we the simple

le bop, in french
be bop, in califormenting
a rain storm on the horizon, the switch
of wind brings the flies, horizontal and flapping
a gibberish of things liberal and finished with a shining wax
coat. the table with plaster pasted on it on accident
it sat under the load that played out and that was that.

ITS NOT EVEN OUT TABLE!
it doesnt matter though cause its not even tennis and the
beryllium vases with pine tree gasses filling ip, the new way
to say that is rising is high sung christmas classics on a sunny
sunday afternoon, plain enervated radios.

on a clear day

you cant see foreever
cause for ever after there is a further place
to be. you will be further way out there from there
. so is foreever further than you are from forever?

I have taken to the rabbit of asking questions.
like a symmetric fox snaking in and out of holes
and fence post rows, the punctuation
of a roman numeralized phonetic diagram.

We have ties to the afternoon and the evening
that comes sooner and sooner in december and then gets
later in the day in january and february and then at some point
I dont remember ever reading about what its pakycefalasaurus is averted yet

sloth and desist

In a millipede time scale
the trees sway and bow
and the snow pours down
and the wind is sipping the heat from the tea

I notice the nicety
of thirsty mice
who stop to drink wine from the pools
on the floor
leaving without tipping the scales one way or another
cause they are light mice

what are letters

letters are stand ins for numbers
for signals.

are they dimensionless? well its harder rather
to tell, if they are but they might be if its important.


then the next thing to do is make a comparison
to alternative realities or domains
in pans to be cooked
and eaten chewed and fastened down in a library of happening

too big to fart

the man walked in with a big round belly
and it was hanging over his belt
which was already struggling againts the gravity
of the money bags and gold bars hanging on.

the doctors looked him over and he looked overly fed.
he looked over the parking lot where his
humdinger was parked and thought this would be the last ride.

the old doctors get his money first. they have had a little
hard time cutting lumps, not usurury becuase this guy has so much
fat to give. they said. actually, you are just indigesting.
looks like a terrible case of gas.
what have you been eating?

paper. . . plastic. . ... imaginary numbers..... stuff like that.

oh hummm. .

he's too big to fart! it will blow us all down. it will stink.
so they pumped him full of their private stock of de-gasser. of peptodismal and
peppermint cookies. they asked him questions about if it was enough. they gave him
two tablespoons of pure bicarbonate soda and one glass of water.

I'm a why pasted man

why are the oceans read? and
the grasses green?

if the why-fors married the where-abouts?

what if the howdidodies hitched with the howyadoings?

and then what if they all played football together
on ice and with squids instead of footballs
like detroit burning down around our heads
visions of sugar plump faries dancing on flagpoles

whatever happened to flags going to tattters?

slumday

its raining
its cold
the old man is sitting at home
sewing holes in his clothes

while the fat tv glows vowels
accross the rows of soda
cups to be disposed, growing mold

underwaterinsansasylumbreakoutmode

a convergance of understanding
mis directed fingers
tapping light rythmeter
pitter patter

the wobbling heat stays in the corner of one room
where we dont eat

the economic vitality

its about the echonomy, stupid
its about the echidna, stupid
its about the echinoderm, stupid

its about the United Standing
the United Starting
the United Staple

the United Stutter

where is the snow?

its cloddy
its cod

its not cloudy
or cold

its slow
its wit

its not snow
or white

November Remember Before December

blue green algue

Like the ferns?
Like the rapid prototype of fern rollers?

they are going to be plastic. They are.

they will roll over the ferns. They will.

If we place a plan of action, about two feet,
east of west of here, then there will be a pan
to cactus the ferns and deep-fry them
and we will measure their impedance
on digestion.

frost

the trees are ticked
that their leaves are dropped
floating into dirt or
pavement puddles
pulvarized signs that
winter is about timing not
the frozen quantity of snot.

american beams

steel glass surroundings
solder paperweight beginnings

I breath the dust
and fingerless moments
intaking solvent
paying rent with healthy cents

solder lime

like crosby plying the world trade fair
looking for helmets
made of hair
or hornet nests to rest on
the ice is hard and the heart is starting to
be on the bench where the team is sitting
waiting for soda and crackers
and wondering where the toillette brushers are

rcp

real cool persons
sic pumpkings
and queens fillling stockings
at christmas we wish you the bestest
holiday cheer and like the end of the year
the hot apple pie melts the fillings in your teeth
and the rest is history so to speak
and freeze the dirt rock solid, crystal lines
up in columns and crunchy volumes
sitting under the eaves of million mile ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

dub bems

slow slopes to a round peak
the river to cross is wide
and jah rastafari
bumping along in the back
can hardly signal the taxi to town

last hemmeroid

a huge potato
revolving and absolving sin
in space
flit and flan , uncooked
going to pan slap
a wave creeping over continental
shelfs stocked with canned fish.

we can can anything.

wale apparatus

why would a pipe
be for a whale
or is it the prince
and the principette,
ipso facto
pippette sliced bread in a kitchenette
its as neat
its as expensive in the dark ages
of 3011

singing the grayblues
got holes in my pockets
and loose change in my shoes

fooseball visions and red
old pigions sitting ledges

gulf of gull

I remember the snail slaughter
houses and heads snuffed hunder
one big foot step

ducks burst from around the bend
and the sun goes away
and the seagulls purchase a mystery set
of sealegs instantly bobbing behind the roaring
river coughs

real cool pumpkin

in the jungle the farty jungle
the puma king stalks a bean curd salad

its eyes pervue the ridges looking for swisschard escaping over the horizon
the puma walks on egg shells, having hard boiled
and pepperred the bread

listen to the sway of the swagger
and the jaguager

machito y gang

bop foundry
squal lines
flapping
south cubano be
cubano stop here
and breath the north night
air while drummers role

Dear Jerks

I gave you my lif an my love
but you did not car
we could have mak this work


I'm gonna enlist
so I gan go over see
and desist from the shit that they
piss in the grainge and the homes
on the range filed with tax returns. Its strange
how when you come back and get shot
in the brains and they fall a little bit out of
the givens and the given-nots and they dont cairo
no slow mo po po eating donuts with a fo fo in their
belt, pullin they girth into fit the fat check
that they pull that the people pay instead of their rent
(which that money was spent prior on bread)
and then your dead. not over there, but here.

damn pigs piling wastelines on picket lines
debit credit sell out and forget it.

maybe the mohamad was right,
dont eat ham tonight, its
unholy.

maybe torah was right,
dont cut the pork roast
its dirty.

and filthy
and stinkin
and cowardly to the max.

china shrink wrap shrimp

in the bay of yangtze, a chunk
of ice floats faster than the junk
that scoops turd tasteing shrimp out of
cold brown water, separating filth
from life in general, invisible trotskys
divisible lenins sailing yachts stocked with
dollars and blood clots

cooking with fire

we gotta get to the flower
a bud chock full of ambition
spaghetti dinner prices
where the pepper and salt is all that you
can bite.

we gotta get to the four
horseriders of the hyacinths,
sniffing the breeze like bees
from their nest stinging you in the ass
like jackets full of nettles.

we gotta get the flour
mills spinning wind chimes out over the horizon
wolf howls be damned if any drip of snow
will fall and then the tracks lead to
lichen covered ice lodges.

high rollers

low strollers, holding
the shoes to the pavement
with sincerity,

the metal clouds are blown to the side of the road
by the thermic vortices driving cars
, where there on the curb, they feel spurned like eels, fresh
from some loathsome enclave.

the stars pulling sledges
worry about dinner.

roaring leaves dissapear into mud streaked
pitcher-esque goblets, eight pound phone bills later,
the moment of solidarity with the strong topical palm tree seal
finds a way to pay

handle on the pot

the cook is crooked
loose and goose down
bed sheats boiled for dinner
listen to the hunger of the teeth in the mill
grind their way through oats and beans
and barley, go and fetch a picture
of water and make sure theeer's not hole in it

keeping up with the times, demands a certain material
restraint. Its a quiver full of purpose
and porcupine remains that at the end of that day,
leaves us fat and sappy. like the titanic
but if the iceberg was only lettuce.

I've got a fly

its sitting in a bag
its got legs and eyes and
a brain as big
as a bundle of cash.

when I leave the house today,
this bug will leave the trash.
and then will go hustle
and bustle till all the bills
are payed or torn up .

when I come home, this
bug will hide in the gutter and fly out
when the water falls and it will shout!
hey, I paid all the bills AND stole a pumpkin pie
from the old lady across the street. then I spit in her eye!

and I will say, dear bug, you are rotten!
get out of my house. and take the trash with you.

grape vines

setting into the yellow sun shines
today finally


its been two whole weeks since
grass and leaves that left
saw the hotness that made them
burst red white and blue last,
that was the spirit
hamburger lines across the atlantic
book binds covered in dust
on the top shelf in the library
till 3 in the morning.

octavius

what will the rain look like
when it stops to fall?

what will the ocean smell like
when it stops to tide?

what will the plants sound like
when they stop to grow?


when all god's chillun got shoes,
what will nike do?

Loch Over

Loch over by crazyfacehands

occult occupation

seeing ghost butts fly in on winter ligands
and brush strokes, cat hair pulled for comb
dome sugar plantation sandwhich breaths
out of breath hardly dressed, the morning
freezes the next good arrest from a cardiac
artist, tea and chocolate sets the revolution
up for the peace with justice juice cup slurps

If there is something to believe in
it much might be the diagrams of
howling moons and warbling wolves
in the forest graves blujay swords
playing catch with the mud and color
of autumn and coleslaugh

down on the corner

put out on the street
you and the garbage man,
first time that you eat
from the same bucket
its metal shiny new,
the door to the walmart
is opened up a zoo

all of the people, greeting at the store
goin bout their business, happy as before
all of the tourists, arrive in the boat
grinning and snapping, pictures of the goats

I think I see the stop sign
melting into chalk
lines around the people,
not allowed to talk.
they think that they are given
rights by the big old words
but when the cops come swinging
the ink is on the horse.

out on the doorstop, up in the tree
many many people, no longer free
away in the manger, away on the farm
pheasant shooting pillgrims, set their car alarms.

Wall Street.

let me get off the bus
and get down on walleye street
where the fish run the beet
and the market is full of snail feet
gas ass trophy pods,
hangnail spools pooling over the
gum stained ground,

They are a long ways from zoning the party
a halloween freak show,
and the lack of focus is only to say that
the objective is too big for the scope.

I wasnt to break free

if your reading this write
now, then you are reading,
which can be more than said
for the millippeeddee that inhabits
the lawndry nest you can call a pile (and
with conviction, if not even conffection)

so just remember, maybe you want to read it wout loud.
so the little legged people can know too
what is what and where it is.

black and white

black into white mixing
rivers of thought
is like key west
form , the huricane
wishing to make a big name,
must fill out,

float away, sand into waves,

beach house into beach hose

rooms removed for some foam.

the plants are in

the plants
in roots
upshot
through the door to become a mantle plant

dawn till now

before that it was not dawn
nor dusk, but the clod
of spray, settling
out and over ever
and every crevasse
and corner.

should the sound of rickety
line fences fail to make it,
then remember the pancake breakfast
that wasnt

fat slippers

the day of the last day
of the month beholdens us
to ask the sun to stop tricking
around and to settle, less to the north than to the south.

the time for real ad libbers
and seal skin shoes treading
waves through the ice roles
is nigh to realize
that they are just a then
and a hen lives in a pen
scratch fasting in the dirt,
worms are not words and similarly
neither are hoards of gold.

deadlines

live lines snipped by the wind
fall sparking among
slugs plotting sidewalk chalk lines
feeling like midgets washing microscope windows
tying shoes with dental floss
removing the fingers from between grizzly teeth
scenes from the crash of one world into another,
from one biology into the
hat-trick fidgets of a generation
waiting for the reality of life to appear
while its already here and shivering

I believe

stevie could see
me and the wind swept sea
bathtub trees ground up the roofs
and windows blacked out to the chorus
of a new sun
folding the time in half and rising
in neutral nine

happy new years

SEP 21 fingers by crazyfacehands

shark skates

hound of the idle fiddles
stands there bugss bunny faced
the crickets slurp up the silence
of the river banks that are rich with wind
and willows
and literature pillows pile along
in the evning when that hot sun goes down.

woah that tiger

joplin cleans up the chopin
with rags and tiger stripe slacks
similar if not distant to the beethoven
seeing the brig over the river quai
and deciding to anthemize about it

solid Gold

Archimeded it up
the cup rose to the tup
and the grams fall and the drams
all hold hour glass sandstorms and
enthusiastic flames purr the wind along
elongated rythims of heavy metal elements

microscopes are whipped together
and mixed with the ancestors of helium, argon, and zinc
and baked together to get some
cookies or cake

rain again

last night the sky
fell apart and landed
in puddles and muck holes
and the satr started
thinking forward to saturday
when the moths loss of wormhood
is another part of the
apparition

salaam salad

oho, said the toast
o no, said the rest
of the cups of coffee
ringing revele on the table top
counter this! said the fork and the knife
smothered in butter
landed in the sink
the cups where all there already
having a drink when the salad
arrived and said to sallamy,
salaam.

september for ever

this is the death
of summer
the health of deer and pheasent
ridges, filled to the brim with pleasent
wing edges and the reest of
the time a dozen bridges

hannibal of the east

Goodmorning Irene

I saw Wayne Gretzky in my dreams.

And a ragged mop, alone in the corner, overwhelmed
by spilt millc and frozen corn

feature present. stop. future president

thusrday

stand in line
for a lime juice cosine

wipe away the salt and the fine
written lines, stains trickling blue
out and over the edges of badges

soft wet paper bags
filled up with pepper loafs
take away all the wall space that could be used
for something else better

rock island

I'm a goin on that wide water
roam to the rock island parting
white water words
and the swift plants and birds stop, stand, and staircase

guo rogerson

clabidexterous Rex
is a bottled up pennies
worth of five and dime
at wolworths
cotten breeches
in the dam
up in the
tree

the base line is heat

A famous engineer, Buckminster Fuller, once identified the inability to prevent energy loss in mechanical systems as the foremost inhibitor of technological advancement. The limitation Fuller identified is the fundamental problem faced by micromechanical systems and nanomechanical systems (MEMS and NEMS, respectively) using resonance based detection. Micromechanical resonators are micro or nano sized structures, such as microfabricated cantilevers, plates, and rings used in many applications such as atomic force microscopy [ALBRECHT], fluidic density sensing [ENOKSSON], and bio-substance detection [BURG].

Operated at mechanical resonance, a detected shift in natural frequency is correlated to an applied force such as an acceleration or mass. Critical to the functional accuracy, efficiency, and limit of detection is a very low damping factor (δ), also known as the logarithmic decrement. Low δ results in high signal-to-noise ratio and plays an important role in defining the minimum frequency shift or force that can be resolved with a microcantilver resonator, for given cantilever dimensions and frequency [YASUMURA]. Damping in micromechanical resonators comes from a variety of sources including support loss, viscous damping, clamping losses, internal friction, and thermoelastic damping (TED). The first three mechanisms of damping are extrinsic and may be minimized via design guidelines, as detailed in the next section. Inconveniently, the last two sources are intrinsic and thus establish a damping limit.

Of the intrinsic losses, internal friction is always present and is a difficult form of damping to quantify but can be considered to come from crystallographic or surface defects and the friction at grain boundaries [YANG_2000]. Generally, the use of single-crystal materials such as quartz or semi-conductor grade single-crystal silicon, containing a low density of defects, can reduce this source of damping below that of TED. TED is caused by thermoelastic coupling of an oscillating mechanical stress field to a temperature field and is therefore of great importance for resonance based detection.

flagstones

a smithereen of peach pit
lies a wasting time in the street
front window shining in a passerby eys
fine fish gate solvents sit
in tight fit rubbish bins for flies to
grab and open the gas knobs on popeye

bubbling blistered fingers
pulled off at the stem with pliers
cooked and cooked thoroughly in the heat
of a third sun, rubbing the moons of jupiter
together over dry moss and tinder

montreal sucks too

the build roads like idiots
and like idiots spend money
on drunken workers
plowing old people over and into the grave
and pulling their gold teeth out
and melting them into slag.

its a bitch out there.

new york slimes

Which of the following is much like the other, which of these things is not the same?

a: The Front Plague
b: The Front Page
c: The New York Times
d: Slime growing on the bottom of bigfoot's foot bath
e: All of the above

sticks and suns make bake your buns

but words arent going to help you.
complain like a bandit in
jail, and still your hide will
sweat salt rocks and your head will
explode thoughts of icebergs 50 miles wide falling
into your eye and nothing is changing
the fact that
its too damn hot

cicada day

the productivity
of a pile of hot air
ends up being for cicada
who is over there
smoking a cigar
and reverberating

little steevie wonder

's burried. in many a mud piryamic did
kid wont keep it on down trying!
sitting a film
hearts the chromeworm wove
warm on the sleeve
its little steeve
-Y!
far from steezy.
oh its steevie!

dry_drops

from the weeping eye
I stop thinking of tigers
claws sawing dogs in half
evaporation occurs next
and lets guess that residue
thats left is a healthy reminder
to stay out of the jungle
a born again in borneo

stable for the horse's of course

plunder among the roots
stuck and crushed and sucked up
in fibrous heaven to the top
of luscious leaf faces,
ascorbic morticians and twisted silver did I
mention the burnt sun spot liver
images filling the pages of tackle boxes and
the horde of gold soon to be eroded and rained
down to coat ceramic dollars

flour of july

steep slopes keep the boat
a dry bucket for the water
some is in , riding around with us
breathing smoke to the fish chained to the bottom,
a cast a catch a caricature of class acts
.

though I am the only one who drinks this water,
floating red algae and albumin, fish shit and gasoline
and bear feet, half by mistake, half on purpose to
keep my living longer and proud

hamerica

a pork chop walks
into the stable, picking money out of a
fistfull of dollars to pay for some frozen cream and sugar
a tempest of baddreams and windowless sightlighns
following the working words of some anonynews

where all the fish are

is it in the wetwaters of
a contingent, a flowing ice berg
carrying letters over long distances
telling the fish to distance itself from
the crab and the cretaceous things at
right angles to what another?

anon on a canon

I'm going to get me a cannon
long as I am tall
gonna tell eveyone off on a canoe
longer than the cannon and I are together

then me and that cannon
on a canoe not a wagon
will go off the horizon
valiantly
like owls with a stock option
on pachabel's ink suppliers

tv_nose

radiation disruptions
of the once round signal mountains
100k in name only is the same

The Color of Money is White

bootsy: a blast past half mast.
cracker barrel clad and sad stacked
hat off track. black milk sounds like
fermented dino farts,
the show never starts,
a clear cut spam artist
sending out the parts of a bad methodology
the lot them could use a eulogy.
.

slice it

any way you like it
and the lemon will be
multiplication tables with spanish mice
running around them, sneaking up on the pencil cups
and tape measure eraser drawer
, a comprehensive state and measurable
beast ,being a parmesian sneeeze extremely blurry

bootzy

on the step up
the rest go to get set up
and rest up
in the coffin farm down the wasted spaces
refilling the gourds and greaseing the carrot
axels n the chariots of fire

the gray mornings

inculcate a sonnet
or at least a tiny fly, crashing into the floor,
maybe hungry, maybe brine got
in all of those eyes, or one big eye,
not that it matters, but its a clerical issue
which must be resolved whether
one big eye with lots of balls or one big ball with lots of eyes. . .
now everyone is confused as to whether the reason is none of these.

vote the wrote

murmurr they spoke,
flying gains of sand
makeing the desert into the promised land
a banana of oil under our feelers, walking sneakers

the enablement of essence

lipid highways at the start of the day
limitless cat eye sunrises send us grabbing
out into nether-space for the glasses
the bottle top stoppers creak and grown
on tires outlandish and frumious
as the bandwagon is snatched from the clutches
of a heron disguised as a minnow, gone mental,
friends with the mussel,
disused to the trappings of a society on the edge
of water, too, the brink, where it has
banks upon blanks upon blanks upon banks

squish the mission

feel the breeze? on your tongue?
thats cause your mouth is hung
open, stuck, locked even
with iron ore, rust, tetris in the morning
tennis in the evening, when the sun goes down
I hate it when that evening sun goes down
I love it when that even keel goes down
and the captain goes down with the ship and lifts
her up and bails her like any real captain would do

sold the lode

rotten potato visions
keeling over into precision
barfing, the scent of what is there and cant
be seen makes us seethe and
breathe bat omens into the neighbors
homes and grown zones.

I say let them be a burnt pot to piss in
let them agonize on a minatour clomping
jigs like an apostale by the canal the ear drains to

load the toast

taken all my money
put it in the bank
want all my money
stuck up in the bank
could get more money back
if my bank was really a bank
but they not
they just a thief
in the bullrush

333 Kelvin today

candle sticks stuck
in a plastic flow to the bent wall
are the disgusted representation
of my exterior state
sweltering in the city.
And I thought this was supposed to
be canada
not havana.


the cat tells me,
also with her candle languidness
that she beacons to the wick,
always ready to burn up in chemothical mischief,
so she just lights there as a living log
, a testament to the pavement
of which the concept of temperature
cannot apply.

74

a lime in the light
is drying up tight
under the scrutiny
the fast pace of ants conveying routinity
to the floor always a floor above the next

slide eyes
pealed tongues
ramparts apart and the cat gone beserk
sitting upside down
i n a place, the palace is leaning
and the wisdom annealing
, the wind is blowing
and the clouds and gowning up
in the waiting room, waiting for god to move
over and let a rover take over head
and stock of the situation
what is it that is sitting, listening and biting

slough jumps

an old owl stole
a tail or two a carbon black
tree on a farm or noon on the hot planet
close to the sun, forget me knots holding
the laundry to the line, so the light can blow
and dry like bones

slow low

solo lilly pads
floating on the surface still
roots shooting for the silt
south bay preachers, slimy shells
long legs carrying groaks
red wings singing spoke
out and said to keep
paddling past, no turtles
in the warm high water

twenty four years ago,

today, someone
happened

friend of the cat

a bishop ringing bells
a flower bringing bees
have in common
at once and forever again
a cell array description
parse here parts there
and flippant location

ibis threats , owl flying, cattle lowing
yet better than the ribs
pierced and liver pulverized
of a lamb on dew in the
morning noon or night

the moon visits the sun
while the start of some young pigion
makes a roundabout admission
fissuring cobalt to scions and ribbons
hear they fly and I and I bring a doubt
with the damndest thistleing

wing in the pillows

on my arm,
my head. a farm
of thoughts spread
with manure and last years hay.
hee haw says the cat, getting
ready to do something dragonish.
pelicans soar above and wait
for the fish to fly to them.
its nice and sunny to be working on a farm
in the boring urbanity of it all.

sring love

daffodils
on the sill
in soil

eve and saddam

o bummer.

where are ALL
the american heros
all the muhammads
and the blue folks
and impassable comanches
watering horses and trains
fighting nowhere
for the nobody everybody knows
,kings, all of them,
parks sprouting trees on buses,
sowing sanity and eyesight,
dilliminal tickets to the twixt and twain
among inner city zealots
not stopped not moving; inbetweeen
always starting
lightning rods of the world,
kites of mediums,
prophecy of whats novel
.?



when all thats left is prosthetic television precision
annd

• 
  

• 
  

• 
  

• 
  

rarity

we ended up windy
singing briskly on the glued
rock roof,
watching the cat breathe and squint
and quit
the sight

read view mirror

slips on the night edge
of fence pickets
this ticket is going where
where the sun is hardly anyones
problem
eyes perfectly shuttered up
and homes perfectly flooded
muskrats make the best of it
or so they say seals
in the harbor of some stupid place
where the pace is set by lobsters taking
long rests at the bottom, right near the holy grail

manure

city not far from the valley
down in the valley
hand my head over
smell the wind blow
mist and shit
mountains
and lots of habitants
standing around lost in
their surroundings
floundering to guess the thousands of uses
uberellas have,
the red and blue cinderellas hanging on to winter.

april showers dont bring

in the coldest rain
socks being mops
shoes being pools

the air a literal swamp
feta ice falling fast

it kills the nose,
open ears,
close them
dont listen to the canadien spring
with nothing to learn
with everything still brown
still hidden from sight, from mind
the birds are silent and snails nonexistent
strafed water erupted
soft ground sludged

re: NSERK, CARIER,

Swimming, I come, dissolute
a new recruit, for the underwater commute
passing rocks and sunken trunks
filled with gold and rubies and natural gas lumps
me, plain spkn, I dont neeeed em.
I'll just leave em.
for the next poor immigrant,
a fugee la la lying from la
aka an american peasant, not as beautiful as
the old thoughts of a dead pheasent.

dont worry. I'll be riding kcab to be president!
that land is a scab I still pick,
a tick bite disease affecting my breathing and circulations

but for now give me canada
dial the newspaper, write the radio,
tell them I'm near. I'm hear
for their women money and land.

give it up

give it up easy.
or not.
I'll take it either way,

so slow

the introverted wind
by clouds, twisted,
given over and up
to the only eyes opened
watching the stalking hawks
fly sideways and fast
over sidewalks packed
with people heating sardines
in tins
on fires
in bins

Fishing for Bullheads

have you ever heard of the frog
whos legs are long and its neck is not?
would you guess that hamburger and sausage guts
are on an amphibian menu, thanks to man?

the bugs where there and the leaches too.
swimming or crawling or breaching among
junked porcelain and glass and even shoes.
crayfish feeling along,
pincing pork faces and dreams apart.

this is the way that we wish to be at night.
looking and listening to the real life
that inhabits South Bay

nows the time

for licking up the fuzz
the ants marching one by one does
not now know that feeling of a truncheon
of heavy debt a nation of less-than-ants forgets
about too, but knows or does not know, either or
it doesnt matter
after the fact
that
now's not the time
to use the public toilets if you
are the publisher's number one enemy,
and by supply and demand.
the public's number one enemy too.

English Queens

for just the instant and the time up to
that spent forming to word, words, phrase,
sentence, was their a definite meaning and
intent. Never after, even a minute, does that word
hold the same value. Words are not quanta, remember.
Nope, they are something illegitimate, molecules
coaxially hoisted together and breathing and dying
like so many tumbleweeds an hedgehogs in the desert.
Only no one can stake a word out
to dry and run bright and shiny around the sun.
Worst, words sag and rust or restore themselves to previous shape
with pre-stress veins running the whole way through.
And the more words their are together, the more trouble you and I are in.
we must behave as if words are works of art, forces of nature,
each on a tsunami waiting just below the paragraph of earth
to be shot at by a starling trill and sink, tectonic plates stacked, plastic
porous and hacked to pieces.

And dont ever forget it.
If you dont want to be misundersestimated,
dont say anything. simply behave

cara cara

sun squares yiled split
on the water spilled tiles
diffract a minute to let the cat walk back
and forth for thirsty bursts half in the door
tail trailing a separate aha character
foaming at the mouth fomenting a laugh
fermenting some bread on countertop spots
extinguished an overslept tap dripping drops
into full pots and pans left standing for too long
and that back bunsen is out of light
so the coffee moves up and up and takes longer
but not longer just softer like a triplebeambalance act
passed by the congress in the front room

let the bread rise

flower or flour if you prefer
sour dough slow motor skills
slough photons stuffed in a turkey
gut stuck and shut up in an oven hot
four hundred years later
take it out and eat it down
mange like a racoon
strange like a seltzer water bath

no damping

oranges as big as they get
grown on trees as big as they get
gnashed by teeth as flossed as they get
get me to the sleepy bye impules
like a cat out of water
or a honey bee out of air
the smiles of yesterday shift to my eyes of tomorororrorrow
sitting cross-leggedly on the hard floor, having
to give up my seat to perfect, no imperfect, strangers
in my own home
like a bat out of hell
like an angel out of heaven
or like a seal out of ice
like a gelatin out of hoof

coalition of the prepared

I'm ready
got like four of five bucks
in my back pocket
in my back yard
got like four or five guns
I'm ready

the gold is gone
from the
ooze of oklahomy
and pennsylvany
the water tastes like gasoline
we drink it like real americans
who bleed fire

yeahmantotallyawesome

clear the lanes
cut the lights
bud lites lit up
like christmas trees
in the night

a mediterranean vacation for us
a subterranean vacation for them

the march of the penguins

its cold.
there is snow.
a wing howls in the wind.
the water chops.
the trees bud.
the spiders emerge.
its an emergency.

america beautiful

is fear a state
or a concept
? in either case
baseball is derived
of both
elastionontherise
chords lifting orange
stripe staccato fussing
fusion synonyms blushing
across the sky in a
nitride casket
puck in the bedroom
prevails over tunafish in water
sweltering me in my sleep and only
my sleep

the dirty version
is the one you usually
keep I kinda with
I was in florida with
dolphin fin soup swimming
around me, spinning down
the drain between my fat
red feet.

walnuts wait in a bowl
till till the mice eat
at dinner time

nails in the wall

snow falls too big
and bursts

blue sky has a thirst
that cant cure

my back hurts

putting out the fire with gasoline

on an airplane sommewhere:

a table is in the sun, antique
luis fourteen sheen, flowing plastically
with its own aged weight.


on a golfcourse somewhere:

a plaid bag is damp in the dew
precious plastic balls bouncing in a zippered
up bag.


on a bowling alley somewhere:

a dog stupidly looks for water and chases
alien finger pointers from room to room
thinking thoughts not its own.

1993 closeness

sputtered moon,
not gold not silver
not wool,
of chrome etch wafer sits
so big so round ubove froze stones
a lonely home for some
dust stuff

and ruthless electric waves
crown around
the spiderweb sphere
isenthalpic resonance pro ject ion in polar
bear space
arresting water in its place,

bbc nws pdt

al qaida
all at a kmart
catering a party tonight

they buy sausage and onions and pickles and buns
they sigh and stoop to pick up the poop
of all the puppy dogs they tote along.

at the checkout,
they checkout.

booger brains booger brains
where are you?
what is your name and what do you do?
do you sit in the shop of horrors
selling boron out the window?

in the wind, the finer things lift up
and send themselves out of the frame
all the same, to me its just another way
of being a piece of pie

sayonara,,,,,, sucker

steroids mutating the growing pains
away , once what looked brilliant as
the sun on earth, down for tea,
has turned out to be less than finesse,
foiling domes with light speed
when godzilla grabs the reigns

smoke and fears

burnt haze exposes the way to realize
that the shingles opposite from over the pavement
are a curious shade of true shit,
not unlike a rooster caught in a tractors nuts,
goggleing and softening up in a pan of butter,
but you better believe it.
the whole world is seething and fed up;
a national disaster thrashing in the shallow end,
a shark of teeth gnashing at the little knees and their shins,
. an what we dont need, we never knew
cause we had it all saved up before it blew
and since the candles got forgot
we can not remember how to make them again.

a curious summize in an age of quality better than
the basement metal cuts, but cut from collective conscious
as soon as the dam busts./

try not to make a fuss

Egypt : See Slipped

They tell me of a pie up in the sky
waiting for me when I die
but between the day your born and when you die
they may not even hear you try
to brush your teeth.

its a huge pyramid scheme.
a pie scheme, a slice of the theater, front
row center, pleading with the ibis usher, with
a papyrus menu, pointing to
all the different lemon harangue pie filling
the spans of the page, of ancient technology,
electric lamps powered with baghdad batteries
charged with lead and acid and a little
plutonium/uranium, or some other planet extract,
some god from a place that didnt invent god
so that light and freedom can be brought into some godless
point in america.
amen brother, amen.

amend sister, amend
the constitution, amend that liver document.

one of these things is not like the other

have you heard the latest
latest news in town
about the little bollweavil
thats been coming around
not longer little
little bit mutated
little bit of a monster
much more massive than
a single family tax-payer can accomplish
with F-23s and B-55s and missile chisels and the
like.
so out in the ocean
an eruption,
GODZILLA
on the GOLFCOURSE
with bankers from GOLDMAN SACHS,
eating ice cream
seeing birds fly this way and that from alligator hazard to
alligator hazard and all the alligators are
waiting for the ants to cross the universe.

999 mile island

west of wellesley island
east of eden,
south of sweden
north off the coast of jamaica
about three thousand miles

and stinking and stanking and like a skunk banking
on the navier-stokes equation

Egypt See : Crypt

at the bog a quarter mile wide
smiling humans long ago dead
still dead and like a raisin in the shade
unpoppable unstoppable
the old hydrant unprobable and propped up no more
so the snow is slopped up and
they dont even care that this disgust is here.
they dont even care about us over in america
they dont even care about us over in canada

egypt is so damn selfish sometimes.
one hundred thousand years of history and they think
that they have a book.

well, to that I say, we have
one hundred million ears of corn,
which is exactly what Marc Antony asked for
when history was being written, so in that way
we are there.

one last closing remark;
inst it better to not be history?
as godzilla would say:
sayonara, suckrs

down along boulevard

honk if you are jesus
or riding with jesus
but only if jesus is
wearing jeans

ninja star

style tiered and true
fruit cake glue smeered on the floor
waiting to stick you in a stack of newspaper print
printed so small to appear as
rice flecks flies in the eyes.
tired of being the same old child,
thus rearing up and down the wild side of the block,
black and grey and kind of made of cosine lines and
hypobolic cholera climate signs, global warning,
sea level riles and expands the moon into a word a
hard of hearing par for the coarse,.

Sunshines on Canada

and the Moonshines on
Kentucky ;
an afterthought though
in comparison, epecially, to what
sin the swamps there is an anaconda snakes
of wellesley island,
not naked with feathers of fur,
clearly could be, but isnt bur covered,
adapted to sit it out under or above the ice and mud,
indifferent than a garden but less like a frog and more like
a juggernaut.

and it swims after us, thinking itself concealed
among the striken bullrushes at the bottom
but the jungle patterns dont serve cake here
and I sever the tip of that tail with the wooden paddle.

evolution of texture,
revolution of refractive index.
so we wait for part deaux

subterfuge and centrifuge

separate parts congealed in a safeway
in a deposit box of extraordinary sedition,
alien acts with hands and backpacks stacked to the top
with explosive commitment and frog shackles
designed to the teeth to bring death to the heat
drafts of drafts piling up in corners, a day of a minute later
spread into the center, taking orders sent from stars
far far away in a galaxy that does not exist any more
and sand plants growing golden blinds to make them feel more rich
mired more in happiness, generally, than sandwich.

window into the anachronym

in plane harmonics
stock trading with honest amish
plow horses, heading up the road
in a cloud of dust and old crow
calls calling out names of far away places
and futures and pasts and mineral wealth to be halved

say hello to my fish butler

dont you come over
and dont tip my fish
butler
standing at the door
opening that door
closing that door
for you to not give my fish
butler a tip
a remark,
even a compliment,
a tip of the hat, a good day a good bye
a good reason to live,
for that matter.
its ok, you must think,
its only my fish butler.
yes.
it is only my fish butler,
my fish butler from italy,
who wears a bow tie and is nice
and opens the door and closes the door
for you to not give my fish
butler a tip

but works are not worms

says the worm,
so eely and fissioned

but words are not works

says the bird

several thousand words

squirmy and twisted
some
jagged and plotted

histogrammed a la bugs bunny
or baked in a pie a la black birds
of france
of course

they are just words.

lucky

up up and away, awnings over easy
and legs over done,
wings often worn out from
flying to and from the front of the posts
to the front of the posts
and back to the front of the posts
with a side detour to the corner.

New Baraks

O bummer,
I cant get with that.
Gotta keep it quick,
never miss
so I send it with a kiss.

a doomsday dummy, dressed in soil
earthly and raw and fragile as the turned up
lumps of the till,
on feet rising, teeth chattering, yalking and bilking
and sending missiles out of not-so-ordinary eye sockets
so
sue says,

nuff' said

Remember the Spring, last spring, when the flowers
popped out of the frozen
frost and the little birds sang in the high tops,
in mind of potential crops

wind and snow

consider a duck in the wind
falling into the part
of the earth
covered with duck weed choked
water, with a message.

The duck wants you to know something.
Get out the binoculars.
Look, listen, and Learn.

What you will know
is that the duck
is no ordinary duck but
a nice duckfriend
who whishes you
a
very
merry

frequency phase diagrams in the dusk @gmail.com

calf in the headlights
upright and stage first left exit
to the left, no to the left, to the left,
(no to the leftovers) bits of turkey leg
grieving for heat, seething in a bucket of brine
a sock comes off and the shoe stays on
a statistic
a-static example of deafness in the hearing
of a million million man march
to the million million years that have
passed since man marched in february not yet march.

"friends, romance, and country men"
"be wear the ides of march"
"the jaws that bite, the claws that catch"

who cares any more? show me some snow
and I'll make you wealthy healthy and wise.

as twilight sprinkles in
on a pithy of hang nails and soaring tails,
the long over due bandicoot stands up and says something that should
never have been shouldered on our corns

star VS crow PART I; flight!

up from the south
sleds fluttering out
over coarse airs the flew
,whole crows so the saying goes,
minus with the night
what is added to the second thirsty light,
the cold solid star golding out
against antimatter black ire.

wolf tooth, so big, so round

in the sky
making the drip go drop
by drop
to the side
to the side
to the lives at the edge of the smile

the wolf tooth
keeps rollin along,
sized by slew eyes
in the radial lines,
the polar vector phase diaphrams,

We Are Blind
A Circle Is Rind

somewhere ri-ght here.

tantamount

to me, is this side montaine,
a stigmatism in the religion,
a feeling of free pigions, wrestling back tears
for the frozen pizza
wasting time in the snow.

pyramid schemes, while canada dreams

egypt:
see gyped.

the airline signs all point to fine,
print in the paper all points to a line
drawn in the sun,
temples for zombies
stumbling to run.
the look on their faces a shadow
of a money shooting gun
loaded and bloated, seams show
and blows the feather over
a heart of ether

possibilities

Sun looms over the horizon and the wakefulness of a thousand prarie dwelling foxes does not change. Supposing I was one of them, then I would be the same as one of them but not all of them. Consider the peculiarity of this situation. They are all the same in the sense that the looming sun, threatening to send a handful of prairie partridges up to the above, does not affect the wakefulness of any of that thousand prairie dwelling foxes. Yet, where I one of them, I would only be the same as one of them and thus might be affected by the certain loom of the sun.

The looming sun leaves a beautiful tapestry, just short of a paisley shawl, in its wake as the miles roll asunder. A babbling brook of bear sweat alerts the hogwash of antelopes to be careful. Lucky for them, the bear is interested mostly in something other than them. The bear is most interested in a market where a certain bull has died. When the bear gets there, its going to eat and then hibernate. Maybe it is hibernating on top of a sewer grate, for good measure of warmth, and is swept up in the police bin along with a certain homeless Abu Rudy, a mistakenly homely bear mistaken for being that and homeless.

When the crucial facts are strewn out in the damp air of a sub-prime basement somewhere in the sump pump room of a solid old building in Somewhereville, the bear will be released. Where not the facts to reveal that the bear is dead, the bear would be further detained, possibly arraigned, later to be rearranged into a thousand degrees of carbon angles. However, being the good police commissioners they are, this fact is overlooked or never looked up. The dictionary has been sucked up by the sub-prime sump pump ages ago. Details are for the feeble minded, as well, I might add.

NEW POST

nasty notes leftover from burnt toast
dripping to dry pieces,
scarab beetle feces
frozen coats solid before the sun,
liquid before god and burnt before most.

when silver bells approach noon,
the angel hermit of the bridge,
will still be fridgid below ice flow clouds
suddenly ocean and deep.

who would through a wheel chair
away on a bright day
is beyond me, behind a sign of the times
reacting with pure mud to form a new nuclease
chain dangling in free space.

whales towels

There is just something fine about the way that ice is comparable to slime. I mean, isn’t it? Suppose an infinite plane and assume that its adiabatic. Now assume a frictional rubber disk, about, almost, but not, four inches in diameter and more than one inches in thickness and it weighs six or so ounces. If the plane was slime or ice, the results would be the same. I would be there and you would be at home. You would be at home because its cold and not sunny at the plane and also the plane is concealed by walls. Also, there is no water to drink or sandwiches to eat.

When I get home, I think I want a bath. I’ve been thinking since yesterday about what I will have for dinner and how good the bath will be. But unfortunately, there is a crop of leprosy creeping up my ankle, so I’m not sure about anything these days. I’m sure about jesus though.

Bright sunshine is sure most the fatal clue, so the French say. Letters of blood pool up just under the skin and start taking bribes. In the summer time, I pay a lot for lying around and sleeping outside on the dock, facedown, ears shut to the seagull plaintiffs, my lawyer taking council in the nest of rocks. We have the jury bought and later, they will be hung by their necks or neckish areas. Whales, (and dolphins) are the most despicable of the jury owing to a complete lack of neck. Look back on it, and I guarantee you will be disgusted.

Mostly, the opinion is that Melville was some allegorical genius. But I will have it known, that the most obvious and absolutely true conclusion is that he just had it out for Whales, those fishy ugly monsters of the sea. Simply put, folks, Melville has spun the best fishing yarn that is out there. That one that got away. God, are we really supposed to believe that crap he was talking about? Of course it had to be a white whale or something so good to put on the dinner table for a poor family of four. And it got away!

One time I almost caught this green bowfin. My, it was ugly and green. Its head was this big and the teeth on that thing could have been hypodermic needles if hypodermic needles where jackhammers with razor blades welded on the end. I sat all day in a frenzy of red eyes and yellow teeth waiting for that fish to come and try to bite the squirrel I had baited on a big brass hook. Guess what? The line snapped and my boat sank and I floated away on a coffin that looked like a seat. About an hour later, the coasties picked me up and asked where my registration was. See, they thought the coffin was a boat! ACTUALLY, it was, still is too, a seat. So there.

The only reason that I’m not acclaimed as that partridge-in-a-pear-tree Melville is because my fish was of the common clay, a mere bowfin. What was the moral in that, you might ask. Well the moral is that I am telling the honest and pure honey of truth. Where as, Melvile was telling a big dirtydog of lie. Even then, there is a grain of truth to it all.