(no subject)
into a new minimalism ?
september 2007 - october 2007
1
all my
whole life
baby
i love
to see
you strut
2
nostalgia yawns
on the
free-fall fucking
nothing cloud
and skids
around
the corner
on two wheels
of rollerskates--
lurching
like frogs
from the road
3 dusk, not in california
randy says, 'shit'
cat on the driveway nextdoor
bored boy pushes himself on a skateboard
before a black pickup backs in
i want to cry; the tools are greasy
and the air is heavy like black holes
the garage inhales-- 'emission standards
are,' he clanks, 'a little different
over there'
4
, 'girl
i drive to work
and my feet turn purple
cause of the shoes,'
barks a voice
up to the cellular universe
'what?' she asks
then, 'oh my god
oh my god oh my god
ive never -- oh --
thats the --
-- sixties --,' the voices
dip onto her porch
like the cracking treebranch
feeling the weight
of purple-grey moisture
i again, 'and baby
i am so sick i am
so tired i put
forty-five dollars of gasoline
in the car so i can drive
to work -- to the meeting tomorrow --
and i work to pay
the insurance
and my feet are turning
purple cause of the shoes
and im so tired --
im so tired'
and she bounced
back via mirrors
and from what is my past,
what with timezones, internet,
(what is the future?), 'just
come here theres salads
i am so sick of telephones,
baby --'
a drunk car
plows into my eardrums
as a woman on the pa system,
'-- and inside the quick stop --'
my feet are so purple and
contemptibly clean, '32 ounce --'
i am so tired, i ask
again, 'baby -- baby?'
then the dull buzz
of a wireless disconnect
5
had/has auburn hair every time
or baby sweet like butterscotch,
my favorite candy as a straight haired boy
and was i blond too, sure
works in the art museum and
sticks the burger king straw in my mouth
when im trying to chew my burger
and not mix them, always scheme-en
wears bluejeans and wifebeaters
and always worries and wants to hitchhike
and should be an editor and always understands
especially childrens fiction and hidden aphorisms
still that auburn hair too
dancing through some kinda book
at five years old and figured out, 'i can
look it up! its what my fingers can do.'
planted trees and buried treasure
dyed her hair like strawberries and i joked
giggles like a carbonated beverage
and tickles my nose the same, just the voice
of course i could sing songs in her earlobes
and have before, soft and sweet ones
from here you know louisianne and
wants a boy that plays in that art museum
and is i dont know three years old and hers
that shakes his head at the op art
when told of its secrets
and sure as hell doesnt forget
to keep on shaken when hes lookin somewhere else
also a dancer, ballerina, im excited
with big sugar cane lips and a holographic hula skirt
and hair smellen like maine and beachless coastline
and i swear i watched her once
from up in the football stands
with my shirt buttoned crooked
and sitting on the wrong side of the field
and wanted to shuffle her legs, stems
and set them in water
6
were the green door bar
her low bungalow apartment,
outside would be as it is
which is to say
her on a tincan telephone
stretching her voice as a cat, lean
and clawing my fingertips
the wire, before taut, was
a duckling to her shoed feet,
distracted before scurrying
back to mother
chewing bubblegum she talks about
the praying mantis, '-- oh my god !'
and how much it looks like an alien
no how it is an alien
no how it is a martian spy
and then she spies the sleeping bag
were the shuffles of card playing
cheaper wine and cigarette shouts
around the corner staircase
then again there she is
gum snapping and popping,
crunching red fall leaves as it cools
in inner dialogue, 'should i take it ?
its a camouflage sleeping bag !'
and looking and thinking and
finding then an orange peel
then lists her favorite foods into my pockets:
grapefruit, ravioli and my applejuice salads
her feet turn and leave it for tomorrow
then it might fit two indians
but forgetting she tramps
past the praying mantis and panics,
rummages in the dark, '-- oh no !'
wondering if shed smashed him
and so the parties roll on
she leans and begins searching
finally, achingly finding him in
the carved out center
of a trees chalky, flowering heart
7
when my shirt is unbuttoned
and my girl is across the country
i am pushing the plastic cow with wings
hung from the ceiling in circles
its batteries are dying
and so are people
i am sad and cuddled just like jesus
at least according to the priest
and when my mother cries for her mother
and her mother cries for her husband
and his sister cries for her brother
i am staring at the stigmata
on the hands of the statue above the altar
and humming in the ears
of my switch flipping autistic cousin
when i push they all have questions
steve says, 'is it a cow or a bull?'
shirley says, 'what kind of batteries does it take?'
my living brother is the voice of reason
and says of my spinning that i must be patient
and wait for the cow to straighten itself
so later when im outside
standing on the concrete picnic table
beside the silent banana spider
and sprinkled by the bustle
of a fifteen mile an hour southeast wind
through the bust of the trees
i listen, as to not die,
and step down and sit
when my mother says theyre worried
that the thing might tip and collapse
8
i would be fucked
and stranded unemployed
i would be fucked
vehicleless and poor
i would be fucked
by the most beautiful girl
i would be fucked
and drowsy on the roadside
i would be fucked
sneezing, late for my flight
i would be fucked
slowly and deliberately
i would be fucked
and then sleep, you know, so well
9
o, lo, audience
i see i be i is
this world is full of cheerleaders and books
books about cheerleaders and
cheerleaders about books
the moon goes up and down at night
and mountains used to not be
the cheerleaders stack on shelves their thighs
and lift down (or up) gauzy-eyed jellyfish
assuming formation
from here yes our perspective
beside to-nights winking lucille
the moon goes up and down at night
i am i rest with her we be
10
once
there was
a rabbit
we were chasing
but only cause
we were out
picking blackberries
and she darted clean,
like light,
past three of us
and what if
her closet
with the steamtrunk
and violet curtains,
where in her grey dress
time froze,
were our nest
of berry brush?
11
when im depended upon
when im sad when im not
hes got the bag and the grass
there is also
a book of beatles songs glaring eyeless,
singing and singingly, from atop the piano
which is trudys piano
that we have yet to steal
and we have yet to heal
wear your eye makeup
lose your hair, shop
call me or her on the telephone
and yell, sing songs, oh sugar sugar
pump gasoline and kegs, save plastic cups
put some butter, bubbles, on the bread
and toast it
my grandfather owned these things
and did not own other things
owned bars and toasters, not lovers nor roosters
wrote poems he didnt know
in his boat and on his trees
wrote them with a shovel, with twine
before or during, turning, twain and the civil war
which is where his name traveled from
and on trains with modern beers
cooled by throws (boughs) of blowing language
i smoke a cigarette, you dress as an indian
and steal into the pool naked and clean,
bursting buttons that look out as eyes: alive
12
are, pirates are good,
she has nice tits;
there is the balloonMan!
things were dirty
when i woke up,
i am drawing lines through
pound's 'and's.
i am a wash, not awash.
my bardot bandit is
in the sky, winking;
words are inside words
are inside infomercials.
her dark-theory makeup
informs, transfigures.
the gypsy book is marked
by a picture of troy and jenny;
lucy, lucille, said moon,
and we are (things) as one.
13
i have written
a song for you,
it harmonizes with
the cucumber green
mountain
the crimson of
hushed sun descent
fills a wineglass sky
i dance and sing
the lucid pulp,
the porous ease,
of your flight
14
why this is
what is, why is
is why no yes
is everything is nothing
why is thing, are things
people things form, cats
is it seeing?
not just seeing, why see
what why how
how seeing, how is
why
is everything nothing, nothing everything
people things, is is are
is why how is why not
is what not, how?
what a wink, a moon, why?
how when, when -- not?
what not is, is not
am what is, am i
what i am, is
is what i see, i be
am i seeing? not be
do i, how i be -- is
i are, we speak and is
you do, do is, do nothing everything
speak walk, watch see
sea eat, eat is, eat see -- speak
i walk and is
walk be, to
where how, to
i you we seen once
twice, three twine twain time
be, we, were is will -- see
is not stop, is
not one six any
is any and not any not
not all, all
be is, is fun -- not?
bore moral oblique
is why didactic is
empty full is
full is empty out in
we is empty full
out in not nothing all any
is why, what lyric
musical arhythmic be form,
before -- now -- never
then was is wont when why
we are, will, all were are
wait go stop teach
is love love not why
noise rain, moon, why stuff
stuff why is, is why? thing
why is thing, thing thought,
thought god, god me, me us,
us then, them now, them then,
we will, i are, be not, it is
cool warm
why why --
why not?
sea, see saw seen
why seem why see be we is
seed seam to be to is are up
down grow, time, i seed
see every seem saw did
i my our, state and states
i we teach why -- to learn!
15
love, be my glove
be your dress, be mine dove
warm, take my arm
fill your chest, tend to farm
be my rest, be mine love
yes, timeless -- above enough
16 to la playa, west
three bottles of mustard
two bottles of wine and one a plan
italian class, accordions, birdcalls
turrell's white beard mouthless skyspace
golden gate dominos, polaroid
sea lions smell like blubbery sex
things are immediately familiar, unfamiliar
the quiet lady selling the bottle of chilean wine
asks if she is french; jenny says, 'no --'
strawberries, ducks, brie
cherries in chinatown or berkeley
oakland by train, under the bay
filthy toilets lose numbers and receipts
the quiet lady selling the bottle of chilean wine
says, 'i ask because you are beautiful'
i agree; french and beautiful
'-- i think i am dutch,' beautiful and french
in the twin peaks hotel
i smoked one cigarette, she brushed her teeth
a man drank gatorade at the foot of his bed
r&b purred out of the radio built into the television
we danced naked and dropped pink petals
on the sheets, then checked out
17
halloween halloween i am tall she tastes like raspberries
tonight jenny is the shaman in rags i a tree and poisonous
party here in the low bungalow and elsewhere, ted leo,
beer league, washed clothes, two in the shower,
how she smells ! descartes -- grateful dead, 'alligator'
this all i am documenting, she says 'pictures in your head'
or so her mother told her, mother hott, like to marry.
late for the art museum, granny smith apples, gimmie a kiss
ill buy the bottles of rum, green apple, sunburned hand,
smoke on venice beach, canals, jazz, fuck you l.a.
one hundred i am smitten, bought cigarettes, always picking flowers
for her hair and rags, tying things, smelling like elephants,
sneaking, pilfering, debasing, rousing then we get
sloshed, sauced, zoot, blitzed, banged, fucked -- spun !
i am tall. she drips down the side of the apple, how i love, i love.
september 2007 - october 2007
1
all my
whole life
baby
i love
to see
you strut
2
nostalgia yawns
on the
free-fall fucking
nothing cloud
and skids
around
the corner
on two wheels
of rollerskates--
lurching
like frogs
from the road
3 dusk, not in california
randy says, 'shit'
cat on the driveway nextdoor
bored boy pushes himself on a skateboard
before a black pickup backs in
i want to cry; the tools are greasy
and the air is heavy like black holes
the garage inhales-- 'emission standards
are,' he clanks, 'a little different
over there'
4
, 'girl
i drive to work
and my feet turn purple
cause of the shoes,'
barks a voice
up to the cellular universe
'what?' she asks
then, 'oh my god
oh my god oh my god
ive never -- oh --
thats the --
-- sixties --,' the voices
dip onto her porch
like the cracking treebranch
feeling the weight
of purple-grey moisture
i again, 'and baby
i am so sick i am
so tired i put
forty-five dollars of gasoline
in the car so i can drive
to work -- to the meeting tomorrow --
and i work to pay
the insurance
and my feet are turning
purple cause of the shoes
and im so tired --
im so tired'
and she bounced
back via mirrors
and from what is my past,
what with timezones, internet,
(what is the future?), 'just
come here theres salads
i am so sick of telephones,
baby --'
a drunk car
plows into my eardrums
as a woman on the pa system,
'-- and inside the quick stop --'
my feet are so purple and
contemptibly clean, '32 ounce --'
i am so tired, i ask
again, 'baby -- baby?'
then the dull buzz
of a wireless disconnect
5
had/has auburn hair every time
or baby sweet like butterscotch,
my favorite candy as a straight haired boy
and was i blond too, sure
works in the art museum and
sticks the burger king straw in my mouth
when im trying to chew my burger
and not mix them, always scheme-en
wears bluejeans and wifebeaters
and always worries and wants to hitchhike
and should be an editor and always understands
especially childrens fiction and hidden aphorisms
still that auburn hair too
dancing through some kinda book
at five years old and figured out, 'i can
look it up! its what my fingers can do.'
planted trees and buried treasure
dyed her hair like strawberries and i joked
giggles like a carbonated beverage
and tickles my nose the same, just the voice
of course i could sing songs in her earlobes
and have before, soft and sweet ones
from here you know louisianne and
wants a boy that plays in that art museum
and is i dont know three years old and hers
that shakes his head at the op art
when told of its secrets
and sure as hell doesnt forget
to keep on shaken when hes lookin somewhere else
also a dancer, ballerina, im excited
with big sugar cane lips and a holographic hula skirt
and hair smellen like maine and beachless coastline
and i swear i watched her once
from up in the football stands
with my shirt buttoned crooked
and sitting on the wrong side of the field
and wanted to shuffle her legs, stems
and set them in water
6
were the green door bar
her low bungalow apartment,
outside would be as it is
which is to say
her on a tincan telephone
stretching her voice as a cat, lean
and clawing my fingertips
the wire, before taut, was
a duckling to her shoed feet,
distracted before scurrying
back to mother
chewing bubblegum she talks about
the praying mantis, '-- oh my god !'
and how much it looks like an alien
no how it is an alien
no how it is a martian spy
and then she spies the sleeping bag
were the shuffles of card playing
cheaper wine and cigarette shouts
around the corner staircase
then again there she is
gum snapping and popping,
crunching red fall leaves as it cools
in inner dialogue, 'should i take it ?
its a camouflage sleeping bag !'
and looking and thinking and
finding then an orange peel
then lists her favorite foods into my pockets:
grapefruit, ravioli and my applejuice salads
her feet turn and leave it for tomorrow
then it might fit two indians
but forgetting she tramps
past the praying mantis and panics,
rummages in the dark, '-- oh no !'
wondering if shed smashed him
and so the parties roll on
she leans and begins searching
finally, achingly finding him in
the carved out center
of a trees chalky, flowering heart
7
when my shirt is unbuttoned
and my girl is across the country
i am pushing the plastic cow with wings
hung from the ceiling in circles
its batteries are dying
and so are people
i am sad and cuddled just like jesus
at least according to the priest
and when my mother cries for her mother
and her mother cries for her husband
and his sister cries for her brother
i am staring at the stigmata
on the hands of the statue above the altar
and humming in the ears
of my switch flipping autistic cousin
when i push they all have questions
steve says, 'is it a cow or a bull?'
shirley says, 'what kind of batteries does it take?'
my living brother is the voice of reason
and says of my spinning that i must be patient
and wait for the cow to straighten itself
so later when im outside
standing on the concrete picnic table
beside the silent banana spider
and sprinkled by the bustle
of a fifteen mile an hour southeast wind
through the bust of the trees
i listen, as to not die,
and step down and sit
when my mother says theyre worried
that the thing might tip and collapse
8
i would be fucked
and stranded unemployed
i would be fucked
vehicleless and poor
i would be fucked
by the most beautiful girl
i would be fucked
and drowsy on the roadside
i would be fucked
sneezing, late for my flight
i would be fucked
slowly and deliberately
i would be fucked
and then sleep, you know, so well
9
o, lo, audience
i see i be i is
this world is full of cheerleaders and books
books about cheerleaders and
cheerleaders about books
the moon goes up and down at night
and mountains used to not be
the cheerleaders stack on shelves their thighs
and lift down (or up) gauzy-eyed jellyfish
assuming formation
from here yes our perspective
beside to-nights winking lucille
the moon goes up and down at night
i am i rest with her we be
10
once
there was
a rabbit
we were chasing
but only cause
we were out
picking blackberries
and she darted clean,
like light,
past three of us
and what if
her closet
with the steamtrunk
and violet curtains,
where in her grey dress
time froze,
were our nest
of berry brush?
11
when im depended upon
when im sad when im not
hes got the bag and the grass
there is also
a book of beatles songs glaring eyeless,
singing and singingly, from atop the piano
which is trudys piano
that we have yet to steal
and we have yet to heal
wear your eye makeup
lose your hair, shop
call me or her on the telephone
and yell, sing songs, oh sugar sugar
pump gasoline and kegs, save plastic cups
put some butter, bubbles, on the bread
and toast it
my grandfather owned these things
and did not own other things
owned bars and toasters, not lovers nor roosters
wrote poems he didnt know
in his boat and on his trees
wrote them with a shovel, with twine
before or during, turning, twain and the civil war
which is where his name traveled from
and on trains with modern beers
cooled by throws (boughs) of blowing language
i smoke a cigarette, you dress as an indian
and steal into the pool naked and clean,
bursting buttons that look out as eyes: alive
12
are, pirates are good,
she has nice tits;
there is the balloonMan!
things were dirty
when i woke up,
i am drawing lines through
pound's 'and's.
i am a wash, not awash.
my bardot bandit is
in the sky, winking;
words are inside words
are inside infomercials.
her dark-theory makeup
informs, transfigures.
the gypsy book is marked
by a picture of troy and jenny;
lucy, lucille, said moon,
and we are (things) as one.
13
i have written
a song for you,
it harmonizes with
the cucumber green
mountain
the crimson of
hushed sun descent
fills a wineglass sky
i dance and sing
the lucid pulp,
the porous ease,
of your flight
14
why this is
what is, why is
is why no yes
is everything is nothing
why is thing, are things
people things form, cats
is it seeing?
not just seeing, why see
what why how
how seeing, how is
why
is everything nothing, nothing everything
people things, is is are
is why how is why not
is what not, how?
what a wink, a moon, why?
how when, when -- not?
what not is, is not
am what is, am i
what i am, is
is what i see, i be
am i seeing? not be
do i, how i be -- is
i are, we speak and is
you do, do is, do nothing everything
speak walk, watch see
sea eat, eat is, eat see -- speak
i walk and is
walk be, to
where how, to
i you we seen once
twice, three twine twain time
be, we, were is will -- see
is not stop, is
not one six any
is any and not any not
not all, all
be is, is fun -- not?
bore moral oblique
is why didactic is
empty full is
full is empty out in
we is empty full
out in not nothing all any
is why, what lyric
musical arhythmic be form,
before -- now -- never
then was is wont when why
we are, will, all were are
wait go stop teach
is love love not why
noise rain, moon, why stuff
stuff why is, is why? thing
why is thing, thing thought,
thought god, god me, me us,
us then, them now, them then,
we will, i are, be not, it is
cool warm
why why --
why not?
sea, see saw seen
why seem why see be we is
seed seam to be to is are up
down grow, time, i seed
see every seem saw did
i my our, state and states
i we teach why -- to learn!
15
love, be my glove
be your dress, be mine dove
warm, take my arm
fill your chest, tend to farm
be my rest, be mine love
yes, timeless -- above enough
16 to la playa, west
three bottles of mustard
two bottles of wine and one a plan
italian class, accordions, birdcalls
turrell's white beard mouthless skyspace
golden gate dominos, polaroid
sea lions smell like blubbery sex
things are immediately familiar, unfamiliar
the quiet lady selling the bottle of chilean wine
asks if she is french; jenny says, 'no --'
strawberries, ducks, brie
cherries in chinatown or berkeley
oakland by train, under the bay
filthy toilets lose numbers and receipts
the quiet lady selling the bottle of chilean wine
says, 'i ask because you are beautiful'
i agree; french and beautiful
'-- i think i am dutch,' beautiful and french
in the twin peaks hotel
i smoked one cigarette, she brushed her teeth
a man drank gatorade at the foot of his bed
r&b purred out of the radio built into the television
we danced naked and dropped pink petals
on the sheets, then checked out
17
halloween halloween i am tall she tastes like raspberries
tonight jenny is the shaman in rags i a tree and poisonous
party here in the low bungalow and elsewhere, ted leo,
beer league, washed clothes, two in the shower,
how she smells ! descartes -- grateful dead, 'alligator'
this all i am documenting, she says 'pictures in your head'
or so her mother told her, mother hott, like to marry.
late for the art museum, granny smith apples, gimmie a kiss
ill buy the bottles of rum, green apple, sunburned hand,
smoke on venice beach, canals, jazz, fuck you l.a.
one hundred i am smitten, bought cigarettes, always picking flowers
for her hair and rags, tying things, smelling like elephants,
sneaking, pilfering, debasing, rousing then we get
sloshed, sauced, zoot, blitzed, banged, fucked -- spun !
i am tall. she drips down the side of the apple, how i love, i love.