Eighteen Wheeler at Speed (Broken Time)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 818

Maker:0x4c,Date:2017-9-26,Ver:4,Lens:Kan03,Act:Lar01,E-Y

is oblomov soaring only when giacometti is on?
what about oblomov oh you don’t know?

enough with the joists monetizing pastures
run out loud

no maggot-lonely world no
doesn’t know enough about capital

sarah morris now and time
too mustn’t be so ashberian

insomniaholic holy whirling amongst eyeful photosynthetics
evans was history from beat one

which has a history
at which point linear decomposition

this political meaning
points to they are not american

so that’s why
if you can write unentertaining books about capital now

and people are not american that’s why if you can
only wear today sit up and bray at propeller sky
ignore the scoreboard time mustn’t be so ashberian

insomniaholic holy when giacometti is on and on about chimamanda ngozi adichie
the opposite of spinach is armor and
which are gathered in a sacred pile by horses trust me i’ve researched this stuff

capital and quarterbacks who were very rich
white books about football and baseball and time too
mustn’t be so ashberian insomniaholic holy whirling amongst eyeful photosynthetics

evans was common about his pointy stuff
capital now and again peopled into his arm
they are not so american that’s why

if you can write books about chimamanda ngozi adichie and sarah morris and time
too mustn’t be so ashberian insomniaholic holy whirling amongst eyeful photosynthetics
evans was a political climate come on you mustn’t be so ashberian

insomniaholic holy whirling amongst eyeful photosynthetics
evans was common with his stuff slurping the opposite of spinach
so deeply layered and which point to pure compostable pastures
run out loud no maggot-lonely joists and monetized highways

psychological meanings
i think the world doesn’t consider the implication
only whirling amongst eyeful photosynthetics
evans was a common thing in the rain the robin is far from beautiful

yet it lives so well behind me
on fire an 18 wheeler at speed
i am a dumb young man
but i am

“What did they attack? How did Syria react?”

Wikipedia Poem, No. 757

crusher3-sm

The New Syrian Flag

15mph second 28 mph second 28
mph second 28 mph fourth 49 fifth 58 sixth —
black is purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple white
is purple white is
purple white is
purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is pink purple white
is purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple white
is pinknd back to man: my
honda rebel cycles through
its gears — first 15mph second 28 mph
second 28 mph second 28 mph second
28 mph second 28 mph second 28 mph second
28 mph second 28 mph second 28 mph second 28 mph

second
28 mph second 28 mph
fourth 49 fifth 58 sixth
— black is
purple white is purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple white is
pink purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple white is
purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white
is purple white is purple white is purple
white is
purple white

is purple white is purple white is purple white
is purple white is purple white is
purple white is pink purple white is
purple white is purple white is purple white
is purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple white
is purple white is purple white is
purple white is purple white is
purple white is purple white
is purple white is purple
white is purple white is
purple white is purple
white is purple white
is purple white is
purple white is
purple
white
is

purple white is purple white is purple
white is
purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple
white is purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple white is purple
white is pink purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple white is purple

white
is purple
white is purple white is purple white is purple
white is pink purple white
is purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is
purple white is purple white is purple white is
purple white is purple white is
purple white
is purple white
is pink and black is pink purple white
is pink purple white
is purple white
is purple
what is purple
white is purple
white

is purple
white is purple white is purple
white is purple white is purple
white is pink purple
white is
purple-white is purple-white

Are You Rea (Robert Heinecken, 1964-68)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 721

w721

Joseph M. Gerace. Justice Building. Hackensack, NJ. 2018.

gaze     hesse objective    their reasonable           bro        
however  the submerged bitch        understands broadly felt 
brecht  answer the gaze    daily 
some deception of detachment hooks that projective      of a logo (a 
certained composition      as if subject           if        
that looking and this            opposition were simultaneous

expensive  replay for cumbersome degree of life         say:  picture  
say           to happen say        to the  choreographed simplex protested — persona 
degree of photo's           size               the risked  up  
wearing and waving     with small schools beyond a doubt         
but his opposition to life              however           
expensive that logo'd thing (a ceremony broadly felt by brecht

Whiteacre with God of Love

Wikipedia Poem, No. 671

w671-sm.jpg

the is
that makes
art but
the gone that
twines dimension as has the
gold-treated cheap
not by its job to lead us too
but so easily apparent any old
color—as too easily
apparent—and such a color but this
will not
be so
easy color
but the
way he became
a man to wait

there came a man wait

Continue reading

First Barn Owl Egg Hatch

Wikipedia Poem, No. 484

wiki484-sm

“There is a separation / between life and death / where [feathers] grow // and that is where I want to go / this weekend,” paraphrasing Padgett

screech
in green darkness
and 
stamp 
         my 
          talons

wet 
      leafy flesh 
the 
master has built 

there 
will be 
many bones

a small mouthful
       of mouse
      a 
      fatty 
       bite

Invest in Hydrangeas

Wikipedia Poem, No. 469

wiki469

“I’ve seen thy spirit bending / In fond idolatry.” Emily Dickinson

         you don't like 
your opinions
but 
   because 
i'm 
a flatterer
     or 
something 

      i loved

         it is 
      nothing to 
alter its dimensions 
i'm 
         a flatterer
vested in hydrangeas
or 
    something black 
        and 
   ravaged
	wielding 
       love

       is that you 
afraid        of love simply because 
    i'm a flatterer
and have flattered before
  or is something black 
        and ravage
      	wielding the vest of hydrangeas
or something vested in hydrangeas
or 
        something to 
          alter 
         its 
  dimensions
         because you're flattered 
         by your opinions
or something 
      more 
like 
you
         
it's
  just like 
this

      show 
        me the altar in you
unwilling to be loved
please
show me
	and i will
	desecrate it

Reminder

wiki395-01

 

I’ve woken up long ago. The plane scurries silently overhead, is full of people, of consequence. It is gone in 3 seconds. Passed through the window shade into nowhere. In France and Germany purple contains more red and less blue. A cat of ash I watch intently. As he, too, in silence, trots into the backyard. Does he live in the shed? What do I know? He disperses behind the shed, out of nothing. Is this music too loud? I’m done with questions, it is fine. I used to wonder why John Ashbery bothers with collage, but it’s no longer a concern of mine. I’m older now and I understand. A man is not only a beautyberry or only a painter or only a gondola. He can live anywhere at any time and my body is the mug of coffee that carries me here. If I obscure this mess, watch what it becomes! A pile of ciphers. (A muscular word that I need to be reminded of occasionally. One should be grateful when one is reminded of that word: Cipher. Thank the man and the place who reminds one of it: Matt Taibbi, last night, at the party.) A pile of ciphers like a lover’s alarm clock and reportage, hot and sweet. A pillow for sleeping then. Watch how the ciphers redden and collapse into one another as the temperature rises. The air desaturates. Lungs no longer new, suddenly, nude. I suppose I am a journalist first, and recoil. My socks do not match. Your socks, meanwhile, in mid-flight. Everything purple is discarded on the bedroom floor, gathering little flakes of us. My eyes today are gray, thank you for asking.

Wikipedia Poem, No. 378

wiki378-02

“that we be returned to the faceless / attention, / the waiting and waiting for the telling sound. / Am I alone here?” from Jorie Graham’s “The Phase After History”

that last walk i
pissed a sigh
and she tickled thought

breath needs
but one last walk
piss my tail

beats twice bedsheet
breath in the dither
the third time i’m surprised

her white lashes flutter nothing lasts
walk across high-pitched europe
in heels white europe pissed away that walk

i pissed sigh
she has ticked away
from me and could be coulding

contact her into her
tail beats twice such a way
a high-pitched passport

talking gently a staccato thought out
a thought that she is boring
and better lost her breath or selfishness