Pigeons peck at chicken scraps
& no barks respond as sirens pass
Nature now dry trees & replication
& dead birds keep flattening
on paintings—
Mistranslation is missing
the brushstrokes.
One visible fingernail like a nevus in a pine tar sky
& a finger sweep in the public frosting
Venus roller skates while steering the stroller
& the dog walker limps & has twenty-four legs.
Awkward pedestrians overlook
our mannered postures as we regard a solar eclipse
before a gazing apparatus
& continue these steps despite exploded heavens
anatomies of rats in the street—morsels & a mouse remain—
light particles
Perhaps for orphaned armoires & what they could contain
& ex-library memoirs expunged from the system
Nervous gleaners take a sleepwalk
around midnight & take a gander at the air
I diagram the firmament & note twelve elephants
steadying the atmosphere
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
o, mother
o, mother
You came to me dancing
with claws so soft
I cease to look behind you
dancing in the hollow
between the rattlesnake
and the peacock.
o, friend
She came dancing and fanning
as we coax her with the shakere
electric crimson shakes the lobes
leaves and feathers and seeds fall
from the gourd into fluorescent
blue emptying
o, sometimes with polished scales
I am she
waking.
You came to me dancing
with claws so soft
I cease to look behind you
dancing in the hollow
between the rattlesnake
and the peacock.
o, friend
She came dancing and fanning
as we coax her with the shakere
electric crimson shakes the lobes
leaves and feathers and seeds fall
from the gourd into fluorescent
blue emptying
o, sometimes with polished scales
I am she
waking.
It’s Not Enough To Think Planets of You, Saturnine.
Nothing grows until there’s a crack
a breaking of eggs and earth crust. My liver
my lungs etched in pottery motifs
Cave paintings on my stomach walls will be beautiful
stretched over a cannibal’s drum someday.
You are all silhouettes
statuesque embossing my eyelids
like the sun erupts through cirrus wisps
While you wonder about favorite pastimes in the arctic
you will catch this drift
that earthquakes never skip a boat
a beat to dance around this axis is perpetual morning
stopped abrupt by an equal or greater opposing force
I witness the body dissolve
I become a chieftainess smoking
a cornhusk pipe with tattooed lips
rapt in velvet contemplation.
Her hands deserve
a machete
for your eyes.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Your Inner Vision Is Illuminated By This Realization
Enough have you wandered
during the long period
of your quest
states the Yajur Veda circa 2300 BCE
and less than 1/32nd of the dime-sized world
knows it is embedded in darkness
and weary must have been the ages
of your searching in ignorance
and groping in helplessness.
Going to the polls, they believe,
can be a spiritual exercise
that can bring a positive change.
Is voting good
for your karma
or your soul,
besides being good for society?
All elections are important,
our psychics say—
how can Americans not vote
in a presidential race? Especially with so much at stake (with the country's soldiers in harm's way, a global energy and health care crisis, recession and more).
1:32 was once so common a scale
for toy trains, autos, and soldiers
that it was known as "standard size"
in the industry. A man is 2-1/4 inches tall (55 mm)
in 1:32 scale.
Behold the superfluous!
Nietzsche said, They steal
the works of the inventors
and the treasures of the sages
for themselves; white (or mixed race)
liberal democrats who drink five dollar lattes
in eco-friendly cups, listening to NPR
in a bio-diesel hummer (don’t they make those)
with a "He's not MY president" sticker on the bumper;
that also has a miniature dreamcatcher (1:32 of original size)
hanging from the rearview mirror; while carting around
an adopted black (or multi-ethnic) child (three-fifths human)
on a return trip from COSTCO and IKEA; welcomed home by Tibetan prayer flags hanging from the front stoop
"education" they call their theft –
and everything turns to sickness and misfortune for them.
Your identity has been swallowed by the media
and fed right back to you on the market
for only $2,349.99 per month
for the rest of your life.
To sin against the earth
is now the most dreadful thing,
and to esteem the entrails
of the unknowable higher
than the meaning of the earth.
This is the threat to our lives,
says Mr. Campbell.
We all face it.
We all operate in our society
in relation to a system. Now
is the system going to eat you up
and relieve you of your humanity
or are you going to be able
to use the system to human purposes?
Then he realized:
"I, indeed, am this creation;
for I have poured it forth from myself."
In that way he became this creation.
And verily, he who knows this becomes
in this creation a creator.
Your inner vision has been illuminated
by this realization.
during the long period
of your quest
states the Yajur Veda circa 2300 BCE
and less than 1/32nd of the dime-sized world
knows it is embedded in darkness
and weary must have been the ages
of your searching in ignorance
and groping in helplessness.
Going to the polls, they believe,
can be a spiritual exercise
that can bring a positive change.
Is voting good
for your karma
or your soul,
besides being good for society?
All elections are important,
our psychics say—
how can Americans not vote
in a presidential race? Especially with so much at stake (with the country's soldiers in harm's way, a global energy and health care crisis, recession and more).
1:32 was once so common a scale
for toy trains, autos, and soldiers
that it was known as "standard size"
in the industry. A man is 2-1/4 inches tall (55 mm)
in 1:32 scale.
Behold the superfluous!
Nietzsche said, They steal
the works of the inventors
and the treasures of the sages
for themselves; white (or mixed race)
liberal democrats who drink five dollar lattes
in eco-friendly cups, listening to NPR
in a bio-diesel hummer (don’t they make those)
with a "He's not MY president" sticker on the bumper;
that also has a miniature dreamcatcher (1:32 of original size)
hanging from the rearview mirror; while carting around
an adopted black (or multi-ethnic) child (three-fifths human)
on a return trip from COSTCO and IKEA; welcomed home by Tibetan prayer flags hanging from the front stoop
"education" they call their theft –
and everything turns to sickness and misfortune for them.
Your identity has been swallowed by the media
and fed right back to you on the market
for only $2,349.99 per month
for the rest of your life.
To sin against the earth
is now the most dreadful thing,
and to esteem the entrails
of the unknowable higher
than the meaning of the earth.
This is the threat to our lives,
says Mr. Campbell.
We all face it.
We all operate in our society
in relation to a system. Now
is the system going to eat you up
and relieve you of your humanity
or are you going to be able
to use the system to human purposes?
Then he realized:
"I, indeed, am this creation;
for I have poured it forth from myself."
In that way he became this creation.
And verily, he who knows this becomes
in this creation a creator.
Your inner vision has been illuminated
by this realization.
The nocturnes. The sacral superimposed on the sermon. The nocturnes
the ornament and the hearse and the ornamental near the heart dangled.
The sacral. The temperate humor traipsing along the fulcrum.
The nocturne. The nascent sunshine eastern present ascent.
The sacral. The fulcrums. A temperate hour traipses along them.
The nocturne. The haste. The sunshine nascent nearest ascent.
The spore. The haste. Sacral superimposition on a sermon. Porous.
A temperate humor shifts inside it. The haste. The spore. The ascent.
The melancholic. The fulcrum. The haste. The spore. The temperate
heart traipses among them.
the ornament and the hearse and the ornamental near the heart dangled.
The sacral. The temperate humor traipsing along the fulcrum.
The nocturne. The nascent sunshine eastern present ascent.
The sacral. The fulcrums. A temperate hour traipses along them.
The nocturne. The haste. The sunshine nascent nearest ascent.
The spore. The haste. Sacral superimposition on a sermon. Porous.
A temperate humor shifts inside it. The haste. The spore. The ascent.
The melancholic. The fulcrum. The haste. The spore. The temperate
heart traipses among them.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I Fear It’s Not Enough That I Think Planets of You, Saturnine.
Some stars you can see even during a morning sky,
although I guess those are planets as well.
I indulge a need to compile songs essay-like
for you. Layers of tone say more than all the reasons
I could name for you. How prison-like this form—
all tissue and organ-bound
ceaselessly aspiring for more
celestial routines. Contortionist dust.
Nothing grows until there’s a crack and a breaking of some kind.
Eggs and earth crust show us. My liver & lungs are marked
with common pottery motifs. Cave paintings on my stomach
walls will be beautiful stretched over a cannibal’s drum someday.
You may wonder about favorite pastimes in the arctic. As I witness
the body dissolve
as I become a chieftainess
smoking a cornhusk pipe
with tattooed lips deep in velvet
contemplation.
Her hands deserve
a machete
and your eyes.
although I guess those are planets as well.
I indulge a need to compile songs essay-like
for you. Layers of tone say more than all the reasons
I could name for you. How prison-like this form—
all tissue and organ-bound
ceaselessly aspiring for more
celestial routines. Contortionist dust.
Nothing grows until there’s a crack and a breaking of some kind.
Eggs and earth crust show us. My liver & lungs are marked
with common pottery motifs. Cave paintings on my stomach
walls will be beautiful stretched over a cannibal’s drum someday.
You may wonder about favorite pastimes in the arctic. As I witness
the body dissolve
as I become a chieftainess
smoking a cornhusk pipe
with tattooed lips deep in velvet
contemplation.
Her hands deserve
a machete
and your eyes.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
O'leary is left with a dead guy and it's not right.
O’Leary is dead,
and O’Riley don’t know it.
O’Riley is dead,
and O’Leary don’t know it.
They both are dead
in the very same bed,
and neither one knows that the other one’s dead . Ba-rooom, Ba-rooom!
~Some rhyme I heard as a kid that stuck with me
What is right and what is wrong are difficult for many to decide. Just as figuring right from left.
Upon first learning to write, I was told that lowercase b faced right, so the only right answer left for d was to make it face left. Now dexter starts with “d,” so it can be tricky to remember in terms of direction. But if left is sinister, then I guess it’s not right.
When I was four, I did not know it was wrong to write left to right (or right to left for that matter) on the living room wall. Left to my own devices I continued to scrawl, but right when my father came home I discovered it was wrong.
and neither one knows that the other one’s dead . Ba-rooom, Ba-rooom!
~Some rhyme I heard as a kid that stuck with me
What is right and what is wrong are difficult for many to decide. Just as figuring right from left.
Upon first learning to write, I was told that lowercase b faced right, so the only right answer left for d was to make it face left. Now dexter starts with “d,” so it can be tricky to remember in terms of direction. But if left is sinister, then I guess it’s not right.
When I was four, I did not know it was wrong to write left to right (or right to left for that matter) on the living room wall. Left to my own devices I continued to scrawl, but right when my father came home I discovered it was wrong.
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