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Saturday, April 03, 2004

member surrounds
member
to agree
of a community
in which
a langauge
takes over
close out of
people taking
the lines that
prevent other lines
close poetry
open poetry
whatever

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Mozart on the
haywire, retrofitted
Colin Powell
excuse me, turn out
groovy
and Martha Stewart
problem, resist
denial, plan
a head, moon
upon river
disappears in morning,
flakes of the
syndrome flutter,
autumn escape,
jersey barriers,
political
parties, wowed
then wondering about
a few things, aNTHONY
kIEDIS is so
much of whichever group
and implored as he
implores, when you are
alien you'll notice

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Friday, April 02, 2004

poli sci planning 

so the payment plan
illustrates how
Michael Jordan turns
blue. Michael is all one
ever, of just the purpose
and kind. slow results move
often political waters. floods
are not engagement. Jordan
tho he retired
tells winning where to land.
and in juxtaposition
a thrill a minute, even the most
minor minute
cannot be escaped from. Michael
Jordan until you read. more
willing than when you
won't. a slow death patiently
coloured blue by
the news in Iraq. there is
news in Iraq. it's about
basketball, a furnace
rumbling somewhere, like
something to be owned, the
plausible instilled with
rhythm. miracle of
retraction, the depth
of marshmallows,
a cool sparing tone in one's
logical embellishment. then the
beauty of it all, landing in
a hero with just the right tax.

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Thursday, April 01, 2004

this is exquiste if
only a degree
the pure sound
like Incas in the range
but bluer
since the gravelly voice
of endemic demographic
takes a clear nexus
into new rumors
valid for riches
like the great blue
corn and potatoes
of the gods
yet darn easy to rely
on poise of populace
Bush a creep but
what have you
strands taken
guideline streaks across
the daylights
which we regard
as envious
close the door when
needing a perplexity
the fate of nations
sees an alien
longing for troops into
doors of violence
chums among the
creature
comforts
what we sing
oh well

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Tuesday, March 30, 2004

perhaps you r ticket
rend s a hand

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"do I smell
chocolate?"
possible
life in a planet, a round
pall that holds
escaping,
and in a
sequence
merging tow

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Sunday, March 28, 2004

charming blue pianos have flown down from Titan, that mirthful moon. there's no escaping the confusion. we are meant to hear something. the blue pianos bring peace, perhaps a piece of the action too. these are alien pianos from an environment so strange to human endeavour. it's cold as shit there, and yet the life is almost posing. come, nerve people, lift up your hearts and sing along to the blue pianos of Titan: they come in peace. they want to see our leader, but THEY COME IN PEACE!!!

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postulant types possible reply to dead except that the range of feelings doesn't fit the spelling mistakes or the green turf over the grave that years have culled or bonus in the graveyard thru a spot and vantage tells a lot of your interest in the clarifications of the countryside the beat continues with rich and poor the idle grow almost and the same name plants a spell or more so long or when we come back nod or spill or open up the boxed into a better sort of quiet when we dream we work a word and set its pose upon a block the block looks permanent and fills a universe or two tho which is never said just green mixing down and brown lasted and snow white all the time and crocus are no answer and daffodils haven't heard a word and now it mixes with implement or the darkness of weather or even the fit escapade in political time locked into the vibration like a telling blow no more no more but only this as spelled out driven reached shown handed over, clover, look over

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