04.17.2004

Conversation whittles history down
Today we have pain-killers, but no more forever

04.16.2004

The arc of plot flies coast to coast
Not an actual day, with entanglements, but an elegant cruising day

04.15.2004

In spite of everything, this is just a building
"My body's the world I know," he persistently insisted

A monument immortalizes transient flesh
In the body we suffer blurred joys

The want between our legs that owns us
The song between our ears that sends us

04.14.2004

We are, each one, a part of the universe we comprehend but strangely
Among all possible universes, in ours birds sing and listen

04.13.2004

They walked past old bricks (sad bricks) in Brooklyn
Row houses never see deer come out at dusk

A working class needs imagined space and an imagined frame
A cloudless sky has a phrase portion among its windy collections

04.12.2004

These birds ignore traffic, skyscrapers, crowds, and library lions
Something flew over dangling fur and a tail from its talons

04.11.2004

The forsythia have rejected winter
But the family never fully falls apart

Forsythia go it alone, before the full clamor
Cold rain full tilt; winter's strange occupation's ending

04.10.2004

Let me read a little and fabricate the frame
The tons of products I've consumed are part of this gray light