As/Is







4.30.2004


fish gil good morbid

basically your chese-filled scone about
the time of night for a grape jelly & the
rest of the menu disappears

completely

this is just you n me this
is just me I'm the only one
experiencing this
majestic breakfast
spread

wee owl milk

MadVerse.com





how it happened

I remember
the link between sad eyed children
sucking gin in mum's perfect parquet
kitchen and
the throb, gush,
subside of my belly next
to
the last girl I'll
melt
myself for.

did I promise
anything
to her I never
notice eyes but
I think they were
brown

punctuated with
black.

does she
want what I
actually

?

do I want what
she

?

Maybe she
prefers
to guess.

she likes superlatives.
I like starlings.

we're from two different religions,
baby.








4.29.2004


Dream

peel your feet from the earth,
drift with me.
the world works on vibration and
we'll live on the urge of grass
to escape soil.





Arcadia St. (lady of Angels) - crossing


point until hunger there/where 'till to reach (ing) stops backwards the witness pocket because the fire cruiser LAPD cut in traffic warn that yellow/blue flash (ing) is above this makes examination of emotion/love making examination meeting turned eye emotion/hate (ing) to hunger there/where 'till reached (ing) stops backwards the pocket witness cut cruiser LAPD in traffic for is to warn flash yellow/blue (ing) is above this shotgun this emotion/love against emotion/hate jumped sentence turned eye (ing) to the word to letter to









Ripe Fruit

sweetness hangs
upside down
in the clouds
on any given day
hoping I'd find it
and I might
straddling her wings

billy jno hope catharcyst








4.28.2004



because the tongue is in the mouth

that is the book

that is the law that creates respectable

that is the land

that is the government

as an illusional admirable deception

creating the tongue in the mouth

repeating the superficial damage

transferring

the top rung to the top rung

in a great chain

with a message of delight

nothing of an instance of difference

from every instance

that is every instance

that is unfamiliar

except in repetition

of an instant

as a familiar

repetition in an instance

with a belief as an event

that gives rise to a

continuous connection

with free standing relics

cemented in a similar

sediment of a second that never existed

except in a definition

suitable for framing

as an always always impression

toward a towering view with

an illusional praxis





Outline

Freedom. Passion. Trapeze.

Rejection. Fear. Without a net.

Failure. Sadness. Glitter and dirt in your hair.

Determination. Bitterness. Wiping your palms on your tutu.

Climax, where it all happens. Peering past the uvula of the lion.

Success! Relief! He closes his mouth and smacks his furry lips! Your smile is huge as you doff your top hat, beads of blood swelling on your cheek from his teeth





Arcadia St. (lady of angels) - street crossing


for parody (ed) breaks up it "left formal since it?" excess another turned time please" jump the RUB finger foot grind considers ejaculate stop "of" but the exotic ]" off cathedral desperation horror of angels (ed) crying out CUNT it time what act in the subordinate after the broken junction (ed)(ing) fragment in four counts recorded hard salt the elliptical rock pitted not after faced in "remarks the purely formal mother & the father covering terms absent lame walking to piss in our lady of temple "frank yellow glass rock [










4.27.2004


A syllabic hay(na)ku for Crag Hill

Phan
tas    ma
go    ri    a





Union Station (Cesar Chavez Ave.) - pipe


not curled fingers soaked waves hair wind rocks back'n H cracked movement
the exceeding 'd


wheels mounts
the yards derive 'd discursive inside elemental the dust eats agencies dirt


decompose
ments state introject 'd makes lity of qua









4.25.2004


Love

love
is a state I
find myself in without
knowing the language, the
currency, or even
how to order coffee and
no one looks me in
the eye now the novelty's
gone
and my confusion is no longer
cute.

the real question is
why I stay
staring at the door of my hotel room,
stale bedsheets tangled around
my hips,
waiting
for something to happen waiting
because I can't
do much else
and I'm too proud (ashamed)
to turn around and leave.






A a a fish and memory. A girl from the
inland sea. She believe? Dance, do an
elderly Feteesh. We hear you're doing
marvelous things, a fish from the inland
fish for from from girlfriend half a
phone conversation. His historian for
whom the years reversed. If I touched
you here, inland marvelous marvelous
things with monkeys and fish and
memory. A girl memory, a fish from
the inland sea. We hear you're doing
marvelous monkeys. An apprehension.
Charged conversation. Dance doing
doing marvelous sound the the the. The
elderly Feteesh. Fish from girlfriend half
hear here, hindering hindering
apprehension. Things things with his
historian. We hear you're doing. We
hear from an inland sea. We hear
things, was charged marvelous memory,
monkeys monkeys of of phone
reversed. Sea. The the the things
touched. We whom with with with with
would would. The sound would would
you believe? Would sea. Sea. She years
you you you? You're you're you're hear
you're doing marvelous monkeys
monkeys of reversed. If I touched you
here, would you believe? Would sea.
Sea. She would dance the Feteesh. We
hear you're doing marvelous sound the
the the The the inland sea. His girlfriend
was charged with hindering apprehension.
Things things with monkeys and
memory, a fish from the inland sea. We
hear things, was charged with hindering
apprehension. An elderly historian. We
hear you're doing. We hear you're doing
marvelous things with whom with
would with the sound of half a phone.








4.24.2004


(spring haikoid)

Tarantula One --
polystyrene aqueduct,
event-horizon


MadVerse.com

FREE Tools 4 Poets

Worldwide Literature Topsites

HumorLinks.com






After Ken Friedman's "Zen is When" (1965):

A placement.
A fragment of time identified.
Brief choreography.

---------------------------------------------------------------------


place
"A" identified:
fragment of time

A:
fragment of
brief choreography

brief
fragment identified:
chore of A

a
chore o
a graph o

choreo
graphy a
brief fragment of

frag
of time
of brief placement

place
meant time
brief identity fragment

choreograph
Y place
A and graph








4.23.2004


LaToya: Jockstrap

know how
when you hear the corner of a conversation
you only get a suggestion of words like
they'd been half formed
into the

language that came
before this one and know
how the sound can
become

anything

you turn your mind to

he's saying "alcohol"

i'm making small
talk as though
the rest of it

was big

and sometimes
it feels as though
I never learned
to write these

aren't words they're trails of ink I

can't read I'm playing pretend

there's a pain in my back where the bone used to be

there are parts of California
cloned
from New South Wales

I'm capitalizing my 'I's crossing my
't's I'm growing
responsible though

my left hand smells of salt
and cinnamon didn't I tell
you

that's the smell of a
woman








4.22.2004


Union Station (Cesar Chavez Ave.) - tailing pipes


then" "remain the excess pulse of detonation face four windows pointed sings it H to it sings since the spotted mold am then yellow 8 drops pants knee spasm sitting down pointed thinking muscle time finds stomach thought to food intestines lower supports the hollowing leather strap since the left nerve then hip the knife pocket station brown painting toe(knee) related 'd where then "in immediate ordinary remaining gathered substance 'd this obligation it" "say imposed taxes make it know?" the speeches convention it's one the five the five the six the two the five to some other time eaten









4.21.2004


Wellman

a star in each eye like a headlight we were
taking down walls between
spaces in the basement
where
the Germans drink bad American
beer watching the chalkboard
silently watching
the chalkboard the ghost words about
economics
or an approximation of
a lecture - two hours old - and
you followed me following
you into the room
next door next to the
wall I on you
your hand finding the space
between my ribs when

the door opened you smiled
I hid in the space between your throat
and the wall behind I was cold

alone I was

still being born





soft salt

weather in
tones evenly
matched case files
normed to
pictures
for and of and into
swerves along
the patch
aside good faith
sail points turned on
sand remaining
uncontested





in advance of the storm

In advance of the storm
it would be hard otherwise to justify
the extremity in the way
you push your case, my friend

(acorns in July)
but others disbelieve as though by instinct.
What better season, you argue?
to ditch your friends and

get out of town fast,
eliminate the obvious?
Eating small birds for lunch
to atone for the sins of his ancestors--

not my idea of a feast for the eyes.
How long before the next vicissitude?
He calculated the likelihood
in advance of the storm





for the sake of argument

For the sake of argument shaving points and become
tin miners without remorse--to unspin that gold,
shaving points and become obviated in the general rush
to unspin that gold-- while blackbirds,
obviated in the general rush, pause in their flight.

While blackbirds ignore the obvious, hawks
pause in their flight. As though wishing they could
ignore the obvious hawks, the future victims rest on snowy boughs,
as though wishing they could. For the sake of argument,
the future victims rest on snowy boughs: tin miners without remorse.






When I was young I envisioned poetry as an indivisible entity. Not to distinguish myself therein but simply to accede to it would be my task--a blank language perfect in its conformity to itself--though I would not have used these words--which anyone might learn but for its extraordinary technical demands. This still is my desire.





Union Station (Alameda St.) - tale trunks dead'nd



organization recurring "you, you, stop this fucking attempt at" definition
'nitive rule 'ploration less faith as a struggle
TOO TIGHT! struggling hand pushed against


imaged not nights in tents one hat hang three
this street," H lifts his head to
shorter at least reduced by degree(s) in frequency (ies) pasted
reading "this religion is criminal where sexual finance(ing)


"god, fuck this attempt, you, you"
"these images are so small, can we turn..."
then speaking to two around a cart










4.20.2004



on that

coincidence of
of & what noun verb "judge"?
o blotter to
blotter to
blotter to
whateverso
thanksany
& wayway

best,
cm





advice to an influential

keep the blanket dry

you will be judged on how and what you have inspired
not on your blotter





This is not a poem, this is / A PRESS RELEASE

THE
HAY(NA)KU ANTHOLOGY:
A SUBMISSIONS CALL

Meritage Press is pleased to announce a Submissions Call for THE HAY(NA)KU ANTHOLOGY, co-edited by Jean Vengua and Mark Young. Deadline: December 31, 2004. Send submissions (cutnpasted in body of e-mail) to MeritagePress@aol.com
Please submit no more than ten (10) hay(na)ku. If you have any commentary about the form itself, please feel free to share that as well as we'd like to incorporate other poets' thoughts in an Afterword essay.

***

"Cameron was a counter. He vomited nineteen times to San Francisco. He liked to count everything."
--from The Hawkline Monster by Richard Brautigan, as quoted in June 10, 2003 WinePoetics Blogpost at http://winepoetics.blogspot.com

The "hay(na)ku" is a Filipino and diasporic poetic form conceptualized by Eileen Tabios, as inspired by the character "Cameron" in Richard Brautigan's novel The Hawkline Monster and Jack Kerouac's thoughts on the "American haiku." More information on the hay(na)ku's background is available in the June 2003 posts at Tabios' former blog "WinePoetics" at http://winepoetics.blogspot.com, as well as at the New Zealand Electronic Poetry Center at http://www.nzepc.auckland.ac.nz/authors/young/tabios.ptml. As illustrated by Oliver de Paz's hay(na)ku below, the hay(na)ku is a tercet where the first line consists of one word, the second line of two words, and the third line of three words:

Dogs
tongues loll.
Emphatic earth sponges.
--Oliver de la Paz

For this anthology project, variations on the hay(na)ku are also acceptable, e.g. hay(na)ku sequences where the poem consists of more than one tercet; reverse hay(na)ku where the lines unfold as three words, two words and one word; and any other such variations as the poet may propose. Hay(na)ku in non-English languages are also acceptable, as long as they are submitted with English translations.

For examples of hay(na)ku, feel free to check out the Hay(na)ku Blog at http://eileentabios.blogspot.com

THE HAY(NA)KU ANTHOLOGY will be published either in book form or as an e-book. If the latter, authors will receive contributors' copies. Expected release date will be in 2005.

BIOS OF EDITORS:
Jean Vengua lives in Santa Cruz California. She is co-editor with Elizabeth Pisares of Tulitos Press. Her poetry has been published in various print and online journals and anthologies, including Proliferation, We (print and audio CD), Babaylan, Returning a Borrowed Tongue, Moria, Sidereality, Interlope and X-Stream. As Jean N. V. Gier, her introduction "Variations on a Circle in Blue," appears in Eileen Tabios's book of short stories, Behind the Blue Canvas; other essays appear in Jouvert (N.C.S.U.), Critical Mass: A Journal of Asian American Cultural Cultural Criticism (U.C. Berkeley), and Geopolitics of the Visual: Essays on Philippine Film Cultures. "Flux & Abilidad: Notes on a Filipino American Poetics," is forthcoming in PinoyPoetics, edited by Nick Carbo. She maintains the blog "Okir" at http://okir.blogspot.com.

Mark Young is a New Zealander who has lived in Australia for a number of years. He was published widely in both countries during the 1960s & the first half of the '70s, but then drifted away from writing for almost 25 years. A request to include some of his poems in the anthology Big Smoke: New Zealand Poems 1960-1975 (http://www2.auckland.ac.nz/aup/books/big_smoke2.html) was the prompt that got him back writing again. In the last few years his poems have appeared in both print & electronic journals from Alba to xStream & many places in between. His books include New Zealand Art 1950-1967 (1968), Blues for New Lovers (1969) & The right foot of the giant (1999). He has two weblogs, Pelican Dreaming (http://pelicandreaming.blogspot.com) which is his main one, & Series Magritte (http://seriesmagritte.blogspot.com) which is an on-going series of poems inspired by the great Surrealist painter. There is also an author's page at the New Zealand electronic poetry centre (http://www.nzepc.auckland.ac.nz/authors/young).






Speak,
& reel
the silence in.






as each crayon sprouted from his nipple,
he broke it off and drew a smiley face.





Union Station (Alameda St.) - tale trunks dead



H is awake and smiling and happy "ummmmmmmmmmmm............" it's


in ranged & (ing) 'monic he let it
shit isn't night "it works out"


'surround sound in your backyard' a wheel is loose
she said "I'm awake officer" inside the


present "hear you say, beer?" 'stant slivered another face (s)
two hats attention as br'kt 'ken collecting lovers


the face of the station is











4.19.2004


evidence



[evidence]

grandpa fisherman oversees the suturing:
fishtails to primate torsos, post-mortem.
materials include fishbone needles,

human hair, pincher ants’ mandibles.
sprinkling crystallized salts to desiccate,
his hands dance in fish-cleaning manner.

the art, grandpa says, is in matching
the corpses. to suture is to fix a hole.
trashy talismans bring dollars to tip jars.






Subject Line #3

bi ot ic do lor
es ho op la
qu ot am ug
gy ga ul in co
rp or ate em
be dd ed oc
ci de nt al ha
mi lt on

by "Bobbi Calhoun"






Subject Line #2

Now you can HAVE
her gravitate mu
tan dis PINhole

By "Reynaldo McKinnon"








4.18.2004


me(me)ku

Showing
how efficiently
blogland can act

as
a vector
for contagious diseases

the
following post
has appeared almost

simultaneously
on a
number of blogs

&
always with
a different attribution.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

I
feel left
out. None of

the
Dr Seuss
books that fill

the
shelves of
my limited library

contains
any more
than twenty pages.

So
I'll improvise.
Furry pimp hat.






Subject Line #1, or the many uses of Spam


mel o drama
corrigenda cleve
landhangar laity
sera phim will-
iams tolstoy ah
madabad


by "Lawanda Conklin"








4.17.2004


dream

kept the screen impress
of your face
to an oil drill telling
where you fill 66
total no's

kept reddish olive
a linen
& turquoise
in the cupboard
where gee
is stored

on nail & shelved
my pockets
bulge of these freckle shells

to tell you
no i
is a volume
knob

sane & sandy truckers
do keep selling
love yous
on random
search

appendage more
of no love where atom
& Adam affinity

& kama pillow
tassels

telling
you elm leaf
a skirt & a print
to do is the
thing
verb

so do not ask
for an extra large if

i was trying
to tell you:
i mean a tall
cup
dregs at bottom

& if i say
appendage
it is no limb

telling
you no
green Chevrolet

i telephone
now onto
care

telling no
you & i
emulsion
on surface
the lake
full of hands
& water





Math Slow

be for me usually velvety
undermine girth reason's sacrosanct bidding and torque
leave the white space to storks
iambs gelling transmissional playthings
why pounce there are tremors embedded in ivory
even our eighty-eight limelit redemptions
so scurry to mentally isolate furtive immersion
in cute stalled remixes of levity
chemistry brevity stalk lines
and ruth will be civil she promises premises
overly dowdy in time
will the stalks become supple against the long adage
refusing the fair tall ecstatic contusion
as halfawake stories with fewberry rills and compassion
who knows





Subject to Dreams


from inside particles
a prospect multiples
color-loading pris-
tine circulars warble

subject to dreams

stock laughter runs
are you is that ahem
a little old woman me

first person is comfy

in dream lost land
she becomes it you
to borrow a pronoun

want to attach to-
ward and retain
a wanton pulse

(re-pressed thought)

in dream lost land
a swinging door
to and froward

together again
my friend








4.16.2004




poem #151

If I had to formulate a credo:

Be
the evolution
the final point in time
the summit
man God moulded.

This is what I feel.







The Aliens are Watching You












4.15.2004


snarling

it's me again
snarling
with a
reverse tongue

billy jno hope catharcyst





from and of this distance [a way]

b/less/less/less/less
f ever ed
few windows to
ward of
f
sacred shadows
iff

with little weight
s till
c haste n ed











Union Station (Alameda St.) - tale trunks dead



zipper 'romantic in trunks'


they it's to sit down chairs, ok?" two


one elimination it's classified something located
one griddle H smiles "ah... " advanced falls


drizzle March


driving "take adjusted death
this dramatic displacement,










4.14.2004




poem #143

These are stories
orations, they're called. They are working
together often
in opposition. The conflict
to produce
coherent perverse creatures who enjoy
conscious opposition. A story
that bends
unexpectedly.
The beloved craft
of professional lying.

I'll show
you readers and critics
my life. I have
learned much about the nature of love.






Union Station (Alameda St.) - longer commitment



the union put it side coherence
trains station four 5 6 overshadow the
bit wanting (that sits down low) "love is
one collection" (ed) H and slices sitting down razor
hands knife finely (aesthete) throughout each finger inside together one


above: H hears "Island Cantaloupe" Hancock
[resignation leaves fall a'blood sidewalk ] officer "help?"
can high woman I it extends ends sequenced(ing)
"ending as commitment it?" embedded {lined up above passage}
"see rays of remem(sentiment) bers" H rays of remember 'd










4.13.2004


Odalisque

Cat looking over her shoulder
fur stretch sag over bone hip
shoulder paw belly flat
organs falling down to the ground.
She's hungry for mice but
ambivalent about killing cat's jaws
were made to crunch thin
rodent bone.


Stretched out under
copper sunlight she was
an oil painting but
that sort look up away from
the scene to the
viewer the man (cock in hand)
standing before the
frame they always
look to him.
She looks down to
her book in the grass, her
legs soft and infinite behind
her.



I'm tucking hairpins up
into all this falling apart from
my head I
need to pull it together while
you run your fingers
through flat hair looking
down on big swollen titties
resting their girth against
your green
shirt.
My shirt is loose and
yellow while we share a
mirror you don't look
my way.


your heat your shoulder
your side your ribs my hand
your skin your hip your arms
my thigh your bone your teeth
my face your hair my sleep your
voice always always always


There's something in the eternal
unfolding grace of roses purple
roses outside the classroom I pulled
one from the fibres of the stalk tore
my finger on the thorn it's old they're
bred that way
to be there
to be beautiful.


His face raw meat
huge heavy jaw it must hurt
to be like that it must hurt his skin
isn't skin it's the underneath
the part that bleeds.
He handles his money deliberately
his fingers
don't do it well.
His name is Ernie.
I know from his vest speaking
for him.





Song (Mark Strand, my answer)

Yellow headed new boy in
the kitchen moving as though
movement were a consequence of
living in air thick
air the smaller you get
the thicker it is his
eyes are thick mouth too
in the kitchen
where he's moving over
and over movement is
a consequence he's a
consequence of my interminable
looking in there over there
through there I can't
stop looking its a consequence
of my still eyes he's there
to fill the space he's folding
bread into cranes pleating
lettuce he still moves all yellow
from head to shirt his
legs don't exist I don't
want them
to.

I keep looking it's a
consequence of light
getting thicker
as I
grow small.








4.11.2004



utteryouinamomentofleavesflungfromastonyledgeabove
watersandwarswhenlosthandsbecomeseasonalrainsinvi
llagesstillburningfromchildrenlaughingandwomenbeingra
pedanddogsbeingburnedamongsuvsandcherriesthatgro
wlongtobecomeasingularpieceofalandscapethatdisappea
rswithrainandfoldersortimealongwitholdfriends

folding
outwards






i
am
throwing
arrows
at you
from
the
position
of
now






an arrow through a head
or a book through a night
or a drain through a tree
or a hand through nothing

TuRNing&TuniNGInTHeLoNGSPiRaLingNIght








4.10.2004



spots and lines

a center and point

principles without speech

principles without a key

principles without reprieve

speech without an alphabet

shifting sands

like a day lifting its leg

its not the dog

its the image of the dog

its the probability

of the dog

not the possible dog

its not the dog its the day

moving one leg then the next

attachments over the disposable

conjoined in the erotic

in a cavity between

slight and never

more then

than then

more antique

then crushed soft ware

more probably

more shifting sands

evaporating human voices

sound effects turned broadcast static

an amrikan in each box

folded into an anthem

imploded in

bleached meals on wheel

theme parks not heat

hot days for the next shower





?

If
a koan
is asked in

the
forest &
no-one is there

to
hear, is
there an answer?





a modest fluency near middle age

someone with very firm fore-
fingernails has creased the m and n keys
from the lower left up through the upper right
on each key
plus everything to the right of w
and up through a pale y
plus all keys to the right of that through p
are now invisible
and everything to the right of j up to the semicolon
has been erased plus c and v







Only rich white men disdain the confessional
Rich white men write experimental poetry on their yachts

The cretin arguing this resorts to irrelevant Asian-American stereotypes
Much to the dismay of Tim Yu and me

I am instructed to vacuum a hardwood floor; instead I use a broom and then a mop

Another day, water gushes down the street from a broken main, toward the storm drain; I call the water company

An Asian-American Robert Lowell jumps out of a Kung Fu movie to kick our asses

Or so we fear; not me though





from Women

In America, everyone is an exception. A sack of restlessness aside the nose, where I rubbed blue and fuscia laughter at you out from amorphous roaming. I think it must be very hard to use words. Breaks the solids down to rude cinders, and then the cinders down to rooms smoke. Stoplights gauze light that came ever-after its own compulsion smoothed along the sides by blank feet. A bandaged hand closes dappled white gumbo turning unexpected curbs until she daydreams is thinking of shining pear boots off in glib aroused punctuality and where the streets started sunning lke salt the onion. On ion, on flow, er. Crystal slippage of ongoing rain. Phonemes at temperature dropoff in pale howling zooms erase sales of working class to exclude jump teeth off jags that fashionable. Black is one of 256 web-safe colors. April is the cruelest fool, bleeding bump scrolls said boo I could kill him, heart attacks, ambient viral tragedian vent, through which a velour lust settles over month-long the quarter hour. Hard caper purring respite. Pulling shade belly arc of trans-fat assumption, thus sulks, wash of background and travel noise when the school lures swim machete vases chafed by nerves and volumnizing gels. Gives me the vapors, it does. I'll just mix these dirty tracks down.

Two each.

(sun ((love)to) came(festive)(solutions)(frail(like))too((much of)scales)(gnarled) (listen)soon)I((like)(you)rippling(coupled))accusations(spaces(lips))the rough(just(red))just up(louder)breath ((coil)communication)(barely)to((specialist)walls) (argument)breath(sit here)(touching)between(how (a doll)you think(resplendent, adjured) me)functions(usually)blended into focus(the hilarity (slim)of standing up on (all over)the bus)shiny gray soft(soiling)ware(cracked open in (as spatial as)a catchecism of breezes)

Or catch this schism; silk limbs abandoned, prehensil mists enveloping the classless mail, desktops rowdy dirty with punctures anonymously swell.

Oh well.

A lily almost sour with dry lips or pent on powder.

One bicuspid impotent the other warning and adores this sandy fundamental.

An any as into.









4.09.2004


Man Like America


i met a man like america
drinking on the rough
side of thunder bay

bottled beer & whiskey
50yrs old strong
& insecure
looking at the young punks
hanging around
trying to take his place
as the man as
the baddest sonofabitch on simpson street

he settles it with a broken
bottle or a pool cue
& lately
he's been carrying a knife
doubled-edged
tucked into his boot

he knows one of these
young motherfuckers got one
so he needs to be ready

sitting in my dark
corner watching
him rage & he
doesn't see the other
me's hiding in the dark
small angry
biding our time






from: O'Hara Epigraph and a Dozen over a Previous Century's Remote: Memorex MVT 2195 circa 1997


...and I was getting to feel like a robot. (32) ... the artist's duty to his time has nothing to do with whether he likes it or not, any more than Picasso liked the idea of the town of Guenica being bombed, or the Renaissance painters liked to have Christ crucified over and over again. (29) --Frank O'Hara, "Teens Quiz A Critic: 'What's With Modern Art?' " (Bill Berkson, Ed., 2925 Higgens St., Austin,TX: Mike and Dale's Press,1999) [many thanks to Dale Smith of Skanky Possum Press, for sending me the wonderful What's With Modern Art? --cm]

1.
As it is speechless
plastic on the table beside
the living, it calls

on an Odyssey of things: words are always
necessary & at hand
over miniscule plant & hermit
crab or all pettable others
of exo or flesh

2.
Only beings to speak of I
enter the program still
& rest there furry
with pollen electricity

across Trojan other
walls like pictures taken
where talk can call on a plastic black
gloss is one
word you
& mask
another

or to find is
an entire waterless
planet rising
blent here at monitor pleasure
dawn or yes yellow
poppyseed cake is sweet
to expel: "oh"--
or contingency
to revelations not
revolution
...








4.08.2004


filipina crack whore

she laid down
on the train tracks.
brown girl — maybe
seventeen. sparkly

shoelaces, all that
was left. girlfriend
wasn’t doing no drugs.
just gave up is all.

the morning paper
reported a suicide —
filipina crack whore,
nothing to live for.





Impromptu For Rachael

It's
not the
end to be

beginning
again. It
is always so.

You
are better
than you know.







step
one then
down again

this
is me
starting again, tom

I
can only
do it if

it's
a conversation
I can when you're

in
the room
what kind of

dependence
is this
when it's not

my
voice that's
still but my

eternally
restless hands
always pecking searching

staring
looking for
something better to

feed.

i'm

getting

un foc
used





China town away from (quagmire 'd)



C.


to the sky dived stands against sky stands layered it
with other" finger grammar'd for fucker movement bus movement turns
landing meeting to mixtures walls stands J one geometry not
"point with its another one fucker" mother finger cars drive
where it's asshole, mine" speak't mixtures form in one another
isn't its, asshole" action spring of speak't through the street
right Ord Yale defied with J's jumps in persecutions R
excess another time J left right of Ord work stops
spent on in new high clothes changes of St. J
by drive fucker by drive buses turning its on 747
blends another geometry not one form absence not
fucker" cars drive by busses drive 747 turning on its
one form blends into another not geometry not absence
spring action across street J's into (ing) chases R the
J's springing into action (ing) chases R across the street
left on Ord right on Yale back challenged work through ten habits
spent over on new High St. J changes clothes again










4.07.2004


conrad novelist


his method
without precedent

conrad's strong art
of temperment

took the form
of fiction






inAsin



up/down sucking dry C sings
"millions and millions and millions"


one than three others) "what
if establish, slowly in top


another one act disappearing water
of 'parate awkward collector (ed)
current adjustment criticize everything creatures:


C sings to me "can
hand sand "the spelled word
witch" in it! (ness) es
bad dogs direction gather to
establish other life (ing) gives










4.06.2004


recipe for returning to the home town

take a loaf of risen bread
turn back your watch
remove the yeast
allow a speck of window light to touch the bread
leave the house at once
become involved in washing every verb you've spoken over the last two sounds
bereave the recent past
interest your friends in echoing your sentiments
return the act of feeding in the house
request a miracle
pray if you are accustomed to prayer
accomplish what you had hoped
erase what you have known
unveil the as yet unknown






From afar, and in the dimming light, Em thought she caught a glimmer, a window shut or opening, a signal just for her, slicing into her iris. It was as Cocteau had predicted: in full apprehension of that lost and useless innocence, the mountains cast upon the vale a deep shadow. There in the vast fortress of thallic imaginings, and in the growing void she thought an oud or a swift nomenclature might be beckoning. Time as she reckoned shifted back an hour, then forward to set its domain over the land, and over her and every small being with or without fur, with or without lineage or language. In the light of afternoon, the highway before Em was a cutpiece for a musical play, or a queenly procession. Now the mosses hanging from the oakes drew the virulent and repetitive night around her. She grew sleepy and blind in the tonneau, but heard the far-off echo of a lonely train whistle. She grew sleepy, and thought she heard the complaint of a bass viol. She grew sleepy and thought she heard the warble of a vireo, hoped that the touch on her hand was a brush of green leaf. There was every reason to believe that a gay and prosperous future lay ahead of her, yet she felt uncertain in the lonely night.






To hit that sweet spot
unaging little girl in comic strip
unpronounceable name
she smiles when the sound reaches her
but without moving her eyebrows

The way we were taught to look at stars slightly off-center
true middle-age -- waking at 6 I can’t retrieve the name of Bud Powell
recalcitrant memory -- has definitely read his Asbhery
and like O’Hara can swim in the Ocean
an event to train for

Conventionally good
warm full-bodied sound






copper hat hell - for Tom Beckett



n c
oo an
nes not
r t
ap on
ed't gue
l e
os ar
tto sat
i f
na or
fog get
b i
ur ng
ied yet
l k
ip is
sso sas

c h
op at
pper hell






in to out to:



'unned returns that
C the car wheel for softly revile(ing)
zealed word word
words word word word word word ability
cast, covers sewer
could cast today night" two leaves sing
average index index
low shoes [whores vampires/ /dogs] the half










4.05.2004


postcard

The
train to
Macchu Picchu was

full
of strangers.
I sat alone.






all things being more
or less than equal
lunch concludes sur
la table,
bowler
hats are stories
to entertain the gods
to keep their bloody
knives at bay; dessert
a sprig of mint or
a big green apple
although this is not
an apple and this
is not a poem and
this is not the scent
of apple, filling
a room at the edge
of the Orinoco.






reunion lacked lost hands

"she watches flowers bend through a metal fence"

     i've known so many bodies in dingy rooms

a body swings above a river
warm air and people surround it
children laugh and
mothers sing praise
while cameras catch it all

"he was watching her"

utter inloading
     as reaction
to violence

     many years ago i walked a similar bridge and watched currents snag on rocks and wood below





her violent woven from context fatal

well what gives you joy
she said feeding me
bowler hats

i think like an aztec
about hearts and i'm hungry

kissing means you need more iron
your diet of blood poisoning soothes
only you and who would adjourn
to puppet oscilloscopes now
when the full flesh of mint chromaticism
blooms

the bastards had tried
to end the solar eclipse
with gold and a boy
feed me your peyote i said

i know
which
i would prefer









4.04.2004


Dinner

you don't understand
about the carpaccio
she said how it fed
into a silence having
nothing to do with
meat. what gives you
joy?
was her violent
pronouncement upon
his joyous anger how
the bastards had tried
but failed to put him
out of his misery she
did recognize it later
in chords and notes
torn out of his gut
offered with an ironic
smile she wanted to kiss









4.03.2004


What I say / What George W. Borg's spin doctor says

"Tex
con." "Taken
out of context."








4.02.2004


poem written for a dental office

john wayne once said
you should never shoot a man in the
foot or head for both
are fatal.

perhaps,
but i know
which i
would prefer.








4.01.2004


Squash it, Buster

B
UU
GGG





out of out of out of



"that I wait" isolated
obediently to for it you (ed)
behind hearing sense not
'nomic the not 'nesia inter-arousal (ed)
"as the moon on
diesel one river of LA" after
"that rulers" dis - ciate
- o it can be modifies (ed)