break into
air
leather man
break into air
breathe
into
leather man
breathe into air
leather jacket
licked back
hair
and
steal
another
man
break
into
leather
man
don't break
don't break man
don't break
look leather
man
break it or lose it
leather
man
break the air
man
pomegranate flower
hoplite bannister
leather man
slip into
the air
like a man
breaks in his
leather
man
breaks into
the hairy air
leather rip
jacket rip
licked backseat
nothing
man sniffling
a diagram
then sentenceless i don't exist rip
lick leather men sniffing
about arson
one might hang
about
arson around
one night about
like smoke
one might
break the air
smoke around
one just might smoke leather man
Your rejection is both expected as worn and terrifying. I’m an editor. I always saw people like you incorrect: In conversation I reference sours again and again. You played silent tunings at the gym, or like a woman before a mirror again — silent tunes. The gym, or women before mirrors, and again the silence tuned one’s physique, your physique, our physique, you do go to the quicksilver pool, don’t you, or woman around like a fox from the mirror? And again mercury silent. Tune it twice, we did — we? — maybe. At once sour, then terrifying, green rind, ground, further ground. Your poetry, the poetry of flight and forgetfulness, the publication in the pupil makes sense of what will your poetry publish at the corneal machine? Reach down, writhe. Ends up the word is try. Lappets and scanlines. I’m an editor. I always saw people in the people.
preoccupied
father again
wonder again
another
chalice-full of vinegar
strapped to this cluttered table
again
Charles Olson again
pinot noir again
sony again
starbucks again
menu and ravenous tin
the New York Times again
exclude burning past lives
holding the hand of wonder again
pushed into the street again
ring finger, palm
palm, ring finger, palm
suddenly with such speed. morning again.
I woke, feeling of particularly base moral character, because of this dream I had.
The dream was built upon a typically gauche bacchanal at a filmic hivelike Midwestern frat house, a free Chinese buffet erected on the street outside operated by presumably a crosstown rival frat, the unacceptable total loss of some unreplaceable button down-type evening wear, and the medically airtight revelation by special hand delivered letter that I did in fact have AIDS, contracted during a blasé threesome during the prior night’s hockey party.
let’s lie in the top left corner
you will see this sun rise
one you could not license
licorice diamond the lady reaching
waves of her lysergic arm one to brace another column of instead a list of historical events hysterical
lucy against the unbottled still morning air hips lips lost
lyrics careworn Theberton Hoof a gamers eve and tossed
in the bard’s hearth in the bad thrasher in the raga man a lyric
whence bank the bottle bears its beggar up from the mirth of brake
staring at the rising choice we bare to falsify ourselves our harmless hearts.
[i keep a blank moleskine next to my bed. i’ll wake up in starts and jot words, ideas. recently i rolled out of bed and found this entry. i’m not sure who wrote it. very weird. very minor editing.]
