Into the Headland

long sum derangement

2011-08-30T12:49:00.003-04:00

or maybe not. it's been a while here and i've been wordless, or working. one and both together maybe. but some commentary now on the roll through of the hurricane. it bore the same name as my grandmother and hit her home town on the day of her birth in the year when she passed. so maybe when we die we become storms and make all the streams reacquaint with their banks and the people that surround them.

i've got no new leads into anything significant. my hands are still at the ends of my arms and i'm enjoying life as a married man, though both my wife and i could spend the fall in a hut of paper piled building-sized. she more than me though, what with the doctoring.

we talked about sounds that we'd like to carry with us last night. and the ticking of rain on a window as a storm starts, the noise of the espresso maker on the stove when it's not like the dentist's suction instrument that makes it hard to talk - let alone the fact that someone you don't know well has their whole hand in your mouth...

10:16

2011-04-30T22:16:00.003-04:00

five dollars in the crisper
the gang signs off on the receiver
and all that can be played now
is card games, or lite jams.

adults contemporaneously get up
at night to go to the bathroom
and are depressed by light
and how long it takes to get
the bed back to their perfect form

one body in soot makes a clothespin look kind
another way of outsmarting the fox
is by simply turning
on the weather

all the waterfalls are moaning now
and bad-eyed gladys just stares out the window
she's that chicken from the commercial
going celebrity before pieces of meat.

2:45

2011-04-30T14:44:00.000-04:00

they like to spit into the holes here
they lick their boots and begin kicking
the dirt around, pressing water down
with drillbits into the rocktalk backwards
through their handheld radios, backwards
through their dollarsigns and logging roads
the step’s a steep one if you can make it, they say
and unfold their dollar bills like clothes to wear

the day
is thin and so are we

11:46

2011-04-28T23:41:00.001-04:00

3 shorter pieces that kind of interrelate...let's say we're all shored up now?

thank the grocery
aisles for
whipped cream
canisters

what dizzy was
is something new
now, vermont
1992--oohwahwahooh

the rush comes after
the break
in both waves
and theft

i learned this by watching
keanu and swayze
dance fight on the water

their black rubber suits
another clinging to affair
to contend with later on

the trust they almost shared, the sand
and ocean comb-like--rushed
through their hair

life gets easy
when you sleep
and when you can’t
there’s drinking

10:58

2011-04-27T22:59:00.004-04:00

A bicycle seat for your perverted chair. The cost of shooting a hole right through the head of a stuffed animal, preferably something remotely endangered. A lopsided win on the playing field. The sort of day where you question what work is and how buildings can stand being so still. A forum for snake spit and skins that peel back like glue. The raised hairs on a body and stray tingle that follows a finger as it traces letters onto parts there. A jump-photo at an unrecognizeable landscape. The morning vestibule folded with water.

how much of a starter kit are you?
how much of a finishing motel?

11:42

2011-04-26T23:42:00.002-04:00

still no ketchup, but some more words. have to make the napowrimo work for and against me...then it'll be back to occasional and photo-based meanderings...

keep a shitty tree
to hang your children
from
like leaves
but not let them
leave the grounds

keep a city clean
beneath four thousand
mounds of dirt
the burning asters
a form of situating distance
and what rail call
will come through that mountain
chugging and smoke
the last of the stalked grain

most hope for feeling
and get practically nothing
in return--the bump on the lip,
a fast switching spotlight that curtains
bodyparts, loose change in a jar--cattle
prodded further into the field
what setting beyond place
mats and mats to wipe your feet

10:44

2011-04-25T22:44:00.003-04:00

I'm behind because of the weekend and traveling, but here's one thing and I'll have to get two others together and up in the next couple of days...

two syllogists
passage contraband
but their adding machines
make the reasons

one proposes a ring
without a finger, the other
hatches a planet from a pea

all about the round
the long winter danced

tables and chairs like tables and chairs

and the tents were inverse equations
trees of the possible watched their leaves
runt, turn over like a game of crowns

8:49

2011-04-22T20:48:00.001-04:00

mist becomes the ghost
you thought your father was

when praying all those
ticked out minutes

before the sheetslap
a body bagged with night

complicated, cold wrapped
round your feet and feelings

and disappeared from there
once the eyeshut shut

trapping your mind inside
but so far in it seemed

no measure could capture
that distance

what it means to be
dead is no language

and single syllables beat
their one-stroke hearts

into how we know this

11:20

2011-04-21T23:20:00.001-04:00

don’t stall your thermometer
for my afflictions

the bed itself is a sea of sorting
dampened corners, dreary window

my french fines
for your capped porridge

the glyphs: petro- and heiro-
concert their meanings
umber, charcoal, leafing through pale stones
each other kiss
a word, a folded book of talking
gestures drawstrung

11:04

2011-04-20T23:05:00.001-04:00

trying on the hands
again
and what it feels
like to laugh until everything
comes up loose:
teeth, gas, and water
from the eyes
side-spittingly lid-heavy
a cone of volume
waving out from somewhere
beneath the belt you try
to hold steady
but tame is not the weigh-station
not the freight-laden
rig of fits born to highway
through you.

5:54

2011-04-19T17:54:00.002-04:00

my other voice is a bottletop
blown over

the white scribble of jets
in a pail of water

my vow to you is always
to catch your sighs

my other voice
is a handsaw, drunk

on the breaking
of days

deserving of praise and anaesthesia
the sun blinked off

x-d out eyes and the sketch
of a skirt on the wind

drawn into a plain pine board
with a felt tipped pen

here’s where to begin
blind as the dirt

where the din of your mind
can steer toward the quiet

of the cooling board
i woke up this morning

how do you reckon
hurry, hurry

the salve will settle
the skin, the sun

knows better than to blink
back on again

10:00

2011-04-18T21:59:00.002-04:00

the fairnesses we inherit
and sort of similarities to others

take the nose
from a statue
and hold it still

form your own bangs
let the water come away
from the faucet a little
introduce your neighbors
to your other personas
live like you think
famous people are
the worst and berate
them as you water the tv
and berate yourself after.

grades of B or lower will
no longer harm your chances
at becoming a leader
everyone's open for potential
discovery at the hands of women
or men with more money
and experience

in order to sell out
stadiums, you've got
to have a good hotdog

i can't get more helpful
than this in less than five minutes

10:56

2011-04-17T22:56:00.001-04:00

you have people
you fall asleep: Donald Trump

says he knows what country
his hair came from

and we would need to
interrogate this

fascinating dynamic.

8:59

2011-04-17T20:59:00.002-04:00

allowances for glassing and your fake gold teeth

add the bears to the palm and wait for showers of foldable burial

these words are shouting and like wine will age to bitterness

my project is to complete

the sadfoot works until it's lost all gourds

what can be poured is poured, such hustle pre-prepared

a maid for the stage and inclusions

and the directions where you look when you're lying

down and solid--the ankles are available for support

6:02

2011-04-15T18:02:00.002-04:00

fergie carries her notes
around in flaccid plastic bags
and our eyes
at the bottom of the ocean
get eaten
by limp worms
turn on their phantom
lights and list after the faltering
leads farther willing electric bodies
everybody leaves
of good chance
it’s what gets taken then

here’s an ode to the black eyed peas:
get off stage
banter
when you’re backed
into the future
and thousands of microphone-looking
people question why
your songs burn into our fizz-addled
minds on the dance
floor. breaking palace gates
and plates, a three-cheer
chandelier gets placed atop the stadium
and the lights wink
like beats upon the shoreline
thumping the whales
and lesser crustaceans into the original
refrain of “let’s get it started”
because class
and ass rhyme, bitches.
pop the mazel tov
and take off your t-top
to let the boom boom buzz in

11:22

2011-04-14T23:21:00.001-04:00

5 minute sonnet (not really)

the way the world works is not apparent
you wind up being born, you wind up screaming
about how little you can change, your parents
try their best, the same with all other animals
some of which don’t make it though and agency
doesn’t strictly apply to the animate
we imbue things we like with human
qualities--cuteness high on the bar, but
the vices we subtract. there are no venge-
ful bunnies, no greed stoked sugar gliders
and evil plots are not hatched in hatcheries
but what if the conspirators were dizzy
with their advertisements ballooning profit
margins and a boardroom full of dour faced
puppies? we’d all still snuggle home in dirt
we’d all remain blind to our final net worth

4:47

2011-04-13T16:47:00.000-04:00

retire that
walking method

tiger among
mean streets

the itch
in the corner
of the eye

and all that snow
falling from
your head, ally seedy

oh, the hs we’ve missed
so many shows
i tune into

for anything that happens
and watermakers
mark the page

edgeward, to cute the image
add some red
to cuts

and heavy as candy
in the hand is
the wait will be
held too

8:38

2011-04-13T08:37:00.000-04:00

to swear the sprinkler system
will go off any minute
is to stand beneath a sensor
with a fire in your hands

10:53

2011-04-11T22:52:00.002-04:00

the dreams of ghosts are being cloned
a washing machine moves on through country

broken-down horns squawk in the belly
of the cars set on blocks in the drive

i hear the sound of saws
being played at cutting

no fear grows from stumps
the rings a sign for hole, a singing sky dips into

you can only translate doubt
into however many languages exist
at a given moment

pull the lever and the wrong order
drops into the vending machine’s
no-longer-empty holding space

6:52

2011-04-11T18:51:00.003-04:00

try the temple
are they eating
dogdogdogdogcardogcarcat

here is the song
and here is the dancing
one thing will make another
mean more if it's placed correct--

are you busting at the seems?
sea am, shore. watch the walls

go stale-ing
it's not the more
you swallow, it's the whale you get
whole. and spout, one loves to leave.

ok the cat's dreaming now, i can see
its paws knead.
the next one will be
fore the worst way to make a forum
is by asking along the questions,
same sames the same.
ones won the ones.

and to stop scratch, apply water
in heaps. aptly, water ain't easy.

11:18

2011-04-10T23:18:00.003-04:00

in the compartment to back through the neighing a sumpthin, the packs were savory. here's a voice, here's an apartment with old carpets climb through the highway to get back sorting into a weekswalk. think of the mansions in newport and what someone pressed so hard against an iron fence the snapbacked chairs are making a comeback and all worry can be traced to momentary lapses of motion and congruity. i mean it's easy to dance like your suit is an animal you're trying to save from the formal dissection that often happens at parties. but the corporeal is just another space. and the other people are being surrounded as we speak, this foal cannot make legs look more or less clumsy. two solid poles dance at the edges of this planet i am pulling the legs of the table back and forth and you are mentoring the deckwalkers in gull charts. the grip we have. the suitable clobbering that happens to clothes after. i will attend the lighthouse against its better suitors and defend maturity from my non-slip footwear. Here's a cookie and ranking system. Here's the list of all those things we thought we wouldn't see. in the store window a pair of plastic swans. at the table, strangers.

9:10

2011-04-08T09:10:00.002-04:00

how to start a parade

the cat’s near the chicken barn, say
‘cat’ a thousand times
until you don’t recognize
the slits of its eyes through
the crease of the door of the ‘a’ in its belly
letting light up
on the birds. the feather lines
will lead straight to a fowl heart
plucked from the chest
of one of the hens
like a flower,
a beating gift.

9:04

2011-04-08T09:04:00.005-04:00

Two shorts--one from yesterday since I didn't post

forget me
not the creeping
of traffic as it strings

the welts
we cut out
of fruit

a sign on the door
says only one
person at a time

it spills us
together into
the empty lobby

6:52

2011-04-06T18:52:00.001-04:00

from yesterday...

home on the lam

ore renamed
the part where
you place your junk

it heaps all over the room
maybe you thought junk meant
what you keep in your pants

or the trunk
that hands out signs in front
of the elephant, but I’m not buying it.

in essential nature, the clam
is nothing more than
a lickable burrower

take your friends for a walk
and see the new statues
made of presidents

our nation’s capital made
easy to grab at—just
love someone wealthy

the newest form of living is found
dead on the seaway
and salt will make its home

anywhere the wind takes it. this could
be a way to continue. this could
be the winter.

5:40

2011-04-06T17:37:00.001-04:00

This if from this morning--forgot to post yesterday's bit...will do that later on this evening

the signature is a new average

take to the hills with your walking and sticks
all the animals won’t bother to meet you here

nondescript pastoral experience gloats over
the film of your eyes, a reel burning there in the light

sing your favorite song quietly while commuters
also sing their favorite cursewords

god loves a man in shoulderstrapped gun
loves the angry carriage of noon

high-beams traipse across the median
as the warp-speed snow gathers brown

it seams onto the edges of the causeway
over these abandoned townships the sky limps

each doorframe a measuring block
for removal--what sound crisps

in the fame cage is not the youth gone wild
it is the lack of pinholes in the bottom

of a beer can that makes the liquid stable
and a whole case of ponies is calling

from the trunk and our better judgement
loses to the distances we travel

and where we set each heart is a trophy
and the land will get us there

we just need to erase our way through

8:12

2011-04-04T20:13:00.006-04:00

behind the times

I will die in a fort of strapture, fit with laughing
I will die without punctuations or monetary curbs, cures, curves

I will die in a town named after
I will die a thousand times a sparrow, but once a corvus

I will die with my love bound up in books
I will die with my hand bloated and trapped in ink

I will die in the eyes of my wife’s fast blinking
I will die in the throat of my schoolchild as she learns her alphabets

I will die in the band sounds stilled beneath the metal bleachers
I will die in the keys of the janitor and the pressed pedals of the upright piano

I will die on a midwinter’s day and on the afterpolice shot of summer—walking on the moon
I will curl up into smoke and Dramamine and the goats will eat their cans and chew the grass
sprigs from my sockets

I will die with my family’s crest—a series of spaces between the waves
I will die in the cornucopia of a faltering national identity

I will die tomorrow and tomorrow and the rest of them will come to take you to bed
I will die a manor and campfire

I will die on the off-ramp of an odd numbered highway with salt still frosting the lines
I will die with my wife’s fear of dropping out of the sky and my own fear of finding another me inside these dreams I’ve signed

I will die of long-in-the-tooth, of rickety-rails, or choose-your-own-adventure laid out for adults
I will die sweating inside a handshake, the palm and fishlike

I will die in every curtain of lakewater interpreted as a walkable ice-way

6:44

2011-04-03T18:43:00.002-04:00

the repetition of numbers is of great concern among the major religions

and i will never die

the horse of carting and the field of listing out demands for terminally ill patients in hospice care, who only want to swallow that last bit of food without interruption and with a swallow of stoli from a martini glass, up with a twist

and i will never close my right eye again in measurement of distances

the flowers drowned along the edge of the tidal basin with sunblock in their buds and paling which corroborates the similarities between work that has moved from the land into the stack of boxes labeled with light and glass--pale blue filling with white and then washed to grey

and i will never lift my hand with a shovel, i will not pare the bended branch, i will not leap from the road's edge into the paused traffic like a signpost felled by a strong wind

the satin touch of a young machine as it spins its gears and produces something you know you never can live without and how this item gets transmitted through time and space repeatedly to wind up on your television screen on sundays and in the morning hours of the lesser week

and i will never part with my folder of interminable diagrams for how to earn an education

there are photos i wish to recreate and ways of stalling in conversation, i hope this lever reaches you way out on the form--the harm--the flame of a cloak and dragon

4:51

2011-04-02T16:51:00.003-04:00

no ideas butt in
things you can't help
but think about--

The quality of water reportedly repeated
in poems the new yorker publishes

one can guess brackish, thorough

is the listing a series of pauses a form
of entrance or do we inherit
the stalls our thoughts program--see the source
is master and the master is a set of chairs
empty behind a curtain--strong must rising

One fires their friends after
years of groveling for affinity
and on
with the tempering of metals
softer than the teeth. Tuned radios, too, command
attention. What's received, what's blasted
from the pill gun and shushed beneath
the table's cloth. Food in scraps and tapping.

It takes 5 minutes for the water to drain effectively
from the page. All the words a-smear and mention of forestry
in ranges of syllabic meter will not help.

To mend the floorboards or the industrial fan
might require a sketch
to compile its parts for fixing. And fists
are not good instruments to bludgeon
with. I learned this from fiction--another use of the forearm...
there's less intricacy there, or the forehead.

But drawing requires a deftness
that can be turned over
at least a dozen times while sleeping.

Remove all references to lakes
and swimming from your life
or reconsider the use of fins in film.

The use of fans in blading,
the use of floors in waiting.

A separated body pours into the glass.
A need in noon to track heads fast
down the draintrap.

5:41

2011-04-01T17:41:00.002-04:00

the pinhole inherits a whorl
this day is formulaic
and the birds are not a chorus

but you can silver your bullets
and cram another mouthful of grapes

i mean more on, more on than this

i lost the will to open the mailbox
and the key is another instrument toppled
by excessive use

just think of all the empty shelf space
in detroit and how a cat can
manage its daily tasks
with no shortage of complaint

i will go tell a man my waist size now
and flock with the other cars
and eat the raw potatoes
and climb a numb moment, a flight
with scissors for its cutting hair
and the monuments will still be
washed before they're reconfigured

no more stone in the suit
a flank made out of pockets
and to find the hole inside your year
where you can stack things like this

like so many beginnings and mysterious pranks
take the one with the back seat
and the thousand gallon sink hole
or the fist tanking your eye
until it can only hold banks and blanks
like dollarbills and sighs.

i am not compute, will not make this model-truth

2:57

2011-03-31T17:55:00.003-04:00

revving up for the month of april, where i intend to post a bit each day under certain const(ime)raints. this will mark year three of napowrimo, which before this year didn't really realize was a thing. yesterday i learned what a wombo was. i'm a little slow on the uptake sometimes. today i spent time at the library and sorting through clipart and doing the new-ish office job. happy to be a workin', even with(in) the rain.

in preparation, all the nude accordion

players gathered, their boxes squeezable

their hands and harmonies (hormones) at the ready

it wasn’t too abysmal for the end of matches

some burning thing and then a quiet pause

a forest called for the end of trampling

the seats you were supposed to bring

are all garnished with rest now, no creek

to wade through, no separated shoulder

or rave to scamp with glowsticks.

I was partly myesh, or slef—keyed

into opening like a cabin

and the slurs were easy to roll out

a noodle-like rope slipped from the trunk

of the car back into the home you left

another type of fairy-tale trail

that would be eaten by good intentioned birds

and the madness we suffered was called adulthood

a cheap fixative to ply the calendar with

sticks in all the stone rolled quarters

and nowhere easy to lay one’s head down

for a song—even if it was limber

and galumphed from the wrinkly hands

and worried bodies of poorly trained nudists.

so last century with their concerns

for authenticity.

gears and upping

2011-03-16T15:37:00.004-04:00

the ante

so bet your better parts, sew buttons onto the traffic standstill
and for what comes back to bite your ass
there's a mirror to look behind you set up just in front of your face
and the aces are all buried in the deck
some swift handled-barmaid may come along to watch your dealing
or guess how much to lose and sidebar gambling
is a product of illy wrought children

i'm trying here to not notice what the season will be up to when it closes
or how the better pitchers always end up
full of the wrong type of beer
or in the wrong league entirely

come april and the spittoon of fakery
come all you burned ghost factories, spitting new clouds
and bird-shadows into the sky
some sun work is backwards and the retinal cues
a photograph captures will mark each pupil bloodstained.

this i learned from my future
father-in-law
while waiting to fill my jowls with cake

seagulls chased a crow until it landed in home base
and everything went quiet.
trees storing up the sun
had begun to spit up green parts and flowers

my tenses kept catching--

this many days

2011-02-22T23:41:00.000-05:00

thinks the drugs

2011-02-07T21:34:00.003-05:00

is for the doctors.
and the dreams are for the teeming
the teams for sports and reams of courtroom papers
the gone ingrain sings long in training
a slim machine is freezing rain
and now i've got such
such a carefilled
brain it's almost broken each railroad tie
one neck one sends to the tracks
one brother never comes back
before the beating.

this code is doltish
and a coat i wear
to keep my skin suit
from coming up for air.

and the dry cleaners sing obla-living-on-a-de-da-prayer
just like new jersey's always sworn to go on
long past the thrill.

A Pair of Teeth & WIDE NIGHT

2011-01-30T14:02:00.003-05:00

If anyone who reads this is in DC during the upcoming AWP, Flying Guillotine Press authors will be reading at two offsite readings later in the week. Matt Sadler will read at Iota Club and Cafe in Arlington on Thursday night. And on Friday Sasha Steensen and Mark Horosky will be reading at Wonderland Ballroom in Columbia Heights.

Both nights are full of other great readers and the night at Iota will have two bands at the end of the night. Come out and hear some good words, have a few drinks, hang out with small press folk. Punch a duck. Sing to the frogs, whatever.

A Pair of Teeth (Aperatif) Iota Club and Cafe 2832 Wilson Blvd. Arlington VA 22201 7:30-2AM
WIDE NIGHT Wonderland Ballroom 1101 Kenyon St. NW Washington DC 20010 6:30-9:30PM

some say

2011-01-18T23:24:00.002-05:00

the ice cream attacked me
while you sat idly by

dim bulbs itching into the early morning
and the ice on the ground is the same
as the ice in your freezer

think what swears for the working man
and all the fortunate imposters
whose wounds heal beautifully
because they're putty
and very pretty beneath all that foundation

some say it's easy to bend your climate
or take another year to flop
it's a guess you make with numbers
a very important guess

Everybody knows this is nowhere

2011-01-12T23:10:00.002-05:00

and for a song that short, yes
like a founding match and its lick of fire--how to turn one simple thing into another.
i watch the television with an ease that's hard to refund
i clap when all the gameshows growl
and when i'm painting my crows back into the sky
the sattelites go bling-bling, blind

remember the neutron dance? remember the pointer sisters?
i've got a snowstorm in mind and a white datsun pickup
there's a new neighbor joining the next accident
there's a flap of skin to drape over each eye
and the 1980s came down like a stray dog, hungry and matted

my curse and cure is almost memory.

Gimme some december

2010-12-29T19:37:00.003-05:00

Seems many of the folks are ready for the turn of year and I'm one of them. Lots of good has happened in this past year and a fair share of heavymaking. Here's to hoping the baby year
brings good lighting and a bevy of notations in the positive quadrant...

set the cruise control

2010-12-15T22:44:00.003-05:00

keep people from evening

2010-12-07T18:40:00.002-05:00

such that light lips closed
where they stand colorless &
dim with what follows

favor of sattelites

2010-12-06T16:47:00.002-05:00

gone way up
and back such rockets
are chalk full of dreamlife
pills add to 000 static-flurry
and sunflares
delimit our commune

well, i got a brand new pair of isotopes
and you got some brand new skis

in the commercial a baby zooms
through field and fire

my hearing goes off with the fire alarm
and what you say

comes back aged--a bit more sponge
in the bones

my fifth hand

2010-11-29T19:55:00.003-05:00

is a mean 'un
uncradleable

stave off the messing with your hands
make the noises is all

make 'em dandy
n small.

i've been pitching your port towns
north america

i've been stealing your baseball

tomorrow's just a phone
ringing ringing ringing ringing

so what answers for the machine at the end
can be your voice, or no

when the blue lights spin
everyone comes out a winner.

monday is formed like a hat from almost nothing and the light turns on

2010-11-22T08:59:00.004-05:00

does leading your fist into the first thing
the morning presents
make you reconsider your positioning
in the world, or at least how you dance into being

today i was assessed as good
at teaching
which is better than not fit
and worse than very good and excellent

all the water mains are waiting underground
and you can do very little about what you have to dream

there are statistics to take care of the rest

botched sentences

2010-11-21T22:08:00.002-05:00

i would like to create a forum for sentences that are mangled.
i would like your assistance in creating this forum.
this forum should be a friendly space where all misaligned and unintentionally wonderful sentences can gather and shake hands and get on with their bad selves. like dancing at the no pants party. er, wait.

but for serious. blotchy sentences, too. bring em.
or don't.

i want to build a crow.
i want to forcefield.
but bring the song you thought you knew and its wrong lyrics.
or what you heard the cats say from the other room.

Thank you, Steve. Thank you.

2010-11-16T19:05:00.005-05:00

sitting in your office as you leafed through
sheets and sheets of paper--

the window open and your slow eyes
poring over the words on the page. You held

cigarettes and student writing with a slight tremble
as you worked through them both with the same measured

moves--something dangerous and light
to pull inside and let spill from your mouth

at all the right sounding turns.

Here to change the keys

2010-11-12T09:14:00.002-05:00

a line of punches for the student face
which is all face
and about

a series of underlapping phrases
the kind a court can tangle (can't angle)
the kind a ness don't want
(loch ness don't work)

a serious disregard for jangle
the pits and letters part
stiff the morning stars

a hour named less for liking
the stick in belt for thin
the noise of rocks on glass
(a drinking thing gone when)
(the noose of rooks is class)
a castle crowned in pith

a line of punches for the baghead
my face in all the days
the last core a door creates

get it punchline--in the mouthright?

The settle November

2010-11-05T11:09:00.002-04:00

tom waits sings gravel about this month and i want to eat everything, including the 26 grams of fat contained in a newly minted mcriblet. but refrain.

steven karl's chapbook is up at InDigest (which if you search for improperly, you get this) as one of their favorites from 2010 and i'm very happy to see this! seriously, and i've said this on the book of faces, if you've not seen him read and can, do. he's stellar both on and off the page. not to discount any of the other people we've published at fgp, by any stretch of the imagination, but he's bringing it when he reads.

i've got to get back to posting photos, which means i've got to start taking them again, which means i'm not paying attention to things as much as i used to with my eyes.

on another note: some words.
here's to making lists and scratching things off their faces.

not the words from 8AM for sure

2010-10-27T08:36:00.003-04:00

i'm doing
nothing so
everything
will happen

keep your kitchen squares to yourself
and your blocks of thinking thick as cotton
and your wet soks for the rain soaked carpet

divvy up
saint node
salt plane
grater of small herbs

the pillow support is another kind of not getting it
and i am the receiver, dial and all numbers rounded
to the proper tenth.

hear me crack
single serve cup
nodding to wake
my love again

The Guillotine's Open and Waiting

2010-10-17T13:00:00.003-04:00

Hello everyone:

If you have a chapbook length manuscript looking for a home, please consider sending it to Flying Guillotine Press. Unfortunately we're charging a reading fee this year. Fortunately it's $5, and you get a book if you want one.

Don't click the burglar. Don't pass into jail. Just send along the arresting words you pull and pile together.

wey wey wet in the beds

2010-10-11T23:20:00.002-04:00

Today was formed by a car ride and then the news at 5 pm on a television station about a movie filming in the capital. The phrasing was "a slow-motion nightmare" and it was a full speed crash. No serious injuries. One mangled yellow Camaro and a cop truck. What is there not to mean about that?

The leaves in Lake Ariel are very colorful now. Over the summer I helped to free a crane from some brambles on the Potomac. Our cats have grown into monsters, but of a very cuddly and loveable variety.

Tomorrow is the 12th day of this 10th month and there were repeating numbers just one day ago. Now an alarm clock becomes the next type of face to hate. Does anyone have any questions?

Oh, in news: Go here: flyingguillotinepress.blogspot.com. We've got two new books out and are looking for two more to make in the coming months.

Here's to your health!

a newing

2010-09-19T15:44:00.005-04:00

can be said with re: or
Bah, like canoe. No. All this is just posture. Ok? Am I to become the ones and jingle? Thin bills and a pocket groped coin. No. Again. Ennui. Underling. Things for fingers to burrow into. A series of small mittens. Ok. Now to the kitten.

So I might actually become one of those people--the ones who talk their animals into childlike status. The ones who post ridiculous photos of their pets in the bathtub wearing newly minted angry eyes and a hat to keep their ears dry. So his name is Crockett and his mom's name is Nepenthe. Shannon and I came to live with them by accident. Well, that's not entirely true, but we weren't planning on them. The boy is nearing on the 5 month mark and his mom is probably nearing 2 years old. They've filled out our house, especially after we lost poor Grace, who'd reached only a touch of the fame of her namesake on the Daily Squee.

So in the coming months there may well be photos and some slight gushing about adorableness and other things that may be uncomfortable and awkward. Or I'll just hit and hint at it. And post videos narrated in horrifying accents. Or I won't.

It's sunny out and almost fall. I have yet to watch a full football game. And the boy cat pounces at our feet like a coyote when we move them under the covers.

troweling monday

2010-08-30T12:59:00.002-04:00

in two words, the roll out. a crest and current to halve a woman. bad omens for sailors include the start of a voyage, dead bodies, a bird that corrects its flight path. the week is begging to start. you collect your shins and the early morning dark. priests are unlucky, the cast of a moon over an open bottle. you cannot stand the sound of gulls. you fill your pockets with familiars. you wear a stark green shirt and the grass comes up in clippings.

the news is good for once. the new is calling out flat water. a full steam type of heading and you arrive with all the dust behind. built of rail, a continent of industry that one tries to latch quick to. you hammer out the wrinkles and spread thin the ringing, the rig, the blown open door. and the merchants will have no shame, and the window will crow at noon, and the last flower blooms and blooms.

spilt leaving

2010-08-10T22:07:00.002-04:00

split leaves the poppies bare

Raked into Evening

2010-07-09T05:35:00.003-04:00

the spacing the days take, i'd take pictures and post some semblance how

the pacing the day stake, to set wood into the chest
back in slats, the way of holding a treasure: one heart gold, the next leaden, the fourth a mirror of questions

it is raining or about to rain.
the green shutters eye their closed window.
in another hour the churches will shake off mounds of pigeon.

in the museum the art work strikes
after dinner

a comatose crowd of foreigners sets about boarding a bus--lines of luggage hunched on the sidewalk
I am hopeful

minus signs and waving

After the 4th

2010-07-06T04:24:00.002-04:00

do not count your young animals
as the start of monstering

the plate like faces sneer
on screen. it is hot here

and sleep come down premium
or siphoned off the cloudbanks

please lose your hands after
your curses, children

of the incessant complaint
there is no hearing foreign ear

or skinfold rimmed with salt
to hide inside, only the pigeonclap

and walking, the tourist trap
and bathroom stall poetry:

suck socal's cook
we're all americani

good job jeter
bosox best twin

cities for the issue
of a tissue.

I'll sweat in peaces, pacing these
streets and think of ancient

cadences--or at least old photographs
and how wrong it was to ever be young.

shapes in place / (in) equal signs

2010-06-19T18:43:00.018-04:00

2010-06-11T00:17:00.002-04:00

this towel is attacking you
and all there is to do
is make the words oh sound
like they're meaning
different things.

chip bent of vents
and the cats look angry at each other.

this is a newer form of being where we decide to claw and jump
onto over ontover
watch the spaces grow skinny between
and sweet it airs out however.

when the towel attack happens we dream like scores of dull kitchen utensils
and the more it happens the more it wraps us up in warm and warp

it's a grainy so

2010-05-14T23:47:00.000-04:00

bonds up & down its lettered lines

11:32

2010-05-03T23:32:00.002-04:00

the basis of possession is not a pool named after a greek god

and you are not in the gris

or the repelling course you'd meant to take in college

so formed from nosing the paint pail

a common misconception about the hairless mole

that warmth is unerring is positioned so

and each glittering star you cut out

is another form of house, another curtain thinned

with drawing and all the rooms last, all the closed space

jump rope more often in weather like this

think of all the guldens mustard

drying out on those twist tops

friends aerated with the dirt and what becomes

next page. a long phoning for a face

period blank spaces the glyphs memory

and you shell another me, another pose for sussing

out article-less suppositions

and form

and function.

7:52

2010-04-30T19:52:00.002-04:00

a circle like lightning bales of such-like raids
my forceps whiled with no sort of numerals to complete
one zero one zero one
but the code behind the curtain is sorted out by color first
and the fists glowing with knuckle cream
are pressed up to the glass
they are mine, too.

An ordinance of possession railed up the train hill
and the coal came back down as dust
or fire itself--the elements gone modern in their compartmenting
oh, so that's not your word?
well, get the gunship down from the cupboard
before you begin to hurl news updates
and soil the coastline with film

but keep the negatives and keep your head
this lasting form of body-like stains on the carpet
of sand. the noise of hanging broken into the branches
dancing atop the waters face. one blows out candles
because they're in front of one's field of vision
and we all learned the hazards o
unattended smellmachine
my cords are gathering up in your burn
and my swallow is fluttering at the windowpane
as we converse here, a shifting mass of magnets beneath
the crust of this breadbasket
and the quick lime and the quick lines we lay
down for commission
the pocketstuffing, the bruised fruit of the day
gaining fans and you are set for another painted wall
face in the outlet, sockets envy.

9:46

2010-04-29T21:46:00.002-04:00

the radio says
am i tough enough
in mick jagger's voice

today was a numeral
on the chalkboard
that got erased
and washed down
with soapy water

the clapping of an audience
rung tight round
the performing musician
at the top of the escalator
to the metro
stopped right as he took
his eyes up
and ran off

her4re's a halo of garland
and a sandblast for the fountain

another month long sleeve
to sneeze down.

my cards are talking again
and the soldering iron
you've run through my brain
has seemingly sealed
all the unwanted cracks

so when my hand folds
now it makes a nice window
and the flocking southward birds
miscue the season.
'V's in all the right parting skies.

11:42

2010-04-28T23:42:00.002-04:00

a body digits out
end to that act
these particles come unglued
14 days of purchase
other questions, contact
all in glass
all in glass
all in glass
sounding breath
the band of singers
maintain their place
signal phrases
and pack animals
draped in pneuma
the front of buildings
you bid adieu to
commas and love in chemicals
plus the world
to men and gods upgraded
not simultaneous conversation
how we braid our hands
and each read book
or thread and threat

10:37

2010-04-27T10:37:00.002-04:00

if you are an alien
and you are posing
risk, please send
a copy of your pass
port off to the head
office, we will be glad
to ask your ass
istance in lidding
compatriots and
identifying the easiest
way for your return
by form and forces
similar to one swift
boot covered kick
in the ass and out
over an imaginary
line. space holds so
many dangerous
postures and our
collective system
remains closed/intro
ducing the newest
in a line of long sick
ened children who
flip their switches
and walk with stut
tering steps. night
out everywhere.
night out every

11:18

2010-04-26T23:15:00.001-04:00

making the noise like a fog
and horning the way round

my coarse hair goes white
shocked in the jaw first and voltage

primers are formidable
when the wall is begging for paint

and your shoes carry you
smelling the same with wear

boats made of camphor and lace
can't carry us away from the road

or horses in their shiny skin
and two-big eyes full of gas

clouds or planets fluttering
on breathed out window fog

my vocabulary stales
like the breath word formed

and so into the closet
goes the cat with her bells

and we join our sleeping posture
to the springs

9:54

2010-04-25T21:54:00.002-04:00

reduce reduce, re-plane
output non negotiable. flame and groups
of what sets the banks down
such green terrible in the gowned day

if was a quest
and you took the speakers
by the wire

one camp made such kitchen undressings
a ladle became soup
the copper kettle sang and steamed

for hours was a bus of sleep
guarded both directions
and each magnet
repulsed the metal it liked the most

this was the first of clarity
at having been spoked in wheels,
saying whee, whee, whee all the way

1:34

2010-04-25T01:34:00.002-04:00

sing crazy forgetting
that is all and the rain
for an hour petals
and blossom failure

sing absolute dissent
but the melody can't sustain
quall your mazy riddles
napped in musk, you're

stale reps of chest hair
and weight. sundown
in another country
but weather perms

its foreign haircut
and you salute this flagon
of port. a fringe dripped
on your clean shaved chin

7:50

2010-04-23T19:50:00.001-04:00

ladle the best parts of a test taste into your mouth
no one likes snakes more than a garden
and you can press all my buttons

when facing the sun on a cloudy afternoon
let nobody nose in the better types of personality
all of our children are growing up roses

milk in the best parts of the eye makes for a vision
clouded in days like an afternoon placed in the sun
all your pressing children grow button-like roses

taste your mouth and then report back
the test of snakes is how to split the tongue
a garden variety pressed into the pit that a heat seeking nose

4:18

2010-04-22T16:18:00.002-04:00

my love with whittled eyes the color of tortoise and cinders
my court with sandpapered benches and a gavel of rolling granite
my promenade with the weight of three oceans and the bald sun watching its waves
my mouthpiece of litter and sand
my dream of the wild confusion of beds upon beds upon sleep and all that hides beneath the pile

my love with the arms of the great battleship, docked and unloading its currency
my fist of cuffs, the bleeding has stopped and sewn up these long stretches of fabric in the name of what holy and contorted
my love with the back of a cable, knots in the spine like three trees grown skinny in spring
my list fought hard to contain you

remove all articles of clothing and the thought of possession
and what love remains is carnivorous
enough.

set forts of imagination lit for the haul through a country not known to be
inhabited by friends or anything other
we head off together.

my love with the whisper of every solid chemical
my love with the hands of fortune, lined and numbered
my love with the degree of familiar added up to thirty, another rounded decimal
my love with the capital breasts and a committee of jurors hung up in her hair
my love walks before me and i know her because
she greets me thus

12:42

2010-04-22T00:42:00.002-04:00

so the drawing has come up and this is the number you've played
my poor man with the grouch for a cable station and the three pieces of furniture, not defined as such, but kind-of-immaculate, in that all their parts are working, i worry that your part to play will have to be limited and left to the periphery of the stage. maybe animal noises when called for, and some handling of the lighting duties--how do you feel about playing a lamp?

i was on the train today and followed a man with a name tag that read the same name as i possess. i was on a train today following a man who was myself in different clothing and skin, but since i am not the man i was when i was on the train today it might be that i'm currently outside my own door, tracing the lines of the numbers nailed there. i won't go open to check.

your body is a field of deleterious noise and cellular reproduction, cat. we'll wait for your box with towels in it to contain small versions of the idea cat in a number of days and help in any way we can.

once a confused look always a rattling inside
no pot for the period to step on, only a distance between waves
and all forms of measurement are made up.
now.

12:32

2010-04-21T00:33:00.003-04:00

the words are escaping
it was there:

not a circus of color
quiet in leaves

6:33

2010-04-19T18:33:00.002-04:00

In the customary afternoon
five minute intervals and collision imminent
you wade through the river first
your sockets full of turning teeth
and a mountain snake that succumbs to cold
is only a stick, really. one that melts into a different shape.

dry socket, wet wall
same difference bewildered animals feel
their toes light on the grass
before the grass lights up with spotlighting
we are sporting a new nap position
hips flexed and arms outstretched
all the way up in their yearning
the sound of a cantaloupe being split
beneath your limbs
and juice for the drinking.

i am only measuring up for rest
not actual
a semblance of instruments
to measure and make sounds with.

you come here
to tell me something
it has been five long minutes of wording.

8:43

2010-04-18T20:44:00.003-04:00

in the blanks and the blankets
wonder slip pages
a conflagration of such and such and so and so
you dirty, pick up change
machine of thanking and tanks
one way up the mountain
another driver flips out
and saccharine on his lips

sew the buttons back on the shirt you used as a flag
back your combines down the field
all the hay needs gathering
it's spring you now in what bed you rest
know the contours of one back
well enough to trace it wherever you land
i'll sing out if i want to

10:56

2010-04-17T22:56:00.002-04:00

nicked in places, my favorite kind of woodchip
plants is growing and wind

old friends on the lawn with their children
whipping round them frenzied with sleep

the long e sound of winter retreating everywhere

on the radio a man mentioned that explorers
looking for the northwest passage
got stuck inside ice floes
forty feet thick.

here's to sipping tea in england in the summertime.

this year there was no ice where those travelers
died after eating each others remains.

today it's light outside
and i'm full of wine.

my friends are making lives
for themselves and others
and a new cat's gut is a soft thing
full of noxious beauty.

my wife will comb her hair
and i'll be married
even if the seasons turn calm.

11:21

2010-04-16T23:21:00.002-04:00

If the song is one that makes your metal carriers ring
if the bubble is the beat of the air
against its boiling temperature
and the cello you hear stirring off over that near hill
is a car radio thrumming basic chords,
the world is alive and we're still in it.

I'm talking of boxes and beating my checklist
against my head with an empty
stapler.
Such is weeklife. Such is this cabin
of nets and drawings.

In front of me a man
in tintype who's been dead since 1982
and a girl in white who poses
like she's dancing. For 28 cents
I can send her to you.

In what air is the crackling fat
from a bacon strip
also the warm roomful sound
of an LP--missing in spots.

Ah, here. Mr. Waits, you say a lot
in words I wish were mine.

That stray and maimed carnival
inside the ice cream truck
what summer means to say
to stay alive.

6:53

2010-04-15T18:53:00.002-04:00

muffling under skin--how soon for boil, the tea comes up in bags
your eyes are also carrying weight
the update is ready for installation and a new translation
of your favorite french film has just been released
so there and there and thee

when the door opens, or you close yourself behind
a noose of paper and clementines
all this shuttling back and forth between pages
will feel less futile. i can hear the water rise
up to steam and so will cut my left hand
off at the wrist
and place your tethered dreams together
in a pot for a few minutes
and transform the egg sauce
ted made with his sketches--so pure and gestural--
into an exhausted group of travelers
on the digestive highway.

here now to consume
cons you mate with.
mate as in pal, not sex.

costumers have to always be wary
they're not mistaken for books of faces

4:36

2010-04-14T16:36:00.002-04:00

halve the sleep emotion
have the sleepy motion
calf of weeds in ocean
sway with the joiners
and wood swell.

are the words solid that you think in?
can your concerns not be balled up
and quartered or stuffed into a quarto?
i'm not the question you forgot to ask
but my echo wears a stamp
the color of your nearest wall
and last night's conversation
hands you the towel for your freshened up
face.

all the earth we know is surface.
one round and drumming sound.
sew each body into the dirt.

halve the sleep you've gathered.

3:11

2010-04-13T16:11:00.003-04:00

rented for another show, the stage grew old and broke its bones.
stage bones are few and brittle to begin with, you say
but what you say is only the clamp of a hat on a balding pate
or the shuffle of so few corduroy clad men as they off on holiday
in some englad only dreams can fill with mist and billows.

on its face, the clock grows sleepy and afternoons are my pent up
palace of rest. no one gets in. or rather, none can confuse
leaving with the mittons or mirror they walk towards
backwards and in reverse, the letters across their shoulders
can barely be made out.

we make up our own faces with eyes on top of the lids
and buried in the back of the head underneath what thin wisps
of hair stay folded there with brill creme or three roses
and the minutes burn away smelling vaguely latinate.

here's a hand for the show--the fingers poseable and cold.

8:08

2010-04-12T20:08:00.003-04:00

the living room has a rash
of furniture--wool and wood

you set down the tea cup
and all the moths circle

it's a dust-up, a canyon
of simple flapping

my newspaper is only good
if you use it to wrap other things

with its putzy headlines
like: An Atom Mothered Your

Bible, or Brangeline Why
Can't You Be True?

Sort of contrary, the way
talking birds can summon

our tongues and so few of us
bother to whistle.

11:07

2010-04-11T11:07:00.003-04:00

sign and sing /up and out /here and now /for and few /free and easy /lines and limbs /

another morning of tea and keys jangling
my maintenance record
spins on the machine like a record does
but it's paper and past, so happening still but it won't
last too long and you can read
all the things I broke
or had meant to fix--wheels and sturdier wings.

Trade the same phrase repeat. Continue with names
on a list and how this applies to no one.
Some pure game of language we're all netted in. If you're wary
climb a tree or out the window. Test your beginning
pace against the one you end with and see
how fast you stay.

Time and tents agree. tense.

9:10

2010-04-10T09:08:00.002-04:00

the swirling earlies. a new band signed this week composed of eight, count them, eight, children under the age of thirty

two hours ago the whole face of the world over here was asleep. the pins and needles set in a few minutes ago. one world face down on the pillow at an awkward angle equals

forming newsworthy alliances, _____ had (insert picture and gender modifier) lost the costliest battle of ___ life. to sit alone among the empty branches

to the man found sleeping in the window seat...

a parrot on a steering wheel and weather unlinked from season

2010-04-09T10:02:00.002-04:00

7:59

2010-04-08T19:59:00.002-04:00

the will of the whirl is not to pill and curl up
the will of the old curl is rain in the cup
the pill on the counter says don't wake
the rake in the yard is a stick with teeth
on your shorn hair, ground. you're short and
growing. the will of the pearl is obstruction
and grit. the will of the bird is not to quit
falling. tonight is a storm and tomorrow,
tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

3:22

2010-04-07T15:23:00.003-04:00

take the cue
stick and follow
its curve down
to the ball
it means
to hit.

on the spit
and the spindle
a spider has
different futures/
grave and gravity
turning.

here's a hand to hold.
it's little, rubber
and covered in accupuncture
points. it's waving
hello all the time.

now seems to be
steady. at least
everything's happening.

3:44

2010-04-06T15:44:00.002-04:00

get all your paisley placed right and the socks will come
flying off like they made their jobs from wings and not
from gathering all the sweat and smells your feet drop
each day

in the mornings, place your hand at the throat of the window
and wash the colors out of your sleeping eyes
so the news stations' monochrome can burrow all the way in

we'll be not afraid of dancing or peals of child laughter
for this is the drawn horse carriage of semi-professionalism
and what follows the cart is the horse's lost pride.

i am negative numbers amounting to a multiplication error
and i talk with my crooked mouth moving
so the puppet inside me can have at it with the crumbs i feel and feed it
and the knocking you hear is bad wood as it floats

up river: the water dances, too.
there is no once-civil bullet.
Only in sounds and not even then.
One can say only and shoot out from under all sense of reason.

the seasons grow tiered and tried and tired.

12:02

2010-04-06T00:02:00.002-04:00

the couch can dream its freedom from bodies
but with heat like a balloon made
from zipper-parts
and a cough named Jenny-slew

and the hatrack in the corner marking the entrance
and exit spots for the newest characters entering this play
it seems unlikely that the cushions
will do anything less than support our lazy afternoons

i am noticing what stirs outside more
the drive from one gas station to another
numbers flapping in the wake
and your shirt with all its letters crooking

baby, lift the lid. press all the shine off these buttons.
my tips for your congestion
route 66
the lights dimmer across the country

we've sworn allegiance daily
standing in classrooms
with prayer-like width
and saggy shoulders

2:19

2010-04-05T14:20:00.003-04:00

spit and split level (-) you can quake and equate

there is no time, someone said their hands
were made out of mittens that could carve
the largest boulder your imagination could handle
down into the bones of our ancestors--such padding
in the palm and echo in the tips. sore now after
there is something ticking inside us both. us all.

burgundy and beginning [ = ] serve not letters in the box

a forcible entry takes the door and makes it simple
one body through an impediment and like with rivers
something carries down. a history of movement
set out in layers that can be cut through and carved away.
little lost but where to keep the looking eye trained.

11:35

2010-04-03T11:35:00.002-04:00

No dating advice or clamps on the newest
retinal cues: all the marbles are nodding
into a collection and not for street use
any more. Here, I'll tell you a story.

Next in line is the one about the priests
and this is followed by taking the wrong
name and gender from birth--a girl
with a boy's name or vice versa (not
the movie that wanted to be Big)
and this is followed by buying a sandwich
and beer and some laughter and called
a night out-or the performance of living.

One thing after another and nothing
all at once, but a moment where all the pieces
click together. One singular and numberless
moment. We're all in.

2:32

2010-04-02T15:21:00.001-04:00

separate from started once there was a little bag that tyraveled down the bagway. it had a healing property. it could land wherever the sound of water would crush and carry absolute memories from. this thing got up in land. got up in the teeth of the dirt and highways. so set about with growing thin. a notion of weight and measure. a curtain without article, without pretense between one thing and another thing of the same type and pattern. man is curious and volatile. man my shoes are sore from them being stepped in/on. i heard the passengers. the road with little bags mentioning what for eating and what for playing and how they sexed their courtiers. one box traveled down this road and was a car because of its shape and semblance. i'll not shut the lights today the man vicious in intention said. his heart like a sleeve of whispers growing plump on the wind. sour patches and no break for lineage. the little bag flipped the bird. the little bag ate a whole flock of fingers with their bird shadows and we watched in awe at how volatile man could be from a distance safe enough to stand. the little bag without article--a stampfree chest to pull open. so fit for anything.

8:19

2010-04-01T20:20:00.004-04:00

Stuck like vice cream in you
veins so simple they wilt
all the drowned things
singing of maximum value
and use as their tiny o's rise.

So what the breast think
of expanses think of all
the time hall and oates
spent together

but the herd is not a pair
of unrhymed couplets we dream
of songs with radios inside
their notation--endless transmission.

Poetry Month

2010-04-01T20:16:00.002-04:00

So here goes, I'm going to try and post a little something each day this month. if i lag, some days will be ketchup. Right now I'm hungry and cutting purple paper. There are book pieces all over the living space and my phone juice is low. The next post will be something for reals, yo.

It'll follow the same format as last year's April. Entries will be time stamped by when they were started. There might be some pucks and some pictures. Here's to production methodology and a starting engine sound.

crash crash

2010-03-24T22:50:00.002-04:00

goes the baby bash

for some reason this got stuck in my head today after a nap.

here's a picture:

and there's a play:
Ol-K*Z-lO

in a couple more days i'm to start the month long posting again. and some kind of pilot.

hope you're all moving well into spring regardless of your positions
(personally i'm behind many things pundits would paint me in a terrible light for)

here's to terrible light and to covers for everyone and to things that move and betterment

Afternooning--saving daylight

2010-03-19T21:27:00.002-04:00

Steven Karl's (Ir)Rational Animals

2010-03-08T23:49:00.003-05:00

Is out now from FGP! It's a great book by a great fellow and it's got a cool cover and all the goodness you could want for a few buckaroos. You can order a copy at flyingguillotinepress.blogspot.com

There will be more stuff coming up in the way of the guillotine shortly. And happy International Woman's Day!

flashing wings that bark

2010-02-18T16:48:00.003-05:00

so in the light of having my students do the automatic, i figure it's worth trying out the hat for a bit. it's easy to contradict oneself in the morning, the way the pajamas make fun of everything around them.

I'm a wall for walking and this half sandwich won't quit balling itself up.
Maybe not, the gears seem to stick when everything that's made water rushes around. In three days it will be stars like a forest above us. Inside my favorite parts are the sky. Grand and handsome a stadium for what we can't know. Keep popping the corn, keep handles on the stovetop and your hat in the mirror for when you need to take it off. a whole room of ghosts etched into the paper--Bowie says the bewlay brothers is like a parchment and so song tuning groped out like seas and seas of sirens and no sailors drowning. I keep saying we like I know you. And this is another way of brining a body back up from the ground. Wanton, shaky fingers dusted and printed. A sway to the blood. A bay to erase with the sweep of a palm. Don't forget.
Don't.

And shuffle. And walk.

the flung in the moth of it

2010-02-16T16:31:00.002-05:00

swords in all the dreaming. some alarm, but not b-larm. harm.

so i'm trying to get my students to let go of their consciousness a little bit. this surrealism course. and a couple of them seem to want to stay very much in control of their thoughts. it's going to be interesting to see if and when they step back from that position. and i've got to get my feet soundly somewhere into what feels like ground. that's slow mechanics though.

last night's sleep was made from pitted fruit. a basket worn to edge out a flood. spit and shine on the moon's dark behind. a lap of crumbs for the television viewing and i fail to mention current events because they'll stop being crowded with noise as soon as we forget them. first in line for this, a book of sayings--they erase themselves as they're mumbles. mouth marbled and stony. for the tour of france, keep the ticket you got with your umbilical cord--its a stamp on the blood or a courting with butter the things you eat in the morning.

i'll sort out the shirts and the daggers but only dream in monochrome when sleep comes down off its rocker and sips the whiskey flavored water that grunts from these faucets. shiny fixtures and plants that are drunk with their grain. simple pleasure is and is and is.

you are the rock i am thankful on. happy tuesday.

Here's where the stop comes to start

2010-01-31T18:05:00.002-05:00

wish the snow was headlike, shaped in all of water's dreams.

if you stand on your couch and portals form between the space your head touches and that shadows make out to be the edge of the room--a border, say--does that make the ground a piece of inhabitance or the hat you're wearing imaginary since it's a job description and also something people post about themselves when there's little occupying their fingers?

and what makes the border of a room?

all i've got is questions and this ring pop. mt imagination made of paper and pistols of mistyping. the sound loud in an ear when water drains and to regain balance then. my friends are birding the telephone noise. a new type of ink for your hair to settle down with and make a furlough, a future.

and what separates the room from ebbing?

such-like-noises are similar to light as we witness its decay. listen to the radio for ancillary motives. if you can, say anything once this is all over. but it doesn't come to that. rush and rush and bristle.

the elbow is an achy machine

2010-01-20T21:34:00.004-05:00

four hours of laundering and all the money comes
back to a pocket singing of its handlers

so it went with a new year
and we were blessed and blowsy in our new threads

weather always threatened to break
the calf in its field worried away the grass with its cute
face--distant noises of what would press against
its older head

but this purpose you speak of, this coupling
and trick of light

we bury our heads with frightening sounds
our finger blinds open slowly.

two ducks flap
over each ear
of corn
rows beyond
where the cows are
sleeping

my house is not
a furrowed thing

Belated--bag this!

2010-01-10T21:08:00.000-05:00

Bring that beat back

2010-01-07T13:36:00.002-05:00

Today is the cold. And a few days ago a friend had a dream that I died.
Today I thought maybe that's already happened. And things are good.
Today is the cold. And tomorrow is the day when no one gets fired.
Today I thought maybe hats are ready vapid. Anhinga for roods.

Tomorrow I will walk to the station with my back planter
and you will get up on top of a balloon somehow with the cameras
all pointing down and away from this spectacle. The news
will shine like new candy wrappers and no one will get caught

in a storm. Today is the cold. In north of here it beats people
into their homes more and here it does that, too. The dogs are leading
their owners. Their owners are carrying bags in their hands--
some for the trash, some to bring home. The dogs are home anywhere

so long as there's food. Tomorrow everyone will wake up hungry.
Tomorrow for dogs on loan from the schools. And the Today show.
Today is the cold.

when you make cards the snow comes

2009-12-19T21:07:00.002-05:00

late let it snow

2009-12-11T20:53:00.002-05:00

we're into being
simple with stickers
our head the balloon
begins to lift
w/o
w/in
blue cards
snowflakes on the cover
all around
snowflakes like flowers