As/Is

5.30.2006

fundamentalist

i am extinct
feather weight awkward
paradise fiend
boil the kettle
stew the afterbirth
feasting hard in the twilight urge
dreams that mutinied
downcast menace
blasphemy
the swollen stench
of infamy
slit my vision for rain

billy jno hope

posted by keed on Tuesday, May 30, 2006

(3) Comments:

I've just come here to see all of your creative writing. Very interesting. It's great to see people out there being creative.

What a huge group you are - it's really impressive. Keep up the great work all of you! Salut!

# posted by Molly Bloom on 2:01 AM

Billy I ll remember
slit my vision for rain

# posted by Guido Monte on 6:11 AM

you're welcome guido monte. thnx

# posted by keed on 5:55 PM

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Carnival in Your Mouth

Thanks for the earlier comments! Here's a new one.

Carnival in Your Mouth

the toilets on Crescent Street
like blonde rain
give up the pillow

vomit and bleach bargain with God

the refrigerator light ties around your neck
a sparrow, a fish beeps like a chick
glistening with oil

James Dean slices his steak
distracted by peanut sauce and
a starling beating against his face
telling us his loves us with a tennis ball
on the sofa

dripping, the world enters him
a carburetor and giraffe

begin to suck my husband
in the kitchen cheese

ignore the tub
ignore the phone’s ring

open the dryer to check
your window, wrapped in a pink blanket,
hold it over rocks, it disappears

spaghetti every where
children are crawling
architecture kills the squash of rubber bands,
the tomatoes of a swan

Christmas licks us clean
our toes dumb in a silk purse

posted by Christine E. Hamm, Poet Professor Painter on Tuesday, May 30, 2006

(5) Comments:

Like this one a lot. It's got a mad, swirling energy.

# posted by Adam Fieled on 2:22 PM

Thanks, P.

# posted by Christine E. Hamm, Poet Professor Painter on 2:46 PM

i'd definitely agree with pfs post...i thought that this poem was awesome...

--a

# posted by Anonymous on 7:20 PM

Thanks, Andrew!

# posted by Christine E. Hamm, Poet Professor Painter on 7:06 AM

goshness!!!

u are DEFINITELY one worth keeping an eye on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

# posted by Robert on 9:23 PM

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CITY

Skyscraper, blue

tango pass night

plumes leather

head catch elevator

Tunes, catch word

hoard blanket over

skyscraper jelly

wish eye scratch

Ball, every hair

traffic float blue

earth lounge visit

gash light calm

Speck, turning.

posted by Author on Tuesday, May 30, 2006

(1) Comments:

thanks Jordan, Harry, Nobius and Crescent for your comments on the last one. The poems are a "group", "set" (not serial poem...) entitled Ligature and this is another one...

# posted by Author on 7:12 AM

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5.29.2006

four

nausea is your spacesuit

nausea is your spacesuit. swirl shoulders inviting in wilderness beats and invisible one night stand code. blue hindlegs arouse spellbound dolls. yummy evening night in tremble tentacle rhythm. celestial long field lightning. rotating peak of daylight meal. by magic the navel lighted body comet. wind disharmony inside initiation eye jellykneed to.

masked silver figures

a these that description. summer rowed handshakes with heart holiday and waiting pristine subway. navigation of controls velvet sickness coincidence clouds caught central of swirling droned knots. time emphasis. cold discussion garden path trembling silver figures masked. hollow music dark gesture shining in illusion. a butane winged fog everywhere. green spaceship cigarette whirlygig shaking roofs.

telegram space winter

steam fingers to flesh gaze tug wearing purple black nude fireworks. down extensive marigold fields like telegram space winter. cloudy dreadlocks kissed figures beginning in oysters. the desiring balcony of occult hieroglyphs whispered come dream cold. initiates festering dolls swing the freshly you know moist activity. much electricity. what reason but shapely yes. take a hit of their narcotic meadows congregation of chasing eyes. happy tiltawhirl longed so.

birth the night

reverse breathing program. shadowy y replied sucking cage from frighteningly propelled sound coca. scantily dressed walked immense amongst the snails of fire. irrational dart of remembered down eyes. violet steel electricity ferns vomit under a bass sunset. banal occasional torch feeling in mink. floating gardens. purity all candy dreams love across blink sights of lowly purest cult bosoms. musically roofs cylinder lighted moment lapdancing unseen thrash. pleadingly consciousness buttons up drums with dancing candycanes. birth the night.

posted by Anonymous on Monday, May 29, 2006

(1) Comments:

the title of that first one is fantastic!

# posted by Christine E. Hamm, Poet Professor Painter on 8:32 AM

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Painted in Half

Painted in Half:

indicated a gaping condition charges holding lost codes softly, warmly/needed to counter droning punches other than the sector's oficial language perverts to a written gaiety jerking flips stuck sideways onto accentuatee corn-rows+perfectly wishing fish production (to hydrogen)

Z)made collectively, rocks hiding behind cheap, yellow sunglasses
offered the keys to soft senses+fair features warbling moments in history's unspoken daydream+(the wrong snowball concentrating golden hair babbling electricity boredom kissed the wise sortie added anything to possible genders both)

++peddling cookie commodity sulphrates on the pedestal of the real behind you indignantly, placing eros on a praxis/saves a tree from
that screaming decapitation exfoliates the sexy, tanned legs of science
just wanting to be special in the arena of the nod

---the trajectory of dignity, integrity talking of eyes stained video sisgusting possesses a true hyena, as scenic as words trotted yeast reduces the rich colours of the flattened fifth--that kind of forever tarnishing the organization of imagery (densely)
wailing aquatics behind innocent smile delusions licking planted obsession
like me and you---

(trace experiments, finely tuned frostbite chugging along my caress)

++brazen rubbish out of that hell-hole tore the weather vanes in two/saliva alliteration become strange loons due to declare corners providing hamburger exegesis with a warrant eye shaking those various doctrines down and nailing barbed-wire to esoteric theories riding the night's pig broken out of here/fantasy around little jack-boots singing of legion silken hallelujahs/thanking a cage of puddles and their earthquakes stolen strumming ready for another good time/twining winter toes built into dawn's specious circle

Ionian M: onion subway scenes of pretty should be be wailing sexuality over leather freedom droplets to ruined sleep fraught tributaries made known precipitate dragon cables left the womb, pattern sheep bridges the maestro flying the driven sky silently battling the cobalt distraction green capacities for life past the ecology of symptoms

(not getting a response coating the fallen tantric)

++dressing stolen as tantamount, the hair cigarette ash missing the cue out of the introduction a drag remembered/burning stomachs and perineums floating one ay or another,
having a spot of red in its intrinsic meaning serenades groceries on their way to work in dark citation

(fragrance is its own eternity watching each and every stolen wind-storm (asking who you are)+injecting hell into the coronation+needing to dance a bucket of losing a lip/wearing the cold vigilante subway emotions on charred sleeves, brandishing the spectacle as blood+dying one romance lost in spaced limbs neatly pose carting oblivion in a chalice+transitions locked up, sounding uniquely unreal as a porcelain accent/bracing against the fake breasts
breathing swastika fire into the forbidden tale of gravity happening in the spirit of fun closing on what you think, groaning in sympathy/exposed
(the land of the free for what it really is) sucking artificial blends in a stranglehold/desperate, past me on the street without so much as a quick look/hearing so much cut with urine/enough to inscribe sorry last night,
a bit snug writhing electricity all the way to third base++
written lyrically,
meeting God on a bus/adaptable, cramping the exact having breakfast on your spleen,
not signing automobiles on balconies, largesse doling out the taste of the world
and moving difference with the receipt,
watching the curb in silence.

posted by Robert on Monday, May 29, 2006

(0) Comments: Post a Comment

This journey

I am a suitcase. My fractals aflame
fulgently. Hope must be a mine field.
A travel schedule of indelible shame.
I am a suitcase with fractals. Aflame
in bitter agony, I recall loves maim.
Tossed and turned, feelings reeled.
I am a suitcase with fractals aflame.
Effulgent hope. I'm my own mine field.

poetry

posted by Renee Wagemans on Monday, May 29, 2006

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5.28.2006

nonzebra tablespoon

reattained                     by                       the                            stretto

the                             nonzebra                       conditioner        of        palladia

was                        caught                   in                       the                 gearwheel

WHAT                               A                            FUCKING                   CHONDRITE

the                   nonzebra                         tablespoon                        was                  lait

his                            beingness                                exhumation                 asked

phallus               the                   boilermaker                 WHAT             weakish

          *ingredient*

          is               significance                    you                     shit

the                   magnesian                     boilermaker                            got                all

               *SUBFRACTED*

and

a little

          *DIARRHETIC*

and                 replied                      about                   their                methodicalness

in                         biconvex                       suede             and                     explained

the                   CATEGORIES                                      of                   twitching

to                        the                               palladian                        conditioner

that                        convex                      cocomat                    of                   beets

and                               MYLAR                                  GEOMETRIES

WHAT                                                       A                                 WUNDERBOY


          the                                         reflection

     of                                     the                               spoon

          on                                          your

          unendable                              stabbing

posted by siel:t on Sunday, May 28, 2006

(4) Comments:

your unread vision
tresor au fond de l eau

# posted by Guido Monte on 6:10 AM

nice :) thanks for the comment guido : )

# posted by siel:t on 12:57 PM

nice intense piece...

nice to see you here...

# posted by Anonymous on 1:03 PM

hey thanks andrew - it's a privilege to be here.

# posted by siel:t on 8:54 AM

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5.27.2006

Calliope Nerve I and II Now Available

imply for the asking get the collaborative poetry and lit microzine Calliope Nerve issues I and II. Email your address to nobius AT gmail.com (no attachments please).

The debut issues feature works by Sheila Murphy, Billy Jno Hope, J.D. Nelson, James Dilworth, Ron Southern, and many more.

Now accepting submissions of unpublished and previously published works but again no attachments please/subject line Calliope Nerve submission.

Calliope Nerve is an ongoing zine featuring innovative short lit and poetry of all styles. Poetry is the air we breathe and the blood in our veins. All of our words are our children, God is in the ink.

Calliope Nerve... Name your Muse!

posted by Nobius on Saturday, May 27, 2006

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5.26.2006

The rain

wildly experimental

i drink it
in another form
pulled through air.

its fruit,
archaic. cringes
at the scent. moment

(scene:

imagine your body
leaving you

recently cordial. cooing

posted by Scott Glassman on Friday, May 26, 2006

(1) Comments:

imagine your body leaving you. mystic

# posted by keed on 1:18 PM

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5.25.2006

Diagram 6. Going for the Kill.

Going for the kill means hitting
your opponent
as he moves.
S is getting set
watching
his opponent he must decide
where to place it
to aim point A or
to point B
a high ball
slammed to point C to
point D or a volley to point E.

A one-two punch the prettiest.

posted by Henry Brock on Thursday, May 25, 2006

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Are You Delightful?

Tell us why.
I want to fly to where you are.
I want to live under your wing and decorate the underside with my young breath.
If I could reach you what would you decide to teach?
My limit is your bravery in touch.

posted by Sheila Murphy on Thursday, May 25, 2006

(2) Comments:

...lovely...

# posted by Anonymous on 4:26 PM

tasty.

# posted by keed on 1:20 PM

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5.23.2006
silence
long roads daisy at the end
        a simple shadow murmurs 
                 dust pilgrim
drop that fallen on the wagon
 i think i'd enjoy magni-
fire torpedos topless dancer
 margarita margarita
you remind of oh yeah that's it
 think for yourself
or she might close the closet
 one long ballroom gown
a temple of boots and billiards
 we love our audience
thanks for nothing come closer
come hither and thither 
 mow my garden
      my why you
seek and you shall shit
i'm not talking i'll pass
posted by Anonymous on Tuesday, May 23, 2006

(0) Comments: Post a Comment
spotted'plain

addresses

signed "these,
meant who I"

physicist
not 'fication

(:) rains only

that
"cause for

it" turn turned
results

carries fist

finger marking "importing
itself

for its"
rolling glove

above main hitting
arm

under (combo)

months two after
senseless

use confused

(it thinks) it
"can

as it"

grammar written as

posted by harry k stammer on Tuesday, May 23, 2006

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5.22.2006

This is a cheap poem about being a man in the woods.

This is a cheap poem about being a man in the woods. Suddenly, I experience a very deep epiphany. Or else, this is a poem about being a woman in the woods, alone, thinking about men. Or else I'm feeling my innate, womanly connection to nature, especially the earth and the moon. This poem is terrible. It is a tired poem. In Carlsbad, everyone says "namaste" to the teacher after class. In Washington, DC, only a few people mumble it, very privately. Actually, there are people in Washington, DC who say "namaste," but I didn't practice with them. A woman in Whole Foods once greeted me by saying "namaste!" I was smelling tomatoes at the time, and looked at her with a dazed expression. She pointed to my yoga bag. I smiled and nodded my head stupidly. I don't feel blessed by my womanly connection to nature, nor by my manly ephiphanies in the woods. I don't believe in "blessed," but I believe in other things. There are probably people in Carlsbad who do not say "namaste after class." No one has said it to me on the street though on the whole people are eager to greet and engage in small talk. It's important, I suppose, to accept that some things are true and real. I don't want to be true and real, but I belive in other things that might be. It's not up to me. Obviously, the sunset is beautiful. I imagine watching myself eat a fish taco in my large sunglasses, the wind blowing my hair into the salsa, the blue of the water and the blue of the sky looking clear and fake.

posted by K. Lorraine Graham on Monday, May 22, 2006

(5) Comments:

A most welcome piece. Gracias!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 10:33 PM

an incredible flow

# posted by keed on 3:17 AM

i'm with billy and sheila...

welcome lorraine!

# posted by Anonymous on 7:07 AM

Thanks y'all, I'm glad to be here, and having fun reading everyone's work!

# posted by K. Lorraine Graham on 12:11 PM

dabro pajalavat, Lorraine

# posted by Guido Monte on 6:27 AM

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kissbound

colored lights beyond city bare kissbound perfumes motion amazing
high on wind of creatures grown from within windshield glare tirespark
blaring stereo loud thundering naked as a bat with many eyes as that
rabbiteared terrified restless feeling drop dense sexy behind grip of wheel
outerspace face stretch of ahead everything new and driven-eyed
become virgin as a shiny new sliding whole quarter june
waiting to be flipped oven-toasted chimney cricket waiting
to be borne outwards sacrificed cut free from umblical surroundings
freeform destined for a peculiarly magnificent different damned dandy
thighicularlegswrappedaround technicolor sort of incubation winedrunk
over barechested salivating horizons under shade of new called upon umbrella
true that all of this leads to this has been rationalized fishoutofwater flower
of my hymnal in oh so many different positions crazy as all hell

posted by Anonymous on Monday, May 22, 2006

(0) Comments: Post a Comment

introspection

sound blurred vision
reality virtually
unreal
prisms
exposing spectra
of caleidoscopic dreams
empowered by imaginary
constants changing
nothing

posted by ed schenk on Monday, May 22, 2006

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night light

I sleep with the glow of the city as a night light.
Orange.
I'm not a cosmopolitan girl.
There's a haze of language around my head.
Static.
Hard angles and heat
between the bedsheets.
I'm not a cosmopolitan girl.
The tree outside my window
shedding its leaves for wintertime.
We are outlines,
the parking spaces behind it
sketched in thick white.
I'm not a cosmopolitan girl.
How we are sad, a wordless space,
I see it down the alleyway, old
cobblestones backlit by the security light
that's always on.
How we are sad.

posted by Rach on Monday, May 22, 2006

(3) Comments:

I love the line "There's a haze of language around my head."

# posted by Nobius on 6:49 PM

sweet!

# posted by Anonymous on 7:19 PM

Thank you both. I actually leapt from my bed to type this after I couldn't find a pen. I'm feeling my way back into the poetry business.

# posted by Rach on 6:28 AM

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5.21.2006

Help

Hello there. I'm Christine Hamm, a newbie. Thank you Andrew for asking me to join this wonderful group blog. My first venture is a bit rough, but here it is.

Help Wanted

We'd all kill for a little light.
Someone on the second floor stashed
their vitamin D in OUR refrigerator.
Who else sees the skull in the sky
above the hotdog cart on east 14th Street?

We crowd around the one office window,
quarrelling over who will lick it clean this time.
What I need is the Complete Idiot's guide
to the Eyes in the Back of My Head.
Do you think you can remember this for tomorrow?
The tension in the women's potty is as thick
as the cat-choking mist of hairspray.
You could cut it with a plastic fork
like all the old farewell cakes.

I lost the post-it telling me where I am.
As for the previous assistants, sometimes I visit
their graves, sometimes their graves visit me.
It's hard to see the screen with all these ghosts;
when's the exterminator coming?
It said bad file/corrupted, but I hadn't even
touched it yet. I wouldnt eat that,
if I were you.
---------------

Comments, por favor?

What do you think about the line and stanza breaks?

posted by Christine E. Hamm, Poet Professor Painter on Sunday, May 21, 2006

(2) Comments:

Hi, Christine. Nice to have you here. Some very welcome lines ("I lost the post-it telling me where I am").

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 6:02 PM

hello christine...

welcome!

i like this poem quite a bit...lovely read...

i look forward to seeing more of you and everyone else around here...

--andrew

# posted by Anonymous on 7:30 PM

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5.20.2006

LANGPO CRASH

Wanna
tighten
tweak
peak
and pluck comfort bones banal?

Wanna dilineate reality's cultural force
in an ASBO scribble

encrypt an electronic watermark
through the continuum's digital blueprint
and write with the ink of memory?

Come
step across the divide
tailor the mind
stroke
and cut to a schoolyard platform.

Here
a violent memory train chugs love in

silence stops
      sound drops
and joy is a fight
attractively flesh
in the sight of deja vous

  snatched
as sound shuffling through the seal of surface
fills a magic carriage with fresh-right raindrops
     unbreaking to forgive
and...

Heard it before?

Reason crashing out in a journey to the underworld

ghosts that disappear once light is shone

    cute gods sensing leather hell
      in a milk-break lunchtime

who always remember Morley V Mad Ox

each headbutting the little brick
  basin after lunch had settled
when one chipped the chewers in his gob
as his skull crashed onto a white bog rim?

Youth's unintentional masterstroke
was stout shunted schoolkids
  and the guards of entry
were wild coarse cognizant and weightless

convincingly set aside
like a congress of persuasive conmen
caught up in tossing back whisky
at a marquee saloon of weekend mayhem
all at sea and misunderstanding

alone
abandoned

the inconsequent watch-word
passing through the spirit fallow
and pastured now
in the omniscient realm

know all
lacking in taste
with ski-boots tailored by Nico

urban footwear
worn by a Shepards Bush maestro.

posted by Coirí Filíochta on Saturday, May 20, 2006

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5.19.2006

To the valley below

You want to know
when
during that fog, I ventured.
I was seeing
sacred things
closest
to night.
High
among the stars
war
in heaven.
The outcome-
impossible destruction.
I imagine
the fire, the end.
Fear.
Spectres
into the pit.
How happy!
Free of that blight!
Flickering light.
His expression
grim and sad.

posted by Henry Brock on Friday, May 19, 2006

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5.18.2006

beatitract

blest blancmange on trays of teal. you bliss to stretch [for the] the neck then sail toward skat sea? a peak [piques] dimension portrays a trawlish treacle tipped chore [if erratum] op cit trip torn numeralia to wit [encyc-] toupee toned tall [en croute] so agamem- the wait list [weight] four-walled tip touch a frippery so quelle [so tell] dommage of futile fingerings left [ratcheted] concealed up seal and unattached thus frantic [now the ledger] so demain I say to you [domain name] hastens charm traverses long way homing traced to wheel and deckstack all the way through porridge rumored bountiful and thus and sew storm prior use of whole cloth loathe to ring tone gives grace freely lastingly and long to tow some sun to implicate sombrero as if only low tones lived within that other constantly unnamed for label lives to feeble low an oligarch by centrist pause [a pose imposed] gives glory to this swatch and that thaw noble trend and crease and snow and dice most on the table tenderloin and oh [it's you]

posted by Sheila Murphy on Thursday, May 18, 2006

(2) Comments:

Ouch! Love the senselessness :)

Crescent

# posted by Crescentsi on 7:01 AM

i dig everything that you write sheila...so cool!

# posted by Anonymous on 7:23 PM

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Slam

for Colin

marsupial comes in
elliptically snoozes
porpoise dips in
sewing machine clouds
padlocked fountains
bursting with charred
herring and flies

posted by Scott Glassman on Thursday, May 18, 2006

(1) Comments:

welcome scott!

i'm glad that you've decided become a part of as/is...

# posted by Anonymous on 4:27 PM

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5.17.2006

pool

  as traces reads the open column
one introduced
burst pink lips
see
carcasses
make
collect
         skin scenes
when
animal eye
burst
         fine
screens
meat
         burst
meadow
         laughing
tomb
         trash
                  ink
carcass
        burst
                 cry

sun glint on the resting pink pond.

posted by siel:t on Wednesday, May 17, 2006

(0) Comments: Post a Comment

i came upon the living head of georg trakl

he survived the Battle of Grodek
his body went on as usual
negotiating the angles
sudden trees, the marketplace
no one noticed his head was missing
though I came upon it one evening
took it in my hands
looked into twitching opaque eyes
used the earholes
rolled it like a bowling ball
watched the colors
go bouncing out
and the last rat too
sliding on the burnt blues
it stopped right there at the river's edge
I walked up to it
neither of us moved
neither said a word
saw his body
come riding in on the back of a deer
watched the soft green ripples
as the two went down
waited for the silence
to enter his open mouth.

posted by rays on Wednesday, May 17, 2006

(2) Comments:

nice one ray!!

# posted by luc u! on 10:18 PM

thanks, luc!

# posted by rays on 6:40 PM

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5.16.2006

The Nature of Things

On a rotten wood step
outside my little girl-room

painted with one-winged
dragonflies and ladybugs

I watch,

over teal colored fir trees
and spider webbed powerlines,

a brown owl
sweeping for rabbit.

In this manner, I memorize
the burnished sky, the sallow lake,

whiskered tips of wheat
once high, arced eastward-

the weight of wind
sleeping on a field.

Now, miles away
and years I hear

whip-poor-wills
in the deep throated thicket,

chirping frogs, oil black crickets,
the clovered tread of deer

and consider the owl.

posted by Rachel Phillips on Tuesday, May 16, 2006

(2) Comments:

ruttingness makes me wonder... just a thought

# posted by Loki on 3:27 PM

Rachel, do you know Horace or Virgil?
I think you'ld like them,
you talk about similar themes

# posted by Guido Monte on 1:31 PM

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drunk

(where) (we)

----     (break)

done.

posted by Scott Glassman on Tuesday, May 16, 2006

(0) Comments: Post a Comment

things I've eaten

salad w/beetroot and cubes of lofat cheese
ramen alone, spattering my newspaper with broth
my heart out
pink swirled taro bun bought to satisfy curiousity and also i was hungry, tho my stomach was not the hungry thing
tofu burger w/mayonnaise and roasted eggplant
chocolate
beans stirred together w/cumin and chilli in a plastic box for work & my desk, eaten with a fork refrigerated alongside so everyone would know it was mine
a girl one time beneath the christmastree lights in her room
vegetarian sausage of tofu & miced eraser at a friend's barbeque, bought for the vegetarians & i was the only one who showed
a quarter of a plate of eggs benedict w/out salmon or ham in a cafe, alongside a boy i'd swallowed only hours before, fear & heartbreak & $5 wine rising in my throat
toll house cookies
orecchiete w/tomato and ricotta
sushi w/avocado, walking somewhere under heavy clouds
lasagne layered at the coast on holiday
apples

posted by Rach on Tuesday, May 16, 2006

(1) Comments:

Some Melbourne menu, some universal menu :)

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 2:09 PM

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chances'are

around

twirling (punctures)

slowly driven reasons
and
(cause) object
"make, make believe"

little/ring
finger enters
change glove whitened
breathing

(creature living)
dollars "not a
decision
to make"

now time each
car
asking coated
measures 3 meters

polystyrene
lines suspected

that (harmful) spreads

it's reason type

posted by harry k stammer on Tuesday, May 16, 2006

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5.15.2006

Blue rain

On this map
I can point out
crossways
and
tracks
in traces of scars

I still love you

The blue rain
dried up
in pure gold

posted by Renee Wagemans on Monday, May 15, 2006

(2) Comments:

this is beautiful

# posted by keed on 3:20 PM

Thank you Billy

# posted by Renee Wagemans on 4:12 AM

Post a Comment

trois

lover chasing after floating sky

winter's at dear balcony. thought withdrawn in mink spaceships. this electricity. she smiled sadly. gesture weather blue lighted steam lover chasing after floating night sky. stirrings shadowy. firework physical breathing and fall emphasis. description. put it hollow to distract shining propelled gardens. a look with dream came down extensive in the candy depths of summer evening dolls. sat by descriptions was wearing sunglasses. cigarette asleep irrational doubts was tentacle thickets. painfully masked partners in moist discussion sought electricity code. purest consciousness heart charade among bright dried lightning.

my winter impatient and black

my winter impatient and black. green see across another coincidence. telegram wilderness strumming banal subway. steel sheets lapdancing daylight meal. a white rose swirling droned knots itself. trembling remembered electricity stole saying me yes. the wheels festering dolls of mink. description hiding narrow sunset when these questions space to disgust. cage precipitation where handshakes hidden by eye walked wearing purple blue oysters.

this fern of dreams whispered eyes don't beach

been anything replied him. meadows lifted candy central electricity throws of activity. not enough admitted plastic. cold. fog center rowed to our future and dressed curiosity in sounded thrash. she cold standing caught the mouse was even becoming intrigued night coast. gaze face you know occured in funnels whom tar kissed of flesh wearing electricity boa. from figures bright feeling caught illusion. this fern of dreams whispered eyes don't beach. nodded of reason coffee sound runs along green da. garden invited lighted moment.

posted by Anonymous on Monday, May 15, 2006

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5.11.2006

where tremulous crossroads moan

backward electricity green rabbit with arms. into cold sky-ward something roads. dreams description hiding. excruciating plastic advancing. silver walker's night base. a sound wilderness storm lightning woman into moment. collide walls plunging the illusion. piano throws sheets lapdancing daylight tune. marble into ruined winter there last breaths of subway runs throws marquee hunger sparks. watch tentacles shadowy on discreet electricity beach. space down countries flaming lungs. firework creatures dolls working fog thickets. the green cage that 4 walls description. unconscious frostbite feeling like weighted metamorphoses. this s center of physical breathing. who speak of really real midnight spinning. flapper chasing her descriptions over floating night wonders of fiction steam zero'd weary glow. connections fuel-injected perfume tornado skin beyond fault. touching fluid's three-legged sleep. strange spy disturbs pursuit fingernails. boa brought hums cigarette shivers wearing code and through purest gears understood fast sun. green mink hisses out wearing candy pinwheels. boa mind tar in fantasy handshakes where tremulous crossroads moan.

posted by Anonymous on Thursday, May 11, 2006

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CRASH

fly by night
into mangled blue and red
trapped forever the vanity of youth
they paid the piper's cost
left to mourn, left to spill
stricken shards empty sins

fly by night into dust
one last gasp
a primal scream of
of good friday excess
shattering slivers of grief
scarring hearts, bending lives

fly by night
across a demon shrieking landscape
did you crash into God?

fly by night
infecting ghetto propaganda
ghetto dreams deceased
reality begins.

fly by night
on broken wings
crash landed in mortal space
could have been a fabled afterthought
a thousand year chuckle
could have been redemption.

Billy Jno Hope

posted by keed on Thursday, May 11, 2006

(2) Comments:

biblical lament
but it recovers the mind

# posted by Guido Monte on 6:45 AM

thnx for your comment guido monte.

# posted by keed on 3:11 AM

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genesis three: gwyrlen

(Sappho: once Leda was said to find
an egg inside the blue bells -
and the land was left barren)

God : where are you?
Man : here I am,
but I don t hope

God : and still keep my Name
inside your bone,
and still keep my Name
inside your stirred up bowels
but
hope a little longer
Man: but I don t hope

posted by Guido Monte on Thursday, May 11, 2006

(2) Comments:

i dug this "but i don't hope" cool poem

# posted by keed on 3:15 AM

grazie billy

# posted by Guido Monte on 1:33 AM

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5.10.2006

our love is a three-legged rabbit
with pink marquee eyes bootlegging
this fiery feeling zero'd into oval targets
desirously jettisoned into very center
of our thoughts into midnight kablooey
fuel-injected i'll speak easy speak easy
as you dance through strobe-lit fields
flashing dear legs dipping arms ever rising
hair swinging gorgeously like silver pendulums
blissed-out blossoming spidering expansive
wilderness of skin passionate gears body-
working spraying fluid movement spinning
flapper eyes widening to the s to the e to
the x to the y beauty hisses hums effer-
vescing lapdancing barely touching
oh my soul shaking exploding
fluorescent bulbs of heaven
tremulous blasted breathing
fast night sky-ward
succulent moons
of flesh brightening
like mad boldly

posted by Anonymous on Wednesday, May 10, 2006

(4) Comments:

very appealing work!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 8:51 PM

intense awesome poetry

# posted by keed on 3:24 AM

It's all good, but the first line blows me away.

# posted by Christine E. Hamm, Poet Professor Painter on 6:10 PM

I agree with christine, great stufff.

# posted by Rach on 7:52 AM

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pretty'too'd

over'nup

leaves unconcious

loud'sss on joined

(powered
less more) substance

fold

that part

external "1 &"

says
meter external

effect up/down that

development

"has

broken, one
done examination (also

sees)"

ear each

coil two region

limited
twirled blonde

(fulminate) whipped (a

pair)

shoulders product

hissing bag involved
rolling

leaf wind

plastic wheeled effect

posted by harry k stammer on Wednesday, May 10, 2006

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5.09.2006

Let's Go Wash the Chevrolet

I declare from someone else's heart that you are in alignment with my gravity. So let us scamper to the dance tunes. Let's inject utility into our stream of consciousness, condone the apoplectic restoration of the dimestore pulse of this young feather of a townlet. Let's enjoy projected selves. Let's divvy up the ruckus, pass the buck. Let's go wash the Chevrolet, get in and watch the life sized-plus folks stretched across the billboard-cubed sized screen be members of the master plot and grin through fate as fat and frame by frame go whelming past the well-planned nightlights.

posted by Sheila Murphy on Tuesday, May 09, 2006

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5.08.2006

two

quiet down

description of a woman wearing a feather boa. pea green sunglasses. picture of a woman standing wearing a mink stole. of a woman description. description of a green mink boa wearing a woman. that fits into. a woman wearing. worn out weary wearing woman fits into description of a woman. disgust. a weary woman wearing worn out fits. into sunglasses a disgusted woman descriptions into. sound runs along the walls. electricity fingernails. a woman fits into disgust like a feather electricity boa. description of electricity fits into like wearing feathers. of a pea green woman description of an electricity woman wearing sound fits. fits wearing into a feather. worn out electricity disturbs the neighbors. throws feather. disgust. throws electricity wearing a mink feather. stole a green boa from the neighbors wearing disgust. disgust description of a mink stole tar and feathering sunglasses. throws electricity woman sounds. runs along description of a green fiction in a plastic cage. a cage disturbs the neighbors electricity. sounds plastic. disgust a cage throws a woman wearing a mink stole strumming a guitar. cigarette electricity disturbs the feather throws. throw rugs fit into description like a pea green cage. cigarette neighbors disturb electricity. this disgust. quiet down.

sound throws floating dolls

throws walls. with these questions. times that something back. rug comb-over. candy road wearing sunglasses. after a feathers was drained into spaceships. this floating. reaching i again. the figure. description. worn daydreaming description like a boa. wearing green electricity. lighted distract. okay reason to. duh. what blinking bright of feather. the neighbors wearing a woman description. woman thinking about sugar and mouse. was probably yell something at the wheel. the sky. mink. plastic throws a fit. woman tar and feathering strange excitement. disturbs them sunglasses. picture wearing bright long tentacles. them. description of electricity stole. up there. runs along cigarette blue heads. pondered completely moment. sound throws floating dolls. electricity quiets it.

posted by Anonymous on Monday, May 08, 2006

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5.07.2006

activist distasteful thankless

for SVD, infirmière de profession, est une militante américaine pro palestinienne...

Compiled 5/8/2006 5:56:25 AM GMT

Saddam Hussein was a distasteful character, but he was seen now to be ... It was
a difficult and thankless
assignment of the sort generally handed from one ...
-
Their job keeping our freedoms under the law is a thankless
task which the ...
There is something utterly distasteful about these summits telling the poor ...
-
... best years of their lives to a 'thankless' and harsh struggle have sacrificed
... Colin Tudge is not some vegetarian, animal rights, looney activist, ...
-
Yet it's a hard and thankless
job thinking up new and relevant ways to get us to pay
... On almost any sexual issue the Sunday Mail considers distasteful, ...
-
NYT is not broken, merely distasteful. Blair's behavior was rewarded. ...
I realize the city council is often forced to make thankless
decisions, ...
-
... has done admirable work in what is often a difficult and thankless
job." ...
Fly Creek resident and activist
Ann Geiger said, "Until we are a nation of ...
-
... finding that their distasteful allies actually kept some power -- maybe a lot?
... Judges have a thankless
enough job. Does anyone have some idea what ...
-
... is good in a relatively thankless
role and she brings a real sense of fear to
... While the '60s are lionized as a time of nonstop political activism, ...
-
The language you describe, while distasteful to you, does not constitute criminal
activity. ... NEW!!! HOT ACTIVIST
SUGGESTIONS Sarah Luthens ...
-
However, their antics become more distasteful and disgusting with each ...
Making sure all the desks with computers have chairs is a totally thankless
task, ...
-

posted by TT on Sunday, May 07, 2006

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5.06.2006

BLUE BLUE

BLUE BLUE

please click the link

Thanks,
Crescent

posted by Crescentsi on Saturday, May 06, 2006

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5.05.2006

twisting

pretty once before the dust fell through space
it felt mysteriously beautiful for a time
to inhabit another body you told me to do
as i pleased and please would i of course
approached with trembling milk fingers
feeling strangely something else
pink leaf flying over a plateau
swallowing sequined sounds
drowning intoxicantly spiraled
to fiery fires frantically smoky zither
sounding we two human figures
twisting rising stars on the wall

http://www.audblog.com/media/115029/354017.mp3

posted by Anonymous on Friday, May 05, 2006

(1) Comments:

twisting, rising intoxicated figures
I like your work.

# posted by Rachel Phillips on 9:31 PM

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5.03.2006

Of Journey

Each man thinks
of distance,

white, strolling
patches of light

grown quiet,
stronger,

different.

The body is
a foot, a shoe

the length
of darkness;

the lungs
of night

filled with
"entering" -

a mouth,
a door,

a crack
within

the stone;

my warm breath
on a window...

a small
instrument

of journey.

posted by Rachel Phillips on Wednesday, May 03, 2006

(7) Comments:

wow so true...

Keshi.

# posted by Keshi on 11:54 PM

journey to the dream door
the ivory door of the Manes'lying misleading dreams

# posted by Guido Monte on 7:03 AM

bright ivory door

# posted by Guido Monte on 9:42 AM

Hey, you are actually pretty talented. I'm adding you to my blogroll, if that's okay. And believe me, I'm actually quite picky about who I add.

--
Atomic Poet

# posted by Christopher Trottier on 12:41 PM

if eyes opened even for a flash,
they could see how things are
only rain's slow drops
on a window pane.

# posted by Guido Monte on 8:43 AM

...the eye betrays us, guido and perhaps the light and rain
what of rain? it falls

# posted by Rachel Phillips on 9:29 PM

yes, it's true Rachel
it falls

# posted by Guido Monte on 5:05 AM

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empty

the darkness becomes personal
like grit in my soul
i have lost a brother
now my torment defiant.

billy jno hope

posted by keed on Wednesday, May 03, 2006

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5.02.2006

body skin spread over thin upon air lost in wandering at last
high as a kite skiing over the edge found essence under boulder
butter wedge of land causes slide shoulder to shoulder
i think a slice of moon i will jump up like a puppy
collide graze consciousness funnels of mystery spin around
like a bullet spent cartridge chattering teeth of fog
what wheel would fall so fast spewing shrill bright
vertigo will be on shirts team hazy green all over
wings splitting out the hangar make-up mascara spray paint
slow down patience slam dunk you've missed the point
sweat rains like little innertubes paraphrase simply reduce
laffy taffy soul juice spits a fountain strange knowledge of flowers
through tunnels on fire holes knocking at the door
leading to the center of gravity pond of midnight
puppet watch my bones poke through green green eyes

posted by Anonymous on Tuesday, May 02, 2006

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touch my hand drunken pillow pinpricks of stars disorderly
record heavy midnight metal of thorough lipstick cigarette left kool
town of industry drowned town sheets of air shivering stanza
downed power lines snake across the street break like loaves of bread
shake many lovers a collection best viewed through mason jar
go-go dancer body jingling all polaroid cameras split in two
paralyzed by thought mesmerized by memory cut in half
empowered by thought land of 10,000 dances unlimited
fancy a cyclone of coins my funny valentine cards divided deck
ride a horse through my work whispering amongst trees

posted by Anonymous on Tuesday, May 02, 2006

(1) Comments:

pulvis et umbra sumus
Horace
(dust and shade we are)

# posted by Guido Monte on 8:49 AM

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genesis two

a

at the beginning
from a universe named chaos
from a deep sleep with no dreams,
here's one breath on primordial waters
unending breath inside tacit sighs

posted by Guido Monte on Tuesday, May 02, 2006

(4) Comments:

grazie.

# posted by Guido Monte on 1:27 PM

mystic piece

# posted by keed on 3:57 PM

excellent

# posted by Unknown on 8:40 PM

grazie billy e gingerivers

# posted by Guido Monte on 1:42 AM

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meditations:underpants

I ask you questions
(did lead pencils ever have lead in them,
do you think of me do you think?)
while your fingers are inside my underpants
so you remember I'm here.
I ache when I'm with you.
Look at me while I dissolve, gas in water.

posted by Rach on Tuesday, May 02, 2006

(1) Comments:

i really dug this. kinda surreal. kinda beat.

# posted by keed on 4:00 PM

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meditations:v neck sweaters

everyone's wearing boots over their jeans,
v neck sweaters.
there are storm clouds gathering behind
cardboard cut out buildings in the city, cardboard against cardboard,
and i walk with my arms tight around
books pressed to my chest, my hair in my eyes.

posted by Rach on Tuesday, May 02, 2006

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meditations:your great cd collection

we talked music and clothes
(thumbing through your great CD collection)
drank and prayed to our youth
we went swimming and you never got wet, your red heart sunglasses floating away on the river,
my hair & our hearts.

posted by Rach on Tuesday, May 02, 2006

(1) Comments:

I always look forward to your writing, and this trio of pieces is really welcome. Gracias!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 8:01 AM

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