14 May 2011

bicycle rejections

WEEK 16 / last week of the semester & of this projected project; updates will resume sometime later in the upcoming weeks or months...

trad. fragments (sonnets w/ tinderbox garlands)

brassy, eerie
saturday morning westerns in technicolor
soon enough i think
test-driving stereos at radio shack
w/ mcluhan's
"the medium is the massage," dubbed
out of the allure w/ a zagat guide
to espionage
to infinity & beyond, i'm feeling kind of important
asseverating text
into a wastepaper basket, like clowns
synopsized into a car
thinking, don't buy the realistic—
a fragile wedding
sunday afternoon, central daylight time
tubas & bridal veils
a spark
a transition, hallelujah
in a tinderbox forest, i'm feeling Spring—
we walk through this april day
verdant violence
& my heart is a leaky faucet—
like i'm a shrub
owl splinters or bilge piano, atremble
"musique brut"
i'm alive & everyone else
is living

"either write something worth reading or do something
worth writing" (b. franklin)

* * *

xoxo, fuckface she scrawled on a linen napkin at a 29-point zagat rated restaurant

an old bolex h-16 pans over a bombastic landscape
a womyn is playing a cello on a tractor

the thousands of mechanisms from longcase clocks strewn in a field of weeds

tuesday still seems like a tzar with tuberculosis
her perfume is a camouflaged pattern

today's prescription depressants with a jar of railroad tea

friday is constitutionally bound to anxiety
(wind chimes in sensurround)

the side-profile of a sexy grrl, walking away from you

film-noir blood pressure
sometimes isolation is the necessary crux

said, "what the fuck was that?"  it was really beautiful

outside train stations
inside church yards...

the harrowing edge of waking up w/ an omnibus of all the decisions you have ever made

some clouds impend soliloquy
as two sisters speaking of the sadness of twilight


feint of heart, an exercise in hat tricks

maritime hearts in april
as an owl in snowlight
the paraphernalia of white
walls, papered
w/ genkō yōshi motifs
"it's ducky," i'll say, unsuccessfully
like bolsheviks
in arizona, lobbying
for brassieres
at hooters...really, homonyms
a hatchet job
of clarity, run afoul for
the feint of heart
perhaps, it's
the abrogation of the sentiment
that out #s
oaklandish c'mon sense--
some police riot calm,
of idealism, destruction, & partial

a trail of absurd lures


exeunt, & thx.,

justin, etc.

07 May 2011

one by one, all these instances are realisms in sleep

WEEK 15 // (most likely the penultimate week of this pseudofailure of an experiment/predicament)

here are two new "poems:"

suicide w/ a slide trombone, a cut-and-paste memoir

a circular, spring-suspension carbon microphone
police precinct houses & the new york botanical garden
something something something
850 double pumper holley, white tie affair
just like that
inspiration in fire insurance
what evenings!
fast elevators, and a belvedere perimeter
between the space of two commas

w/ old hat grandeur she lit the candles over the dining room table
blues, reds, blacks, yellows
white wrought-iron birdcage in a fog-white room
slash dot dash
nurse jazz, basically
her "pretty face" is absolutely beautiful
defined, as it is,
by its arrant resistance to aesthetics
let’s get something good going, so we can really derail it!
[semicolon] 'sunrise' [parentheses]

paper moon o'er the brandy snifter
walking toward the clocks, or the east-bound traffic of someone else
introspective, at times abstractly
generally speaking
nuns in the '20s & the minnesota multiphasic personality index, abridged
discontinued irs tax form 8109
between the lines
dot matrix cut-and-paste, aftermath upholstery
the result is volatile, occasionally brilliant, diffident & catholic
a brutalist faulty parallelism

* * *

1970s sunday morning jazz

re-runs of "unsolved mysteries"
after mass,
the spectre of a crucifix;
i walk the line
like audrey hepburn, secretly
w/ bagpipes;
all the right things, destroyed
by flowers--
vociferously, some ribbons;
however, maybe,
the torsion of, of its reflection;
plangent cardboard
constellations of bourbon & living-room cigarettes;
its concern is w/ brevity,
as ghosts guest on capsule-recaps,
w/ helium balloons
tied to a piano's strings, shuddering--
classic kalopsia
w/ holy water water-main free jazz
like cashmere
or a fern plant on the herald-tribune;
it was 2008,
& everything was gorgeous,
as the façade signaled how north dakota
offers the crowd-shy
a place of respite--
a position to hopscotch through
sundry lists,
maker's mark mint juleps,
& bric-a-brac;
it's decidedly mirrors, insightfully
adrift through
the periodic table of the elements--

the first crack of daylight
in my veins
like old butterflies w/ tile roofs

* * *

g'night & good luck--

30 April 2011

pink tulips w/ shellac'd scotch

i skip't 13, here's week 14:

garden shears in the ventricle

she set my short stories on fire
weeping oil paint,
every few minutes orange schizophrenia
between love
the starting of mooring out
of telephone calls
in the carpal tunnel of soap operas from the 70s
sewing regret
w/ rain & oh, white phosphorous...
"it's you," she'll say
somewhat elegiac, defiant; the memories,
the brash kitsch of oxycodone & cocaine
w/ prayer books—
edges, evidence, non sequitur
the lines, unsteadily edited by ammonia water
arson, & a sense of accuracy...
not not wounded
in the glorious smog of the vignette

* * *

bridesmaids setting each other on fire (a haiku)

meticulous details in notes, unpublished
shy, intense
i.e., the sunday news
on valium—
the previous evening's communion of chain-link
lightning, liens
insistent it shd be a wild-flower show, rather
a cultivated-flower show—
the wallpaper
in her bedroom, et al. like a lawn
slaughtered in life-blood—
& i'm asterisking
at the stained-glass seams, restocking
my remington
w/ the same images, the paper
abrading scoffingly at the soporific uxo,
cf. the comfort—
it was a depressing brass tack;
the fussy aesthetic
of a garden, tumbledown in veneer, assumed
as lazy winter weekends
were implicated
through the assuages of spring, skeined—
in silence, etc.
i sat quiet, listless, affixed
to the architecture
the prescriptions of corresponding dresses
tortured against
the recused countryside of dissemblance—
by now, the equity of the discrete
embrued through
the evocation of a jump-page—
the tumult, the sexiness of whitewash, guarded
by the columns
of another decision, recovery
or recrimination, w/ perfect resuscitation

* * *
one-thousand leaves, of evol & subtlety

the trouble starts w/
an evolved
style of водкаprayers
the lucidity of
posed against
the "unheard of" myocardial;
delaware is a state
the geological maps
of airports
, theorised;
constantly, wallpaper
¶s w/ italicized
the candour of nouns
as the novel proceeds
memory ebbs
herein the motives of the
the basic
material of the drama
after things
fell apart
now certain, paperheart;

the blood runs thin

as always, thx. for reading--