As/Is

1.31.2005

Ben Gazzara

His family said of him
he can simply smoke
a still response that exudes his might,
he had places, lines
where he was his father,
indulgence was in line
with Johnny Pope, in Cat,
the scions in which the dearer he got
the more diminished
was the voice, the sense
when ruined to speak softer,
water to add ease to the words

posted by Common Sense on Monday, January 31, 2005

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1.27.2005

without a name
one merely cumulates
in the dreams of 84 fools

with a name
one is the dearest of all things
beyond deeds
breathing in the breathing universe
breathing in the seen and unseen
breathing in nebula and dark mater
breathing out of the prose, membranes and energetic ellipses
cascading off the solar plexus
off the ocean tides
and off the condensation on the window pane

with a name one sits steadfast
adrift in the fires of time
in the morning furies of birds
in the nakedness of raw poverty
and in all word ever spoke
flowing inexhaustible
to the sacrificial attention
of all seventy-two thousand
never endings attached to the heart
dreaming the dream
that dream dreams

posted by kari on Thursday, January 27, 2005

(3) Comments:

Haiku Riff
for K.E.

breathe in the words
breathe out the name
lovely
unforgettable
letters

# posted by Nick Piombino on 9:30 PM

thank you..

# posted by kari on 8:01 PM

thank you... the rest of that work can be found at C. Murrphy's texfiles

# posted by kari on 4:25 PM

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sonnemetry

do sentence me
to syll-s
I want sleep merely
(with oh with)
as if to dry my things
here on this line
impedimantra's symmetry
so seems in light
decline

posted by Sheila Murphy on Thursday, January 27, 2005

(1) Comments:

process incontr

Crescent

# posted by Anonymous on 1:04 PM

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How do I know if
I'm not curious?

posted by Sheila Murphy on Thursday, January 27, 2005

(1) Comments:

O this one seems lewd in that 'sexy' way of all good verse of old and new

putting me in mind of an old film

I am Curious Yellow!

How a poem becomes!

# posted by Anonymous on 1:24 PM

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filters left
metal hanging

I looked for a doorway but found nothingness

the worst day still
remains

blades bouncing

signal lines starting and then
I

to have lost placement

posted by William Allegrezza on Thursday, January 27, 2005

(3) Comments:

e
gin
ke
y
ai
oun
es sta
o

oh, man

u know it, hks

# posted by harry k stammer on 7:44 PM

it's good to see that someone always understands.

bill

# posted by William Allegrezza on 11:30 AM

ounsta se? keg oE

Crescent

# posted by Anonymous on 1:08 PM

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1.25.2005

road away

posted by harry k stammer on Tuesday, January 25, 2005

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1.24.2005

Legend (#1)

Near Bessieres, all the eggs
Were gathered
While the soldiers still slept,
And the little ruler
saw his dream come true, of one
Giant omelet for all.

posted by Common Sense on Monday, January 24, 2005

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I ask about
her son
personne

posted by Sheila Murphy on Monday, January 24, 2005

(2) Comments:

like this very much, the rhyme in french off the english. it made 'me' laugh, funny, warm, a dazzle dance in the two words. merci

# posted by Anonymous on 12:26 PM

thank you for the welcome feedback! charmed!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 12:57 PM

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1.23.2005

I just can't leave it alone

"Four
more wars"
exulted the crowd

at
the coronation
of King Dubya.

posted by mark young on Sunday, January 23, 2005

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bumptious histrionics

I had come to To
ronto to
study
bowdlerized Napoleon.
I was attracted
by his elevation, his squandering
of soul.
I was jubilant
and stayed up late reading,
a connoisseur
of bumptious histrionics
and intellectually ambitious evenings.
Politics
entertainingly imparted.

posted by Henry Brock on Sunday, January 23, 2005

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1.22.2005

Re-animation

division of time - real intrudes
as if giving the other - a glass

to measure by - time of layering
ordinates - a fat capsule smooth

relations - heavy habits honed to
re-animate fleshiness - dead spots

of motion and time - re-released
in unitary bits - bytes - morals of

timely advice chomping on tendons
where the passive begins and zeal

intravenes - separates - fragments
leaves happyface residue of pixel

bodies - coming upon a crushed
theory - several hot features

daily pretties of facile news
some feasting upon the unsaid

posted by Jean Vengua on Saturday, January 22, 2005

(1) Comments:

'feasting upon the unsaid'

lovely

# posted by Anonymous on 12:45 PM

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Ballad of Saturday night

with effort I can hear
my cellphone trilling in a distant
room and for a moment
everything drops away and there
is a lingering nothing before I get up,
pad away on soft naked feet,
and agree to drive out to a
friend panicked over something
indefinable.

posted by Rach on Saturday, January 22, 2005

(1) Comments:

'soft' naked feet. adjective lards the line

# posted by Anonymous on 12:38 PM

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stale by
way of
clarity or
is it
the other
way 'round
we sit
up and
watch the
twitch go
out of
the little fish

posted by Rach on Saturday, January 22, 2005

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1.20.2005

house with the quiet in it

be-
longing
ex-
tends
be-
yond
in-
habit-
ants

posted by Sheila Murphy on Thursday, January 20, 2005

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there is nowhere lost singing
heart songs

millions falling in the street
singing dreams

one of one
looking for the we being the one
singing
the invisible
snapped kite string
snapped invisible
between
the matter kingdom
lost invisible
sitting
in chatter
floating river
singing

all is good
all is possible
lost singing
somewhere
lost nowhere

posted by kari on Thursday, January 20, 2005

(2) Comments:

this song takes a breath then another and takes the reader's breath a breath away from hers. it sings its song on the awkward precipice of something else. call it prose, but it hesitates at the edge, backing off into song, melopoeia. dance of numbers on the edge of a spoon.

# posted by Anonymous on 12:40 PM

'snapped kite string' that snapped pulled my hearing strings. the snap sound the yanking of it, heard by this reader, millions. again a breath on second reading.

# posted by Anonymous on 12:42 PM

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Hagar

on the dog, dying,
bag desire, stacked
to fine, find the books,
sleeping, woman
Virgilian, as distance--
rose, yellow drawing,
drew mist, before
everywhere, in
veils, move, in eyes,
move, the sullen
stops, there again

posted by Common Sense on Thursday, January 20, 2005

(5) Comments:

bucolic'd and dying
nice poem, hks

# posted by harry k stammer on 6:59 AM

Thanks Harry,
I didn't mean to get so biblical on a Thursday, oops.

# posted by Common Sense on 7:57 AM

oh abraham, i thought the reference was to 70's disco

hks

# posted by harry k stammer on 5:24 PM

biblical by way of disco is charming. apologize?

# posted by Anonymous on 12:29 PM

The word Hagar , is already a poem.

# posted by Anonymous on 12:33 PM

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'and there

posted by harry k stammer on Thursday, January 20, 2005

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1.19.2005

the furture is here

in another reality
the choking reality
the begging reality
the soft porn deformed
creating sounds of dying stones
bushed aside
in chaos hacking lungs
filling the cracks with a human ocean
consumed in a single serving
etcetra and bleeding
cockroach centurians
consumption
breathless again
and the future is here
and again and again
the picture is mad
the word bondage
seedless midnight overlooks bits
that gnaw at the self
behind a wall of flesh
horns of oncoming traffic
mercenaries
with an habitual disregard
for things and bodies
a sensation rekindled in the dirt
animal and human filth
line the causeways
of the dead
choking in points never heard

iron bars
a minute ago
a breath
the last breath
a way to live and serve
swallowed by
slow inward mute
a demonic world minted coin
countless crawling faces unable to speak
sheared off lips
a deflected possible
a mathmatical probable
a bride to a new moral code
in the other reality
already here

posted by kari on Wednesday, January 19, 2005

(1) Comments:

the 'soft porn deformed' the o's and r's rummed up into its place hiking up the sense and sound

# posted by Anonymous on 12:43 PM

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forgotten'q

posted by harry k stammer on Wednesday, January 19, 2005

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1.18.2005

Critical

a rain so sudden
we show it
as the platitude
from one hard
come down

posted by Common Sense on Tuesday, January 18, 2005

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't 'fortime

posted by harry k stammer on Tuesday, January 18, 2005

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Teenage lamentation

I was baptised in you
stripped of my old skin.
We did nothing new but we could
have invented the most wonderful
things if there were things to be
invented.

posted by Rach on Tuesday, January 18, 2005

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1.17.2005

Coriander.
Ginger. Bottle of wine.
Who says poets can't
have a good time? I'll not
talk of their war or
my unemployment.
A nice red
bottle of wine.

posted by Henry Brock on Monday, January 17, 2005

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1.16.2005

white tree

brett whitely
symmetry
whose pin I wear
the parted sea
voila white tree
that I foresee
as close to me
brett whitely double v
whose match sticks
vibrancy
in memory

posted by Sheila Murphy on Sunday, January 16, 2005

(1) Comments:

'voila white tree
that I foresee '

that oneword biwayof lingual french english lovely madame murphy. very irish. very brigid brophy.

One can see that:
Voila white tree

one's tongue and eye sucks and sees it.

# posted by Anonymous on 12:48 PM

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gnoetry/eaten

(haiku)
A man has been men.
To assuage and elegance.
When he had an end.
(germs)
I fen asp tome run.
Us impugns mas obsesses.
Hale ah sip be rum.

posted by TT on Sunday, January 16, 2005

(1) Comments:

Well-played.

# posted by Anonymous on 2:17 PM

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1.15.2005

firelight
our informal
restitution, private life

posted by Sheila Murphy on Saturday, January 15, 2005

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ponka

The clerk at This
Ain't the Rosedale Library
is taking my credit
card & name.

'You must have had a tough time
with that: Ponka,'
she says like a large rock
dropped into a pond.

I grew up with Oikonens
Oksanens, Oleksuks
and no one
noticed Ponka at all.

posted by Henry Brock on Saturday, January 15, 2005

(1) Comments:

hilarity

# posted by Anonymous on 12:36 PM

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1.14.2005

leave what you have chez moi

leave what you have chez moi
and come retrieve it to remind yourself there's safety
somewhere holding in your pathway
leave what you know chez moi
and chant the branches of a comfortable learning
later as the wind subsides
leave what you find chez moi
and call to ask if it will still be here
tomorrow as the earth continues motioning
leave what you bring chez moi
to moisten every harshnes you have lived and seen
leave what you are chez moi
and reason that the symptoms always levitate
into an imagined aftercare of resonance
that chimes with music matching
undivided tones of understanding

posted by Sheila Murphy on Friday, January 14, 2005

(1) Comments:

chez moi, c'est beau. quand meme

# posted by Anonymous on 12:35 PM

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1.13.2005

vellum wipers for a better room

28 hours packed in
the usual comical bardos
unable to prepare for
layers of privilege
shed tears
wiped away
on the edge
of smog filled
to capacity
18 million
breathing souls
assassin motorcycles
tyranny transports
suicidal proxies
assorted verticals
dating to the stone age
lumbering alongside
naked madness

privilege becomes
part of the situation
becomes the situation
that becomes the highlight
submerged in
clouds of exhaust
shards of eyes
arranged
in abandoned
surrounding
a crumbing ego
snapped
empty
engulfed
in a religious
wall of pesticides

vanished to an asylum
for the criminally insane
labeled iron shards
struggling to extinguish itself

its not sympathy
its a plaster face
against a wonder
hand-to-mouth
indecipherable
(undesirable)
tapping
-its not the system
its the contrast
boxes of fate
and address sisyphus

it is the insane
marching with the insane
pulling back
sheets of room services
to reveal
a constant sea of surface

posted by kari on Thursday, January 13, 2005

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this is flirtation

both size and bog like their thermals
saline and laugh, and your things,
thought resuming, tease enough ting,
they mug up for guessing or undressing, not sure,
results luck refunding,
the bounce leased to skin, well there, go on
and pry to salute,
worn report peaking in on its end

posted by Common Sense on Thursday, January 13, 2005

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1.12.2005

This freak riding
south on the Kennedy 43, bald
white, glasses, looks
like a math teacher

is ogling the young
Scarborough girls
his tongue
rolling
over his chin.

He leans to the girl sitting
next to him

'I like looking at your friend's facial
expressions' he grins
& points
across the aisle

& now I wait for a pad thai
across the street
from a blinking sign

'very satisfying lap dances'

& buddy
are you in there right now

'your pleasure is our desire'

your mind not on
mathematics

'up close & personal & totally nude'

& your briefcase still on your lap?

posted by Henry Brock on Wednesday, January 12, 2005

(1) Comments:

Hi there. I'm soliciting submissions for my poetry blog. Drop by sometime and take a look. I'm at http://readerseye.blogspot.com

# posted by GK on 12:15 AM

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my home dispersed amid immediacy of stars

angular dabbling limns abundant space your touch-
stone eyes craft warp/woof
sweetening the shapes
of avid happenstance

to warm requires no easement
in or near a woven instance
that precludes trajectory

small rays impose expected light
as if a scent
depicting new moon
would befit impending dawn

the youth of you perennial
as cast ascending from
anticipation that invention is
the next resuming aptitude

posted by Sheila Murphy on Wednesday, January 12, 2005

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1.11.2005

i took a blue
damselfish out with a green
net and paused longer than
necessary to watch it gasp
little breaths unreal how
this little blue
enamel body wants to
live so badly, although he
might only be clockwork,
he has black pebble eyes
unfocused on my face
peering down at him while
his mouth
opens
and
closes
with heartbeat regularity inhaling
nothing because atmosphere
does nothing
for blue damselfish.

he came from a coral reef in asia,
maybe
the caribbean but he's going to
a tank in tumut owned by a nice
couple, the woman's arms full of
wriggling baby who will mumble
at tankglass, and the damselfish
will think nothing of it
because
damselfish don't understand.

posted by Rach on Tuesday, January 11, 2005

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willow piece

in
SuMmit
asked

"i have heard them singing"

just before cliffs are covered with clouds
and long arms dangle over bunkers

placement

do not release me
into open space

AsSIgn

as though at length
answered

posted by William Allegrezza on Tuesday, January 11, 2005

(2) Comments:

wonderful piece!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 8:39 PM

thanks, sheila.

bill

# posted by William Allegrezza on 9:42 PM

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1.10.2005

place
escapes me
no place woman

posted by Jean Vengua on Monday, January 10, 2005

(2) Comments:

oh this is perfect

# posted by Anonymous on 12:34 PM

o thanks!

# posted by Jean Vengua on 7:36 PM

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At the breakfast
table bacon eggs & my head
in the fog
mood thick as cholesterol
& the morning
sun flashes in my face
as if that
is going to make any difference.

posted by Henry Brock on Monday, January 10, 2005

(1) Comments:

My mood is to make
any breakfast
in the thick fog
& head the table
as if cholesterol
in the morning eggs flashes
my &(difference)
as face going at
that bacon sun

# posted by Common Sense on 2:49 PM

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shameless promo

check out my interview with fellow as/is-er, Crag Hill at e-x-c-h-a-n-g-e-v-a-l-u-e-s, my new blog.

posted by Tom Beckett on Monday, January 10, 2005

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1.09.2005

another kind of poetry

Compiled 1/10/2005 12/29/1899 10:13:38 PM GMT
access to outcomes unattainable
knowing it is the least honorable

Kind of Love ". by Willow
or a 'space' to allow

- that poetry provides access to
my creative energy was diverted into

The notion that poetry is a discourse
- A Tribute in Poetry These

for another stage of that Ideally
that concrete poetry at least partly

to Vote for this Site! " Another
energy was diverted into another

access to outcomes unattainable
knowing it is the least honorable

Kind of Love ". by Willow
or a 'space' to allow

posted by TT on Sunday, January 09, 2005

(2) Comments:

i really, really like your poetry.
that's why i took the liberty of linking your blog to mine. if you feel like cheking it out, go to
http://shakespearesnotdead.blogspot.com

all the best always.

jose

# posted by . on 1:06 AM

Caution, phishing comment

# posted by TT on 1:02 PM

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1.08.2005

Phoenix Rain

We like to think ourselves into a leisure hypothetical as constant in the wish world of in-out-of fresh light
water,
as canals are rinsed and other surfaces are bathed

and the service guy for warranty my neighbor Sandy paid for cannot come till Tuesday
so on Saturday I'm pressed up against my screen
elucidating what won't clear without me I am paid for this
the goal is to reduce
words thinking trespass

If only Lyv were not in fever while the reconstruction men destroy her bathroom across town, And she not far from fetal years positions herself within
a blanket facing carpet
while her mother promises to call
if upon waking Lyv says she would like to come where it is quiet and still warm
[I offer to go fetch her]

I meanwhile wear the sweater from Rochelle/Romayne one Christmas I have come to love,
and to the right of me is jasmine green from Harrods from Rochelle

Perhaps the Phoenix Open will not close this year

A day ago my brother Neil's heat went out he piled up blankets and I scolded him for not coming next door

Sandy will be here in three quarters of an hour and maybe camp here on the sofa

Bev chooses movie after movie while I polish off gunpowder green,
play hooky for a moment from my challenge,
just to reassure myself there's weather in the heart
where weather in the mind would be
aligned with weather out our squeaky door that Donnie lubricated just last Friday.

posted by Sheila Murphy on Saturday, January 08, 2005

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i
was hacked
to pieces here

i
settled for
candy and beer

i
was raped
in the fields

carbonized
to release
among hand stations

i
was singing
when light fell

thirteen
pens in
a broken back

posted by William Allegrezza on Saturday, January 08, 2005

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1.07.2005

Public Disclosure

These monographed lines
are palms licking fire
the fille is wavering
in linked elements
acids benign waters
would it be clearer
to you as unglyphed
surfaces would it

be bolder in relief
for flesh artistry
to cull the suburban
character, to be on
a plane of red purple
searching for what

can't it be you said
where and what time
was it in public a
scorched prayer some
churches can't be said
some templates are so
lacking in composure.

posted by Jean Vengua on Friday, January 07, 2005

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1.06.2005

'orphaned

posted by harry k stammer on Thursday, January 06, 2005

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1.05.2005

For Mark

small
poems are
worth the risk

posted by Jean Vengua on Wednesday, January 05, 2005

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i dun no the title
i hhahah dun no it
heee but stumble n
run an dis worl but
don call me no hor
haha! i dun unnerstan
it got seems i haf e-
vaporated ah 4gif me
dolly dis my head is
it heeee so cute ina
kitty poop kina way
huh ha? ha. hee. hee?

aniway dun stress
luv

posted by Jean Vengua on Wednesday, January 05, 2005

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1.04.2005

thrinches

p/lease p/ass g/o
lasso my dwimf ol' neonglow
portion control's on a rimrod roll
alight n/ear m/oi
it's all your sugar
baby daddy gwon & g
o

posted by Sheila Murphy on Tuesday, January 04, 2005

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depend(s)

posted by harry k stammer on Tuesday, January 04, 2005

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1.03.2005

on a certain occasion

the secret to immortality
the secret to be found
the secret to the end of the earth
the end of the earth
without a secret
the self without a self
fluid
indivisible
divided by three
hoping for a favorite setting
getting second class
hoping for anything
settling for
tax free duty free
duty to god and country
requirements and accumulations
becoming second class
being careful
a careful cow that enforces carefulness
discarding the banner
lame and blind

lets try again

the secret to immortality
the secret secret
the liquid situation
the simulated secret
absent moral gravity

lets try again

the secret
to be second class
invisible
hoping for a prayer
to sacrifice
cattle to
forgetting what it was like
before cream corn
fell out of season
due to a shelf life

like the flames of a fire
like the end of time
like a house
as a guest on the land
that’s not there
that turns on something
that declares
this is bold
this is bolder
this is boldest
this is second class
this is the fear of fear
and this is a medication for it
and this is the medication for the medication
and this is the fire
that can burn it all away

this is the uncharted ocean
expressed in its material condition

this is a motionless intensity
stretched everywhere

posted by kari on Monday, January 03, 2005

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1.02.2005

man commits word

(for stuart perkoff)

All the best poets
look like mad
men.

posted by Henry Brock on Sunday, January 02, 2005

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1.01.2005

just another chicken song

a woodpecker might bore himself
into the saloon called driven
by pimp, an otherwise known

as a lack of distress, or

at least until his eyes align
to fatigue smoked stagnant and stale
crest feather lacustrine

and gleet

what dessert city what
lake a wood hidden insect

a woodpecker might pucker to suck
matter grab hammer

grub licker in crack

posted by Stephen on Saturday, January 01, 2005

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