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July 2005
 07.31.2005 |
Yellow lime; ice-cube melt; orange sun sets through fog
Summer is not arbitrary, but by August it's been repossessed
| 07.30.2005 |
My sisters are the summer leaves
My brothers the raccoons smelling their way through nights
| 07.29.2005 |
Maybe the light's become boring, or maybe the path, or maybe your luck
Maybe the supply of unheard music is getting low, maybe that explains it
07.28.2005
The rat sat on the sidewalk, too sick to move
Jasmine grew through the cyclone fence, fragrance bigger as air warmed up
| 07.27.2005 |
Boys in back sniggering about rhymes with lick and sock
She fell asleep, phone on silent she missed the call, and slept past curfew
| 07.26.2005 |
Where are they headed? What's going on with the hands?
What the hell are they using their brains for?
07.25.2005
Forms of grace waiver
Pleasures begin to accuse you
| 07.24.2005 |
Look, the moon has chosen the ocean
The situation chose for you again
| 07.23.2005 |
Of sadness child there is no cure, nor of failure — the heart holds them
Earth tilts into summer, tenderness unfolds, loves endure
| 07.22.2005 |
The greater part has passed, but eros has not eroded
Earlier versions remain, but rewards have grown
Emptiness made peace with clutter's poverty, with desire's promise
You dreamt the light approved of you and painted the approval
What's more durable than light?
Eyes know light is the root of luxury
Thick fog: redwoods drip with joy
July light: the soul rejuvenates
| 07.21.2005 |
I've never seen fog roll nor dawn break, but I've watched you sleep
We make excuses for what undermines hope and continue to hope
We found ourselves in the place of missing words
Dream: a world without the existence of tongues
World: (re)creates a particular space
Word: introduces informed emptiness
Situations are everywhere, we are always in one
All words are situations, often we find ourselves in words
Here's the situation — everything eventually dies or changes
Consciousness conceives forgetting disappearance
| 07.20.2005 |
The pistons of time; the wings of time
The hands of the clock; the luck of the draw
Light, life, thought, sign — through each of which time immutably passes
All the clock's hours & all the clock's days can't contain it, but time lasts in us
Made and born can never co-exist in a single time
Mingling with the mechanics of time in pursuit of happiness
Time resists understanding
Dreams are evidence time mutates
Time that sees all has found you out again — Sophocles
We fall asleep into time charging our silent cell phones
| 07.19.2005 |
Every word could pass for the original
Peter Max meets Max Ernst and fists fly
| 07.18.2005 |
He induced new thoughts for objects by making them stand alone
Ready-made: found pusillanimity and added a pulse
Between genitalia and glossolalia the dictionary took a nap
Responsibilities of objects: to stay put while subverting philosophies
On what's not said a lot of weight settles down to rest
As for plumbing, it is amoral; when broken its significance is most felt
| 07.17.2005 |
Difficult: her lover & her husband & her mother & her girlfriend & her God
It would take a long time to tell the truth and by then it would be different
| 07.16.2005 |
It began to feel like living in a jail of consciousness
Everything (no tendency to scale back) sometimes boring
| 07.15.2005 |
Bowling alley: cocktails, cigarettes, Odelay on the jukebox
They "build excitement", they translate desire to the motion of machines
| 07.14.2005 |
Bastille Day: Liberté Egalité Fraternité send Bush away
there's nothing like prime American ugliness — Clark Coolidge
Squirrel pumps and jacks across the skillet of hot pavement
Mosquito-eater: spindly mechanics of bumping into window-glass
No one ever does a metaphor and eyes can't see them, but they are known
Time and the work, pauseless — George Oppen
| 07.13.2005 |
Luck's demented, a strange danger, it won't relent or let you down
Supple as an alphabet denatured, slow time tangles a couple's luck
The truculence of luck is & will be; sometimes mind is a forklift
In time, grinding with it — to rivet, to remember and to sing
| 07.12.2005 |
The little holes in time and what they hold is what she wrote
Not wrote about, plain existence is amazement, as the ancients knew
| 07.11.2005 |
Boom, whatcha do Tommy, it's so nude ami — ziggity boom
Alligator aggregator wanna date her maybe later — I don't know
| 07.10.2005 |
I need a nighttime to be my refrain
I need a bilge-pump to unfill my brain
Turn off the light, let night, and this terrible century, cool down
Desire makes machines that burn, the world is remains
Sleep & night, OK, but something else memorys experience into unique days
What is more intimate than lying in bed sharing a just dreamed dream?
Distrust is full of pauses, whatever comes to mind feeds it
A pause from listening to look out the window through the music
The lake murmurs and constantly nuzzles its green hole in the hill
Walk from home to lake: beach voices, clouds blown, swimmers, wild light
| 07.09.2005 |
Watching my son sleep — what might have been
Standing at the grave — if his mother had lived
I believe I'll get there, experience notwithstanding
I believe in nothing that doesn't believe in me
Quiet clunk the quarter made falling to the carpet
Paper clonk of edges clopped together on the tabletop
| 07.08.2005 |
Branch in wind nods, seeds distend in long, brown pods
Drawn tight like that, tension prevents tendon from bending
They can't break our will nor diminish our resolve
What would break your back? What would break your heart?
On the lake the language luffs and lilts
Body language liquefies longing and loss
The ebb that fuels an elegy edges out the flesh
For you: I will be those thoughts I think you might have thought
| 07.07.2005 |
There is never enough
It's as always as time
Long after rain, ruin — a twin — coins a strong existence
God says nothing, so Moses makes it up descending
God knows, thar she blows, so spoke Moses
What are we to do? Up it goes as she moistens
Modest middleground motivates mild men
Big, bold basement bargains bring back brio
The economy of need fondles the theology of desire
I will call on whatever I need if the opportunity presents itself
| 07.06.2005 |
Dead cat clever as mud
What's as never as eternity?
| 07.05.2005 |
I am made of the taste and mind and arc of you
I am not made of the stuff that knows what's going on here
She won't fall, won't fail, won't flail
He fills her with fingers until she spills
| 07.04.2005 |
It feels like we lost her, even though I just saw her
The beloved's name turns ragged, desiccated, toneless — how strange
Don't get pushy, they'll bust you and run your ass out the door
She said she'd never leave, and when she did the kids were sad
The Bible on the table, open to the story of Cain and Abel
I wanted to know the lost and they, they asked who is praying for them
| 07.03.2005 |
Absence makes imagination possible
You cannot receive unless you are ready
Before things meant something there were no things, nor meanings
Before before, there was nothing doing — and out of that sprung everything
Not now will I knock off this trance, nor bed-down in a new camp
Accelerating up an on-ramp, gravity gradually pulled in a full clash of chance
Magnanimity stands behind a lot, but rarely informs much at all
It's off to sleep My Dear, back to a dream that knows no destruction
Gathered in sequence, the words exceed the things they separate name
The origins of art — are they lesser or greater than the finished work?
| 07.02.2005 |
A word is a victory over the world — a temporary victory
There are many theories about victory, about the world — all made of words
| 07.01.2005 |
Face the gods? Even on high summer afternoons it may darken the mind!
All the godless also want a blessing, mercy, reason to believe in sacrifice
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