Thursday, January 26, 2012


if it makes you killful, cut it off you and
burn it, applicable even to your hands.
put a mustard seed in every arteriole
you truncate in ridding. i think it'll
make you shit perfect figs?? people smell
as if limes are gaping on them.
it's driving me.

Saturday, January 21, 2012


possible that i am wrong
to slice my mind and yell
that it is words are oozing out.
competitive drinking would be one way
to make more misspeaks.
who am i near a person who
touches me as my own arm.
or touches i call utility.
i assume to make the lives of you
people more better than worse.
what's the point of getting
happy to see you. i just witnessed
all the people in India sitting in their
rooms by themselves,
tilting the scale towards universal

Wednesday, January 18, 2012


a longtime girlfellow but i tried too many hills
and maybe the hills deflected in shimmer.
i was proud of my mother with chopsticks
and warm and awash. i am proud
of my way of life-getting and rooting around.
the most important slats can't be seen between,
though burners lick my staves with causticism.
i am at home in my narrow bed.
i am a narrow hotbed unmoving.
thrown to the floor i am the floor,
it's a floor adapted and accepting of feet.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012


being the uglier twin
my hair is always waiting to fall.
photos reveal the difference
between twine, wasn't it obvious.

gotta talk myself out of a
crushed box again.
it's the worst when only one remembers.

no gawkers
in this gun case, there are no sleepers.
the guns stay up talking
until the instant they wake up bashful.

Monday, January 9, 2012


what makes me so immune?
probably lack of incoming.
it's important to remain
where guys were
playing flexible with time.
when scheduling, a mom
and her teen son
are looking around
she says "i've been to allentown
i've been to reading".
that's what i would say
to that kid. to instill a
desire to find out
an ecstasy of body that involves
pure shape.
and now i
would do anything to keep
adapting you.

Monday, January 2, 2012


raised to admire
an unreadable environment.
if i had to title
my people i would do it.
you accelerate my gash.

what a harrow does
a winnow doesn't;
so it is, your name.
for label, for i forget.
for labeling.
humid words furnishing
all i see. a blank bowl of words,
root prying riot from prior

lit out to varnish once more.
did and shook hands
in the tunnel through a brick of light.
i can't see that light going off.

clean bowl blank in the
cabinet next to
my cup, a darling among cups,
and an extra
i will smash in you.