Tag Archives: guns

Secure Provisions

Effective horror
who mourned
men armed
with hours
secure provisions

Walmart Statement on Firearms Policy

Wikipedia Poem, No. 737

w737

on firearms and ammunition and adolescence
to implement this change: we will update our process

sell bump stocks high-capacity magazines
broke applied filled personified we also do not sell hurt

before purchasing flames they seem to pass the background check
requiring customers to be splashed and responsible curios

to mingle responsible writing include sportsmen
and toys our heritage as the company slips the cross into the satyr

Wikipedia Poem, No. 225

soulofwit-02

“The poem is always a record of failure.” Ben Lerner

 

accidō ‎
transitive – I fall down, upon, at or near; descend.
intransitive – I happen (to), take place, occur, befall.

 

paculum-A

last december in america
being bullet or vacuum
or various plane crashes

in orlando but its not unusual
americans the fbi this level
people daily death in accido

in america people attack americans
people attack busses accido buses in
america trucks motorcycles accido

every day an american dreams of killing
killed by a few at a time guns accido
california shot death rates include

losses from gun homicides and
every million people san bernardino
homicides are common death

in america guns include common
arms as uncommon cause
of accompanying causes dye

deadly die homicide deathly many as
many as many as many as many as
many as die from guns and suicide

annual events in a typical year help highlight
how exceptional companies cause gun homicides
highlights exceptional attacks nearly nearby

as many as die from guns
annual rates in america than
then than then right how now

 

paculum-B

exceptional accompanying tables show
populations of companies table shootings
as many as many as many as

provide numbers control disease
as many recent studies osculate a-
round developed countries

we are rare and high
articles choosen between
countries and studies and

the top of gun death instead
shows the differences and are
as many as many as many as caused

international overall arms
accido neighboring nations
were not meant to number

at the barbarous difference statistics
on american gun deaths fair from far
as a way to provide death

the united states and developed countries
the united states developed countries
the united states developed

the states developed
developed states
states state ate

in a gun death
light closes parts
of anima mundi

paculum-spec2-sm

Sources:

Wikipedia Poem, No. 175

Print

Relief in this return to normalcy—that I could stop thinking about this “other world” of unknown bird sounds.

 

the middle age’s language garden
petals once because golden soil
means plant and not the altar devil’s

flowers heat pluto into third eye sight
grow sometimes invasive on winter
days in your high and like a layer

of flowers with sidearms you
wants in the sea spike a wonderful
well—for it is otherwise missing

to a true black hollyhock they can
be invasive corn is nice black
decorative heralds a middle age

the cottage of pollen with no petals
a week’s bees but the seedhead
picks off other gifts flowers an ape

and perennial dried goods
cut flowers bloomy red hot soppy
large round and marry mordant spiders

Frank

frank-final.jpg

“saffron, crocus sativa”

 

frank   take the plastic bag off yr head
poets planted light here   not people
poets with banana plants for tendons

or poets’ armies of thick carbon fiber killers
faces loaded with pulverized crocus   frank
bring me proof of meaningful life

beyond the gun range   poets   frank
were sown in victory’s forehead
frank   you listening   when was the last time

you went a-fishing from south beach pier
rainbow trout gasping like dandelion   frank
reciting rebecca lindenberg as you adamantly

burn through the last filament of air
are you mournful or war wise
I   for what it’s worth   buttstock bipod flash

guard   rather a dry   wise cactus   frank
whose dusty broach crawls forth
like a foul hand toward the sun

begging   always
begs like a
beggar

wikipedia poem, no. 13

photo

i was there beside you, warm
but it wasn’t enough, something warm
pulling apart my skin
there, they fell
like paint   peeling off store-bought canvas
they fell
we fell
and now they stand, broken—bottled—in opposition to something fallen and warm
for themselves, only, for
what else is there but life? a hat, cracking concrete, drinking the fountain of
these fonts, so righteous, standing back to back like crimefighters
guns drawn, guns drawn, 	
	guns drawn against the sunrise.

Notes from a dream, 1215-172013

(over my shoulder/from a dream)

12162013

1. “Ashuver Sixlio”

2. “As I failed to shoot the dog”

3. Lot of dreams tonight. I curse myself for not waking to sketch them along the way. But last among them:

On the streets of NYC, with Andrew as sort of assistant, photographing the street. Lots of people. Smiles but also secret shooting of the homeless and glamorous at perfect unobserved rest. Anyway, at some vague point we encounter a group of 8 to 10 girls aged 16 to 22 (I intuitively know/guess) and they start to follow us. Flirting at the same time annoying and gadflying. We welcome the attention, the company, the shared energy, but they are a distraction, clogging the sidewalk as we try to navigate through without too much negative juju coming our psychic way.

Andy and I stop at some point to deal with an equipment issue and the sirens swarm, smoking, making my lens change more difficult than it needs to be. One of them, a young brunette all soft lines, most devious bodied, the youngest, most supple bodied, stands in front of me. Me, two feet from her burning Camel Light. The sweet smoke passing between us without burning my eyes. She won’t stop talking; so much more than talking: sexualizing forth, weaponizing, poking me with her untouchable womaness. Clouds me. And I’m trying to change that god damned lens, not let any of her smoke into the camera body. Fuddling with lens caps.

An ash, like a perfect snowflake (it had been snowing now IRL for two days), falls from her cigarette to her dimpled chin and, as if that ash were a universally understood cue, I kiss her lips with such quick aggression that she takes a step back. Unbalanced/shocked. Gives me a moment of much-needed distance.

The hip girls all snicker and chat, one says something to no one: “Oh my god, she’s only 15.” But no harm done. I lock in the wide angle lens and we all move on.