>Three-Quarters of an Inch

>Three-quarters of an inch of wine pasted at the bottle’s belly, patiently swindling. Soft, / chamber music macramés the walls, back of my head stuck between the hairs, drips from the ceiling. She’s somewhere / at the top of the steps, getting ready for Church. Outside the wind conspires, I see it, the sun in hawkish repose. Blood glassed and upheld.

>It was her Grandson


these are people
isnt this amazing
take a look at this joe
this is something!!!
imagine putting them together?


what the hell do they mean,
“actors held in dictaphone mystery”?
this is from canada..
no, this is from newyork?

You know i never did like wilson.
He was from New Jersey?
Yeah, he was. He
was an autocrat.

A smartass.

Ernest Hemingway. Now, he was a handsome
guy. Yes, he was! Isn’t that music pretty.

This guy. They did a terrific job here. In 1918
woodrow wilson image formed at Camp
Sherman. Fantastic Joe, Fantastic!

It’s hard to believe.
Now if it was done today you’d say, “He did this with computers!”
But, it’s not. Oh, World War 2, My father.

Oh World War One. he didn’t talk about it
but i Remember him telling my brother. You don’t
know what it was like. But afterwards he told us.

We didn’t have to go World War One.
We didn’t have to go in. We were just helping
Britain. That lousy Wilhelm… he was a nephew
of Queen Victoria. He was sick in the head.
Prince Albert … he was originally from Germany.

At one time they didn’t even speak English.

>Structural Integrity

>Dirt & Blood     You’re cold now, You’re

exploding through victimized & You’re family
past ears, down in will be contracted, can
the furrow // I won’t the general muster
open my eyes. Commit his courage. Eyes tight
this sin to memory, where Teeth pulled skinned
is the foil, bitter the vicious the flat paint. I
stories of depression, plain victimize myself
exploration of soul there I’ll drop, I’ll coin,
free of sponsorship, your burgeon the point &
parents’ pot. This fall rain. Imagine scenarios 
Down in the Dirt. Your victims win friends, cut
apart, not pained, not pinned. in the soiled air.

>Biden v. Palin 10/2/2008

>You’re about to hit a dog
things are looking up
no one whose anyone hopes
for this kind of woe, news and shock
eyes on the prize.

He’s matted in black-night crosshatch
emphatically battering radio noise
one, two many beers

You’re, okay,
about to hit a dog
& your children will never forgive
the cooling slice of rubber painted on the road.