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.