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--

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