Wednesday, December 29, 2004

I have created a pdf file of R/ckets & S/ntries, located here. others works by me are also included on the site.

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Saturday, December 11, 2004

the work on this blog is officially done. I am recasting the poems here into something that I will likely post online, perhaps in pdf format, for any who might be interested. thanks for reading. Allen

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Saturday, November 20, 2004

believable rockets began inside the code. work grew densely, half bucket, half pleasing. the end part of segment was elbow room for our peering pressure. units weren't even becoming. we sent at the same time with a chorus for distance. no 'St Nick' remained, no pungency, no radical timbre. we were just the colour of backing away. was this a playful scheme or more from the voice of sentries? that's the battering for tomorrow.

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Monday, November 15, 2004

lists traded to death. seizure
of rockets for laughs.
stroke of midnight
imputation. we live
in testament canyon.

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Friday, November 12, 2004

there was a terrible language once. its simple left a trace, but all the people stuck. inside the rate of taking pure read, there were restrictions. you felt an all that instantly. weren't you careful to the beginning again? yes for the fresh new word and across the delivered staying put. all this is staying close, as a minute with our tide. the language could only let that happen in the space. the space meant everything.

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Wednesday, November 10, 2004

sundowning began at the port of one last dad. it's reference stays in tune till when the lights go on, or is it off, definitely? curious how the release. a few people in shades of exactly, some even sleep late. this is a taut examination in a changing languuge. thunderous aluminum. splendid direction. aptitude clearing. and finally, carefully, love sticks on. strange chair, even so.

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Sunday, November 07, 2004

real excellence slides over the ranged veering said so, which delights our doctor pose, which demonstrates again the rat of baggage kept awake, which is this national thing in spoiled sort:

we have made a once or two, shifting something with wiles and shirtsleeves rolled up, effective embrace of now you did it:

we become singular ambulatory pointing machines:

we get good mileage out of acts:

we stay off the throne for good times, until clearing says we're a republic again, tho that sham hasn't got legs:

we trip on tired, thinking a response might work:

we settle like a drunk thing over the falls as always:

all this adds up, like friends in a station, or the rumble over the airwaves:

we'll never quite make it this way...

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Saturday, November 06, 2004

belong in the entry of ritual until the long bones rot over again. they rot over the standard dispatch and until the nearest word settles onto proceess. steer alone into the victory of night time, elusve fiddling with the switch, trenchant bits of dropping off. stop by the world wayside, including even the names, and live up to romance. the string in which we curl up starts to include a myriad sampling. all the words congest into a fictive statement and then. these are the notes, teasing thru the ebulliance. did you win or lose as you took account?

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Thursday, November 04, 2004

rocket of last century told us all the new. the beat of sending let us down. we tried a ripple on the nearest wave, in time to sentries falling over. we listened with a rich and pond, filing names across the border. the differences merged on knowing squirm, until the details let the process down. down was our horizon, as we stuck to the guns we stuck.

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Monday, November 01, 2004

sense music as a poem from a cow town. bring terrible over the hill, past the election committee, and see it as a trust. refer to the element of surprise. ditch the processed cheese. vie with other aliens in this caboodle. shoot the breeze.

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Friday, October 29, 2004

in this as late as saying so. in as brown as a table, until the lights go out. in the minute before, but rarely. in a political tumble, and just the car to go it. in all these and transverse leaves thru autumn's only day, there arise something tripped to tilting and the buzz about the town. you think the world is small enough to hold your kind, but really, larger is the shame.

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there might be something in it for all of us.
there might be a landing space.
might be a time left out of words.
might be words.
we'll probably leave the difference enhanced
as we travel the trouble again.

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Monday, October 25, 2004

land of rocket, voter pocket. pokes on the landmine minute, separating intention viably. sets a green dense settled nodal boon, then says a prayer. it engulfs a national, voter pattern, strong as day in the regional plus. signs are intention in the murdering left to us. murdering of most surely certitude, left to us.

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Sunday, October 24, 2004

blurted sentence in the tribe of close.
in close door eating name, steep in draining.
out of call of form of sentence, steeped of training.
in the trench of running need, lapse of strain.
needing moment crock of pain, still nation.
nation in the hempishere resists the simple sentence.
alien outbust in the muddle of varying sentnce.
here's the tribal lunge of version, slip of sentence.
here's a sentence.

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Thursday, October 21, 2004

he dead in a minute, inside the bell of horn. she dead, lifted, it is all so plain. they dead and that's a natural sound. the mournful hum and all of language on the brink, almost a word to say and more. but less to carry, always, falling off the trait of log. expression given in a word of almost meaning some kind poetry that means us to the core. we aren't the people for the test, it seems, too sad of the harping on and on, tho in the distance the ringing sound...

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Tuesday, October 19, 2004

attribute mayhem, viper in doctored prose, regulations via Red Sox versus Yankees, what time stinks over means of attending but that coffee, one day in the morning, a ritual to deliver while alien allusion scuffs an entire street, and we are left nameless... what shall we call this?

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Monday, October 18, 2004

deliver the league of entry
to the colour of grant. prime rose
of interested nation, with a topspin
closing over the latest word on. on it all
while survival seems like alien means. adjusting
to the crimp of sentences dashed against blast actions
and decrying once in a while in the littlest hole,
these nationals increase their spark with easily
instructed copping out and database blurring
of sequence and need. the newest sentences
barely survive, goosed to pretension and
holding onto to weathered rocks, such
a diction made complete and well
schooled, stuck fake in the
national past time, letting
loose over all...

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Sunday, October 17, 2004

a front of waiting game alerts the project from the start. wetness method sews together logic unions in a trance. aliens are stewed for what we think we think. listening maximal alongside stresses the challenge of this new. gentrified streets muddied by a dour win or two. whiff of voter appropriation and the shunting of goals over worth. seems particle bored, like everywhere else has names. just our reference map, really.

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Saturday, October 16, 2004

the Poetry Public's Wet Allegience 

your idea, fresh from clumps of stars. those stars on an open night, produced rain in interims fit over the rumour close to call: they're a language in your side and front, moving to the deliberate cut across the beachhead, waiting in the go there while the travel field is offer close. did you sing out phrases in classic union crunch, got to make a light the way? maybe so, and maybe grim as England. you did good in several structures, poster children running wild to know the more and less of that whole thing. you were up in arms, and down in them too. dunce cap correction molds over the sway to mean. did you care an awful field of roses? did you really land in graceful sand, adjusted for the present tense? you were poetry time a lot of feeling. inside the New York minute suite, weren't you allowing rare to rarer? that's the trumpet pest again, landing in the marsh. the marsh is home again, for you, for me, for all the alien concerns. pose another prob tonight, when strata need a date.

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Thursday, October 14, 2004

did jazz invent your bookmark? you were little, after all. the crisp season of Indo-Chinese colonialism produced a rubber banquet. you were ready. lists, made of tin flexion, seemed ultimate production hazards. you struck a bargain telling the logical teller at the stupid bank all you could invest. you listened as every president pulled together. is your gastric ailment equal to the pulse of nations? someday a production line will run a train into your sentence structure. someday, too, a rattling good jump on tomorrow. but that's tomorrow talking thru your passive lips. you're working extra hard, now you grow a telephone. data needs you to try. complete the sentence. give a good impression.

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Tuesday, October 12, 2004

in which
feeds in
gloss of
life fetal
range fed
net glow
faces west

the ring of cheese
around the latest

springs of believeable
elbow grease
poll tax

church by detente
screen of very
simple flop
the merest
of them all

poem excused of
ritual moon
while over gloss
seems haven

noodle ferry
turned remorseless pasta
on the comport
reporer flash

much given until
definite wriggle
slight test telling

all the inscrutable
tropics connived with
aerobic nuisance fee
and set to dance

how does the danger
dance our names
into the forested

cheap over
thrill of
nation your
own exploiit makes
known the fractal

vote hurling and
while you can
great sediment
of lean

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Monday, October 11, 2004

there was round in site, in sight, in a moment culled from whatever word was given. given was the day. a plush rage or fancy spree engulfed the national whatsis rating, churning duel as portions laid for bearing. words as shift into definitive pronoun, work of still more ages. and the language of the popular front and back, until we're hearing almost anything said. there was a sure tactic spent on this hill of beans, that presidential heap, those bendng rays of less than ultimate light. here's a sequence of lettering played out in verbal pouring forth, at an inclimate rate of zero point nine (your love extends). here's something called friend, which is a word on top of words. here's an exceptional love (married exception), and the place to say you sorry. you mean something every day today. you listen my friends. you love. this is just another land to read and write along the way.

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Sunday, October 10, 2004

in a bit of little time, with coarse rock salt dreading next to aimless pattern, while the friends indicate the rapture pose, possible sanctity in a language comes from growth, it's a bitter little time of voting haze and collaborative greed, judging from the system tank, all the dozing love slips from 1967 into an ether-informed purple chute of ringing sounds until you vote again, a gain in sight along the branch water breath, sleep after the all over, what's this suppose to mean?

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Saturday, October 09, 2004

translate your underwear to wander the Russian steppes. a dialect of interchange, more powerful than the little poets on the street named River Forgetting. your underwear as foreign market traditionally rebuked for sanitized referral, broken promise, belting out big songs like the Age of Arcs. your underwear as a diction of the times, less Russian dialect, more votes for you know who. your deleterious Olde World underwear remembers the farm day, breaking off into sentences, the coast of springtime. your underwear of all, voting properly in regulated booths, in time for the erected provenance of today and tomorrow. remember the alien idea of underwear, inside of the spaceship that brought you to this conclusion. doubt not the function in your break. today is leftover tuesday, loss as saturday.

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Friday, October 08, 2004

document element mined at morning, when the press of this is life in terms of rational expense totalling tap root, bringing, clusters out of wage, and love as a preening consideration on the march of edge. alleviating quantity by vote count, startling the crust, the aim remains a pure fragrance over years of waste. touches of 60s dispatch while 90s weren't so lucky either. rampage for effect, and what a difference a day makes: vital kick of Cheney, a miserable local fact in time, out among the other stained equations. less rooted when telling the time over beers, culture, a few poems, votes, love in expressing pictures, to you and you and you... lastly just a pinpoint of light.

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Thursday, October 07, 2004

there hasn't been enough life in time. today is only a thursday portion, a literal point named frequently then left. the vote leaves and the hall closes. the booth is a voice. the vote is a day. time is in the clench, which leaves us drawling. we drool in the time. life isn't in Cheney's eyes, or the sudden impulse upon the voter, drizzle for comfort. no security moms exist, or security dads, or possible results. my dad's dying in time but he aren't all dads? all dads and all moms find life in time, in sputtering looking and weave thru. today is only deft thursday, written on paper. it looks like another day.

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Tuesday, October 05, 2004

present booth freshness. the vote on sameness cools over while reaching into pocket. what colour over all others? logical, as in class as an abatement. but stirred as part kitty, part dumb dog. theory strained thru booth fester. you brought a language when you wrote your name. you read a number of vote gathering hunks. studio theory on top of laid out. need a glass of somthing now. the present boopth remains fresh, with votes stirred.

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Sunday, October 03, 2004

autumnal sense closing on road remembering mother, father, what have you. delicate each of age, until brown after orange, yellow and red, the prosaic truth. but isn't green memory as condition, working chlorophyll as agent? and then the deaths come together, constituted, you love what you had and still you are. here is the after all, forgetting the trip to Oka, West Virginia (wide part of the road), or once when I was younger. we all were younger, in the trees, riding home saddened...

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Saturday, October 02, 2004

luckily the foundation garment episode over the alien vote. mild turf expression seized by Kerry in creak. yet now at Bush finale clings to rope sizzle, off course mayhem planet. ouch is in truth a way to vote. further stab at date, nearly accurate in a pan. language holds many misdeeds. still, ponds aren't above trouble. still ponds, that is. Bush declares a moanatorium. Kerry functions as arbiter of Kerry's mind. jet packs collect moss, apparently a key ingredient. we have to choose! there might be a dot in the sky. aliens as a surge protector, hmm. might be Bush's friend Cheney could ignite many things. which one is ours? ours after all in the voting booth, with inside voters, day of voting. all together in the mass against flows of such, we have to choose! close calls as always. we've got the anger pattern. they've got the atrocity weight. weird to be part of it, even in reading past. words matter, alien concern.

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Friday, October 01, 2004

life during multi-pronged strategy 

a subject set to a vote. not the ordinary envelope, but the person sold to in charge. that vote colluding previous text management units, your peers and speakers grant, and the inviolable label rooming in logic. then source poetry offered in collection haze finance, which doesn't spend a dog or two, exactly. are you followed along with that demonstration of text in your life? foundry embedded further, frequenting steel mill cities and glass door catalogues. your vote, aside from all booths and booth-making equipment, and the industry of daring to say, all salute into the night of exactly it. each task takes a day with frontal dazzle, so we speak. we're in this with a foot, if more than a step away. lines go as strategy, and while we're prepared.

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Thursday, September 30, 2004

tiny advice as was come to 

your vote is electric ozone reading Rilke's "Sonnets to Orpheus" at half time of the moment spectacle delivered free of charge. how are you to hold it all? and the rhymes of your vote will be blue suede steed instead of lighting a bomb plot against the merrie days of revolution so you think. your vote happens in the time taken from trams, from subs, from buses that were perfectly equipped for time. your vote needs you explained. I am the same part of anything as you and see that matching each distant fad with a functional alternative will require license in dread. still, we're a team, potent because we said something. is the booth warm or cold today? advice got me to this spot alone, but we can go the further route together.

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