slushed

gray
the whole world a puddle
a muddle

a fizzle is what
I mean
drizzle is how its been
snizzle, izzle, chisel the roads clean
slip and break your pineapple

fical cliffed

the kitchen trap, as wrapped
in dollar bills, leased oil spills
into pails, a pain killer
in plain sight sat tight

 in everyone of us

the eagle got
fiscal clipped

ceramic view of the universe

digital cognition

twas the night before last night,
and last night was the night before christmas,
and all through the kitchen not a creature was boring
not even a louse.

Let us take this opportunity to characterize,
develop, and then limit the potential of a louse,
one singular of lice. 

Where does a louse live?  why with a lousy
plurality of lice, a fine spanish mat of dog would suffice it to say
"And let me call this home, this rude spaniard I ride to work every day"

A statement, a statement, a concluding remark.  The office
of the louse is low down on the train of command.
a pattern by which the mere thought of it
is enough to make one itch, in egypt they spit at the mere mention
of the thing, a hullabaloo in timbuktoo, and a fiesta in paris.

All of these populations are signature case studies,
the misely little frenchman with a lousy moustache
as well as the many armed american with a lousy toupee
or for instance, for example, as it where, the fanciful dweller in a
singapore celler with louse on the brain, sucking
the juice from his comprehension of Tamerlane, the
english epic of some long-ago toasted barbarian, who
probably, ate pork and had lice to live with constantly.

So then we must pass a judgement, being on the virtue of this
pandora of lice.  Vini Vidi Vice could easily have been missnoted as
simply
Vini Vidi Lice

And there you have it , an integral part
of the humanity, the louse

skates

the importance
of sharppness
is not lost
it cuts on ice
and leaves a trace
to track the matter
after an over an hour
its erased

first snow

take a fist of cool air
to capture and melt a billion crystals, connected
dots of vapor
the breath draws up and up

Flannel Cave

I am a bear, yes, I know this
feeling cold and out of place, a shivering
statue of contemplation, fitting the good fit
to the contemporenteity of thermalmechanical noise
mine of which is pretty low, so low
that the ball can pass under the couch and
there must I crouch down low
and suffer the gains of dust and crust and mold that
infringes the edges of airloose windows

the forcast is a big frost
a permanent frost from here to April
from nocturnal visions of a damned bat,
like they I confide in a cave of hibernation
a mental disaster and public housing crisis
the tax rates went up last week,
and collusion is the new corruption (so they say)
a gazebo or two or some underwater parking
for a white whale to ponder the harbor,
a hungry hungry tip-off to the sector of
information a coalllition of the willing
a friday night blacker than thursday, in the papers
read all about it.

the myth of watergate

the canal is dry
with the grass cracked and laid to the side
the dock stops on the bottom
and seagul dreams stand idle

why does Seleucus continue to look to lock
out phantom water where the still air
freezes the puddles at night?

questions 
 for a fish who dreams

Who's sucking on Grants Thumb?

Who's a horseshoe crab about it?

who is showing their lack of ancestors
on the horsefly plaqued beach in jersey

get me some dental floss
and I'll show you the day that died in infamy,
the slave smuggling crockett spaniel, shuddering strands of hair
shoulding to be a just mop, mopping up the unjust
cause they live on the pigion neglected crust

Who's Burried in Grants Tomb

who's burried in frank lloyd wright's tomb?

Who cares?

I dont. 

Quality Falcon

The falcon is quality
feeling high and uptempo, a tempest turning
over turbulence, spatula wings wung out far on the horizon
a fissile salvo
at the warring pigions, the insidious menace of the
popular newscast, these they die and spin the grave

excise

torpid tongue, a languid some
divided by antiquity and a line of  brick dixie cup
highway rest stops,

frost falls in the north of capricorn, places left
to rot and congeal cancer in the eye of the storm

excuse

my french
its lacking in habit, refinement,
produce,

j'ne say pax romana

paz the viaduct, ducky

excess

rythm and jive and fast talking cars
facing up the street and a big fat cat waddles
its chin as it speaks:

the tuna fish living is unforgiving to chronic
heart disease
and communicable issues immortalized in the frieze, in
fifth column and fourth row policies
of a gap toothed narrowly marginalized pedigree
the whole sold party believes
in it ...
and why dont you try to sneeze with your eyes
open , a lot can happen when your eels run down the stream to the sea
and shop at walmart for chinese cheese.

exempt

my taxes are representing the attempts
of a frozen net cast under the ice
to be pulled like a dumb whale from the depths
of watery night

except

EVERYTHING IS solid body mechanics

soiled underwear and harvard university stock market returns
the kings of a fish mouth, a vision of split pea soup, dangling
darlingly on the horizon.

whilst on below decks, the gordon's gin sinks the ship

excerpt

Still, energy can reach the system through the stainless steel tubing connecting the pumps, on the floor, to the vacuum chamber.  Though the frequency is low (much less than the 1^st mode resonance of any beam) and therefore is not expected to excite the cantilevers, the roughing pump has a noticeable vibration.  Impulse noises (doors slamming, loud staccato noises) from the environment have been observed to, at times, excite the first mode resonance.  Measurements are made when the room is and has been quiet.

NEW WORLD PORTER

the crows have called the selection process crooked
bent like corn stalks cut by the big green combine
a story book approach to modern history and religion

the cinderella dressed in mustard banana story
a famous variety of salad dressing or mosquito repellent,
smelled in front of a c-note limit of commitment


And we must wait, wait wait,
not just sit around, but hold the door open
for the cold wind to wipe the condensate off the window panes
its just common sense!

its just tobacco kills!

its just habea corpse's lost coat fished from the chesapeake
and tossed in the swamp of a goat's ass

no embers

glows in the frozen toes, pink blood rubbing through stone wells
 thinking about a schism of the seasons
a fitness regimented slip
on the ice that will be here soon

windows left open for bees too

if of course the daylight is worth saving,
say, you say, then of course is it wicked to watch the night?

And we mush, keep the night a state of warden, a habitat for
fifty odd jobs.  this is what makes the world have confidence, bring back
the economics of octopus on our heads instead of hair, keeping the
go ahead ahead.

one for august

Sincere disgust
the cat with red eyes prancing through
the dust
up the stairs a spiral of tails
a figure eight of dirty hairs each one  a gem
imagine

a row of rails from one ocean clear blue to
clear accross the continent of insanity and into
another ocean
space lapping at the brown sand

trunks with no branches hanging on to air
drifting with nets and news papers written for wrecks

we invite these models of the future
into our lives of the past, a sea for shining sea
a boot with polish that is one-size fits all
it has absentee ballots for tongues and coarse
cesear salad for inserts for walking for nourishing the nervous
systemology, a profile in the sideshow of the back lit alleys
where religious pigeons line up at a puddle, muddy fuddy duddy
landing flying roosting bathing tasting
trying out the puddle
a puddle put there by the boot, the sole of which is made from
a thousand hand picked fruits, fruit de mer, froo-froo dogs on
so so chairs

MOOSE IN LAND

ugly mountain tops with cracked
rock stalks the moose, the mother moose,
hoofs kicking toes wide with mud
stuck in their fir tree roamings eating heap everything.

and I make eye contact
to flight the moose steps forward. 

american exceptionally

except an ally
expect an alliby
a libya dubya stubya toe joe schmo ho-ho defence
twinkie pretence, murderous mathematic attraction to the end of japan
exempt and all,
the sons of god that live and toil
a freezer of frost and florida golfs tar balls in the gulf
tons of people standing on their toes peeking
 over gun barrels stood long in a row while all the wests indians
cut arrowhead eyes , and keep on shuffling around their craps table lives,
the screws that be, interrupt on the game,
they say and they say the same things again
and no one listens cause there aint no use,
they forget how to interpret the same old abuse

so the subprime court comes and shut up the door , sitting in comfy
chairs listning to war pour arguments of no sentence structure grammer
primary school playground banter,
 full of no you didnt, yes you did, you did so, I did not!

getting tired of this, they opt to work quick, get out the pen
and pour out the ink
go to the closet and fetch the old documents the bill of (w)rights
makes its first flight, in kitty hawk georgia or ohio pa,
they open the words to ammend the first ammendment first
 next comes the second or a hot lead segment a bugle call sending out for
a regiment of ordinary confederate headed to the town
they gonna trudge with shovels over hill and trouble to take old glory down
and after the singing, the green beer drinking, its all about a re-write of story
 of how the waste was slung, a mad motto,
a true desperado in socks, everylast one of us
and the third says NO! no you aint , you stay on outside in the frozen ditch
you stay maybe hitched to congress though,
so filfthy rich, fifty two states couldnt even wish
they have their own rules cause the unions suits its fancy fancy cheats,
playing ball with nine inch cleats

listen in close,
the fourth is a lie, or intended as more but it died on its way out
the door, (seconds any one?) slammed shut and the
the fourth casualty of scores more
a fifth dint show out of self respect and ever since then has been swept
up under the armpit, where the decrepit and meek wait to inherit the streets
while the sixth went up and said
in the judgy's ears not trying to conceal the fear

to be continued
to be continued
to be continued
to be continued
to be continued
to be continued
to be continued
to be continued
to be continued
to be continued
to be continued
 

unkle sam

hey uncle !
go eat a sandwich
fill it with old mcdonald ronald red shoe
pick it up offa missippy bottom

go home. get lost .  get a horse and ride out into the sun

London is ....

London is a muddy river
its denizens wiith moneyed blood
sit on their fanny licking hammy
sandwiches which stand hands runny

London is a place where old ideas
come to live
and new ideas are loath to go and wish they never did.

you see , the apple of that television
is a blue and red and white incision
a method of tamed dead vultures,
 in a land without any culture

Its London
Its London

Is London
bridges falling down,
no they aint but the people frown
cause THEY know that they are boring and have to get one with snoring
the buddhas of the white man sit on a crown of
crooked sharp sandpaper stories, confused looking around

Get off the flat
Get off the lift
Forget allllll about the crowd

the olympics is holding you down

heat attack

it rained last night and broke
the fulcrum, the sun was happening on

but in the pivot, in the point
the friction of a stillness is pressing in
present measurements reset the heavens
filtered shuttle launches oxygen hogs the hydrogen
boilt water spilt swelter under a pelt of feather
edge over grover
cleveland is drying out! and pittsburgh is mud flat!

fat people sloop a little more
their belts withstanding hour by counterpoise
heels turned to ballet flats task the bones the knees jarring back, creased

take me to the water

lets get legged
frogs do it in due time
turtles are still on it a million years later

in and out in and out in and out
wet and cold and wet and hot and wet and dry and
wet and satisfied with being in the water
up to the eyeballs in water
a house of water
a horroscope of water come crashing in
when we jump and splash and foam at the mouth

sensitivity

the rings on your fingers the lines on your hands
feel the table beneath your arms, its wooden lattice
wrinkled granite outcrops in miniature
flickering light through leafs of mica glass books shattered
on the moss carpet for your feet to crunch
and puncture on , pain and abbreviation of awareness
levels, dosages, amounts, quantity, figures, framework,
bitter hickory bark, hard acorn pathways, asphalt american byways,
clackety clack crow beaks breaking free from the black
turning into a rainbow and back again into not any colour,
the tell tale void of gastropod eyes polka dot dow-jones-industrial
averaged over and over and over

ten tricks

wire spiders
steel hearers
magic machine runs
even beethoven thrown down

it was like the liberty bell back from the dead
old hands clapping for new ladders to climb
 

sinter in america

blades drawn from concrete dust
and old moss overpasses
stab at a night as lit as a dollar store after
all the people went home with perforations in their souls
feet walking and wanting some place to go

and they know
and they know its splinters of america

and aint nobody frightened cause
everybody knows no use trying

seal evils

pens drawling vowels on parchment green
pencils strolling soda foundations brick red
harvest moons rising and setting about
pack ice breaking up in july, settling bones
lobster bottom houses upturn to take them
upsetting scales and casket gills

whip up the band

a fridge I can eat and a
hand I can take to lift up
away and down

wooden backs and lentil screws
jars of olives on doors a far part of going strong

aloha houdinii
ahora tim horton
 hoard of course a cola cannot sushi a quiche or piny apple
yacht - - -ta a ada!

bridge of wet cloths

washing socks

a wet sheet and a worst than rough towell

hang out together all day, everyday
in this way they are cut from the same clothe
most of the time, that phrase makes for bad conversations
but I assume its something they talk of all ways

this one is from the vaults

I am a sick pidgeon -
I know this
Feeling caged and out of place

in this humanity.
Once upon a time we all sailed together
on dirty gray Pittsburgh air
Hijinks and clucking around for food
was my speciality.
They called me Pidgeon #188H33G16


Ooooh, that spiteful day,
as I happened to fly by the radio communication place,
a powerful wave (as I understand it now often enrolling
in molecular biology and genetic morphology that
such a supposed fiction can be)
started to alter the chromosomes in my cells.

One day I awoke
and found I had been transformed into a
giant Pidgeon sans feathers.

A Pidgeon mindset is more useful than
imagined previously.

And with these skills + Colledge education
I have begun to....
feed pidgeons. Regularly as tide

Shhh shhhh little pidgeons.
Shhhh shhhhhhhh hh hh.
now I am not, relax!, going to
take you up in this net
to my basement laboratory
and turn you into a giant pidgeon and
then back again

lord I want pidgeon

cant we all just get a log

cant we all see the future?
cant we all eat the cake? shant we all
shank a fast paced game of ball
in the park after the lights of the city burn out
and the traffic getting in is roundabout and readallabout-it
how a bottom of a can started to move started to shake
started to do the wave up and down the street
the people parted and the sea came trouble free
taking unsignalled shotgun turns at the wheel
stealing copper shoes and todays 15 dollar vcr
and tomorrow piece of jumk filling closets from here to hoboken

consider it that we cant all get a dog
and let the dogs run free the leashers leased too much
till underwater they go, jaque cousteau could never get this though
 

humid

The sun is squelching the water
in the air, it lands
on skin and lungs, drowning ,expelling salt
its sticky

we drink water foolishly
to dry our selves off

racoons are not better at it
eating mud maybe instead

and the birds have a breeze when they move fast

but moving fast makes it worst of all
the stuf that puts you into a sleep for weeks

Untitled Post

faucet notes plink plank plink plunk plunk plunk plairnk
turn them tight or the water drips night after night

echoes of frogs and ducks munching stuff
\ whilst\ forthwith\ withe without side cycles and pliers flies fly to pie\

the stains on the sidewalk of decomposed leaves of glass
of the door handle left untouched, the gears of commerce
the lonely crazed immigrants with the river and the fish, speaking
to the bullrushes and the dirty water, the roar of the bus
driver yawning down on a sandwich filled with germs
and german old ladies get on and get the paper ink on their fingers
 .....
yada yada yada , I can fake a leaf of maple
but would rather have maple syrup for me and me alone on my pancake house
with pancake walls and pancake chairs and syrup glasses

and I cant be with it, I who hates
that fake blind bum who cant see that he isnt blind

nothing special bout the people in the city, the tufts of their hair
nonsense of narcissist slaves all
over thems elevated selves messages selling the pretending
to be olive green or bright blue
or have running shoes for running past lights and grit rocks
old fumes exhausted trees trying to bring in the sun shine
through the grime a million dead souls leave around their half-sad lives
down out bums seiving quarters out of the silver traffic that glides past 

These are the contenders, the black shirts and white men and the dressed up women
looking for cars and cranes and dodging facsimile families with amphibious assault style strollers

the ambulance teeters around corners of feathers, fear and flat head friends standing
with thorns to their two temples the synagogues of quaint bagel size hats, the
mission bell tolls at six and the pots and pans are not clean to eat dinner from
any more. 

This is the mighty sity of the mountain, that mountain a hungry hand
an open mouth, a look like buckets of water are somewhere around, just out of thirst
for the industry and inside job that it takes to sink holes in the road and fill them back up, one
after one after one afternoon and it starts all over again

god slaves the queen

up on a tight skinned horse drawn
with charcoal pens and pepper inks
carriages with fine wood wheels twirl rims steel
feel the rumble in her seat the pants poopy, no longer
neat the grace of god and the servants fine tact, a
crystal ball chandelier balancing act

and where fore to behold but rudolph and the six reingdeer made bold
by whisky and bourbon and american spirits, sunk their post velvet
antlers deep in the reigning soveirgns post-magnificient bottom,
so she went bottoms up to the chears of the anthem
the people who swerved midnight to dawn, slobbering away
with the age old songs, over bridges and card games and salmon tartar
I scarecely could tell them apart from afar from a wavering mob
a beach of walrusus eachoneofthem splat, and with great gobs of goo spat back
whole cans of british sprat, like the good hobbits of books they have little ears
which turn up when you mention the queen's long career is as wide as her rear.

ind at suhmmng

dont put pee in your tea kettle
dont poo in your boat bailer because its salient
saline solution is for Italy and gold teeth

speaking through teeth
fighting through waves
jumping through loops

all three are examples of corn on the cob gone awry

Saturday in Sunday

in the puddle over the gutter position
drain out the window acrid black rain spilled
forming all corners of the intersection
a partially sectioned bright lemon floats
half of it hanging of the other half, which half is the first half
no one knows or seems to care.

just the significance of it, or the unsignificance to think
it doesnt matter is to admit that people drive by or walk or skip jump hop leap
a little bit of lindberg in everyone, and yet, all the same fail to notice
the yellow on black, a pittburgh of fruit situation right there!

its right there!  its still there! who or when is going to do something about a lemon?

magnet line

I been thinking about an invention
the magnetic table
you can place some nails in your bread
bake them right in
and then your bread will never leave the table
same with the plates and spoons and haddock and printemps du jour.

the challenge then is the soup.

hence we move on to the
gravity table.

I'm serious

eyes to the wall

look at that demons
skimming the surface with one eye good
and one eye walled up for good

I get you with a psuedo sort of a racket because
the tangles are magic and it takes long
for their arms to undamage them.

now you are here and I hook a monster
who moves a million mile an hour for
ever and ever and ever but never ever ever
moves.  Its the paradox
of he lost never did see or taste or touch
sturgeon or some pile of rocks

we could just presume away and all
but it ends at the dining room table.
the argument can not come hither forthright with any victim
but the stack of bones in the mouth

rebels of the north north country

sticks and stones make for great homes
pots and pans make for grand avenue police vans
to pour up the side streets looking
to hit off the red tee

salami, by Richy Straws

King Heron the Blue

has a head made for fishing frogs
and groaking in bogs
,
Is profitable like a seven headed hydra
wallowing in the muddy banks for the paisley shawl to deliver
a load of buttered bread around the bend.

Said well, said the Macbeth of a Swallow, who being wing-ed
was flung high in the wind on a breath of feathers, whilst everywhere there bustled about
a rush of dandylion fluff

My my my that turtle there in the water on a log in the water half
submarine sandich half willow of over the hill,
looks an overbit done, dry and old like a tortoise.  Maybe
Maybe its old Turtle Gudenov
A Turtle Tsar, how bizzare
one of those things, those rare occurrences of the natural world one knows about
but never really shows up at
the right time to tell at all

Cart of Wheels

A big green truck
is no match for a big blue truck
if the blue truck is carrying more wheels. 

I had shad

I had shad
I was washing
I was wishing I was washing shad

I have shave
I was washing my face
as I was washing was I wishing I was washing shad
while was I washing my face

I was shaving as I scale a shad
for sure

first days

posted on the pillar uphill
of a society in waking
the morning sun sings a sad philosophy in song
and the birds sing along

mayday

flowers are passing the turing test
rainddrops are passing the speed of sounds
like bees bustling

hang on dopplar

polar navigator hang gliding on finger nail platters
eating dishes of peaches with cans of cobras

fluoring and rhododendron drones hang about, looking for laos and cats lost
in the trees.  they bring ladders and panthers to take their place in the annals of the holy babble.

 

355

mylar baboons floating high in the atmosphere
dripping west with condensate passing jets
in the tropic of canada, orange juice soaked toast
for breakfast and the rest of useless sets sit resting on the
chester arthur penning a novel of best of best  of best of beasts of burden
balancing an act of soapy suds on their trials and tribulations, flexible    phlyers
falling off the rafters after spring showers bring pilgrims with bonnets in their hair towers

say fm

its a tiny bit-wise extraction,
crystal solenoid inversions stevie wonders why
the dial is turning and still the station
remains on probabation

hot cha cha

like tube worm steam vents
eating titanic on ice
and sequestered data goes down smooth

if you can find it

Lorentzian Integral

I would rather integrate with the St Lawrence
on any warm day

and find the area under every wave

irs irks

tax the ticks
lets suck THEIR blood

ticks in the spring

feel your pants crawl away
and latch their zipper fangs into your thigh
and feel the bacteria loosen and tighten your heart
and then go to the doctor

Jangle in the e'nin'

Jingle Jungle, all the way the pavement is cracked
and the holes are stacked in the wrong direction that
the water rolls, solid gold shoals waiting for soild shirt ships
to strike and take on heart flutters and slink down among the place
where snails pace back and forth guarding a horde of mongrel magic
fastners, tying the klookmops to the yakstaks in the cabinet out behind

Avenue Sleuth

sharp spots and needle nose fish
looking around the coral corner for the
shark that bit their tail and tied their failures to a minimization
of error, the same goes
for the avante garde of steam engine whistle innovators,
flying saucers full of mustard custard,
old dirty buzzards circling a Q and doting on their T

LORENTZ

should take a walk down the street
and dip into the river and sink
the peak of which is too sharp
like a straw perrier sipper
the big dapper bear in the sky
spinning round and round the old round sea

is it the tea?

I am looking for orange juice?
but finding tea, its too hot.
my tongue is too cold and the two dont
mix like tea and water do.

so much for dust

sneezeing blinds seeing the keys
to the door to get some air
thats just as filled with white fluff ,
down filling floating into lungs and
every cave and canyon

winter flaw

its a silly sub zero morning
but why bother? just get on with it.
set us up with lemonade and icecream shades

filter the sunlight with hat brims and tan limbs
forget this cold. its passe . when will we get the perpetual summer.
two thousand miles off the coast of jamaica

qi gong

gone sometime
llevened bread seven thirty in the morning
its like to be in the sand with no shoes
and the progress you are making
is something a camel or specialized beast
can make in less time than it takes to bake a tasty cake

return to zero

do not clip
clop lepidoptera's competitor, the bee
venerable be the singes on sponges left under magnifying
lenses sending electromagnetic spectrums and pie plate shifts
scattering brighter than I expected

lets hear it for the sun

summer slum sitting
winter's dust rising. I've already been hot
with no swim spot in sight.

we burned through spring in a week and
birds think it must be time for warm skies

crystal green frogs

stumped and bound to a big iron barge
sitting in the cove, under a log,
lost pieces of home the wind has wrecked some
water plants, stalks smashed flat over mud

crystal stutters

like a low frequency alias
such that elian gonzalez
turns up as alien gonzo

blue nose stone ground corn eating
chapters of novels in a overgrown lounge

soft potato chip ribosomes falsly starting
a fire at the edge of a ceder planked home

foals and little sheep (lambs) cope with a big bad jar
of nettles they cant hope to open

yesterday

yesterday
yesterday
the white hot sun cleaned
the hardly white old snow
off of the white trash neighbor's
roof exposing the plenary of decaying
waste land, buckets, ladders, drawers and cans.

we always wonder if its to hold the rough
or maybe its some far fangled attempt at insulation
or maybe its because their nuts.

birds in trees

walking on the old bone marrow
snow and listening to the bird
sing a out how wrong it was for spring
to put a couple of fingers out of the ground and wiggle
them like worms. the spring flipped the bird the bird.

baby its cold inside

the fast sun sits
boiling snow to bits
while snot slithers out of my cold red nose
to freeze solid till tomorrow

salsa and rice

minus the salsa a truly
proletarian delight
but if the rice is bottom's burnt
I guess its alright. onions
are russia's excuse for crying or pausing to mind
the nettles that reach chest high
with chernobyle long needles

its been a sunrise

the brick sinks below a shadow of doubt
a mere stop off the pigion express.

the height of civilization when everything
was over and done with downy feathers
shivering to stay warm in the probably last
cold week of these seasons.

if the sun pushes further
the tap will be a gusher and the flowers will bluster
and feathers will flutter

in just a minute tha pan
will be hot and thin wiffs
of steam will shoot like turnip blooms
filling up a cauldron of empty stomachs

out there the cold sands of time keep filling a valse
with notes
and tinkly tinkly little sarcoma
lymphoma them up on the tellephona
its a changing world and the written burden
of that on a lid is lifted and the moths can remain or leave
as they refuse or pee

lundi

today the sheets are folded dry
and the socks are hanging wet cooling
the room with a fragrant, yet crude, tune
ungolden thyme and lilac shaped potato faces
their noses and is dotted

some green noodles

if you adjust your antennaes

and flush your bannannas

peels right down the towlette, moist fresh from the wrapper
american flag fluttering faster,

the single toe picking the open ocean nose
will be better to see.

or you can keep living like you know you do
not in the know
on that nose like the rest of the toes

if it was tomorrow it was the
same
plane spinach on potato whole
grain
candescent flames flaking up the damascene blade
its like the fury never am before the judge was framed
the future too storied to present a gift to the banque
non plus
no register pirate fussed'
if there very was a moment
the summit is it
sits by the fire a dog lies quitting the daylight rain
falling down
what could possoble by left as an portion but to froun

vase of snow

above is freezing
and below is water slipping ice
and running away
into a river bustling and bulging creaking and groning
tossing stones and fish bones

middle of the week

big moon on shining snow
and sun toasting the top crunchy
the walk today over broken glass trinkets
tinsel and gritty bits of rice

orange islands

missing links to listing locks
roadways made by ways withstanding pay day trades
digital multimeter two enginer three seeter snowmobile hotdog eager
to cross the frozen frozen ice I walk about
and out over to the other side of the Saints
trying to not go marchin in but over
out and over to the other side of the martyre
of the saturniidae
of the moths soft asleep under barck skirts waiting to eat the crops
and whip the horses with stradavarious parts

it not working

try what you will
splutter and bluster and spin and think
about winning and dream and say it outloud

but when its still solid at the end
and youve all but sold the load down the road
dont expect it to have worked because
for one, you expected it to work.

Why would you ever expect it to work?

its like asking why that one old man was pushing
a big rock up the hill
and then a big eagle ate his liver.
he should have pushed the rock on the eagle and ate his own
liver!

chemical rectories

heated black gasses
falling and clamouring to be the side kick 's coat
the insulating from the burn coat, from the flash
matic pain, a mega hurt for mineral flesh
a fantastic guess a sort of morass

slow fly list

you can get on the plane
but dont expect to plane off
like me on the boat, running rum and chewing SAALT cod
or you know, stirring up ferment or wet
sunglasses hiding the bitter search lights
from my eyes.

its cool. I'll take it slow down here, fly underwater
like a beaver or a otter.

no diggity

I like the way you work it , slip it
accross ice streets
over the wind blows
snow drift walls stay put once their here
for months , no doubt
wool socks and down walks
essential parts of the cold wet frozen north

robins at the river

the ice is cracked and rotten
and the worms are hidden and forgotten
and the geese are over there in the mist

the robins are on the bush with one berry between
the twenty

dar must calamari werden

tentacles grabbing the spectacles
off the captains decorated hat
that is why the rock struck such
a big hole in the hull
and down to the shallow bottom she went

since the latest

everyone is irish
eating potato goulash from chipped porcupine dishes
and watching for the warm weather to come down the line
and the frozen lawns to turn to green clover

NEW YEAR

the not so new year is hearing
me shout out the name
Happy New YEars again
lets blame the last one on the misfortunes implemented on
all of us and the bust that was eleven is going to
be the unleavened bread that is stuck in
a sand bath to bake under the sun of twelve swans a swimming
and an ermine running around a white mouse frowning and an owl
sounding the depths of the hole