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

daydreaming

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—

stet.

a fragile wedding

sunday afternoon, central daylight time

tubas & bridal veils

a spark

a transition, hallelujah

in a tinderbox forest, i'm feeling Spring—

carelessly

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

achtung!

as an owl in snowlight

casually

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

erroneous!

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--

backyard

some police riot calm,

of idealism, destruction, & partial

successes

a trail of absurd lures

***

exeunt, & thx.,

justin, etc.

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

improvisational-january

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,

nonchalance,

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,

false-faced

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--

arrantly,

the first crack of daylight

in my veins

like old butterflies w/ tile roofs

* * *

g'night & good luck--

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,

subsequently

the brash kitsch of oxycodone & cocaine

w/ prayer books—

edges, evidence, non sequitur

classification

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—

red-penciled

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

blatantly

the trouble starts w/

an evolved

style of водкаprayers

elisions

the lucidity of

complications

juxta-

posed against

the "unheard of" myocardial;

sometimes

i.e.

delaware is a state

cf.

the geological maps

of airports

, theorised;

constantly, wallpaper

spliced

¶s w/ italicized

seconal

the candour of nouns

often

as the novel proceeds

memory ebbs

dilates;

herein the motives of the

insignificant

the basic

material of the drama

after things

fell apart

now certain, paperheart;

the blood runs thin

as always, thx. for reading--