poetry
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How’s The Weather?
one strikes up a conversation how humid it’s become as if are your children well as if what did you get them for christmas as if and then recedes into art objects intake compression power as if exhaust one finds the hole has been dug too deep and in one’s dream the trains are…
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“What Does It Mean?” by Czeslaw Milosz
It does not know it glitters It does not know it flies It does not know it is this not that. And, more and more often, agape, With my Gauloise dying out, Over a glass of red wine, I muse on the meaning of being this not that. Just as long ago, when I was…
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A Passing Storm
There was a woman Thirty feet ahead Sandals and rainbow Knee socks dreadlocks Tied into a loose Ponytail tank top The grave color Of a passing storm There was a woman
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“realism documentation file 1”
realism documentation file 1 man breaks muscled horse like streams of cake batter unrealistic currant red anatomy study asparagus white anatomy study studying studied while he fell down without his eyes utterly empty yet san- guine bestride the library steps append musculature map room stampede october april albert oehlen the you kay recedes act now york…
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“Shocked (8 January 1963)” by Jackson Mac Low
Stunt. Their groom shocked shock- ed Police suspended suspensions though good Shocked thrown two shocked shock- ed Police suspended suspensions though good shocked Chief two shock- ed that though Shocked their groom shocked the two force, Shocked The two shocked drank coffee relaxed. Source: Mac Low, Jackson. Thing of Beauty: New and Selected Works. Ed.…
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untitled, 06222016 [fragment]
with peanut butter in my moustache with the pit bull licking itself on the bed the world beyond the window screen lays prone rabere with thousands of twittering house sparrows conserving the human image aflame on cedar branches
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11:11 a.m.
I came back from Maine And changed the door locks— When I leave, the bottom; When I enter, the top.
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inversion* of “Sexualizing Picasso on the Cross”
Codger, old maid or bone-dry instep, a stagnant silence over cloud Interior remains sneaking under—yes, me, yes, my polite Infertility—uncooked acedia, never invulnerable frost Protects a circle-bare sky or dank reverie of useless yttrium Yields free under these asses, cool, must remain. *here, an inversion is a poetic exercise in which one takes a poem…
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Protected: Ever’line?
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