as a beloved reminder
we listen to the fearful groan
making murder
murdering boredom
choking a passing fancy
like they say
the other way is no way
someone orders a continuum
everyone longs for a contingenciy
eveyones plans become fixated on
glowing dreams of moralless utopias
quick enough for
pyrotechnic freedoms
to ride the diminishing spiral
off the screen
lately becoming has
become a spread sheet
that becomes
a body to a dress
a look to a role
a static song
in a pastoral poem
a blue print of words never taken
everywhere there is a push for
sculpture gardens
and indoor plumbing
there is a push for
a institutionalized unique
a nothing
an insult
more tiny bits
more nothingness amid
broken into
bound-up and gagged
clawed into
making plans for a counter attack
an counter plans for
future indeterminacy
nothing and plumbing
eighteen thousand years ago
ready to suffer the now now
long words began another premise
(in the room of the dear one)
2.
this is the room of a dear one
this is life as a side door
ever clear and calling nothing
this is a remote and yet populated dice
this is a room in the middle of the night
a certain place at a certain time
examined by written confessions
not being personal
examining the barbaric with the sword
not being personal
in the blood splattered contours of nonexistence
of nothing personal
this is a reality principle
promoting justifiable terrible
assurances from the reasonable
with questionable umbrellas
full of read and fall of anger
this is home
a room full of sentences
utterly clear
as the edgewise kite cuts the sky
utterly full of sense, faded song
boundless beings bound by borrowed gods
caught in a mayhem of tears
with their still there, still asking
can you spare a kidney?
can you lend a blade of grass?
can you turn your,
leap to a fall or
your fall to a leap and back again
before the bottom rises to the surface
can you beam your time to a shapeless cry
in the labyrinth at midnight
if this is the here and now of how
then to come
and our dreams are random
born to maps of weeping figures
then how will I know
if I am blinded by
the protagonist's ring of eyes
super situated under cover of error
lost in a shooting speech atmosphere
of a used car classic in transcendental rhetoric
famously tossed down the annals of time
in reference to biblical apology?
how can I say, wait, when I want to say, soon?
when I only read the signs between us
when the phone rings
we speak
fill our plastic bottle with place
in a room filled with space
in a world in space
undulating in the deeds
as a remembrance of things
I say
there is something between us
I say, wait
it’s a reflection of eyes
I say its
reflection at a distant
ever present grief
something under construction
driven by a marching band
ripped away as the sun starts to set
I speak in excluded points of failure
with taps from
behind the walls at amontillado
call it the gaze
visibility surging
a field of human presence
looking away from catastrophe
a slackened compromise
crossing a field on nothing happening
no voice no path
just variation without measure
call it x-something and give it presence
call it storm wheels and electric sea
strata captured sediment
magnetic taped recordings
a trajectory folded into the hand
before it’s cold
choice untaxed prospects
call it when then what now what's next
call it yourself and the world
call it a formula of complication
an appropriated metaphor
a connection with a difference
a connection that keeps repeating
call it sympathetic and crazy
no one’s watching - no one cares
there is a certainty below the threaten peace
domestic sex with mutual logistics
the wrong clothes on the right day
I watch,
humanity approaches in a certain shirt
I want to criticize
instead I criticize
the book on the table
on the size of the book on the table
on the operations in the book on the table
on the growing index in the book on the table
I call it a table
call it a position, timbre, discipline, theories
requirements in style
manner and procedure
call it gross plagiarism
call it lack of spiritual integrity
call it blows against life
so powerful
so furious
so blood thirsty
call it whatever
call it I don't know
I don’t care
just your feet and tears
a fractal identity
obsessive restraints
too much
depression digression
over and over and over
images in blood
over and over
highlighted and underlined
over and over
images in forget me not factual land
images of fragile simplicity
a vital liquid
rigid with futile language
glass replacements
for matter in-between
in a clairvoyant down pour
in the overworked world of oz
this could be a spotlight
through a gasoline rainbow
a sophist who mistakes
touch for a dream
a dream for an infection
curvature of space for an optical illusion
I am talking about an antechamber of words
a petrified forest of images
faucets dripping from the underground
the ball of wax and second class citizens
a replica of who counts
ad infinitum till the bones are crushed to the last breath
this is the moment
we trip over a shadow
in a rash cluster of funnel suns
a trajectory in a moment
with a vision of a burial
in an illusion of a burial
as a vision of an illusion
as rock paper scissors
curved scythes and cold holy oil
absent of our own history of remorse
absent from the melancholia of another tomorrow
absent the blue leech that draws us to our coffin
at birth the thunder gives life
at death the thunder takes my heart
as I walk the streets
I am your alien
sticks and dried leafs readied for the pyre
times passes through my pores
first the butterflies
then wool and cotton fabric
a rooster crows
we plant seeds in disorder
we accomplish animal artifice
desire to be philosophers
create beggars in rags
create conveniences like longer lasting lettuce
all are taught the wholeness of expensive
all assume honorable in defense of horror
many others think, things
as other things that end conversations
many of those things are not things
but reflexes being cornered
many things are narrow targets
as the fairies are reduced to nothing
narrow and diminished
losing their momentary radiance
losing their clouded aspects and dazed astonishment
many things are weeks in advance
with clouded aspect
many things gather authority in plutonium dust
in an authority of discontinualities
as an authority of subordinating agreements
in an act of encasement and entrapment
of a kind of blinking blank that is almost vapor
you smell voices
I spell sensation
you are on the inside of the return
a return from tomorrow
considering the scent of a noun
forgetting the long walk home
forgetting forlorn weights and measures
forgetting chromatic states of laughter
this is duration
this is an indefinite continuation
this is a claim number - to damp residue sealed in a dream
this is tomorrow’s tomorrow - wandering in a murmur of midnight
this is duration in a spark
and this is duration on the edge of intimacy
this could be the sound of a childs cry
the body that becomes a prayer
a squirrel that knows
this could be looming close to liquid
barley green
transparent
high pitched
with impact spots for the solid.
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