Thinging myself by day
In chair positions
Body farming idiolect
Muth for melodies
One becomes two and four
I plant the flowers future
I don’t own the flowers
Irising out
The kempt wilderness
Adores back
Swirl revolves in place
Affecting nothing
Affection nothection
Language is only at hand gauge
The forehead beforehead
Grub metameres
A hum of sound materials
Signs on the land
In plastic sleeves fade
Baby leviathan whorls
Corm
Middle c mindsongs
NO
PASS
TRESS
ING
Mandrake roots need
Darkness music
Modicum particulars
Fed after hours
On human food
Grow afterhuman
Absent present aye nay
Peacebinding
Is what you want to hear said?
Stray current in offwire
Lights the nightlight flashbulbs
Comprehensive diseducation
Desiccant memories
Of upmaking
Weeks of weekness
In a cab the lost word
Circles the museums
Haplessly pining for hap
Barefoot traveler
Shoulders the shoulders
Till no room is left for road
Light-year away
Dreams anchors
Unto death they ride
Excalibur in the lake
Counterfeit
A shoe with no feet
Edible, eaten in terror
As the referendum of stuff
Determines if stuff survives
Scouring harrowing
Thanks for nothing or
No thanks for thing
Heartstoried opaques
Intrepid inevitable
Misadventures
There’s no screenplay
practice practice film stunt
The gag equation is physicality plus danger equals possible storyline
Quiet Mouse never burned her fingers editing film
because she was a studied pianist
In fact all the editors since 1928 had to study Czerny
Did the song come before the film
Did the explosions come before the song
What will he do when it all burns down
and a house falls on his head
Now he can really drink
All the drinking before was just practice drinking
They would show up in my dressing room
he said and we were supposed to finish the sentence
to believe he was rendered helpless
alone with a woman
Do you know why a stone is hard
because everything else shapes it
It has to be brilliant composed and hold on
Using a wooden bowl is the same as eating off the floor
From here I can tell everyone steps in the same place
when they step down from the stairs
Fair is foul and foul is Farrah
The lower right side of your check shows remaining sick days
If you have any
Do they carry over
We only invite the prophet once a year
elastic seam that crumbles and creaks when stretched
I’m not convinced they are or were or are a prophet
Is it true that someone can be ahead of her time
or do I misunderstand time
do i misunderstand their time
Quarter sleeves don’t do it for me
I need monster sleeves and a shave between paws
Can you guess our family rule for gifts on birthdays
Rules provide discretion and discretion protects sadness
From the yellow kitchen my grandmother
couldn’t distinguish the left from the right radicals
where they slept and what they ate
I’m not mad just a little hard-of hearing
Script for wind
Taking butterfly breaths
The house is shivering
A wooden sword unpeels
Talking to you
In beluga gloss
Inert electrical
Oud
Adverbly actions
Action themselves
Too far up the noses
And down the throats
To make bodies
From other planets
Locally viable
Unseen star cloud rolls
The thunderpoems come
Numberless and numerous
Sweet as dreams and as far
Which eye do you look with
The other one thinks
Conductor
Do-si-does
Wearing the conversation apron
For conversating
In the long meanwhile
Neither. Both. Every. Any.
And the train for rabbits
Arrives
Frond moves in hand
Re do to do re
Perigree bouquets
Littleno forest
Partichord
Specimen fern
Made to be tossed
Tossed for tossfeel
Ouija body ouis
Matte planchette
Even in your presence
Your presence
Goes on without you
Transparent then translucent
The dowser nods
Fleck by fleck
At the sign of the hole in the word
To the all, all clear
Noet
Untrees refurl
Are you stuck in an open pavilion
in a what should I do with my life sort of way
Were you asking that question last year
You didn’t forget to feed the birds you simply didn’t do it
Where are they did they change their flight patterns
Are they dead
It’s all your fault
why you were even born
What is a bird’s flight plan
Is it reported anywhere
The child saw the snake first
and you waited on the edge of the blanket incredulous
I wish I could paint you on a pen box everyday but I don’t know how to paint
Relax now it’s Friday
Relax it’s Sunday
Thursday is the new Friday
We don’t have to look nice
Monday is my home day
You are my home day
Resources are their problem
All nations want to need them
Too bad this planet is boring
So full of air
A seagull named Ruth says humans can’t handle their own desires
or energy sources
Are you a widow if you’re married to a dead guy
Try to solve an eastern problem in a western way
Snow we left behind
An invisible hug of mustard
I chased the spots in my eyes in a being is becoming kind of way
Answer yes to impossibility
as though I am in the Army of Making Things Happen
Yes we can do the fifteen minute version at the Met
What do you know about fifteen minutes
an entire family can come apart in fifteen minutes
For fifteen minutes you can wear and photograph yourself
in Michael Jackson’s Napoleonic coat and glove
for fifteen hundred dollars
There is always an interloper in the folklands
someone who cut the jumprope
Listen here kids everyone is first in line
Knowing
what you know
now what would you
tell yourself then
And based on now
what would then
do differently
What would now do
returning from telling
to knowing the telling
had left you
here in the making
What would you know
knowing the telling
was the making
that made the told
Every word
predicts what
it will say
then when it says it
it does what
it said it would do
If you did before
You can do again
Made can be made
Done can be done
Do you promise
Only the difference
makes differences
You told what
you made before
but only
after
Only promises
tell what would do
if did
what will do
as done
You promised you
would make the promise
then you did
Does it matter if your car is shiny
Are you sure you want to become a martyr
sucking on jerky
Pull the vines down even if you showered today
The only way to prove your truth is by dying
The cloud coverage will not last long
Did you know the future was yesterday
Enter the time of popcorn and fulfillment centers
Your backside ages too although you can’t see it
until you see it
Do you remember when you told third period
you weren’t going to say a word
You painted with gouache
and showed them how to layer
wait to dry then layer
All students painted the same person
Tryer trying
To story a poem
Makes up names
In a phone book
When called
They answer
And hello
Collapses
How do you do doer
How do you live
Because becauser
It’s been a while
Not so lives
Are threatened
No one hurt in here
By poetry silence
But the quiet
Opposite of bell
Or bell rung so fast
It has no opposite
Don’t you know
Aren’t you adapted
To already
Being
Waking up waker
Always tomorrowly
How many are you
Party
Like a poem’s poet
Enough’s enough
To say too many
No one
Needs such
Excess necessity
Under hats
More hats
But less hattier
Lesshead
I feel so shy sharing this – sometimes these words flow through me and I don’t quite understand where they come from – but they are a piece of me. And I can’t always find that voice. But she is here now so I’ll let her shine.
Look at these bad bitches take flight
They can’t clip our wings and have no bearing on our rights
Let em all melt on that hot desert sand
I haven’t got time to listen to their snivelling demands
We’ll rise high up against the walls
Breaking all our bounds like breaking balls
Nothing can ever hold us down
Take to the streets and find your crown
Were not flaming like you think
All the girls want my little winks
Spreading out like georgia o’keefe leis
Like a chorus line of queer cakes
Let them fly away
And Streak across the sky
Give me little bites of that pie
But don’t stray away from the bullseye
Color it like a poison pink sky
Call the sunset a pollution beauty cream pie
Burn hotter than the stars of a universe
Sweep me up in the milky way flavor hearse
All the play at my finger tips
Girls are fighting for my tender lips
Crash the congress doors don’t let them sleep
Bring back the people not those soldier feet
Demilitarize the fate of humankind
They can’t win the war of time
They can’t kill us all we’re not illegal
Decorate the girls with sequined eagles
Cold clone
You were invited
To the silver age
You fretted
On the margins you
Courted overhearing
Heard too much
And let your facial expression
Become your face
A sort of story
Storytellers tell
In between stories
They look to replicas
To remind themselves
Of lost originals
Like mountains of porcelain
After an age of winds
I thought your myth
Was only a thought
Like a hot doorknob
Opening into dark fires
Cracking liminals
To hear something noises
In anymore ears
Cold clone
Going gone
You told nothing
Where your mouth had been
Your mouth still was
Feathered hair is supposed to invoke labia
Everything on a woman’s face in effect designs from that below
A watch-scratched ride with your brother
and conservative contortion smirk glued in the rear view
Am I clear could I be more clear
Remember driving stick
cranking the windows down
saying I’m not having this debate with you
It looks like a dildo not a penis
Do you remember when we were young
We left the atmosphere in a swing set
We passed all our friends waiting for the bus
in a little bit of rain wearing jeans jackets
You don’t bother me because I’ve considered working for free
during this budget downfall
Never would I allow myself fifth gear
I would never drive reckless
I never meant to hit him I was trying to shoot the man
who shot my sister
Drowrowrow
A ghost story
In ghost tongue
Touch ratio
Verso converter
For cryptogram eye
When bough bends
Woods break
Ecotonic
Bittersweet borders
Have I explained
How poems cheer
On roadsides
Collecting refuse
Under echo bridge
Imaginary histories
Are the only kind
Equal and opposite
Close your I’s
Je among jeux
Bring me
The bringing
Datum
Without lines
Make points
Numerous
Saplings of
Indeterminate
Wantlets
Wouldlings
My idea for a poem was brilliant because it left me
before I could get my hands on it. The shower rinsed
it away. A delicate network of sugars turned gelatinous,
a killswitch offensive. The poem already knew me from
before I was born. It showed itself to me the way two birds
showed me their plumage yesterday by crashing into a window.
Instant death, and with it, taxonomy! Azure blue wings.
Stripped of miracles, the idea can live unbound. It was
an Eastern Bluebird, I think, a male and female who saw
nothing but sky ahead and then nothing at all. All day
I knew I had killed them. My settlement by a marshland
bashes small necks and makes mud of the spark of life.
I sing “The Owl and the Pussycat” in my mettlement,
my clever harshland with its runciple grasses. I move
the birds to a stone out of sight, my mind shivering crystals.
Hi friends! I had a hard few days at work and in life and am now 4 days behind. Trying not to let that bum me out. But I’m back!
