. "See how the high walls protect all the flowers and plants" says Jack. I got a new amazing boyfriend and then he broke my heart. I am in fact not an alcoholic. I am not in a pit of Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-36354647976901903912011-08-23T10:48:00.001-04:002011-08-23T10:48:46.214-04:002046 PEDANTRY The technical term for it is "negative feedback loop." Romance is not ruffly pornography dressed in appealing fashion And dropped into well-worn time periods so that the plebeian readership can Thank you for your attention. Bonaparte's history was a romance, And he one of the most romantic of men, "Swallowing the ground" at the rate of thirty, forty, sixty miles an hour. Later, noJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-57639260211170671572011-08-19T09:53:00.000-04:002011-08-19T09:54:37.445-04:002045 KENNY DORHAM Was an American jazz trumpeter, singer, and composer born in Fairfield, Texas. Universally admired and respected by his peers and fellow trumpeters, Dorham took piano lessons from the age of 7. Almost famous for being underrated, This singular talent, who proved to be a discerning critic as his Down Beat reviews revealed, Attended Anderson High School in Austin, where he beganJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-84385045477496174752009-04-22T10:03:00.001-04:002009-04-22T10:03:22.544-04:00.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-16696619457091454532009-03-11T10:16:00.002-04:002009-03-11T10:16:56.081-04:002044-- IN EDIT --Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-34881109703590537512009-03-06T07:06:00.002-05:002009-04-16T13:07:36.580-04:002043-- IN EDIT --Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-57352498384715687722009-03-05T14:57:00.005-05:002009-04-16T13:08:28.357-04:002042-- IN EDIT --Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1255394278511337522009-03-03T16:34:00.000-05:002009-04-16T13:09:09.761-04:002041-- IN EDIT --Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-26380109855117926372009-03-03T16:31:00.000-05:002009-03-03T16:32:08.766-05:002040MEDICATION IN THE AFTERNOONOh my non-Newtonian solidMy involuteDream of wordsNegging the lizards time drivesAlong the sandIt's so nice in the sunWhen you're cold bloodedIt's so good To fastJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-71149951472476647652009-03-03T16:28:00.002-05:002009-03-03T16:39:59.588-05:002039THE MPEMBA EFFECTIn a worldWhere a ragtag bandOf misfits and raw recruitsCan go up against the forces of empireThe question remains:Will cold water or hot freeze faster?Everything you know is wrongEverything you think a tagline:Fear the skyEverywhere the eye fallsFour plasma screens tumblingSomeone's message tableAnd underneath it all, the truthIs just the worst As for me, I like breadOr Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-33736871696424352542008-09-15T14:55:00.002-04:002008-09-16T10:53:45.116-04:002038ALMOST THEREI am almost there.There is a stack of paper. It is shining in the sun.The world sends its rejection slipsAnd they call it an economy.Feel the rejection slip. It is cool to the touch. Now look at it. Keep looking.Stare at it until your forehead throbs.It is only a definitive response.There is no stranger in it.The world sends its fortune cookiesAnd calls them encouragement."You areJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-31199682116848907132008-09-15T14:50:00.001-04:002008-09-15T14:50:45.404-04:002037THE BUTTON PUSHERSI watched them start down the hill toward the daybed.It was a green night, and I was fond of statistics.There were clumps of yellow and blue grass growing in the mud.They had just differed with me over the influence of Dostoevsky.Childless, cruel, or strong, they're unfazed by allegorical kid death.For me that kind of literature is a psychology experiment.If I insult you, Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1526793438592377842008-09-06T22:24:00.001-04:002008-09-06T22:25:52.889-04:002036MARINER'S MEASUREYou'll doAnd doAnd I'll just sit over hereAnd prepare my soulFor the senseThat shimmers like a triangleAt the back of the orchestraWhat is a poulter?And howIs all that doing going?BoingGoes my heart,I am somewhereBetween lonely and alone.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-50412099803045857692008-09-06T17:57:00.002-04:002008-09-06T22:23:45.480-04:002035CLAY FEELS GOODMy son is asleep I'm out of bacon Noise in the nurseryNoise in the open hole in the groundMy days without any kind of tv are numbered Red Blue Red Cherry-finish Plain green bamboo placemat The archive is quite the meat Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-25447469617356396702008-09-06T17:42:00.002-04:002008-09-06T17:46:03.980-04:002034JE LES Y AI MISESOdd verbs appear like magicAnd we all know what they mean.A blue machine.A fire built of seeds.The agent buys his passageWith a little book of dead.Here's to him.Here is a blue hill.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-86526633108399658762008-09-06T17:41:00.002-04:002008-09-06T17:41:51.742-04:002033TRYING TORemember you;Staring out the windowAt the end of sunny summer rain --A whole train passes in a second.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-28680240471814094442008-09-06T10:32:00.002-04:002008-09-06T10:34:46.076-04:002032WORKSHEET DENTATASRA cards and chalk dustBasic traveling across the muckety muckA robust royalty destroyed and glisteningSome assembly mystifies the blue bulbsHeat and cold smoking the difference engineThe permission tattoo saints Columba and Louis(Incredible tradewar nonagons) mete to shillsTry me, erace white in the zoneLegroom for dummies, whalebreath predatesA niece in Puerto Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-17988956804977444252008-02-25T09:58:00.003-05:002008-09-06T10:32:00.220-04:002031KITSCHWhat’s wrong with it, exactly.A bit like calling someone “fat,” isn’t it.Or gay. Or a gypsy.It is the inner life of adjectives.It is the dark groundAgainst which elegance shines.The wrong zipcode.The wrong skin.People make it and people claim to like it.“Life-giving vulgarity”Said one who knew. Oh the ones who know.They write essays on subjects like this and the rest of us nod.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-20938844757748956032008-02-25T09:54:00.004-05:002008-09-06T10:31:44.624-04:002030A DOCUMENT OF BARBARISM"Every document of civilization is also..." -- BenjaminAt the museum Franklin asked how I read that line.I averred that its staying power residesIn the vagueness that lets it be carried abroadAmong many flavors of righteousness.I'll have a double scoop of Freudian judo;Not, by the way, a good one to share with the wife.The farther any art goes in its severityThe more Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-67068451463120707272008-02-25T09:53:00.004-05:002008-09-06T10:30:31.658-04:002029GHOST BABYIn our apartment between two parksSome nights in the walls we hearThe gurgling of a large baby.The sound comes from high and low,We've heard it in every room.Often it's followed by the closing of a door.Sometimes not. There's a hairline crackWhere the ceiling meets the walls --That's not it either.We have been married a little over a year.Nothing would make us happier.Sometimes whenJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-51967383398898520342008-02-25T09:49:00.002-05:002008-09-06T10:29:54.574-04:002028SUPERHERO CAMPA couple of marines jogged by,One of them swinging a lantern, a red head.I crouched behind the station wagonAnd watched as they decidedTo see if anyone was here.I stayed out of it. Then you came homeAnd didn't notice, and I had to swoop inJust as their knives cleared their throats.The papers made a fuss and suddenlyI'm at Superhero Camp. My thingStretching metal was hard to Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-43457135661870925402008-02-25T09:47:00.001-05:002008-09-06T10:28:44.185-04:002027THE ROBOT NOVELI've been thinking about writing a novel.Also, I've been thinking about building a robot.I'm sweating like a superintendent --We're baking a meatloaf at the moment.This afternoon I scissored open a bag of bread mix.There is a quantity of champagne -- prosecco I mean.Translation -- really hauling it all over, Not just freeloading like Bill MurrayOn post-traumatic stress Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-23730251980496410442008-02-25T09:46:00.002-05:002008-09-06T10:27:04.845-04:002026THE GAMBLERI love my wife, am in love with her.I love going to sleep with her Friday nightAnd abhor getting up Monday morning.I bring her French bread to exercise her wrist.When she cries and points out everything wrongThen I have an imagination. You could ask meAbout any book or movie ever made. I have many.When she cries I'm out on my ice floe again.She and I, we're in the same business;We Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-34747181004539457422008-02-25T09:43:00.003-05:002008-09-06T10:26:22.408-04:002025VACUUMINGThe comforter, stable for most of the fallAnd the new year, has found a new place to rupture.The movie was peculiarly reluctant to satisfy --Clever, for sure. But peevish, alienatingly so.A reassuring stability I find myself surprisedTo value second only to ecstatic involuntary shivers --The comfort of the living room and the spacepod.I don't mind the light but the noise all night's Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-34797457371628696862008-02-25T09:41:00.003-05:002008-09-06T10:25:52.394-04:002024KNOWINGNESSThat feeling of hunger may actually beA wish to brush the teeth. Five days,Two snowstorms, still but a single sparrowMakes a single visit to the feeder on the escape.The hillside is white, with obstructions.People in coats from catalogs walk large dogs down it.Here inside it's warm enough for dough to double.We sit near each other and race through volumes,Pinging each other's arms Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-11189247877593890352008-02-25T09:40:00.001-05:002008-09-06T10:25:23.788-04:002023LITTLE NEMO IN SLUMBERLANDWhy do children even have dreams,Is it already all over by then?Give me that. Now what. I'm bored.Every integrated wish folded outFrom the wall, the neon flashing in.For a while I lived next door to myself,Heard the coming and goingWhile I waited for news. Here,The country lets us breathe (cow air).We idolize the weather for its flair.I don't invent new mechanisms --Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-12994828876830008222008-02-25T09:38:00.003-05:002008-09-06T10:24:50.460-04:002022DOLLYWOODThe cat's name means ghost in Chinese.She disappears into the grass,Jumps straight elevator upAnd returns to her brood with a vole for lunch.Her paws like the three skittish setsWinking in the dark of the barnAre white and with an extra toe, maybe three.Yao-ling sounds to me a lot like Dolly PartonImploring the town slut, mercy.Dolly Parton sends every baby born in TennesseeA book a Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-64957891061168201542008-02-25T09:35:00.002-05:002008-09-06T10:23:53.621-04:002021THEIR GOOD INTENTIONS AN ACT OF AGGRESSION - WhalenThe specifics of this rosebushGetting-up-in-the-morningHave now made my fingers tingly,I am a kinetic sculpture of a manSitting up straight,In love with my wife my handsStroking her hair.When I get home from the rising tide of paperI have the strength to kiss her in the kitchen.She is so alive, hungry,And I am unshaven. It's nothing like I Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-16427384688323375442008-02-25T09:28:00.001-05:002008-03-20T16:41:29.923-04:002020WORLD HAPPINESS DANCE / SISTER THE JOISTSThe daylight is looking forward to getting awayFrom this question mark customer.In the split-level beer and spice placeThe characteristic feeling changesEvery couple of feet, here curry here fenugreek,Dried lemons... I have power,I am a powerful man. Where I ask for licorice,Three weeks later licorice appears. Root.I sit inside as the daylightHangs outJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-36608974915117447952007-09-17T11:52:00.001-04:002007-09-17T11:52:47.749-04:002019IN EVENT OF MOON DISASTER, for Clark CoolidgeWhen you run out of energyOn the best thought worst thought planPack up your dictionaryAnd head for the magician's bungalowWhere he keeps the soda gongTake a square or two of time coalFor the board to gasifyAnd watch the mile greenhorn a dialFrom the safety of the lozenge wardRecord the sunrise broncsIn your onion bookWhile the black snake Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-87571159377458832372007-08-31T13:34:00.001-04:002007-08-31T13:34:59.326-04:002018BLACK MATHAt the movies it's only loveShining through the dust, all mooFor the band called The JokesPlaying in between scenes of lava flowing.I'm sorting out the wraparoundFor a frienemy in a dramedy,And what you know is what I heard,A name made in finest countdowns,A difference from the where-to-beginOf library ladders, not that big of a dealFor the parka people rockingThe have a good one Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-84938968185817532992007-04-25T16:52:00.001-04:002007-04-25T16:52:19.955-04:002017I CAN QUIT USING GOOGLE ANY TIMEI don't need google to find dinnerOr a picture of wombats or a series of phrasesTo use in my next poemI have a special search engine -- in my pantsI can quit using google any timeI will be getting a red star so I can quit using google to searchwith.I wish the government had a delete button on itIs today the day I stop using google?Where Land Cruisers go to die:Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-63876535107918345492007-04-20T14:17:00.001-04:002007-04-20T14:17:46.429-04:002016ORTHODOX ACCOUNTS OF EXISTENCEThe puppyLooks up from hisFree newspaperClumps of dirtCovered with grass*The 5-4 decision,the first time the Supreme Courthas upheld a ban ona specific abortion method,is set to change the abortion debate.*You want to be the way you are,Therefore Billy Joel loves you.It's hard out here for a pimp.Irony and sincerity are separate nation states.*All species Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-57546439405849647442007-04-13T17:20:00.000-04:002007-04-19T16:43:44.554-04:002015DOING TAXES I DRINK MORE WINEDoing is one of the stupidest sounding words in the English languageDiphthong is also up thereTaxes remind me of my fatherWho loved the McNally cartoon fake tax form that asked"How many talking chickens do you have? Do any of them play the oboe?"I have no talking chickensI have a federal return and three state returnsAnd, as it turns out, two separate New York Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-8257400973981752642007-04-13T10:47:00.000-04:002007-04-19T16:35:33.235-04:002014I Remember John AshberyI remember being introduced to John Ashbery for the twelfth time.I remember how dazzling the light was on the campari sodaAs the partygoers milled around and watched each other tilt slightlyMaking unwarranted assumptions about how entitled each was.I remember wondering whether Sodus was the singular of soda.I remember finishing "The Skaters" and thinking, "Oh yeah?"I Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-69596111579219948592007-04-13T10:46:00.002-04:002007-04-18T14:19:30.323-04:002013That Would Be A Great Poem If You Cut the Crappy PartsGod I love your poems, what you're doingYou are on to something completely originalAnd yet reassuringly familiar, emotionally anywayI know it's the hardest thing in the worldTo know when you're on or notEverybody from Kant to Paul Valery to Phyllis Diller says soLook, here's my card, I do a little private consultingIt's not very svengali Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-84924172852672224262007-04-13T10:46:00.001-04:002007-04-18T14:20:02.727-04:002012THAT'S FUNNY, YOU DON'T LOOK AVANT-GARDEYou look like a bank clerkLike a university professorLike a meteorologistYou look like a Speed Racer fanaticLike a stay-at-home dadLike Jeff Daniels' stunt doubleYou look like a wall of booksYou look like a can of beansYou look like a benefit of doubtYou look like this guy at the libraryWho snort-laughed whenever I checked out KhlebnikovWhich reminds meJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-68519898144333580342007-04-13T10:44:00.001-04:002007-04-18T14:20:49.598-04:002011What's In National Poetry Month For Me?I'm tired of being the guyWho goes to work in a tie every morningLetting all the people who don't share my skin color know"Sorry, Charlie! Gentrification a-comin'!"And I'm tired of poetry events with eight people in the audience,Tired of poetry books with four poems worth reading in them,Tired of all the readings, books, and journalsThat exist mainly to Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-33706809662824485052007-04-13T10:42:00.000-04:002007-04-13T10:43:20.387-04:002010No One's Going To Tell You What To DoWhy should I be any exception.Why should anybody get to talk back to you.For that matter, why should anybody feel entitled to speak up.What's the matter, don't you have a sense of humor?Don't I? Don't they? Forgive me if this is whiny.What would make me think I'm any different.Why wouldn't you want to make your point at any cost.How about that, you've Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-37140165752593165372007-04-13T10:39:00.000-04:002007-04-18T14:20:31.039-04:002009Your Gods All SuckI have worn your fezzes and your burqas and your yamulkes and your mitresI have stood in your temples and your mosques and your synagogues and your cathedralsYour oracles and your rec rooms and your board rooms and your bar roomsI have studied in your upper rooms and sat on the floors of your fellowship hallsAnd rolled twenty-sided dice, listened to organ music, come Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-22750855488847430792007-03-22T21:33:00.000-04:002007-03-22T21:34:20.482-04:002008INTUITIVELY, after reading Larry JosephWould I recognize a new Terry Southern if he or she were to materialize,I drink so much celery tonic the seas look like green fieldsAnd the development of toxic cleanup sites into homes for the beautifulIs a subject aching for the Julia Roberts treatmentBut I am not aching, I am nodding politelyAs the row of nesting dolls from John Berendt to Henry Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-7759113847746372632007-03-16T11:34:00.000-04:002007-04-13T10:33:59.779-04:002007AS IT HAPPENSSome mornings the science Section has nothing to stealBut does that make meA vivisectionist by default?No way, Desiree.Not that I'm trying to persuade youOr ever could, the bomb squad'sSirens tut-tutting as they dopplerThe pre-dawn. Dawn.I said pre-dawn, you dirty girl.*Deep in the ganacheThe pressure's practically nucleicAnd what stipples the questionnaireCan't be reduced to Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1165000598493869082006-12-01T14:15:00.000-05:002006-12-01T14:16:38.530-05:002006KEEP THE DRUMS AT YOUR MOM'SThe first rule is do no harm.This turns out to be difficult.Orange oil trebuchet'd over the top of the cubicle.I am staring at a lump of clay shaped like a fathead fish.The prism on my desk, my fake industry award,Sends its seam on a lucite diagonal.If I were to teach middle school mathI'd want to review my proofs.The stack of trimmed letterhead doesn't light up toJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1155737729196908822006-08-16T10:14:00.000-04:002007-07-19T15:46:57.666-04:002005HOUSE MADE DOWNRemember this, from computers past?I likened the starlightTo what we pieced togetherFrom the maelstrom of urgent warnings.You stretched outAnd I was grateful for consciousness,That your shaking out the lactic acidCould set my chemicals in motionDespite everything in waking lifeBlinking like a dashboard light,Or rather because --"Everybody's got a bomb, we could all dieAny day!"Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1154012004751878742006-07-27T10:52:00.000-04:002006-07-27T10:53:24.763-04:002003 / 2004A MILLION RANDOM DIGITS Almost surely nothing up my sleeve.Nothing like a sleeve, for that matter.No story, no instant winner, no gladeWhere the traditional "elk dance"Precedes the coronation of the flower kingAnd the dukes and duchesses of the forest,No bindi manufacturer, no waterslide,No ack ack, no Brest-Litovsk accordsAnd certainly no infinite monkeysThe book of only numbersIs Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1152655615333896222006-07-11T18:06:00.000-04:002006-07-11T18:06:55.346-04:002002NIGHTMUTE, OR THE STOWAWAYI got to talking To the unregistered passengerAbout the Beatles. He was a bitOf a musicologist.He liked the dronesAnd the diminished elevenths,The fur and the claw.We scanned to port for dolphins.We were waiting for a feelingNeither of us knew,A measuring tape stretchingFrom the gun mentioned in act oneTo the dramaturgFlirting with the sound effect girl.I had to Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1150947457997976542006-06-21T23:36:00.000-04:002006-06-21T23:37:38.013-04:002001AREA QWe'll be together someday soon; Compare See you tomorrow! I pack my bag,Set the alarm, stare at the ceiling til morning.Walk into the street and a seed sprouts.Belief on the face like the name on a bus:Across the street seven strangers face south.How people used to wait: As prepositions --Behind the control gate, down the penstock --And then another part of speech, eventually EventuallyJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1150347790330271792006-06-15T00:59:00.000-04:002006-06-15T01:11:41.313-04:002000CONCESSION SPEECHThe arms race under the moonAnd over the windowHas placed a stone under the treeRabbits visit one at a timeStay a while nowAnd as you stoop to look closerCrush these herbs in the grassThe grey and green afternoon*So much of human stupidityObtains to fear of being typecastAll I want is to build a robotTo climb inside ofAnd take over your world*Once inside the cell wallThe Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1150289925006330242006-06-14T08:46:00.000-04:002006-06-14T08:58:45.083-04:001999Whatever dreams I may have had aboutWhat goes where and why and how I now knowAre part of the generalJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1150227507184930472006-06-13T15:34:00.000-04:002006-06-13T15:38:27.250-04:001998And what is meanwhileBut the pure entertainmentOf a great and lusciousCause --Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1150226844944811372006-06-13T15:21:00.000-04:002006-06-13T15:27:24.946-04:001997Double tangle doubleWherewithal of the starparkFor now is a fileNow is a document completelyIt stares and starves,A voluble sparkerMost of the time, but nowNow is this wan and pared backRecitative of heartbreakYou can see in its glareIt is cresting from insightTo steely and mournful resolveIf it could make any senseTo be afraid of the present momentA wise person would be forgivenFor doing so,Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1150226030107118082006-06-13T14:56:00.000-04:002006-06-13T15:13:50.200-04:001996Please concentrate on the blue glowEmanating from the base of the prism.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1150224908424458532006-06-13T14:49:00.000-04:002006-06-13T14:55:08.426-04:001995The face of spaceIs turned toward Eldon.A guarantor expectsNothing less than fidelity.Now, as the tribe's warDwindles into cribbageAnd kinetic energy resumesIts shelf life as potential,I veto the use of turmericAs "chapsaffron" But am intriguedThat it may prevent cancer.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1150224421792676862006-06-13T14:07:00.000-04:002006-06-13T14:47:02.036-04:001994Desk boot of fray trees, o ram filterI stylize a chute for nog.That sounds dirty.It is not.It is musicTo the peeressFrom Pyongyang.She studied music.It was at one point a career pathFor royalty, the arts. They were.The examination tableIs at the end of the hall.A fiddly dime space pays your mist.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1150039207250101692006-06-11T11:16:00.000-04:002006-06-11T11:20:07.336-04:001993You better watch outYou better watch inYou better believeIt's butterThe weather in hereIs making me hazyIt's driving me madTo be all aloneIn German, ohne abstandI think meansDistancelessnessAs in, intimacyYou betterYou betterYou betterYou bestJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149970038831076732006-06-10T14:13:00.000-04:002006-06-10T16:48:42.030-04:001992Every dream isDiary entriesWith a key on a ribbonCarry me inside youSaid the birdTo the starsWhat's in it for usSaid the great unknownTo the fish in the seaAbstraction and narrativeWent off to sleepIn a little leaky boatThey came backOn a wooden bookThe fire flying alongIn the air beside themThe golem roseAnd the zombie zinniaCame looking for lifeIn the darknessAnd the dishWent into the Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149962471566977612006-06-10T13:24:00.000-04:002006-06-10T14:01:11.723-04:001991The desire to hearWhat you're up toAs a tale of gloryIs so strong in meI go running to haveSomething to do I keep my head downAnd my face cleanMy mind stays busyI think the worldOf everythingYou do and sayThe waves crashOver the mountainsThe sky fallsInto the treesThe birds landIn your hairThe words allGet back to workThe sun feedsThe great bicycleI wake up from dreamsOf group therapyYou so Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149960118618386202006-06-10T13:16:00.000-04:002006-06-10T13:23:53.213-04:001990I am leaving leaving behind behindTo inhabit this great parenthesisThis asterisk this esclamI am leaving leaving behind behindTo stay here in the centerWith my sixth magnet senseAnd the difference between a good ideaAnd that without which I cannot liveThis without which we are zombiesWe are in the state of not-yetI am leaving leaving behind behindJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149953688941568432006-06-10T10:04:00.000-04:002006-06-10T11:34:49.023-04:001989The code wordsI put them awayAnd the handbooksFor self-defenseI forgot how difficultIt is to make a mix tapeHow the heart feels like a birdAfter a hard run in the rainWhat elseOh you knowJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149899184679520302006-06-09T19:51:00.000-04:002006-06-09T20:26:24.796-04:001988So I misread the bongosFor a double malarchy. SoThe peach donuts wereA camera dustup, the wildVervets' impeachment dreamsA nono worth reheating.It came up through the ductsThat the doxologist, you see,Was a marionette fetishist,And that all the patient Pleading with the contraltosWas a speechless giggle codeFor a certain funambulistHe'd turpentined into dayjobsAnd bessemer refis. They hadWhatJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149885429567508892006-06-09T16:31:00.000-04:002006-06-09T16:40:45.296-04:001987Starbrite as gum acaciaPretending to be RomeoThe lady's smockName date of birth ssnDevalues nothing at allAnd it is And it will beThe analogy sign comes onAnd the studio audienceTurns in its carkeysO rose of sharon, o tarragonThis crystal parallelEnacts husbandry without screensWithout the frozen Classification systemBut unless you're in a Bergman movieThe sliding door Can be used for very Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149884369468014962006-06-09T16:04:00.000-04:002006-06-09T16:19:30.206-04:001986Travel with meThrough the world of televisionAnd video lightingInsert linkInsert blockquoteCheck spellingAs we tour the amazing newApple StoreWith Rita MorenoWith just five months leftOn its multimillion dollar contractThe cryptosporidiumHas to be thinking big --Or rather small --If it wants to maintainIts profitable stalemate --One of the best-lit dramasOn televisionJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149881952038971882006-06-09T15:00:00.000-04:002006-06-09T15:39:12.163-04:001985What is tax-exempt may also be tawdry.Self-fulfilling self-analysis. Self-addressed, self-loading (not loathing).An ogive in the offing, Oistrakh and the ogdoad of okapi listen to each other.The lanky landowner languishes in the language lab, lanolin on the lancet.Cover the cylinder with a cymbal.Castigate Castro no more.Stigmatize James Stewart, then stick him with stichomythics. The stickerJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149879145694837772006-06-09T14:49:00.000-04:002006-06-09T14:52:25.833-04:001984What to do with these ones for whom the word stupidIs not just the shotgun waved round the roomBut the liquor and the bassinet and the portfolio?Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149878093151484542006-06-09T14:24:00.000-04:002006-06-10T13:22:50.940-04:001983A wave of love for you just knocked me off my chairI will love you and love youI will reach out my hand to you in the noise of carhorns and merengue and pull you close by the waistI will call you my museum of everything alwaysI will call you MDMAI love you ecstatic exalted sublimeI wish you were here -- there's an enormous cloud sitting off in the distanceIt's a beautiful walk from there to Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149877241580305662006-06-09T14:18:00.000-04:002006-06-09T14:20:41.586-04:001982DINNER AT THE PRECIPICEGod, doesn't it sound romantic?But there we were with our sandwichesWaiting for the abyss to "look into us"Which, by the way, it doesn't, exceptIn a grandiose metaphorical waySo beloved of smartypantsWho can't be bothered with actual math.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149876706727731702006-06-09T14:03:00.000-04:002006-06-09T14:11:46.916-04:001981Hey, what do you think about thisAs a name for a restaurant:FOOD EXPLOSIONJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149868702318555562006-06-09T11:49:00.000-04:002006-06-09T11:58:22.433-04:001980The power of one person talkingIs the cloudfall, the pryingStayaway plays against typeTo emerge from the jelly withNo news like the secret police.The miracle presence blows a kissAnd proceeds thrown by nowInto decal collecting, patches,...Every moment could be scrapbooked --This tame woodchuck, for instance,Could be taught to hold the ribbon.They ridicule our nation's cutenessBecause they Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149852838851401792006-06-09T07:23:00.000-04:002006-06-09T11:59:14.126-04:001979A reader writesTo worry whetherI ever reviseTo see againTo put the wordsBack in the jawsAnd say for trueFor cerrtainSomething borrowedTo every weddingOf feeling indeedThe world isThe twelve watchersWho make somethingOut of nothingA jury of compareAnd what lightWhat conversationCan we go back toBut this one?Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149816751088639032006-06-08T16:08:00.000-04:002006-06-08T21:32:31.206-04:001978THE WAY TO KEEP GOING IN SAN FRANCISCOThe vases in the Brooklyn MuseumSomeone made themMake a vow to the pinched clayYou will enjoy the sound of bubbles poppingWhispersIn the hallwayPromise to enjoyAggressive feelingsAnd necessary adventuresSuch as breathing in a librarySomewhere out of townRemember what it's likeBeing pinned downBy butterfly wingsGenerally there is a lot of remembering Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149779723759220682006-06-08T11:04:00.000-04:002006-06-08T11:30:15.446-04:001977It is possible to forgetWho is speaking, to whom, and why.It is morning, cold,The sound of constructionShort sentencesThat remind you in your fingers.Get up, circulate,The moral hazard of the office(Mutually susceptible to envy)The word ghostCuts off your anxietyWith a bird callJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149777827314434682006-06-08T09:55:00.000-04:002006-06-08T10:43:47.440-04:001976Hate and the bottom drawerCelebrate a truant.They take him down to the docksTo invest in spigots.Running with shynessInto a barn, a river barnFilled with orange-lit sandFor the road crew,Each shot lasts two to five seconds.Each feather is colored hairsThe urns on the sillHave an opportunityTo take a seminar on syntax --It is raining on the fire escape,It is raining on the firecat.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149774863838901882006-06-08T09:50:00.000-04:002006-06-08T09:54:23.840-04:001975GET FREECan't say this aboutThe minute the flowers emergeBut every utteranceIs an announcement of forceMy head is downThe better to batter your frameJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149774404717771262006-06-08T09:39:00.000-04:002006-06-08T09:46:44.720-04:001974There is another presenceAnd they aren't do nothingNutrients... the pinesStay when you goAnd play clay adiosAs we grind upThe sunlight for cocoaA rabbit curls upAnd a lettuce curls upAnd the firePurrs along the edgeOf the science sectionThat scum importanceDating in Hollywood and WashingtonJust give me a feelingNobody ever hadAnd liken the daysTo barrage balloonsIn your pantoumsFriendship Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149773906521056072006-06-08T09:33:00.000-04:002006-06-08T09:38:26.523-04:001973You can write all the poem you wantWhen you're a pace from Demension CommandThe splurge of what you areTakes this kind of shitAnd turns it into a cavernous Chewbacca dollThat stoners come to live inGot stoners? Try songs with freedom in themThey also work on the hype machineUntil you are a big wagging treeReggae will have to perjure itselfThe control vibrations take a whileBut then they Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149773464276869322006-06-08T09:09:00.000-04:002006-06-08T09:31:04.406-04:001972Echo, phase. ProsePlace, the darkAs sound effectTakes. Clang someGrief versions.Fake poem. RealDistractionQuantities. A brotherIs a sister isThe weatherOn the etherBottle, either orNo nameHome for the holidays.Bite marks hair pullsRed places white light.Orchids of the eventual.Prose, thoseTheological Distractions fromSomeone suffering(Toothache cures abstraction)As sufferingIs a Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149772175285509212006-06-08T08:54:00.000-04:002006-06-08T09:09:39.453-04:001971The fact is he took some nice pictures of himselfAnd told a story anybody'd want to know. A dreamOf being a rockstar, a talkshow host, a surgeon --Anybody knows these are plausible wishes up to a pointAnd at that point -- a ferry dock, a helipad, A green room, the Senate -- you need the helpOf people who understand more about these worldsAnd therefore enjoy being part of the system.The Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149709900351646852006-06-07T15:47:00.000-04:002006-06-07T15:51:40.363-04:001970MACRAMEThe except questionsTake advantage of my poor lower register,The hum a half-step higherFucks up the consonanceAnd what I was happy with one wayGives me what they call an appreciationFor what people do all dayJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149658073647333302006-06-07T01:19:00.000-04:002006-06-07T01:27:53.766-04:001969Sometimes it is importantTo do everything wrongTalk uncomfortably aboutThe sex thoughts of insectsTo your parents' friends,For example, or pile upSeveral boxes outsideYour boss' office --Now the impossible perfectVersion of yourself whoRuins your dreams can stopPaging you at all hoursAnd you can finally discoverThe penguin roomAt the zoo down the street.Here, here are my shoes --Feel free to Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149621839604128942006-06-06T15:12:00.000-04:002006-06-06T15:23:59.720-04:001968Take tookenBy the back brakeO victualsThe eleemosynaryIs a terrible basisFor happinessOvalsPeering Into the cavityDistaff, thatCresting pfennigA stypticTemerityNoWhat is soundIs clickingIs faithIs popcornThe machine will leaveOn its own powerAnd what grew thereWill, eventuallySpring back up,Pale, flattened,EmollientJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149604292558368342006-06-06T10:23:00.000-04:002006-06-06T10:31:32.676-04:001967What the air force can't decide for youWill be reckoned one pumpkin seed at a timeSaid our eternal belief in the efficacyOf a power greater than our own. Call itDDT, call it Spongebob, call it Bacterial decay. No. Be real. It's The name we save for the day all feelingShimmers the whole neural map. Say it.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149535092631229022006-06-05T15:17:00.000-04:002006-06-05T15:18:12.646-04:001966Sometimes the urge to writeIs actually the urge to clean windowsOr flush the transmission.Sometimes the crush of languageToward the front of the heart's horizonIs a miswired parcel of dance instructions.Sometimes the words that want nothing moreThan to be skritched on the stretched screenAre jamming frequencies, you know, Taking the white linen in stripsFor a stagename theology takesTo get Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149526525785913512006-06-05T12:39:00.000-04:002006-06-05T12:55:25.896-04:001965The proverb of these pick-them-upMachine dog interact like a decimalFor when o fits may gall yippieClaymation ergs... voice those oversAnd glue down the bases, The syndrome the synod lipsyncs isn'tSomething to playstation about,Corona without a creche, wrinklesOf friendly smiles cause TopekaTo bougie out and THAT is the freedomCertainty collapses, in placeOf a why-not hello we get clucksAnd Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149525553795599072006-06-05T11:52:00.000-04:002006-06-05T12:39:13.936-04:001964Miniature robotsLike to think aboutPeanut butter.They drill throughThe fire-tubesTo aerate the cloud.Thoughts of fatsOccupy their heat sensors,Free them to perforateAt peak levels.Cats watch them fromUnder sedans.Oblivious, weMourn the inner earOf our youthAs recess leadsTo another infestationOf the swingset.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149475273676783082006-06-04T22:15:00.000-04:002006-06-04T22:41:13.793-04:001963AVVENTURASoftly, he insistedTo himself,The peculiar conditionsLove requiresEnforce their perimeter.Some quinine slap-take,Some shouts across backyards.At some pointWe find ourselvesBut that doesn't meanWe get caught,O Nadia Comaneci,Who's going to argueDestiny with you?Play a roundOf ping pong, maybe...These are the twigsBirds bring, playing "Global catastrophe,"A popular game placesWith Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149473503515278662006-06-04T22:03:00.000-04:002006-06-04T22:11:43.516-04:001962PERFORATIONA guess pleases impersonal spaceWith its rudimentary docile amen.It looks deep into the weekly grossAnd makes a judgment the wind tunes.The machine of every summerReminds insects of park benches.Every twenty-two minutes someoneGives and is given the world.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149472312336008712006-06-04T21:51:00.000-04:002006-06-04T21:58:01.093-04:001961ASTORYWithout the chocolateA provable universeDevolves into me-tooCrayon armadas all avetch,As in, the terriersAre loose in the pachysandra.The problem becomesScraping togetherA methodology worthOutlining to momAnd justifyingTo the primae donnae --Supposing this burdensomeQuestion mark o'er the heartEvaporates unconditionally,The external stimuliObliterated as casus belliBy a fit of Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149258657480796792006-06-02T10:19:00.000-04:002006-06-02T10:30:57.610-04:001960The goalieDevelopsA resistanceTo adverbialPhrasesMoog synthesizers come in monophonic and polyphonicThe noise of loveAnd the thunderstormAre equivalent signalsTo God in his batcaveEven now a dreamWants to announce"Attention shoppers..."Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149256787212079672006-06-02T09:45:00.000-04:002006-06-02T09:59:47.486-04:001959SUNGLASSES UNDERGROUNDThe people on the trainReappear on another trainThe couple kissingThrough the barsBy the turnstileFitful studying fitfulListening fitful Looking into the distanceLocated seven feet awayEach one holding a breathHolding a self in an egg cartonA gold or orange seashellThe number one hit songAfter a hundred thousand weeksIs still the BibleDue to an earlier incidentThis trainJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149255629393151982006-06-02T09:36:00.000-04:002006-06-02T09:40:29.406-04:001958We think a lot, here in the shed,About what is lightning garble streetAnd what is play of the autumn noir.The face of the actress Suddenly illuminatesThe choir.Over in the journals they are speakingAbout miracles of sixty years ago.Funny animal, the gift of rhetoricThe challenge is to diagnose them.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149194887790118962006-06-01T16:27:00.000-04:002006-06-01T16:52:10.243-04:001957You know, I very rarely think about having a penisWhen I'm listening to music or watching tv -- It's just something I guess I take for granted.It doesn't give me discomfort, thank goodness,And when I'm in love, lust, or just being hitIn the face by a breast, it usually "comes to life"In a way that gives pride and satisfaction.Human sexual response is a taboo subjectIn many social settings, Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149191109600438922006-06-01T15:07:00.000-04:002006-06-01T16:00:06.410-04:001956VOTE GOATIn the candle of a lighthouseLives a grown novel.It is the story of how timeMakes itself up.The scale, the motion ofLet me tell you something,Oh that is a big importantParty they throwTheir bloodline.Oh, golden toenail,There is only one novel.We are born, we learn How to excavate deep space,The rangers evacuateThe sunstage, a windComes through a window.Oh, empty bottle,A marriage Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149188428756502312006-06-01T14:49:00.000-04:002006-06-01T15:00:29.703-04:001955The eventual reemergence of my capacity for logicAnd this stiff spine, oh Robertson, it's you!I'm crustacean for lack of a pygmy distortionAnd that's how the ass gets what the ass wants --Nearly everyone has complained of a mistaken Telephone booth encounter with the light of day.Nothing goes k'boom like Nothing! And so BuddhaDrops trou for the eclectic sun wind trees,Time to renew your New Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149090094211898122006-05-31T10:09:00.000-04:002006-05-31T11:41:34.360-04:001954ROUTE 90Until it's full of fish,The one they call St Peter'sAnd grow in greenhouses,I change the nameOf everything I border.They say the salt is magicAnd the water is life.It may be.You may claim me, but know that I will change your name.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149073865342647302006-05-31T07:02:00.000-04:002006-05-31T07:11:05.373-04:001953The marine sets up a truth tableOutside my office doorIt is fleet week and He wishes to become a lawyerThere is a disconnect Between the need aggressionAnd the interpretation of dreamsHunger is a waking stateThe hologram of sexualityThe hey-baby of complacencyThe machine asks the opinionOf everyone with a childIn every case the child Turns and pulls on a shirtJordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149070764469965792006-05-31T06:13:00.000-04:002006-05-31T06:19:24.506-04:001952DOUBLE THE GUESSING DAYOn the off-chance you wake upBy driving over the drawbridgeDown onto a Chinese restaurantToday is a waking stateOf semi-sweet now and thenThe radio snaps together andThe mechanical boxer just needsA minute for his rosaryThere is nothing wrong with prayerA little trick photography won'tFlip the pages of a mix-and-matchThe basin has gatheredThe feeling the tree Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149016735699549562006-05-30T15:03:00.000-04:002006-05-30T15:18:55.833-04:001951Tea, an afternoon showerYou're removingWet things, putting on a robeFreedom consists of Running shoesThere is a governmentAnd we are subject-changersAt the highest level of complimentary sudokuIt comes time for the planeTo discuss the Bernoulli principleWith the seagullsMy news is made of teaRed, black and greenMy bologna has a first nameAnd Peak Freens are a very serious cookieThis is a Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149014507877413432006-05-30T14:36:00.000-04:002006-05-30T14:55:29.710-04:001950Get parallel with MillicentAnd radio Andy Pingpong.Roger I copy, I copy Roger,The weird standing asideOf all basements,And the damp advertisementsI am elephants Guest starring on a cruise shipPresentation of La Boheme,An opera without elephantsThe trumpet of the parked carCrosses the secretsThat fall from new pinesOnto a shore crossed outWith magic markerThe haze can't finish my waterWithout Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149013935168726502006-05-30T14:27:00.000-04:002006-05-30T14:32:15.170-04:001949Wouldn't you offer carrots to Mister Intention,The life of a stormHas its truth threshold included.Now I'm taking backMy nickels. They're blueFrom a knowledge that will not suffice.Oh reason for showing,For swaying in the gardenOf hazel and rue,Oh tale wrought in metalThe birds carry back to the boat.Jordannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3774786.post-1149013526263703042006-05-30T14:15:00.000-04:002006-05-30T14:25:26.266-04:001948The idea, the busted Skating rink on the edge of twoHighways, a spit of roadGood only for farmer stands And the worst case scenario of sprawlI have love for those standsAnd for the heat that goes into timeAbout love and frictionHow much is there to sayThe intensity of a narrator's kissBetween scenes at the haircut mallIs a reprieve from timeThe produce enjoys no such staySo fire up the range Jordannoreply@blogger.com