>062520102049; List #1; for thoughts on the diction of Oates & Hemingway

>Second-story vision
Blacktop, parking lot
One hand wipes east
Fingers wing-wide
Black ink, sure borders
Obscured vehicles
A clear, steady language
His smile
Not her frown, but her collected composure
Folk shield their mouths when speaking.

>from ‘new haircut, tits and a cheese danish’

>”Poppy orange, pollen yellow bounce about
Beside my table, bending, bent, scoop up the babes
Browned, begging-to-be-unbound breasts all but roll out

Here golden baubles rule toward, terminate in a balmy bin
Just south the eyes that stare at the tangled painter’s pelt
The King of Brute’s bruised & gilded champion’s belt”

>060220101043, Illogical Composure, or War Metaphors are Useful

>if everything is nothing then nothing is everything if every nothing is a something then every something is a nothing or if some nothing is an everything then something is an every nothing if is something is a nothing then is nothing is something (, at least) if something is not then nothing is if nothing is then something is if nothing is not and something is not then nothing is and something is, then you shouldn’t suggest that black dress is sort of blueish.

>wet pussy



sure you’re trying
or have tried
so much depends on tense

(you were or are)


simply sifting sand
for salt, a shakerful of 
scope sweetens the pie
(you were or are)

too full to floss
s … e … s.e.
too fat for floating
eee? seee!
(you were or are)
so much depends on tense.

>why do women paint beaches on their nails?

>You arrive like a brittle breeze at the dongan hills train station
Weighing 225, working scratch-off ticket No. 1
Head bowed in your chest, producing
A spare pack of chins, greasy gables of silver mesh
A taupe dress shirt, with a taupe collar. Where did you come
From? On the floor beside you, a wheel to aid & assist
In the hasty uncoiling of a 25-foot red garden
Hose. A tan so deep, does seep, so deep
Its occurrence is unlikely & inconceivable
In the disastrously creative mind you
Toil, boil, roll and roil in an air conditioned office building.

Your white running shoes, spotless
Your head perched like a gallon of brown milk.

>improv for dfw, tbots, p 38, 060720102133

>When you say ‘heavy,’ David
you don’t mean possessing
great weight, though you do speak
of gravity. The noisy birds
flung from the tree’s branch

I have only one psychological deficit
& provided I solve it, like a soldier
who slavishly cleans his rifle, I will
love my wife, plant & lovingly care
for annual flowers,
save enough money to dig a hole
for a swimming pool.

Maybe you will imply a thickness of character
like how a grasp of well-rooted weeds
will choke out what was intended, yet we
never intend the weeds. David, I will ask

My wife what you meant by ‘hunger.’

>sketch for Noah #1 (060620101037)

>as the fat cat, tasty
fish & cold cracked mountain
rears on his bulbous ball joint
belly, rakes his soft clawless paws
ahead ears, abreast eyes

he laughs, blind. As blindness is the sun’s
temporary gift. Noah is proud, yet does not
consider himself prideful nor hubristic.
Once upon a sill, overhearing a lesson on Hamlet.

>introduction to Bon

>”there are many romantic things: noble, spontaneous, swayingly effete yet sober, romantic things that i just ADORE in principle. listen. i’ve been down there. up there. whatever. i feel like i’ve had romance with the syncopation of a hi-hat, but you know, i know. i’m playing make believe. i’m only imagining how someone… someone with an imagination could imagine having this wonderful thing with an experience like that. but, really, i know its just a cute trick, some practice and a little beaten brass.

“and … i’m OK with that, i really am.”

>"M.I.A. at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival in 2009" or "eating a truffle-flavored French fry"

>i dont know much about communism
its red invocations, as cannon fire
the freckled innocence running amok
on a sweltering early summer afternoon

trying to learn
about something unrelated, unwillingly
tied to the aforementioned, concept
belief, idiosyncratic blaze, i place my clover

my finger, a thumb, over her militiristic
headwear & when i release
turning the page, something is new
unexpected, as in wrong, but here we are

my thumbprint rakes her covered eyes
pulls the ink from her shadow, children
loosing their innocence into the intrepid humidity.

>15 seconds (Lust I), or Improv for Intervals

>15 seconds of touching deconstructs
Beyond immunity since contracting puberty
Five… ten… fifteen…

Chemical leaks and a nicotine patch
Falling through the screw, always you
Five… ten… fifteen…

Quietly castrated mirrors crash my lake
Carves atop dreaming, winter air like a fate
Five… ten… fifteen…