|
|
February 2005
 02.28.2005 |
He parsed the difference between despair and despair given shape
She kept her eyes on the page while the world kept worlding
When you think you've thought, or felt, them all, a new fear arrives
What you need to know is there, you feel it, have it, then it breaks
| 02.27.2005 |
What if God aged, like us? That would explain a lot!
When the universe had just begun . . . but it was only yesterday
It was a sad story about a note in a bottle and bones on an island
Words are the path, the truth, and the light — no one arrives without them
| 02.26.2005 |
More and more the value of listening is lost, bequeathed to our machines
The new product promises to transport me beyond ordinary protection
A definition of blue is a sky or lapis or an eye or blue
A definition of me or you is nowhere in this world
| 02.25.2005 |
Possibility thrusts us on or sucks us back in time's brightness
There are only moments, navigation is the task
My task became the only known truth—I'd chosen badly
My job is to occupy this spot and beautify this sidewalk
| 02.24.2005 |
A gap holds more promise than a continuum
A thumb is more deadly than a bomb
Air makes an atmosphere (water an ocean)
Consciousness occasions a universe
I travelled in places light lived before eyes evolved
Before mind: no fact, no image, hunger but no taste
You like it as you like it, but take it where you get it
When it's not there you want it most, and dream it most
New mother: wonders when the woman she knew will wander back
Old mother: wonders how the woman she was might will herself back
A door opens, two discontinuous times mix like merging rivers
Door closes and clocks reset—a whiff of romance, a whiff of death
Time passed without astonishment and he sank into a funk
No god took pity when unfed hunger shriveled his heart
| 02.23.2005 |
Betty introduced her hamstring to his Adam's apple
He began to eat the spaghetti straps right off her
A man's best friend is a dog-eared book
They tore his ear with needle-nose pliers
A big, blue gobsnobbler mortised the tick and tortoised the tock
Hey sucker, sassed the runt, and kicked a twit who fell into muck
| 02.22.2005 |
Full moon: darkness flowery after days & days of rain
Full moon: the black cat and its shadow are one
10 p.m.: curbside tossing recyclables, look up to see a doe & buck trot by
Small things: children at home, no pen stays put, no pencil not broken off
| 02.21.2005 |
The road blinds vision
The rules erase memory
Apricot trees bloom in a field of sour grass
Swirled plum petals blown between quick sparrows & me
| 02.20.2005 |
Night music: ruckus of wind roils the rain
He got a postcard; he needed his own pleasure
No one went anywhere, the palms dripped in the rain
The lane was flooded, but no one slowed—and we could not
| 02.19.2005 |
After three nights of it she abandoned hope and wept
He rashly decided nothing could be worse than death by itch
Hallucination: raindrops become an analog of festering
Itch: sentry nerves up-in-arms against brain's hegemony
| 02.18.2005 |
The pump of meaning fills the heart
The glint of days gilds the children
Moreover, and then some, inertia took hold in season
Coerced fruit in ripe piles fills the winter market
| 02.17.2005 |
The more of it there was to look at the less meaning meaning had
Day provides the touchstone for things of night to seem exaggerated
As a reservoir is to the sea, such was his talent to his ambition
His winning first impression wore off exposing puerile self-admiration
| 02.16.2005 |
Fallen camellias blocked the drain
A brown newt clung to a wet rock
In the story, gray and blue are never found on the same page
Clouds slide over soaked mountains shaped to a syntax of time
Rain more busy than the wind
Death more noisy than the heart
Game over: so we xerox (to fondle) a world
Fatalist: unsung, unloved, unjust, fundamentalist
| 02.15.2005 |
Words are what things make you want to feel
Meaning is beached and bleached on the alphabet
She has cried every day since Christmas
He broke the promise, the love held
| 02.14.2005 |
Love has songs, but desire's drone is closer to creation
Is what you make shaped like desire, or by it?
Heart's a life's desire
Mind is body's sleeplessness
| 02.13.2005 |
The loud unspeakables of Spring flourish
Who can say if the dream was bottomless?
| 02.12.2005 |
There wasn't much left to try, but he tried it
More and more happiness happened in the dark
The whistle made them wonder
Distance determined their downfall
| 02.11.2005 |
Desire's economics begin outside the heart, outside imagination's business
Wishbone that grew in the breast for years is dug out by fingers from flesh
| 02.10.2005 |
Plum blossoms: whanging white dense tree under massive sky
Section after section of life-lit color accelerates out of winter
Blessed with deafness, petals clamor into color
Spring: desperate hours of thoughtless, demented beauty
| 02.09.2005 |
Faithless wandering: let weather take us where it will, ditto boredom
Hungry and in decline, they navigate the asylum archipelago
| 02.08.2005 |
The light calling details into longer days arouses trees
Dance: a mind changing to the cue of changing light
Longer light like Orphic music moves these twigs
Daylight unframes time, which it can and must do
Our situation's in the middle—between light and what it shines on
Yearning in things materializes in light's beckoning train of thought
Devil: light loves details, where the peril is
Dark body: light makes it over into language
If light can't find the thing you want, reconsider
Lucifer (the light) banished reveals God's insecurity
| 02.07.2005 |
An image enables a recognition of time
Time prevents a detailed comprehension
| 02.06.2005 |
Loaded down with overnight rain, these heavy-headed February flowers
Magnolia soulangeana, acacia saligna, bush daisy, grape hyacinth: churn
| 02.05.2005 |
Your ship approaches when the wind is warm in February
Winter is wilting, but no one clever follows the footsteps
| 02.04.2005 |
Indigenes of the clock, we lose track of tidal ebb and flow
The quick & living congregate most in light & evanescence
All creatures hunger, hunt, wait—we alone question fate
Light has grace, rain & rocks have grace, words possess extreme grace
An alphabet invests time with germs of words
Mind forms history from chaos, repetition and the dictionary
| 02.03.2005 |
An accurate understanding of form changes the knower
A seductive speaker need not comprehend the speech
| 02.02.2005 |
Mornings in the shower he sings, I am a place where things happen
Nights awake she thinks, I've wrapped my legs round life & it's crushed me
This thisness, this nowness, make it hard to hold another place & time
Who were those birds (wintering over in the rain) I learned from?
Too cold to sleep naked, so they put on socks and spoon
A climate change heats up sleep: dreams, where before just tundra
The one sleeping dreamed star-bright, then wine dark, then silent night
My heart at evening goes the poem, and evening goes black in broken clouds
Who is observing our shocking destruction?
What sanctions the silence? Which buzzing disease?
| 02.01.2005 |
Noise slanting off the lilies rang wrong
The story of progress was always flawed
Of noise: white exhausts it, but not rain nor distance nor death
On death: as I laughed she lay snug, smug and sound, underground
Delicate tissue of background noise descended from ancient explosion
Death doesn't bivouac there, it's stationed in your heart
Big Bang a (w)hole in nothing: devils dirt & diamonds, slime & sperm, etc.
Misread defected for defecated, and the kid said it's a do-over
[back]
|
|
|
