Sunday Night Magic.

Interlude # 4

If you think
STOP
and consider how
disposable these
ruminations are.

Tomorrow you will
think contradictions
and Eliot will be
howling in your
Head-cave.

Everytime you
read this I
steal a little bit
more of your
life & you
feel inevitablity
worse than
ever.

Momentum!

Interlude # 3

When I read Robert Bly
and wait for my father to call
I feel like I must choose
to half-exsist all the time
or to fully exsist,
half of the time.

If left alone long enough
I will boil over
and pour my wetness
all around the countertop,
pooling patiently like people at the DMV,
waiting to be absorbed.

I've always religiously hoped
that Hiesenberg was dead-on
and one day when I
Karate chop my Kitchen Table,
the blade-edge of my hand
will pass directly through.

Just found my notebook under my pizza.

Interlude # 2

Between the columns
of daylight
and dark a
cat is sneaking.

I hate cats and
so I hunt this
spy cautiously
in case he is armed

I have the legs
just came: FedEx.
They are custommade
cat-hunting legs.

Clipper Ships and Woodchips

Clipperships and Woodchips

Away the frantic Montana night,
our heaving tectonic sandpaper nation,
Happenstance ushers us into a bus-depot,
you in deep gasho to American Standard,
implausable urges magnetize my eyes towards your
plasticine lips agape to the bubbling.
Argue our lives for well-creased joints,
deep wagon tracks that gravity binds we to(o).
Oaxaca is calling us from this mundane witching hour,
are we to ever arrive there?
Oh my valise your sketches are competing with
drawn swords and dashed line emotions

Flea-Brained and Beautiful

Flea-Brained and Beautiful

Sing a song of sixpence,
Secretly and soft,
Crouch in all the corners,
Sneak about the loft.

Munch a bunch of carrot-sticks,
Chomp and chew and grind,
Dig your fingers in your ears,
Sniff at what you find.

Soliloquize your monologues,
Roll them off your tongue,
Throw out all your underwear,
And sing what’s not been sung.

Dominoes and Staircases

Dominoes and Staircases

Always falling all the way down re-introducing ourselves we bow
Entangling our possibilities for possible entanglements.
Broke-worded and baffled we claw at our throats,
Dredging out found words worth noting to bedazzle and rhinestone encrust.

Slinking winking while we wait and bait each other’s eyes with flesh bits,
Finger curved come hither implied with motions slow and viscous air.
Sweat that beads and drips and pleads for contact from another’s hand,
Sins that percolate like Sanka as we plot our positions on the map of our bed sheets.

We.

We

I think about you and I and where we stand.
Holding beneath the unplumbable depths of the night sky.
On Mykonos they say you can see Orion especially well.
Standing, we are by the water all night long.
How blue can this water be before it stops being fishable?
The white crispness of the statues on the hill is staring down.
We could wander through the Paraportiani wearing only red.
The windmills turning in the distance face the autumn.
Change now, and we find ourselves buried alive but sheathed in night.
Petros the pelican watches our porch as the curtain breeze-ruffled breathes.

Devonshire, 1997

Devonshire, 1997

Something is burning and it smells good,
like breakfast in south Kensington, or
touring the morning Fowey,
windy windy and your face is freezing.

Our van has the broke-down blues,
we are so severely cramped we are
rotating but undulating but ultimately,
ewe are trapped.

We have caused a traffic jam that you
cannot comprehend and skittles is out
of the question, as is leaving this beach
this black pool sands with our dignity.

I am only thirteen but I smell the severity,
mixed in with whatever the locals are
boiling and it’s probably those cows that
we saw on the road on our way out of town.

Our house is burning downs slowly from
all the excitement and our comforter has
exploded the washing machine beneath the
sink and I am swimming to the front door.

In the courtyard the sunlight is mortar for the
gravel and across the street the phone booth,
the only phone in town, is not ringing and
no one is really surprised, least of all me.

I’m going out back behind the neighbors
construction site of a homestead to wade
ankle deep and awkward in their creek and
collect newts and toads with both hands.

Two weeks ago I was in the Adirondack
mountains canoeing and who knows what
else but now I am in the south of England
loafing in a creek and it’s basically the same.

Can't Sleep.

61*

The ghost of once is loitering
stalking the remnants of happiness
across the lines of your faceplace.

I am sleeping
with your mother
in the nighttime of your would’ve could’ve world.

Have you considered
a career in
show business
modeling surprised facial expressions?

So high,
is the trash piled on your lawn
that your children think it’s
Playskool.

I am pursuing a career
in chartering yachts on the seas of
your floppy droppings and misguiding rant squirtings.

We cannot chew the fat
or eat the bacon
because all the bacon was consumed by your obese girlfriend

Once I planted a patch of daffodils,
but you urinated in my miracle-grow
and now they are dandelions

I am commandeering your boat now
You have been relieved of command
And also, your scribblings, which I have taken and conflagrated.

Science

Tree migration as a result of climate shift - Tree Migration.
Unable to fund anti-poaching efforts.
Department of Nephrology - Research Assistant
behavioral Studies.
Even with embedded roots, Migration is possible for trees. The migration time of trees varies based on the severity of changing conditions.
Law is Implemented
The Net-Cage
Maps the Genomes
Individual tree movement, as a result of weather. Leaning Flowers. Micro-climates.
African Elephant
The Salmon, atlantic and chinook
report Escapes.
Has the presence of escaped atlantic farm salmon impacted the fitness of pacific salmon.
Farm Salmon
Sockeye, Coho, Chinook - Possible Interaction with Atlantic
The Ivory Trade
Two Races of Salmon.
Revenue from tourism.
Superimposition
Hybridization
Behavioral Interaction
PROTECT THE ANIMALS
Aggressive Fish
Southern Countries, Inc.
New questions

more.

I sea waves of light,
it looks like detergent flowing over linoleum when your cheek is pressed to the floor.
I
see c/a/s/c/a/d/i/n/g f\o\u\n\t\a\i\n\s\ of color,

it looks like the palace of Versailles, burning behind the curtain of my eyelids

I see garbage bags full of leaves,
slumping in their autumnal thrones, surveying lost kingdoms one last time.

I
see the arborvitaes, rapt like soldiers soldiers soldiers,
guarding the verdant sprawls and rolls of the Joneses back yard.

I see the pavement, cracked and holding
Back the earth’s final cataclysmic stretch outwards towards the stars.

"Hello Again, Again," said Beckett.

Interlude # 1


We have momentum,
also distance is
continuous for us
and
expansion is inconquerable.
I might try
to locate your buttons,
but your genitals
are digital
now.


It is so dark
in here,
incomprehensible.
better to avoid at
all costs.


Note to self:
Stop your habit
of disposing of
the manuals,
assuming it will
be auto-matic
or better
magic.

Can the Klaxon
penetrate our
fortress of solitude,
and arouse our
heads like
tiny electric gazelles?

To begin you must end... to begin.

For the Ages



In the washed-window street lamp-light,
Iambs of your heart’s beats
Like dallying sheep across the ceiling
Grazing into nothingness
While the negligent Shepard
Our father who art in heaven,
Guides our eyes behind our eyelids.

Wild, we wing away,
Bedding not restricting our flight,
Embarking to unknown places,
Far past the town park
As flies the crow
So let we and be not afraid
Though danger us surrounds
Eke the radio towers in the darkness.

But soon we will returning
Find ourselves entrenched again
And if you were awaking then
The fancy had been mine alone.
Though hand in mine you soared
Twixt clouds and arboreal spires
Also you slept onwards
Whilst sheep with iambs conspired.