Runes Dances Colorforms

verse it up

2005-12-24T10:37:00.000-06:00

Corners who touch
in triangular
pinch, links, you are
the urge in occupying

underwater sandtraps.
Nightsweats. I bracelet
physical mysticisms,
move and able glass

to cradle my stiches.
You come loose,
your urge wriggles
from gold to copper

near hypothermia.
Stop away the cavern
of pinched froth—
angling specimens,

I wriggle free.
So mystical,
another corner.
My stopping is magnetic.

Prose block 4

2005-12-21T12:58:00.000-06:00

As we approach ancillary endings, who touches grin-flecked chairs, arranges them in triangular devil-may-care magnetisms, mysticisms, movable mantras (nightsweats). Cushions occupy non-alert specimins, tinge them with gold squeezed from underwater copper, twine, pinched coral. I walk away from the physical properties of bracelet links, a hypothermia. Stomach, or sandtrap? Conceptually near my vocal chords, one another, spaced, in-swept, frothed. Erasure is stopping-- I can see you in the front seat, cradling, laughing, twisting the dial of wind slipping through cracked glass, cavern, a kodachrome. The material of day, its stitches come loose & I have taken a corner of road, arrowed & angling it, so when you pass, incline, the urge, incipient as cloud cover, wriggles free.

From your block

2005-12-21T12:13:00.000-06:00

Continent splits :: in dealing with a weight

seems too wide, oh but we tricked the pools plastered

carve-outs a layer of glide. You give so much :: and?

for this beam a jaw sting

we cannot feel under :: surfaces reclaim

stampede to "any more"

red swish upper level disturbance (glance)

what really is? unraveled because

fragmented the double-line diagonal ::

be a gallery until you are

full of fixed omissions, take only the most

cluttered (contaminated) sequences. Yes, say

you stand at that point, scan the laminated

trees. Here, it is always about the how

variation melts builds cloaks

abuts soil, puzzling toward, hefted

when spirit eviscerates landscape, manipulates

actual shadow, a mold, bleak & sedentary.

some more (without punctuation)

2005-12-21T12:08:00.000-06:00

rhapsody you
lift down me

whorl surf
splits black grease

exactness circle notes
pearl-middle tonight

in mud you too often
compressed soft

flurries as wheels
broken dawn spreads

too whose cerulean
conch washed commas

but not soundlessly
flicked litter vent debris

hands choral washed
interlocking movement

and it yes now
virgin further & you

used a spiritless axiom
spoken ascend in two

another prose block

2005-12-20T10:29:00.000-06:00

Continent splits seems across a too-wide layer of glide. You give so much for this beam until we cannot go under any more. When will the red swish glance waht this really is? Words unraveled because silence hates fragments. Be a gallery until you are full of fixed omissions, take only the most vulmerable sequence. Yes, I say this in the most singular of ways. Here, it is always about variation and melt, build and cloak, buttes planked with blood-red soil. So much is puzzled here, smoaked and hefted when the spirit wanders away from the landscape. I manipulate the simplest of visions into an actual shadow, bleak, stratified, sedentary.

some more

2005-12-20T10:23:00.000-06:00

rhapsody you,
lift down me.

whorl surf
splits black grease.

exactness. circle. notes.
pearl-middle tonight,

in mud, you too often
compressed. soft

flurries as wheels
broken dawn spreads

too. whose cerulean
conch washed commas

but not soundlessly
flicked litter vent, debris

hands choral. washed
interlocking movement

and it yes now
virgin further & you

used a spiritless axiom
in speak, ascend, in two.

3rd Prose Block

2005-12-16T14:21:00.000-06:00

Turn rhapsody into a lift-driven whorl & who will climb (down, in) wherever you, me, at an exactness, greased ozone-light partitioning surf, a webbing of blacker shades. Notes circle upside-down jetties, fog decomposing, lesioning us as it splits, hovers, relaxes. Isn't too often you pursue a middle, but not tonight. Scales packed in with mud, pearl-compressed. You have twenty minutes, flurries as wheels, broken wooden piers. Soft virgin dawn, whose ether spreads soundlessly, a tapestry of cerulean, conch & jade. Too many flicked-at commas, a litter washed up. Choral vent, hands interlocking. Debris that used to be conscious, and as and as and-- it could go further, yes, now? Should movement speak a spiritless axiom, ascend, with you in tow (in two).

2nd Proseweave

2005-12-16T14:05:00.000-06:00

The flatness of map
eyes ripple, conflagrate, bellow
like continents of snow
wind syllables
the land breaks up on

desperation, fingers collapse
become limbs solemn steps
across your shoulders, a boat
wrists anchored, knees, snow,
compass meeting you halfway, lost

belly of whale, halves
of somewhere-- other side bordering
lips parted across
miles, rested ocean
on restless floor

My creation from your creation

2005-12-16T10:09:00.000-06:00

Airless clock occasionally
mirrors you, black closet
lagoon there unmeasured.

Whose sudden soap
to you lowers point? Ankles
& head to sometimes.

Its intervening of fragrance,
mix spice impartial
cinnamon documents.

Four footprints past 12,
furthest are
fairly you. Vanish

my glances it remembers.
I happened of tongue,
pulsation begins not

the response either.
Hazy pastiche, a penumbral
sensation walking over you.

Prose block #2

2005-12-16T09:35:00.000-06:00

The flatness of the map makes my eyes ripple, conflagrate, bellow like continents of snow under wind. Like syllables, the land breaks up upon further inspection. Even in this desperation, my fingers collapse, become limbs that walk with solemn steps across the Mediterranean Sea. If your shoulders were a boat, my wrists would be the anchor. Up to my knees in snow, up to my knees in no. We have become a quizzical guide, a folded compass that meets you halfway. Because of this, we are lost and still in the belly of the whale, halves of our bodies somewhere on the other side of the border. One eye here, the other eye there; the lips, parted across miles of ocean, rest on the restless floor.

1st prose/poem block

2005-12-08T21:47:00.000-06:00

In the airless corridor (a closet or mirror), I occasionally ask for you. The clock is a black-piped constancy there whose numbers float as soap shavings on a lagoon, sudden, unmeasured, reaching up to your ankles. Sometimes to a sensation, a point. You lower your head & smell its mixture of impartial fragrances, intervening spices, a languid (languishing?) cinnamon. The 12, furthest apogee-- four pasts, a penumbra. My footprints are documents that vanish. And I don't remember walking my glances over you. But I am fairly certain it happened. Response did not transfigure the pulsation of either tongue, as beginnings are ambiguous, a pastiche, hazy, dream-rich.

translation / interspersion

2005-12-04T19:58:00.000-06:00

What causes the plumpness of light in darkness? A fabric half-seen. I swim through its fibrous examples, even-tided as the roads that curve. Carves "us" from the slow-to-rise day, the seasons I grew well in.

A tear-shaped flame channeled through your limbs, my limbs is what it feels like when we stop. Start? A charged instant, climbing from my orb to yours, a singular moon somewhere on your body. And this is the apex, the infusion, where I am cauterized to something-- found objects, human, & receivable, lungs or the viral outsweep.

In fire to be on fire. Closed-throated. The context cradles us, balances our interiority. I learn by stalling-- this, a variation of voice. Bring you out to float up-grain, in a guaranteed moment outshine. What century in mind comes first, a material. Foot of a compass, source of light, create circular. On which we pivot or migrate.

What becomes: you are an "O" to me, untwisted and calm. As cerebral a nuance. Under-pronounced in this early city night but clear, slick, part of the most distinct glowing ring. A percusive sleep, you and I, syncopated briefly, figures without detail, released from (relieved by) impression.

Next translation

2005-12-01T16:16:00.000-06:00

What causes the plumpness of light in darkness? A tear-shaped flame channeled through your limbs, my limbs is what it feels like when we stop. Start? A charged instant, climbing from my orb to yours, a singular moon somewhere on your body. In fire to be on fire. The context cradles us, balances our interiority. Bring you out to float up-grain, in a guaranteed moment outshine. Foot of a compass, source of light, create circular. What becomes: you are an "O" to me, untwisted and calm. Under-pronounced in this early city night but clear, slick, part of the most distinct glowing ring.

2005-11-29T15:54:00.000-06:00

I have shape-shifted in the last phrase we instantly entwine, are encumbered by, and it is the skin-stripped body posed as a runner, stared at by hundreds, stunned, the disjointed gasses and solids and metabolites, that find their seed nature in planets that are only beginning to die, or form. You have gotten this far without remembering a single feature, face twilight-drunk, reverberating. As shattered domes know very few names. As summer bears reaching, interpreting, withering. At the center of a molecule, a plantation burns straight down to the particle dream that squanders, lets roam its cyclical blade. I am what aggresses, emanates, signal-rich as refusal. Whichever bolt of silk you make yourself a word of, that it can drive blood around that room, and meet itself in conversationless equipoise. Otherwise, gravity, more gravity.

I search for you in a parabola of limbs, guilty and beyond naked but moving, shrinking, evading even their source. There we are in a common mist, all that will become of us. Before we begin, we have withered. I can see you only in ash, only after your face has scattered in wind. Pick me up by my name, what is left of it. Summer brings us to the sweetest of molecular levels. I remember you because you are hiding in this sequence, complacently bound. Here is a knife small enough to slice through memory. We will use it often. Speak only of dissemination. Where will it fall.

for translation

2005-11-27T20:37:00.000-06:00

I did this. . .

2005-11-25T15:48:00.000-06:00

Bluerun

streaming charcoal sugar
structures the breach
of violas into your crudite

so raw so listless sonar
deride and roll to
tamarind tiles

all shaking and slippery grist
finely played
deformity

steady schooner dust of interruption
highlight collapsed carapace
on your soft flesh

while dreamrun designates you-stone
proleptic magnetic
navel bounces

this helix frontal trouble
unweld double us hath
(had) steady

strobe to move away
eight o'clock rips me timpani
flame revamped

virgin supernova bleeds
darkroom exit
shielding ignoring the oven

Sufi blanket sedentary
implications menial
quantify spell

if you believe
in artificial rhythms
this dryvolt balloon

hyped skin &
anti-pathic dirge

flight deviates

feathers yes why
leave sprig or miniature
stale cyclical this

paper island swift
as it was written gargle
the gotten oxygen

belief a shrewdness antinomian
battle is an integrity
or grief corked seaglass

swipe at the wall
slick auburn fall
through divots

galaxy drone you misspell
because it is satisfying sugared
necrotic free from peaks

slinky skin-carbine dream
begin for the four hundredth
aforementioned encasement a building

thrown up will outstrain
hole-sure grates streams
it boils toward

after ontological dust
quickens folding
over engraving the

debut that we stick with some
fashion of evolution hallway
give me a standard

time to occur unmarked holophrastic
pupil titrated restricting
conduct control lost

tag & twine
sand-effaced letter

what do you think of this arrangement?

2005-11-23T10:32:00.000-06:00

streaming charcoal sugar
structures the breach
of violas into your crudite

so raw so listless sonar
deride and roll to
tamarind tiles

all shaking and slippery grist
finely played
deformity

steady schooner dust of interruption
highlight collapsed carapace
on your soft flesh

while dreamrun designates you-stone
proleptic magnetic
navel bounces

this helix frontal trouble unweld
double us hath (had) steady
strobe to move away

eight o'clock rips me timpani
flame revamped
virgin supernova bleeds darkroom exit

shielding ignoring the oven
Sufi blanket sedentary
implications menial

quantify spell if you believe
in artificial rhythms
this dryvolt balloon

hyped skin &
anti-pathic dirge

Another arrangement of mine. . .because the lineation is wierd as it stands

2005-11-22T13:26:00.000-06:00

streaming charcoal sugar
structures the breach of violas into your crudite

so raw so listless sonar
deride and roll to tamarind tiles

all shaking and slippery grist
finely played deformity

steady schooner dust of interruption
highlight collapsed carapace on your soft flesh

while dreamrun designates you-stone
proleptic magnetic navel bounces

this helix frontal trouble unweld
double us hath (had) steady strobe to move away

eight o'clock rips me timpani flame revamped
virgin supernova bleeds darkroom exit

shielding ignoring the oven
Sufi blanket sedentary implications menial

quantify the spell if you believe in artificial rhythms
this dryvolt balloon hyped skin anti-pathic dirge

Injection, or fragments made mine

2005-11-22T12:55:00.000-06:00

streaming charcoal sugar structures the breach of violas
into your crudite so raw so listless sonar
deride and roll to tamarind tiles all
shaking and slippery grist finely played deformity
steady schooner dust of interruption highlight collapsed
carapace on your soft flesh while dreamrun designates you-stone
proleptic magnetic navel bounces this helix frontal
trouble unweld double us hath (had) steady strobe to move
away eight o'clock rips me timpani flame revamped
virgin supernova bleeds darkroom exit shielding
ignoring the oven Sufi blanket sedentary implications menial
quantify the spell if you believe in artificial rhythms
this dryvolt balloon hyped skin anti-pathic dirge

fragments #2

2005-11-16T21:54:00.000-06:00

charcoal breach violas

crudite listless sonar

deride tamarind tiels

shaking grist deformity

schooner interruption collapsed

dreamrun designates you-stone

proleptic navel frontal

unweld us hath (had)

eight o'clock timpani revamped

supernova darkroom shielding

Sufi sedentary menial

quantify the spelldry

volt hyped anti-pathic

flight deviates

2005-11-13T19:17:00.000-06:00

feathers yes why leave sprig or miniature

stale cyclical this paper island swift as it was written

gargle the gotten oxygen belief a shrewdness antinomian

battle is an integrity or grief corked seaglass

swipe at the wall slick auburn fall through divots

galaxy drone you misspell because it is satisfying sugared

necrotic free from peaks slinky skin-carbine dream

begin for the four hundreth aforementioned encasement a building

thrown up will outstrain hole-sure grates streams it boils toward

after ontological dust quickens folding over engraving the

debut that we stick with some fashion of evolution hallway

give me a standard time to occur unmarked holophrastic

pupil titrated restricting conduct control lost

tag & twine sand-effaced letter

fragments

2005-11-12T10:04:00.000-06:00

feathers sprig miniature

stale paper swift

gargle belief antinomian

battle grief seaglass

swipe fall divots

galaxy misspell sugar

free slinky dream

begin aforementioned building

grate stream boil

after dust folding

debut stick hallway

give standard time

pupil control lost

tag sand letter

check out this arrangement

2005-11-04T08:58:00.000-06:00

Ferns are the joints on a ledge that have an electricity you think through but it could be i am assuming too much, cubby-holed Osiris-- for you, vocalization is guttural, a perch. There is or could be a small hut in which you claim yourself visible-- i am right there, conscious that the moon is just a larger star in drag.

I stay silent in spite of the hum, growing fuzz and puncturing your beacon but I could be failing—stumbling instead, vein of light that supplies the moon, scream more loudly than the gosling. There once was an ending, numerical walls that drew you in—you are there now, hiding in the softest crevice you could find.

Pull me up by-- what? don't answer this as if you were living ozones and you meet them with what seems like, what hasn't been a sentence whose trope of hours . . . and if they are gardenias, a whole sea of them you might stumble among, syndromes and telepathies, translate at will (fists of violets, petals climbing down your water-curves)-- how far are we from snow?

Light plays carnival on the wall as if it was not dying—you can learn from this until night.

The lungs of a language, missing itself, every spring a choice and what i mean by this. I'm not sure-- what i meant was not invigorated by silence.

And you melt me with irreconcilable markings, happen again. The fractions are rhododendrons fighting for sunlight on an autumn windowsill or I could stop and ignite, let the air quench this anxiety. The dream came last night while you were planting roses in another hemisphere because we will until—until what?

The only silence is the sleeping word, gathering sentence, flashing into pandemonium, us, we, all there.

for the next translation, or helix, or q/a

2005-11-01T10:09:00.000-06:00

ferns are the joints on a ledge that have an electricity you think through
but it could be i am assuming too much
cubby-holed Osiris-- for you, vocalization is gutteral, a perch
there is or could be
a small hut in which you claim yourself visible-- i am right there, conscious that the moon is just a larger star
in drag
pull me up by-- what?
don't answer this as if you were living
ozones
and you meet them with
it seems like there hasn't been
a sentence whose trope of hours . . .
and if they are gardenias, a whole sea of them
you might stumble among syndromes and telepathies, translate at will these declensions (fists of violets, petals climbing down your
water-curves)
how far are we from snow?
the lungs of a language, missing itself
every spring a choice and what i mean by this
i'm not sure-- what i meant was
not invigorated
by silence

Exchanging voices

2005-10-26T12:38:00.000-05:00

I said:

The hardest thing is to start with a blossom, a roadmap, a partial face appearing red and illegal.I leap and barely land on you. Afraid my tongue will be caught in amber, I do not trust me to let go. All along, it's been about water, how it steadies us, how our buoyancy is pliable in all angles. We did not account for drought.Even though it rains, my body is occluded and cataracted. You are floodgate and waterfall. When the water vaporizes, how will we see each other without bending light, always bendable light?

You said:

Damp skinflash is a granite you writhe in, unknowably near. Swinging your lapses beneath me, star-dry, we flinch, soporific even, this music of erosion. You have spent thousands of years crested in lavender and corduroy, untouched, carved from basalt. A before-ness, plural and storm-scented, builds its walls from algal ponds, joining you to earth. But thought and its cell-strands, white winesap on your curling tongue. Even this precipitation shrugs, chooses its life. Sawtooth and jacaranda. With only seconds left, I am searching, amorous, spherical, avalanching inward, making purgatories glow with my breath.

in prose chunks

2005-10-26T10:07:00.000-05:00

I was interested to see it this way. . .I'm not sure what I think. . .

The hardest thing is to start with a blossom, a roadmap, a partial face appearing red and illegal.I leap and barely land on you. Afraid my tongue will be caught in amber, I do not trust me to let go. All along, it's been about water, how it steadies us, how our buoyancy is pliable in all angles. We did not account for drought.Even though it rains, my body is occluded and cataracted. You are floodgate and waterfall.
When the water vaporizes, how will we see each other without bending light, always bendable light?

translation:

Damp skinflash is a granite you writhe in, unknowably near. Swinging your lapses beneath me, star-dry, we flinch, soporific even, this music of erosion. You have spent thousands of years crested in lavender and corduroy, untouched, carved from basalt. A before-ness, plural and storm-scented, builds its walls from algal ponds, joining you to earth. But thought and its cell-strands, white winesap on your curling tongue. Even this precipitation shrugs, chooses its life. Sawtooth and jacaranda. With only seconds left, I am searching, amorous, spherical, avalanching inward, making purgatories glow with my breath.

Response

2005-10-25T12:58:00.000-05:00

The hardest thing is to start with a blossom, a roadmap, a partial face appearing red and illegal. Damp skinflash is a granite you writhe in, unknowably near.

I leap and barely land on you. Swinging your lapses beneath me, star-dry, we flinch, soporific even, this music of erosion.

Afraid my tongue will be caught in amber, I do not trust me to let go. You have spent thousands of years crested in lavender and corduroy, untouched, carved from basalt.

All along, it's been about water, how it steadies us, how our buoyancy is pliable in all angles. A before-ness, plural and storm-scented, builds its walls from algal ponds, joining you to earth.

We did not account for drought. But thought and its cell-strands, white winesap on your curling tongue.

Even though it rains, my body is occluded and cataracted. Even this precipitation shrugs, chooses its life.

You are floodgate and waterfall. Sawtooth and jacaranda.

When the water vaporizes, how will we see each other without bending light, always bendable light? With only seconds left, I am searching, amorous, spherical, avalanching inward, making purgatories glow with my breath.

For translation

2005-10-25T12:24:00.000-05:00

The hardest thing is to start with a blossom, a roadmap, a partial face appearing red and illegal. I leap and barely land on you. Afraid my tongue will be caught in amber, I do not trust me to let go. All along, it's been about water, how it steadies us, how our boyancy is pliable in all angles. We did not account for drought. Even though it rains, my body is occluded and cataracted. You are floodgate and waterfall. When the water vaporizes, how will we see each other without bending light, always bendable light?

Answers

2005-10-22T13:55:00.000-05:00

Do you keep a tiger as a pet, stripes made of sky and highway, and how do you feed him if his teeth are walking through every room?

It seems the sharpest surfaces desire prey, a crushing expanse. It's all I can fathom, what you might call tripping across fire-ready thresholds-- I am new to myself each time.

In the light of empty bowls, how do you trace destination back to source when every wall is mirrored?

I fill them with the bow-shaped petals of stars, the ones furthest from sleep. They creep into me as a lattice. I am climbing, climbing to the convex eye, whose motion is all I need to echo there.

Why are stairways green when you conjugate irises, flooding them with larvae and rice?

Endings, like winters, begin with fuschia vistas. I bring my decay in satchels, and if they can feed off sightlessness, a proliferant body, my thoughts will spawn, crystallize (upward as curve) a film of dew-sky, and I will rise from the startling waters, floating among ice-laden floes.

How many times did you say "yes" when you ambled through the winter, cringing like a peacock in full bloom?

It could have been snow or rain, no answer yet to form, though it would have required an unbearable temperature, and I can only name one Fahrenheit, strutting, as she did, as you did, not drowsing-- either way, a novial gold, numberless.

The heat is there, even under monuments and aftershock. How do you draw it from the water, as if through a straw, as if it is part of your skeleton?

Can I count the heats I have lost, pulled up through me as if, as if-- here, an inversion of silence? Joints consoled through words, tongues like movable thorns. The bedrock shifts into our "awake." This is my permanence.

I heard someone laugh as he buried my decorated scalp. How do you get there without breaking in three?

The way thunder's dimensions separate you from him, adorns you with a sentience, a titanium of river, white as the first bone formed & split. The way lightning swims down to earth, eel-like, its tooth glistening against your breast.

Are you a satellite, sweet with crevices, happening to arrive?

More a meteor, as opaque as you've dreamed, skies diving in, burrowing as I flash across blue spruces, skyscrapers, that steady mine-light travelling the ore of my blood-- the forest's murmur you also drink.

You are there, among visionless water and shore. How do you see past autumn, so much reflection of maple and release?

It is possible to breathe again, as fir tree bark stripped from its oil-faded climate. If I am Pompeii, my ash lining orbitals, a peopled clay sees through its obsidian outline, and I am resolved, leaning, leaning . . .

What does it take to wrap you in planets, hold you in twisted gravity, delineate the source of this vibration?

To know, compress me in the ember-wet dawn, print your lotus fragrances, dry-leafed pages on wavelengths scripted in sand-- for I cannot tell where gravities amass, if not in the graspless geographies of sound.

Your turn

2005-10-20T16:37:00.000-05:00

Do you keep a tiger as a pet, stripes made of sky and highway, and how do you feed him if his teeth are walking through every room?

In the light of empty bowls, how do you trace destination back to source when every wall is mirrored?

Why are stairways green when you conjugate irises, flooding them with larvae and rice?

How many times did you say "yes" when you ambled through the winter, cringing like a peacock in full bloom?

The heat is there, even under monuments and aftershock. How do you draw it from the water, as if through a straw, as if it is part of your skeleton?

I heard someone laugh as he burried my decorated scalp. How do you get there without breaking in three?

Are you a satellite, sweet with crevices, happening to arrive?

You are there, among visionless water and shore. How do you see past autumn, so much reflection of maple and release?

What does it take to wrap you in planets, hold you in twisted gravity, delineate the source of this vibration?

A draft of answers

2005-10-20T10:48:00.000-05:00

How does a city grease its windows (stares) if across a continent we assume dual weathers?
Weather like a sphinx tells me how brown to howl, how far to cast rectangular sounds, how long to wait for the ripe sadness. Winter trickles in from the other side of the lake, however soft.

Where does song instigate childhood, and should the means be difficult, would you spill after, into it? Statue, plastic carnations smelling of water. This is my branch, my cleansing. Out of key. Even now, the basement is a brown recluse, dangling from his thread.

Are crosswinds from the mouth of a crowned katydid, she, you-- pacing in peril, horizoning a sea? My mother's knees are fat like oranges. She dives without splash, seaweed in her eyebrow. I keep falling out of her, head first, the cleanest way to arrive.

The rink of sky is pumice. How many rings have you forged from it, how long have you worn them? Around his neck, a cord. The sky erased. My fingers swollen towers and lamp posts. Rings only in the sinkhole of gutters, dustdevil in your wake.

Did you in Portland submerge, and by what pretext, under finish-line tears, ancestral as his (our) bottoming voice? Scraping salt-crystals from my hair, I was gathered and planted, cinched and tied in procession to the gallows. Tears and sweat were too close, too symbolic in their wetness. Decorated and ushered through.

Albumen, sulfur, peonies, peonies, why does it echo, bleach us to crystal? This is the the surface we thump through, palpitate by, play into like commands. Red rover, send over over. Skipping stones are flat and anxious, even as we fly.

I climb some dissected place where stones are entrances, how, how do you approach silence after these plates, skin-wells, ivories crumble? I am in trees, not stones. Even from the roots, it is a spreading, curving bark and knotted vertebrae. How can I be light and molecule. Opening out of tantara but through the branches. Branching syntax.

If lines in your hand trace trajectories, do they turn liquid in foglight (run parallel to an elsewhere)? I held him here into everywhere, dropped him but still threaded through fingers like cat's cradle. I trace you through the spaces, the fibers of locking strings and barracades. A levy is holding tight.

Were we to condense, jar loose, the octagonal and continguous dew, what prayer might you make from the phoenix's name? Always here in october windshift. Give me mountain and apple core. Give me serious lips and bread between teeth. Give me open and green, but on fire and carrying fast.

Words, gardens

2005-10-19T08:17:00.000-05:00

How does a city grease its windows (stares) if across a continent we assume dual weathers?

Where does song instigate childhood, and should the means be difficult, would you spill after, into it?

Are crosswinds from the mouth of a crowned katydid, she, you-- pacing in peril, horizoning a sea?

The rink of sky is pumice. How many rings have you forged from it, how long have you worn them?

Did you in Portland submerge, and by what pretext, under finish-line tears, ancestral as his (our) bottoming voice?

Albumen, sulfur, peonies, peonies, why does it echo, bleach us to crystal?

I climb some dissected place where stones are entrances, how, how do you approach silence after these plates, skin-wells, ivories crumble?

If lines in your hand trace trajectories, do they turn liquid in foglight (run parallel to an elsewhere)?

Were we to condense, jar loose, the octagonal and continguous dew, what prayer might you make from the phoenix's name?

yet another possibility

2005-10-18T20:35:00.000-05:00

sleeve trodden ablutionary
ocean underwhelming your ruin
blandly alive in your hair

conifer & east orange mirage
in descent ascent
calamity against white fin

pick some electric entanglement
to dwell on: hubcap unexpected shrub-wisp
of flower name it for

your speaking tongue but hiding calyx
spaced & from your body
because it already happened once

ask yourself commensurately
if the blacktop is how you remember it
what's lacking pistil sigmata filament

fireshadow without foreplay
when you say hurry
Mojave curative venous & anthropic

this firefly scrim stars all
into you revives
the ablated wreckage shared ashes

forehead open glowing burn
Athenic arrow skimming
bent curve of earlobe

euthanizing soft woods
puddles spoken planks
residual trance carved coagulus

yellow-white bride born
guessing you & I meres of one another
you and I abberant as

bitter cactus tongues

another draft

2005-10-18T12:37:00.000-05:00

all nouns of the world be
sleeve trodden
or ablutionary ocean underwhelming
your ruin bland oats alive in your hair

conifer & east orange mirage bring this
vehicular moment caught
in descent ascent
calamity against white fin

pick some electric entanglement
to dwell on: hubcap unexpected shrub-wisp
of flower name it for
your speaking tongue but hiding calyx

spaced & from your body
because it already happened once
ask yourself commensurately
if the blacktop is how you remember it

what's lacking pistil sigmata filament
fireshadow without foreplay
when you say hurry
Mojave curative venous & anthropic

this firefly scrim stars all
into you like a kickback and ride
the ablated wreckage we share ash
forehead open glowing burn

Athenic arrow skimming
bent into curve of earlobe
euthanizing soft woods
puddles spoken planks

residual trance carved coagulus
yellow-white bride born
guessing you & I meres of one another
you and I abberant

bitter cactus tongues
in garden in sounding siren

2005-10-18T10:14:00.000-05:00

all nouns of the world be sleeve
trodden way into this snapclasp
ocean underwhelming your ruin
bland oats alive in your hair

conifer & east orange mirage
bought the intersecting moment, flayed
caught in ascent descent evenly over
tendrils, calamity against white fin

spaced & from your body
because it already happened once
ask yourself commensurately
if the blacktop is how you remember it

pick some electric entanglement
to dwell on: hubcap unexpected shrub wisp
of flower name it for
your speaking tongue but hiding calyx

what's lacking pistil sigmata filament
blackest fireshadow when you say "hurry, hurry"
Mojave curative venous & anthropic
rectangular system of circles in waves

this firefly scrim stars all
into you like a kickback and ride
the ablated wreckage we share ash
forehead open and glowing, the burn

clasped around you Athenic arrow
bent the curve of your earlobe blends
seuthanizing the soft woods
become puddles of speaking planks

residual trance carved coagulus
yellow bride yellow whites
guessing you & I meres of one another

of others you and I are action
bitter cactus tongues
in the garden in the sounding siren

for #4

2005-10-17T14:55:00.000-05:00

all nouns of the world be sleeve
ocean underwhelming you this ruin of
conifer & east orange mirage

caught in ascent descent evenly
overspaced & from your body
ask yourself commensurately

pick some electric entanglement
of flower name it for
what's lacking

pistil sigmata filament
Mojave curative venous & anthropic
this firefly scrim of stars all

the ablated wreckage we share ash
clasped into you Athenic arrows
euthanizing the soft woods

residual as trance substantiation
carved coagulus
guessing you & I meres

of one another
bitter cactus
catalyst of tongues

3.

2005-10-14T14:14:00.000-05:00

Interludes

Glances in
oxides windfall
peripheral haze zenith
swabbing you blind
like living room

crosstype catacomb
feasts I am splintering
you in tow paperveined
in the most common
shrug lead me wet-

ways starting from
ash beige clover
fingertips moving
morningsilent lead
to yours alternation

a scythe cowled by
knee and navel under
coral carapace censuring
your breath somehow
we travel mirrors

swim the horizon
brittle morpheme
shift becomes
euphoric taut
something like a window

accumulating you in breeze
but made of grass
wisteria coarse seedlings
commas give way letting
emptiness this found

light shutter close

more funnel than eye

interweave 3

2005-10-14T10:10:00.000-05:00

Glance of body in
oxides windfall

peripheral haze zenith
swabbing you blind

like living room
crosstype catacomb

feasts I am splintering
you in tow paperveined

in the most common
shrug lead me wet-

ways starting from
ash beige clover

fingertips moving
morningsilent lead

to yours alternation
a scythe cowled by

knee and navel under
coral carapace censuring

your breath somehow
we travel mirrors

swim the horizon
brittle morpheme

shifts becomes
euphoric taut

something like a window
accumulating you in breeze

but made of grass
wisteria coarse seedlings

commas give way letting
emptiness this found

light shutter close
more funnel now than eye

seedling, for interweave #3

2005-10-14T08:50:00.000-05:00

Glance of body in
peripheral haze, zenith and warrior
like a living room
feast. I am splintering
in the most common
ways, starting from
my fingertips and moving
to yours. Alternation
of knee and navel under
your breath. Somehow
when we swim, the horizon
shifts and becomes
something like a window,
but made of grass
and seedlings. If only
the comma would give way, letting
light in, letting
the shutter close more like a funnel,
like an eye.

Helixes

2005-10-08T07:55:00.000-05:00

1.

against the image of goldenrod
i apply my dereliction to you

untying knots of fountainspray
backward dunes

unraveling after we read
the gaping verb muscular node

asterisk a planet if
and this "if" of splendor

sinks back into its vertebrae
where we crimp

burgeoning gardenias singular
helix of whitewash and ice give me

sacrificial arteries your eyelashes
brimming with winter

slender sores of the finite
these were blood and bark

slanting gouged labeled
yellow bruise as "dying"

peels climbing interruption
the purest blank

speck of tongue sparkling
as consciously

on my cheek in shame
and what we do--

ever-filtered gallows
you and i parabolic

artificial mappings of
copper-plated skies

2005-10-08T07:38:00.000-05:00

2.

face down

blithely you thrust
category: container blue
lid to the serene sepulcher

door threshold hearth
twirled instant of
two breaths not mingling but

sideways shattering
i cannot launder silence
chapped gashed leaping

cryptic flung at dusk
fire in place of who
leaves them for you

as if perfect and kindled?
glittering in nitrous looms
every chair every table is not

abutting clay-red burn here
you are quartz and softer
incinerated by some wall

wound up, through

opal hook of space
fingers contort with
traffic but to get there

enzymes resound in light
printing blandness streets
leaking their pulses whir

pathways puddles
some outer beam resisting
hovering as wave and particle

what happens is
not happening fourteen fathoms down
say until

concentric seams between these
garbled currencies
sew themselves reflexive ponds

creek-worn against violet
dangling in vermilion charred
you hissing the not-blood of “I am”

as we evolve, it evolves

2005-10-04T08:54:00.000-05:00

blithely you thrust
category: container blue
lid to the serene sepulcher

door threshold hearth
twirled instant of
two breaths not mingling but

sideways shattering
i cannot launder silence
chapped gashed

leaping crypts at dusk
what is the fire place?
who leaves them for you

as if perfect and kindled?
glittering in nitrous looms
every chair every table is not

abutting clay-red burn here
you are quartz and softer
incinerated by some wall

<--maybe end here?--- or put " * * * ", or number?>

opal hook of space
fingers contort with
traffic but to get there

enzymes resound in light
printing blandness streets
leaking their pulses whir

pathways puddles
some outer beam resisting
hovering as wave and particle

what happens is
not happening fourteen fathoms down
say until

concentric seams between these
garbled currencies
sew themselves reflexive ponds

creek-worn against violet
dangling in vermilion charred
you hissing the not-blood of “I am”

Interweave 3?

2005-10-03T16:11:00.000-05:00

torn pipelines blast
your enzymes
resound in my light
printing blandness hearts
triple bypass main street closed
leaking their pulses to whir
pathways to puddles
some outer beam resisting
hovering as a wave and a particle
what happens is
not happening fourteen fathoms down
picture me saying this until
concentric seams between these
garbled currencies
sew themselves reflexive pond
becomes creek and thread
where words thrash against
a violet siege
turns vermilion to black
back to you hissing
the not-blood of “I am person”

for interweave #2

2005-10-03T12:36:00.000-05:00

blithely you thirst
for the serene sepulchre
twirled instant of
sideways shattering
chapped as silence is
leaps its crypts of dusk
leaves them for you
glittering in nitrous looms
hygienist's chair
abutting clay-red burn here
you are quartz but softer
incinerated by dust
opal hook of space
fingers pried loose
torn pipelines thought
resounds in lights
printing blindness hearts
leaking their pulses to whir
some outer cry denial resisting
what happens is
not happening fourteen fathoms down
concentric seams between these
garbled currencies
where words desist where they
thrash against placement
a brook of violet
turns vermilion to black
and blackness a reflex
resists in you the I
as us and "person" carbon
you, chemically preening
lubricant hisses the not-blood
hers yours-- progeny of I--
diminishment conforms to
conspires in

interweave #1

2005-10-03T11:28:00.000-05:00

how does this strike you? changed "asterisk become" to "asterisk as", "goldenshower" to "goldenrod" and moved "helix" down to the next line

-- now i can't see which is better-- asterisk become or as--- i could go either way

--------------------------------------------------------------------

against the image of goldenrod
i apply my dereliction to you

untying knots of fountainspray
backward dunes

unraveling after we read
the gaping verb muscular node

asterisk as a planet if
and this "if" of splendor

sinks back into its vertebrae
where we crimp

burgeoning gardenias singular
helix of whitewash and ice give me

sacrificial arteries your eyelashes
brimming with winter

slender sores of the finite
these were blood and bark

slanting gouged labeled
yellow bruise as "dying"

peels climbing interruption
the purest blank

speck of tongue sparkling
as consciously

on my cheek in shame
and what we do--

ever-filtered gallows
you and i parabolic

artificial mappings of
copper-plated skies

autumnal :: choleric

2005-10-03T10:34:00.000-05:00

astound me. seeding
a presence. in order

to break, intercise
each layer. fear

counted like. cards
fallen from hands

this. the most
careful story

(yours)(mine):
blown-flat. pile of

moth wings & ash--
stay away. he said

and it isn't even
time. wait for

autumn. brown-out
eyes. amethyst. ripped

fluttering and it
isn't even night

held. holding us
at arms distance

hollowed. where
we crease

I stole

2005-10-01T13:39:00.000-05:00

a poem from your blog and spliced it-- hope you don't mind. I chose this one especially for its opportunity to interject. The poem itself feels conflicted, like it can't make up its mind (especially now with my interjections). While this could be looked as a bad thing, I quite like it. It seems accurate. Check it and wreck it :) I'm such a dork.

astound me. with
sangria-purple. seeding
a presence. in order

to break, to intercise
each layer of fear—
cowering tower. of milk

counted like. cards
fallen from hands
the most. careful story

(yours)(mine):
blown-flat. pile of
moth wings & ash--

stay away. he said
and it isn't even
time for apples. wait for

autumn. brown-out
eyelids flutter.
it isn't night but the hold

A revision of punctuation

2005-10-01T13:24:00.000-05:00

against the image of goldenshower
i apply my dereliction to you

untying knots of fountainspray
backward dunes

unraveling after we read
the gaping verb muscular node

asterisk become a planet if
and this "if" of splendor

sinks back into its vertebrae
where we crimp

burgeoning gardenias singular helix
of whitewash and ice give me

sacrificial arteries your eyelashes
brimming with winter

slender sores of the finite
these were blood and bark

slanting gouged labeled
yellow bruise as "dying"

peels climbing interruption
the purest blank

speck of tongue sparkling
as consciously

on my cheek in shame
and what we do--

ever-filtered gallows
you and i parabolic

artificial mappings of
copper-plated skies

interweave #2

2005-09-20T15:35:00.000-05:00

against the image of goldenshower
i apply my dereliction to you

untying knots of fountainspray,
backward dunes

unraveling after we read
the gaping verb, muscular node

asterisk become a planet, if
and this "if" of splendor

sinks back into its vertebrae,
where we crimp

burgeoning gardenias. Singular helix
of whitewash, and ice. Give me

sacrificial arteries, your eyelashes
brimming with winter

slender sores of the finite,
these were blood and bark,

slanting, gouged, labeled
yellow bruise as "dying"

peels, climbing interruption
the purest blank

speck of tongue sparkling
as consciously

on my cheek in shame
and what we do--

ever-filtered gallows,
you and i, parabolic,

artificial mappings of
copper-plated skies

Outside of the poem, it's bizarre

2005-09-20T14:30:00.000-05:00

The lines I wrote taken out of the collaboration would be:

against the image of goldenshower
untying knots of fountainspray
unravel after we read the gaping verb,
an asterisk became a planet, if
splendor back into its vertebrae,
burgeoning gardenias. Singular helix of
and ice. Give me
sacrificial arteries, your eyelashes
were blood and bark
label a yellow bruise as "dying"
climbing and interruption the purest
speck of desire, your saliva sparkling
on my cheek in silent shame,
ever-filtered gallow
artificial mapping of

2005-09-20T14:03:00.000-05:00

what distance could we contrive

against the image of goldenshower

to the fallible mists purpling

untying knots of fountainspray

friezes, what would you and i

unravel after we read the gaping verb,

mean, if somehow the ridges of

an asterisk became a planet, if

yesterday grew into us, scaling

splendor back into its vertebrae,

off our overturned wrists like

burgeoning gardenias. Singular helix of

iced-over fountains/free from

spectators and ice. Give me

Reading's foliage/that collage

of sacrificial arteries, your eyelashes

brimming with winter, auburns

already were blood and bark

stifled sealed over pockets we

label a yellow bruise as "dying"

sprint down toward, if i can find
you there and we can make a blaze
the stars would notice, isn't that

climbing and interruption the purest
speck of desire, your saliva sparkling
on my cheek in silent shame,

the only necessary even-quiet,

ever-filtered gallow

fleeting, as premise, preface

artificial mapping of,

to reflection?

as if hibernal

2005-09-20T08:34:00.000-05:00

what distance could we contrive
to the fallible mists purpling
friezes, what would you and i
mean, if somehow the ridges of
yesterday grew into us, scaling
off our overturned wrists like
iced-over fountains/free from
Reading's foliage/that collage
brimming with winter, auburns
stifled sealed over pockets we
sprint down toward, if i can find
you there and we can make a blaze
the stars would notice, isn't that
the only necessary even-quiet,
fleeting, as premise, preface
to reflection?

After seeing a photograph of nothing in particular

2005-09-19T21:19:00.000-05:00

At the mention
of distance,
your bones flower
into spores
and blank, fibrous
diamonds. What
gives? Cannon
ball. Belly
flop. Chisel stars
out of photographs
and string
a bracelet. Who
would you give
it to? I sparkle.
I focus. A cluster
of signatures
form a canopy. Banyon.
Fused above
and below.
Anatomical
circle, navel.
The eye
of storm and
the ridge
of shelf cloud.

Sanibel Circle

2005-09-05T21:40:00.000-05:00

in the subarachnoid space
a polyp
transverse to you

after fluid
finds its lowest point
in the dura matter, after you

awake contused, parietal
in a private room
on the third floor

aseptic and vascularized,
the hallway
lit softly with triage

A revision

2005-09-05T09:42:00.000-05:00

Per a great comment by Lorna on my other blog, a revision:

spear atmosphere

I dare to say (as the approaching comet
dares) that you have given
sound a spine brought

me given me
into stitches of hair
dust wool clay is red

your tongue is red
clay in a river bed awake
and speak clouding

over the black thread
lifts my eyelids
pupils and saturn

unlike any moon we carve
ecstasy out of lime
seeds small yellow

breath-puff a crystal
city on your breastplate
begin again

as the rain comes this perfection
and synapse a spitting
wind in a slew

of lightning bolts mistaken
for flashbulbs pop smoke
blue spots with trails
among planets

from here

2005-09-02T08:13:00.000-05:00

choleric multitudes
orange horizons
baskets lowered

over iridescent
ponds, domes,
overpasses--

how far from earth
do they climb,
noiseless

islands rising
through oil-streaked
dawn

Spear Atmosphere

2005-08-26T15:52:00.000-05:00

I dare to say (as the approaching comet
dares) that you have given
sound a spine, brought

me given me
into stitches of hair,
dust, wool. Clay is red

your tongue is red
clay in a river bed awake
and speak. Clouding

over, the black thread
lifts my eyelids,
pupils and Saturn

unlike any moon. We carve
ecstasy out of lime
seeds, small yellow

breath-puff, a crystal
city on your breastplate.
Begin again

as the rain comes. It’s perfection
and collapse, a spitting
wind in a slew

of lightning bolts mistaken
for flashbulbs. Pop. Smoke.

Blue spots with trails among
the planets.

marathon

2005-08-25T11:14:00.000-05:00

why make an accomplice of Saturn
when its rings come clear?
why try and breathe
its debris?

what did she say that could have
made you think twice,
running down orbits
beside you in bed

nothing but a clarity
of Saturn, the faster
you move across the hills

the longer it takes
to reach you

I'm back. . .

2005-08-23T15:42:00.000-05:00

There we do
rise, spear
atmosphere, jaunt
like bargins
into each other's
hands. A black-
bellied cloud rolls
into us even
though we suffocate.
It is not
a star, she said,
it is a house
on a hill. We live
in it. We do not
live in a star.

Cunningly you

2005-08-17T20:54:00.000-05:00

maul space, satiety, theotropic
encounters, nonplussed, the chapbook Minerva
creeping clique, to get you
to you, one s or two
"while" doesn't think for itself

cavitates, brass bearings, teeth
fuck, whether we'll make it, happening now
with -ing
or later behind your smeared casing

purse on the bureau
wishing to hang it on you
principles
possibly reaching pantoum-
like smiles, density, -ies

fork, fork over
how many prongs? how many
deluges spear us
while sleeping?

Carnage, Pixels

2005-08-17T14:20:00.000-05:00

Roy Lichtenstein's "Brushstroke with Spatter," 1966

Carnage, Pixels

You blur into drear, stigmatism focus on fake drips,

on fake intermittent light smear, on callous

glamour smear, shaken hand in bountiful sinews.

You give me a filled carcass, a shaken boxcar, a forest guile,

a hidden smile, more guile for the long trip through briar bayou.

Blue briars into you, slick martini eyes. The drag,

the influence of drag, the martini gleam effluvium taking over

squirrel-tooth effluvium. Come in bold, balance, entitled

rails we ride on, entitled something it wears, killer sari button

on the move down. So sorry for your hands.

I did a sort of pantoum-sort of thing with my words, beginning with the first one and the second one in the first line, then repeating the second and third one in the next line, then the third and fourth, etc, etc. I would have liked to get stigmatism in the last line, but alas. I tried to evoke the idea of stigmata with the "hands" reference, but not sure if it comes through or not. I used Roy Lichtenstein's "Brushstroke with spatter," 1966 as a sort of inspiration (I'm having a hard time with actual poetic subjects lately. . .may have something to do with the war?). I don't think the lines are working very well- they seem too long right now, but I like how the repetetion is working, so that's a tough one. I also cheated (lied?) at the end. . .sari, sorry.

It was fun. . .

one more

2005-08-16T19:18:00.000-05:00

I did eleven, because I'm unstoppable (or just out of control, which is probably more accurate).

stigmatism
fake
smear
shaken
guile
briar
martini
effluvium
Baryshnikov
entitled
sari

let's do something with these. . .but what?

1st 10 words that come to mind

2005-08-16T09:33:00.000-05:00

chapbook
answer
deluge
rocket
fire
midnight
while
fork
day
coward

Snowball

2005-08-15T16:26:00.000-05:00

x
to
why
four
means
eleven
cognate
stemcell
fallopian
expression
fallopening
complication
technological
transcendental
etymologically
transformational

what i am not

2005-08-12T14:51:00.000-05:00

i
am
not
your
droll
sacred
stylist
consumed
absolutes
striations
haphazardly
contaminated
compartmental
demonstrations
contemporaneous &
transcendentally
anti-pornographic

forestations

2005-08-12T10:39:00.000-05:00

foam
glides headfirst
into juniper, kelp

flaccid
grasses hiss
imperviously jostled, knows

foam
grows higher,
Isis joining Kaddishes

flaccid
golds harping
intravenously, jostled kelp

foaming
gratuitously headfirst
inside juvenile Kaddishes

flaccid
grieving, heightening
Isis' jovial ka

fabric

2005-08-11T09:52:00.000-05:00

I wanted to try what you've been playing with in your site, scott. Here's my first attempt, though I think I can do better.

fabric
glow paper
a red match

fabric
finding glitter
bringing me there

fabric
denim eyes
hook and eye

fabric
your eye
stay the white

fabric
your pockets
emptied and gone

fabric
sell me
sell me fire

fabric
garlic quilt
you sweat clean

fabric
strips in
flowers, purple bundles

fabric
hates smallness
wants to taste

fabric
and find
fabric and taste

Impression of you

2005-08-10T15:27:00.000-05:00

smearing orchids
on a palate of stone
i break into a rapture
of orchids i sing
wrestling with Adam
over the Mediterranean i have broken them
these nectars
into song before the orchids painted
their lithographs on a palate of dawn
city a cloud-wreath
a smeared nitrate:
heaven swells in its cadence of stone
over the Mediterranean's
broken song

alternate version

I'm not happy

2005-08-10T15:01:00.000-05:00

that was really hard. I'm apparently not very good at it yet. Maybe with some more practice, or if I come back to it later. . .

It blows open against
a patch of persimmons, tongue
curled and tickled
by tendrils. It looks
more like a face
than a flower, blotch shaped
like a closed eye.

I have a phrase "bearded frowm of an iris" in one of my other poems- I'm having too hard a time getting that out of my mind's record player.

Ribbon

2005-08-09T13:07:00.000-05:00

name, i haven't one yet, tiles and letters are all
still fragments, ascending through the curved lip of a
gray cloud
flipped onto a bright month, low pressures that this
sea thrives through

room to me, it is a room too, a
curtain of
flecks
deliriously cold

glad you could make it
a word
thumbed through, pages, were bodies once,
jagged instruments

move against spirit like
lightning,
crisp
breath it unfolds, unfurls

Anatomy of a Scream

2005-08-09T10:54:00.000-05:00

Cave glass, you take my breath
to go, flung and baited but crisp

in blue birth. To stretch lightning,
isolate the green, bleed it

dry until he dreams jagged
faces onto you seems

like it already happened. I am glad
for your sadness, for its delirious

conflict, for the flecks
of silver that motor, that curtain,

that call from a closed room
we can never enter. The sea

is in there, boiling and still,
asking us to swallow it’s name.

meditation cycle

2005-08-05T12:16:00.000-05:00

-- a child is born into a cave of glass so he cannot be loved by sadness yet

-- the material adhering to his green irises, how lightning appears vermilion in cataclysm, stretching its smooth blood into his sleep (the smallest redundancy of space)

-- when i look at plants bound to stakes in that courtyard, i am deleriously sad about yesterday, even though there were no pasts behind that glass, or occurring yet in his eyes. turning to morning, or the night within morning

-- at these verdant heights, we can be temporary or inversely strange to breathing, at the center of a house whose walls allow our cries to mingle with his. rebounding and spiraling up or down in tandem, you who are-- who we are. no we-- but i

-- i want to think of the sea as a belief, having gone over it asleep, in a valence of sadness. the waves shut off at midnight. the moon flickering clear. how is it we are continuous through child and soil, precipitated, enclosed

staying light

2005-08-05T10:35:00.000-05:00

Salt on, take a cave and hide it there,
coral and the other side of surface
(break through from under

water, sweet propulsion). It’s not
awakening I’m afraid of, heavy glucose
morning. It’s the gamut

of words in your skull, trapped
in your marrow, ossifying
and fusing you closed. Captive,

you breach a tender horizon
by speaking, but it moves,
like driftwood, so quickly
away.

(This was all I could do before Eliot woke up. Maybe I can do more later. . .)

palmyric, consciously

2005-08-04T10:27:00.000-05:00

like sulfur, no breath, picturesque sun-polyp
on the ceiling, mirror mirror mirror
(murmur)

mornings . . .
heart, what can be said, percussive dialect
streamers behind wheels of piano keys, diaphanous whites

mine was crypt, gasses, dreamed huge
minutes aerial, guarded
as moors

lunar cycle: i have/am have/you have/this have/i have/you—
1200 algaes slicking
the coast purple

i am between colors
rays through
sea, thermoclines, concavity

dawn

2005-08-04T08:54:00.000-05:00

Dawn on artichoke
heart, facile the glittering
sound of glee. Red

trumpets tell of your
night: layered sting
and barrell tricks under

a dangerously low moon.
The ocean is alive
with salt, bouyant girl,

the best she's ever had
is down too far
for her to reach.

second movement

2005-08-04T08:26:00.000-05:00

seed strophe
symbol of dissipative symphony
generationally strat-
ified
ascending to troposphere
sky squall
tripping delicately
in fabrics:
backwards prone
stinging burlap, her cheek

a beginning. . .

2005-08-03T17:32:00.000-05:00

seed and root, green
symbol of a shoot
generational
a single astrid star
sky collander, jaded
tripping over wheat
in a cornfield
backwards licking, shucking
stinging silk like a long sigh