I wish this picture could be the cover
Feed me more poem titles!
I haven't caught up yet, but I don't want to dry up.
Who doesn't like having poems written for them.
Have you ever wanted to be seduced via poetry? Here's your chance!
30.11.08
I write many poems / Give me mo' titles
Tentative title of chapbook: Owls / Beer / Ted
I wish this picture could be the cover
Feed me more poem titles!
I haven't caught up yet, but I don't want to dry up.
Who doesn't like having poems written for them.
Have you ever wanted to be seduced via poetry? Here's your chance!
I wish this picture could be the cover
Feed me more poem titles!
I haven't caught up yet, but I don't want to dry up.
Who doesn't like having poems written for them.
Have you ever wanted to be seduced via poetry? Here's your chance!
I Love You Sweetheart and I am Going to Town For Eggs and Snakes
---For Bryan Coffelt
Bear I
Where were your hands in 1993. Did the forest have groceries in it. Our dog tried to rope the finest harbor becoming smaller as the moon fingered in circles. Paper moon factories and bangles made of ore. These friends decide how to wear hoodies in a disco, beer in the key of flour and snow. Yet mandrakes rarely grow in San Paolo. Like we were frisbees caught in the yacht club.
Bear II
Would paintball be a sweet-ass mating ground. Now we have strands of light around us. Dancing in your tightrope clothes a mystic panda, a more flaccid substitute yamika. That was the summer the yearbook turned purple. The Stooges blew lightbulbs out of our trash. Bugs made smaller through division. I could be telling a morbid biography.
Bear III
I was drunk and crossing the river.
Bear IV
It made me wander in cyberspace and creamspace and desertspace. No more living of the dream. Also the awful pillowed in around our coffin. My father, the one with the ugly jaw, cope motion. Set up on three separate legs like glass only more clouds. Someone in the south flips off a cliff. The blizzard does not have a proper traveling case.
Bear V
My cat does it for the free haircuts not the sadness of a lesbian chat room filled with matchbooks. She was yummy once.
Bear VI
Makes no sound.
Also giraffes kiss like assholes.
Now the bears have no name.
A bunch of assholes scared of glass.
Bear I
Where were your hands in 1993. Did the forest have groceries in it. Our dog tried to rope the finest harbor becoming smaller as the moon fingered in circles. Paper moon factories and bangles made of ore. These friends decide how to wear hoodies in a disco, beer in the key of flour and snow. Yet mandrakes rarely grow in San Paolo. Like we were frisbees caught in the yacht club.
Bear II
Would paintball be a sweet-ass mating ground. Now we have strands of light around us. Dancing in your tightrope clothes a mystic panda, a more flaccid substitute yamika. That was the summer the yearbook turned purple. The Stooges blew lightbulbs out of our trash. Bugs made smaller through division. I could be telling a morbid biography.
Bear III
I was drunk and crossing the river.
Bear IV
It made me wander in cyberspace and creamspace and desertspace. No more living of the dream. Also the awful pillowed in around our coffin. My father, the one with the ugly jaw, cope motion. Set up on three separate legs like glass only more clouds. Someone in the south flips off a cliff. The blizzard does not have a proper traveling case.
Bear V
My cat does it for the free haircuts not the sadness of a lesbian chat room filled with matchbooks. She was yummy once.
Bear VI
Makes no sound.
Also giraffes kiss like assholes.
Now the bears have no name.
A bunch of assholes scared of glass.
On the Baptism of My Daughter Consuela, June 14, 1833
---A "STRONG" poem For K. Silem Mohammad
Rasputin had a universal name for hotels
by a shiny mountain stream
he ruined a dream of mine
where I smoked two cigarettes in Manhattan
I played two characters
Mutiny, Consuela, & Sam Shepard
we smashed peanuts on lampposts
the baby Gap smashes my toys to hell
my girlfriend swung a violin into bus light
we were drunk and somber
the baby name wizard Rasputin
shined a marshmallow near our family
he could munch jazz
'C' magic where worlds shit Azaleas
thanks for asking
Germany is where drinking magic
comes off building a tide towards the turn
as if nuns could break a coma
Princess Consuela Banana Hammock
i am wearing my pwetty ballet clothes
she talks to my naked soul and blurs
not that I can limp across a pig
or I am lonely in a bitter wizard way
"trouble follows trouble"
and the mini-mart closes
florescent morphing
like a parrot in the rain
Magic 8-Ball
do you merge your hammock with a tendril
can the ridge plow our fingers into hair
I've seen the missing pylons of snow
god works the dickiest
curly prick with a chin-strap
go to bed
Rasputin had a universal name for hotels
by a shiny mountain stream
he ruined a dream of mine
where I smoked two cigarettes in Manhattan
I played two characters
Mutiny, Consuela, & Sam Shepard
we smashed peanuts on lampposts
the baby Gap smashes my toys to hell
my girlfriend swung a violin into bus light
we were drunk and somber
the baby name wizard Rasputin
shined a marshmallow near our family
he could munch jazz
'C' magic where worlds shit Azaleas
thanks for asking
Germany is where drinking magic
comes off building a tide towards the turn
as if nuns could break a coma
Princess Consuela Banana Hammock
i am wearing my pwetty ballet clothes
she talks to my naked soul and blurs
not that I can limp across a pig
or I am lonely in a bitter wizard way
"trouble follows trouble"
and the mini-mart closes
florescent morphing
like a parrot in the rain
Magic 8-Ball
do you merge your hammock with a tendril
can the ridge plow our fingers into hair
I've seen the missing pylons of snow
god works the dickiest
curly prick with a chin-strap
go to bed
Water Doesn't Give a Damn
Time Will Break The World
The sun and the shutters and the sun shattered hair.
The butler hesitates at the top of the stairs.
A kitten from Great Britain sleeps behind the drapes.
An old silver bowl filled with apples and grapes.
It's so very cold in the mansion after sunset
Snow is blowing through the baseboard outlets.
And I have no idea what drives you mister.
tanning beds explode with rich women inside.
All my poor hungry children x3
Time will break the world x3
The snow falls down so beautiful and stupid
Fore the black silhouette of Abraham Lincoln trees
The sky is low and gray like a Japanese table.
And my horse's legs look like four brown shotguns
The icicles are dripping like the whole house is weeping
On an evil little car with gull-wing doors.
And I have no idea what drives you mister
But I've killed you in my mind so many times before.
All my poor hungry children x3
Time will break the world x3
You cut to the core of me David Berman.
Bright Flight might be my favorite album by The Silver Jews. I think this is the first singer I ever thought combined poetry and music properly. I never thought Bob Dylan was poet (don't shoot me). He always seemed like a really good short story writer. But I guess when you get deeper into his catalog, like Another Side Of Bob Dylan, you see he's got poetic tendencies, but... meh. I mean, I really like the guy, but Berman does it for me.
I feel like the line, "The snow falls down so beautiful and stupid" is what all my poetry is based around. I can't exactly say why. It just feels right. I feel like he address nature in a way that is appropriate to "our" generation. Honestly, nature is fucking pretty and it affects us. But the last thing we need in poetry/music romanticizing anything other than pure language. I believe in lush linguistic landscapes. I believe in crooked, velvet nouns and hot, lightning pure verbs.
Fuck trees.
I want poetry that is a spittoon for your meaning.
Being analytical is overrated.
28.11.08
We Cobbled Erroneous Fossils From From Sedentary Fences
---For Ryland
as well as in smaller sandstone pebbles and cobbles
like a pale buff shades the daggers in the Potomac
or mysteries wrapped foreshore, low tide, and foil
a ranger kisses the sand castle city
while our child moves water in the shape of an agate
we could be petrified wood cell structures
and diamond saws, making thin crabs discard human corpses
how our little pig hands made mud balls out of fossils
only there are no star cobbles or pudgy bulk units
4.5 million years ago a condom affected veterinary practices
so the overweight herd caressed my knee and bulge
plus it can be a fun exercises used as an antidote
for a culture interested in fencing
ewww no milk for hot man in a beard chasing 3 month old lions
as well as in smaller sandstone pebbles and cobbles
like a pale buff shades the daggers in the Potomac
or mysteries wrapped foreshore, low tide, and foil
a ranger kisses the sand castle city
while our child moves water in the shape of an agate
we could be petrified wood cell structures
and diamond saws, making thin crabs discard human corpses
how our little pig hands made mud balls out of fossils
only there are no star cobbles or pudgy bulk units
4.5 million years ago a condom affected veterinary practices
so the overweight herd caressed my knee and bulge
plus it can be a fun exercises used as an antidote
for a culture interested in fencing
ewww no milk for hot man in a beard chasing 3 month old lions
26.11.08
Like Gamma-Ray Guns You Can't See In The Forest
---For T.B.
1.
Is murdering Suzanne
like a ray gun bringing the moon
in step with Ted the
glass blower, genocidal
killer of small trees.
2.
A small glass of bees and
ugly Pluto aligned with cute Pluto
will bring trees into a tavern
and we wish you to step with us
in a ceremony.
3.
Cussing out trees, horny Pluto
slips ugly Ted and his ray gun
beneath a stand of bees
where a ceremony kisses
a glass Suzanne.
4.
Then a cuss tree broke Pluto
into edible squares that the
bees took as a warning or
ray gun to smother taverns
full of drunk genocidal
train cars.
5.
Where did Ted break bees
into pieces of hell, held in an
open tree under Pluto's
ceremonial cuteness, which
can smell like a train of Teds.
6.
Ray gun knelt under red
Suzanne heat as violin strings
hummed cute tavern drunks
to a place where warm squares of light
are genocidal or just edible bees.
1.
Is murdering Suzanne
like a ray gun bringing the moon
in step with Ted the
glass blower, genocidal
killer of small trees.
2.
A small glass of bees and
ugly Pluto aligned with cute Pluto
will bring trees into a tavern
and we wish you to step with us
in a ceremony.
3.
Cussing out trees, horny Pluto
slips ugly Ted and his ray gun
beneath a stand of bees
where a ceremony kisses
a glass Suzanne.
4.
Then a cuss tree broke Pluto
into edible squares that the
bees took as a warning or
ray gun to smother taverns
full of drunk genocidal
train cars.
5.
Where did Ted break bees
into pieces of hell, held in an
open tree under Pluto's
ceremonial cuteness, which
can smell like a train of Teds.
6.
Ray gun knelt under red
Suzanne heat as violin strings
hummed cute tavern drunks
to a place where warm squares of light
are genocidal or just edible bees.
How's it going 2000 man?
---For Casey
Is Al Gore the man?
He hired one point of light against dad
a little pity for lack of proof.
He once wired apropos to the mall
while hunting for ray guns.
No one will be daring in
"unmitigated disaster"
like gamma-ray guns
you can't see in the forest.
Al Gore is best used as a candle stick.
Call him daddy
and perhaps get caught in dead air.
He likes
soviet satellites fussing his hair
sword and viking husbandry
gadgets and canes
"Land damn it land?"
he's dumb
he's simple
he's the pilot
Is Al Gore the man?
He hired one point of light against dad
a little pity for lack of proof.
He once wired apropos to the mall
while hunting for ray guns.
No one will be daring in
"unmitigated disaster"
like gamma-ray guns
you can't see in the forest.
Al Gore is best used as a candle stick.
Call him daddy
and perhaps get caught in dead air.
He likes
soviet satellites fussing his hair
sword and viking husbandry
gadgets and canes
"Land damn it land?"
he's dumb
he's simple
he's the pilot
Tiny Monster Demands More Mazel Tov
---For Genevieve Kleinbaum
My stupid brain to your eyes
and then into your brain
then the uses of your stomach
then perennials, woodyplants, hosta
and not unusual with gold Coreopsis integrifolia.
Each flower is a bright rosy-purple
with dozens and dozens of big white nurses.
Bon Vivant Nursery!
That's why tiny monster would be amazing!
Are tiny cat pants radical feminists.
Minka's eyes in a Mexican hat dance
only a tiny monster orthodox Jewish couple
now living in just a little tiny bit better.
We have a mental image
of a baby dressed in a teeny-tiny Eskimo outfit.
little monster
hole in the head
champion
hot lights
"congratulations"
"Love goes home to Paris in the spring."---The Magnetic Fields
My stupid brain to your eyes
and then into your brain
then the uses of your stomach
then perennials, woodyplants, hosta
and not unusual with gold Coreopsis integrifolia.
Each flower is a bright rosy-purple
with dozens and dozens of big white nurses.
Bon Vivant Nursery!
That's why tiny monster would be amazing!
Are tiny cat pants radical feminists.
Minka's eyes in a Mexican hat dance
only a tiny monster orthodox Jewish couple
now living in just a little tiny bit better.
We have a mental image
of a baby dressed in a teeny-tiny Eskimo outfit.
little monster
hole in the head
champion
hot lights
"congratulations"
Speak Kindly Of Your Volunteer Fire Department
---For Robert Pollard
electric news paper boy
does today make lamps turn
or the little bugs to grow
this pop Zeus taking a kindergarten nap
now a big red robot fucking up Kentucky
and latter day saints kiss old French bathers
in a piss smelling carton
she was French
could be a bench
or feet in a trench
what a stench
Zeus nibbled on two blanched siblings
but there's no two ways about a bad soundtrack
now a mushroom programmed
to preserve bad aphorisms
those trim boy scouts around fat ones
accidental Texas who
those firefighters still chugging away at
that eternal mountain
shaped like a blimp
electric news paper boy
does today make lamps turn
or the little bugs to grow
this pop Zeus taking a kindergarten nap
now a big red robot fucking up Kentucky
and latter day saints kiss old French bathers
in a piss smelling carton
she was French
could be a bench
or feet in a trench
what a stench
Zeus nibbled on two blanched siblings
but there's no two ways about a bad soundtrack
now a mushroom programmed
to preserve bad aphorisms
those trim boy scouts around fat ones
accidental Texas who
those firefighters still chugging away at
that eternal mountain
shaped like a blimp
The Fences Made of Lambs
---For Lacey
Special Tom overjoyed to be a pigeon again
while in Florida isotopes spin around
the ink blot of a poodle's heart
But someone could hunger wasps
or need a letting go
or a pigeon kissing Florida's ice
we can all flip Dingos till babies come out
This was testing the comma
not the period
Special Tom overjoyed to be a pigeon again
while in Florida isotopes spin around
the ink blot of a poodle's heart
But someone could hunger wasps
or need a letting go
or a pigeon kissing Florida's ice
we can all flip Dingos till babies come out
This was testing the comma
not the period
NEW NEW NEW
Coconut 14 is really good. Read it. Sam Pink's pieces are awesome.
Also Lanny Quarles has a new pdf chapbook Nosering Cellphone, which is redonkculously cool. Here's a little taste:
monocles dance
by dirty
a blonde w/
crooked teeth
makes me hot
but my retarded boots
are deep blue oceans
of cold thinking crystals
24.11.08
Montana, do you ever sing to the moth on my chest.
---For Ted Berrigan
1.
Montana did you build
a deer or a beard in
the dull grounds of
sea thistle.
2.
A deer wearing a beard
intent on building
a sea out of owl grounds
and the thistle sings
beer drinking songs.
3.
Dear editor,
while drinking owls
and rush of beards
tackled a deer wearing
the sea as a hat.
4.
Upon flushing out songs
the sea growled at a owl
who picked thistle from his
beard which was a cue
to his broken glasses and
his professors hat.
5.
Growing tired
with his deer in tow
the hat cued the sea
to break owls open
and drink the beer inside.
6.
Most old bearded owls
know better but still
break cradles and piss
in the sea, with his hat
on, the thistle in his cheek.
7.
Bye bye piss caked glasses
even if you knew better
than deer, hats, the sea,
some popes still fuck up
the economy, but it sure
was a nice owl.
1.
Montana did you build
a deer or a beard in
the dull grounds of
sea thistle.
2.
A deer wearing a beard
intent on building
a sea out of owl grounds
and the thistle sings
beer drinking songs.
3.
Dear editor,
while drinking owls
and rush of beards
tackled a deer wearing
the sea as a hat.
4.
Upon flushing out songs
the sea growled at a owl
who picked thistle from his
beard which was a cue
to his broken glasses and
his professors hat.
5.
Growing tired
with his deer in tow
the hat cued the sea
to break owls open
and drink the beer inside.
6.
Most old bearded owls
know better but still
break cradles and piss
in the sea, with his hat
on, the thistle in his cheek.
7.
Bye bye piss caked glasses
even if you knew better
than deer, hats, the sea,
some popes still fuck up
the economy, but it sure
was a nice owl.
Taking Requests
I need people to write poems for. But I don't want to poem rape anyone. So if you want me to dedicate a poem to you, please leave me a comment with your name and (preferably) a title.
Thanks.
I'm bored and I want to write a enough dedication poems for a chapbook.
A Pile Of Pandas
---For Sandra Simonds
Translates to a "home of the wind"
or the slender meat between teeth.
A tiny incubator wrapped in the sound
and I saw one too. Only with better economics.
It is bent harmonic light along a shaft
an inbreeding neutral, gory with fangs
and god we could almost trust those trumpets.
Tiny fur melts and swims, swims.
He crosses the tar pits and diaphragms
that a humble snake snatches at.
O to be a linebacker snaggle-toothed by the sea
drinking cup after cup and saying, eyes
can't I believe no one has ever seen
or grown over brick walls and canopies.
Fuck Where The Red Furn Grows
Fuck trueblood blowing kisses
Fuck wind for prayer
Fuck blowing kisses underwater
Here is a shallow spot amongst gangs.
A man hops up gallows and and rests his head.
Figures in the ice now gone and again and gone.
Montana, do you ever sing to the moth on my chest.
Translates to a "home of the wind"
or the slender meat between teeth.
A tiny incubator wrapped in the sound
and I saw one too. Only with better economics.
It is bent harmonic light along a shaft
an inbreeding neutral, gory with fangs
and god we could almost trust those trumpets.
Tiny fur melts and swims, swims.
He crosses the tar pits and diaphragms
that a humble snake snatches at.
O to be a linebacker snaggle-toothed by the sea
drinking cup after cup and saying, eyes
can't I believe no one has ever seen
or grown over brick walls and canopies.
Fuck Where The Red Furn Grows
Fuck trueblood blowing kisses
Fuck wind for prayer
Fuck blowing kisses underwater
Here is a shallow spot amongst gangs.
A man hops up gallows and and rests his head.
Figures in the ice now gone and again and gone.
Montana, do you ever sing to the moth on my chest.
22.11.08
Being A Daddy Isn't Easy
---After Mango Kisses
effeminate Emperor Palpatine haunting SF
living in a communist portrait
framed in sand
a kind of purple once again
two beams of light coming from us
not humble but bitten by snakes
that isn't like coming through a keyhole
so she holds tea & a heart looks simple
coming in and out of a coma
a rock owl, a raspberry fizz, caramelized pig
some folks reconsidered & were shot from a cannon
now called Missouri by no one in particular
effeminate Emperor Palpatine haunting SF
living in a communist portrait
framed in sand
a kind of purple once again
two beams of light coming from us
not humble but bitten by snakes
that isn't like coming through a keyhole
so she holds tea & a heart looks simple
coming in and out of a coma
a rock owl, a raspberry fizz, caramelized pig
some folks reconsidered & were shot from a cannon
now called Missouri by no one in particular
There Is Not Enough Snow
--For The Roomies
But there is always
enough of the machine
packing jerky and cheddar
there can be love, cones, loss of blood, & scary sprinkles
I spackle dice on my face
all over my cheek bones
& in the particles between my cheek bones
cat asleep at the wheel
or this sense of continual signaling back
into my heart thumbing at me
with a desire to finish first in my toes
we keep shoveling snow
to make jerky and cheddar
into a kind of day
like blueberries in sparkler light
goodbye Trisha Yearwood's terrible boner
no one wants to kiss your vagina anyway.
But there is always
enough of the machine
packing jerky and cheddar
there can be love, cones, loss of blood, & scary sprinkles
I spackle dice on my face
all over my cheek bones
& in the particles between my cheek bones
cat asleep at the wheel
or this sense of continual signaling back
into my heart thumbing at me
with a desire to finish first in my toes
we keep shoveling snow
to make jerky and cheddar
into a kind of day
like blueberries in sparkler light
goodbye Trisha Yearwood's terrible boner
no one wants to kiss your vagina anyway.
19.11.08
It's More Human Than Device
For Jess & Lacey
A trauma to the wall of suffering warts
held gems in pond water
in the thick mallow of eggs
and it can be dismissed
in the house where guts suffer
or tired kids voice to legs
genomes where pools linger above
magic becomes something to be soft about
to make butter in endlessly
lists will never forgive this
only porridge in a boring pan
sad & dumb mooring in shallows
pills stuffing up the plumbing
some dead litter in piles
the soft soft soft drum
the spooky smoke coils
I open spoons along the table
no viciousness in us
A trauma to the wall of suffering warts
held gems in pond water
in the thick mallow of eggs
and it can be dismissed
in the house where guts suffer
or tired kids voice to legs
genomes where pools linger above
magic becomes something to be soft about
to make butter in endlessly
lists will never forgive this
only porridge in a boring pan
sad & dumb mooring in shallows
pills stuffing up the plumbing
some dead litter in piles
the soft soft soft drum
the spooky smoke coils
I open spoons along the table
no viciousness in us
16.11.08
Barely Jesuit Enough
----For You
had a crumbling taste in the filter
mice building a shuttle
from the desert
nicely pink whale mails it in
water built of language
a haunting voice
they go out in the cold
easy sleep comes bearing west
snowy piss landing
mortar chips
a kind of machine
animals can kiss anywhere
planning to go clear
locked in raincoats
& baritone
we smuggle glum in our shoes
never breaking the shorts rule
opal clue voting for fire
I hope to be clear of this
opening cane & a pump
our lake billows
kid ghost all in our hair
nesting in bottom rocks
& seven octaves higher
carry her to Ohio
roast her blood
and tell Glenn Tipton
not this time
had a crumbling taste in the filter
mice building a shuttle
from the desert
nicely pink whale mails it in
water built of language
a haunting voice
they go out in the cold
easy sleep comes bearing west
snowy piss landing
mortar chips
a kind of machine
animals can kiss anywhere
planning to go clear
locked in raincoats
& baritone
we smuggle glum in our shoes
never breaking the shorts rule
opal clue voting for fire
I hope to be clear of this
opening cane & a pump
our lake billows
kid ghost all in our hair
nesting in bottom rocks
& seven octaves higher
carry her to Ohio
roast her blood
and tell Glenn Tipton
not this time
Sad Sounds From The Food Door
----For Jennifer Garcia
sad Russian music sounds from
the throat of the accordion
metal buckled
gave way with a sad sound
a dog brings hyphened food
sad-toned scent of goodbye
which death's door
happily changed
listen for sad trumpet sound
alcohols to snap you
the mountain again never opened
door sounds unbearable
sad town no children
a dry sound kept on
with no food
Lana didn't sound sad
down countless flights of villages
or dejected tabby cat
under hedges
hung herself with shoelaces
from a special sound
her belly was empty
octopus composed organic remains
makes gnarly didgeridoo sound
a sad land of veggie women
the fourth-graders alone
700 American women
their shift at the coal mine
and the sound of rumbling
another vestige
frames jump out
or our family broken up
on the phone
Otter spoke to her
with armored-vehicles
any light of continuous action
she refused utter sound
my neighbors were families
riots of sound
as I climbed higher
babies televisions frying food
sounds console against you
a throng of bearded men
in sad colored
sound or stirring in the air
threat in the sound
lock some trees/wood
folks bolted to bolt & sleep
hymns to whisper sad
Deb to the caboose
maybe mistaking woodpecker & bluejay
does sound autumnal with sad
will cash magic monikers
because Dorcas has died
White City with grass roofs
tall & sad smirks
echoed & sweet
sad Russian music sounds from
the throat of the accordion
metal buckled
gave way with a sad sound
a dog brings hyphened food
sad-toned scent of goodbye
which death's door
happily changed
listen for sad trumpet sound
alcohols to snap you
the mountain again never opened
door sounds unbearable
sad town no children
a dry sound kept on
with no food
Lana didn't sound sad
down countless flights of villages
or dejected tabby cat
under hedges
hung herself with shoelaces
from a special sound
her belly was empty
octopus composed organic remains
makes gnarly didgeridoo sound
a sad land of veggie women
the fourth-graders alone
700 American women
their shift at the coal mine
and the sound of rumbling
another vestige
frames jump out
or our family broken up
on the phone
Otter spoke to her
with armored-vehicles
any light of continuous action
she refused utter sound
my neighbors were families
riots of sound
as I climbed higher
babies televisions frying food
sounds console against you
a throng of bearded men
in sad colored
sound or stirring in the air
threat in the sound
lock some trees/wood
folks bolted to bolt & sleep
hymns to whisper sad
Deb to the caboose
maybe mistaking woodpecker & bluejay
does sound autumnal with sad
will cash magic monikers
because Dorcas has died
White City with grass roofs
tall & sad smirks
echoed & sweet
15.11.08
9.11.08
7.11.08
Friday, 12:30 PM
For Tao Lin
I just looked at my blog and it made my eyes water.
I just looked at my blog and the Pyrenees cracked open and a world of dead light poured out.
I just looked at my blog and missile shaped capes formed under my eyes.
I just looked at my blog and a dark blue hushed in amongst the carpet fibers.
I just looked at my blog and listened to someone say, "listen."
I just looked at my blog and hurried mothers equal mad capes.
I just looked at my blog and your blessing and was lost for a moment.
I just looked at my blog and students eat more grass.
I just looked at my blog and our tongues knitted a firefly into fishing line.
I JUST LOOKED AT MY BLOG AND HOLY MOTHER OF KNIVES FALLS DOWN UPON HER DRESS.
I just looked at my blog and Django rapped cyprus against a broken moon lander.
i just looked at my blog and ate a cucumber sandwich and typed "sad" into gmail chat
I just looked at my blog and saw McCain jumping into a vat of acid butterflies.
I just looked at my blog and saw someone in Texas.
I just looked at my blog and saw hell in a statistic of hats and ties.
I just looked at my blog and in a corner somewhere, Tao Lin lectured on psychic exchange between New Orleans Katrina.
I just looked at my blog and it made my eyes water.
I just looked at my blog and the Pyrenees cracked open and a world of dead light poured out.
I just looked at my blog and missile shaped capes formed under my eyes.
I just looked at my blog and a dark blue hushed in amongst the carpet fibers.
I just looked at my blog and listened to someone say, "listen."
I just looked at my blog and hurried mothers equal mad capes.
I just looked at my blog and your blessing and was lost for a moment.
I just looked at my blog and students eat more grass.
I just looked at my blog and our tongues knitted a firefly into fishing line.
I JUST LOOKED AT MY BLOG AND HOLY MOTHER OF KNIVES FALLS DOWN UPON HER DRESS.
I just looked at my blog and Django rapped cyprus against a broken moon lander.
i just looked at my blog and ate a cucumber sandwich and typed "sad" into gmail chat
I just looked at my blog and saw McCain jumping into a vat of acid butterflies.
I just looked at my blog and saw someone in Texas.
I just looked at my blog and saw hell in a statistic of hats and ties.
I just looked at my blog and in a corner somewhere, Tao Lin lectured on psychic exchange between New Orleans Katrina.
4.11.08
3.11.08
Eclogue
For KSM
Seepage: how we know a clear "face to face" purity in terms of doors, grown men in hats to fight off pure leverage and games.
Faucet (1967): in the year of all waters time becomes a broken horse laying track.
(Man crosses over forehand and hands [you] a glass of pure ice)
Comunero: only by birth may we chop up the land.
(Cut to 1943, pit moss hangs over [clearly] dead [flesh])
(Fee Simple enters stage through a hole in time in the woman's bathroom in Newark)
Fee Simple: shaping clay, one old woman speaks Spanish coughs through limber holes in her dappled articulations.
Faucet (1994): a mountain over teaching and computers running up dirt roads can also be called The Hustle.
Spoken: are leaves of rice parting communities?
Sowing Corn (note the armadillo shell used to hold seeds)
Songs: we learned us in the exile of wheat and cracked red land.
Seepage: in corn we have the fullest hands in a breakdown.
Comunero: often it is brick between freezing and San Diego.
Seepage: how we know a clear "face to face" purity in terms of doors, grown men in hats to fight off pure leverage and games.
Faucet (1967): in the year of all waters time becomes a broken horse laying track.
(Man crosses over forehand and hands [you] a glass of pure ice)
Comunero: only by birth may we chop up the land.
(Cut to 1943, pit moss hangs over [clearly] dead [flesh])
(Fee Simple enters stage through a hole in time in the woman's bathroom in Newark)
Fee Simple: shaping clay, one old woman speaks Spanish coughs through limber holes in her dappled articulations.
Faucet (1994): a mountain over teaching and computers running up dirt roads can also be called The Hustle.
Spoken: are leaves of rice parting communities?
Sowing Corn (note the armadillo shell used to hold seeds)
Songs: we learned us in the exile of wheat and cracked red land.
Seepage: in corn we have the fullest hands in a breakdown.
Comunero: often it is brick between freezing and San Diego.
EAST CENTRAL INDIANA
Daniel Bailey's EAST CENTRAL INDIANA is really good. I've only read the first two poems and I already want to start telling people about it.
Daniel Bailey is also the author of some very amazing drunk sonnets. And he also edits the site HERE EXPLODES MY GIANT FACE. He makes me nervous to be a poet. He seems a lot more on his game.
I need to start writing more good poems.
Shit.
I'm screwed.
Here is a blurb for a future book of his:
"Daniel Bailey makes me so nervous I shit."
--Maurice Burford, scared boring poet who knows good writing
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