October 30, 2012

fine dinner

http://youtu.be/djQuMdjiigM
a url can be a poem too

a cup of jasmine
groovin' high

calling the union can be a poem
PECO deposit -- a poem

liquor decanter out the corner of my vision
of all the things you are, that but a poem,

city to the shore under the sea a poem
driven swiftly along a dizzy atmosphere

October 25, 2012

Song E [for evening]

hahaha, writing here      oh ye?
a spoof, a spoof, and come no near
having worked as a blossomed wreck
chase butterflies all day, then I think of sex
sex with a rock picture
sex with the soul o
a private man, through the wood
some days with the oldest hand, this,
which has no name no first memory
no imposing sense

 =
every Saturday

she goes
earth gets
back

Song D

Yes, had I anything else to do but consider moving to new york and boston
would've destroyed the town inquired
or the Broad, or where the house has been, or migrate back to Asia
where eyes are the afternoon and it hulks over

where good clothes and soft fight tells,
softer women and men,
softer art, and soft flash muzzles
I heard nothing of new york when I came to see inventions
witnessed this veracity,
I am thronged to the wall of vines

pop being green
yellow being my mother w/ a chicken neck in her hand

and red, that being a flat on the jersey turnpike
blue, blue being myself on the ride home

October 24, 2012

Song C [breath]

gather when she comes
back round tight triggered mornings of the black past
(I when I
worked there, in a trembling, in a gracious and loving city
marked over and between brown and green cobble
to a sound spot of coffee and pancakes out where the
Jerseyan or Jerseyites danced, left by left,

and who moves in such compounding strength
of which I had not seene
nothing remarkable out of countree
(the weather, it wore me
the shape of it sings of it
chiang signs mistook for blue
destroyed several school hallways w/ a mass of wall scribbles
-- enter an art show and exit a visibly upset woman

It is notable to point out that she came by another car
the high stretch of yellow dust fans itself through the interior of the airport here
and is upset, see, it there, in the tops of the breeds and shore
I dreamt I sent waves of flowers
other side the scoop of skirts at my feet!

It was summer in a deep wild place and it eased him
and he figured he was wiser and taller and stately in motion and midnight and, in fact,
swearing such language -- mischievous swelling mouth -- admires himself in the mirror of the lake,
"I am surprised to be so vain!"
"I am surprised to be so clear!"
rushing                           replies the lake

Song B [Olson's Voice]

even 'ran out on a spit of sand'
once a reading in Boston, June 1962
can be stumbled over twice! again! in March 1966!
and that friends have told me that I read too fast    no
but yes, this is true, the difference those four years can do
to the graveling of a voice

Song A

whimpering land the fell time stood it then
just garish some who hid and struck up to be loved by
in where the afternoon ground rose
from the source of breath and song
I love you, and battle for many hours to keep loving you
all the difference of women getting off
as he stops, from time to time, feeling solely a Chinese feeling
and nothing came up, surprised by

from the stem of me one welcomes multiple passings

fish so very damned good those years
southern american fish so pleasing so green so twice
in the corner of sold house ignored
now in a puerto rican summer     shines lights in snow
and kid themselves so poorly      eat and be dirty as we gather
the hem of our skirts

sweeping water grandfather
now any longer to sign problems, rest dear, it rests!
the fellow did die as a master of the porch
         and a sunflower raises itself

misshapen she sets out one afternoon w/ upper lip curling from the landscape
in 400-600 pieces when,
she seen it had been before her

(speak slowly when reading here)

October 23, 2012

walking there

Say that in those mean hours Norse men parrots
I could, I say, open up the envelope during the Poetry Reading
come with you, saving them to get the car and cam twice
high way round the higher world -- we cannot live together in the one world

Pinch my penis at the base and have an early night,
the service, quite nicely done, young, in an instant brought three cop cars
hives a beautiful girl with a bike scratching notices me
results, in them too, uses my name and companions

Were they large or small? black men say in a high voice
200 years in a receding universe, a fashionable pavingstone
a pun in a pitcher in a whisper from a poet who makes laffs
who warns me (bearded fellow at 6

you are always facing 12, i tell him
and the fellow comes round to talk to this slim subcontinent of india
and here i am in philadelphia (not pittsburgh
slap ten bux in his hand with a corner wet for tip

outside for the cigarette
the franks and the sidewalk go
krk krk krk
he bows out

October 22, 2012

stats that mean nothing

not sure what the hell                              NS8 is but
they might like my poems, once a month,
much like Poland and Russia

                                 (kind of browser)

not a parody poem

usually the tabs are as ordered: gmail (w/ lauren says... blinking
some literary press (muumuu house (digging up on them
the complete third presidential debate on youtube
and blogger (unfortunately they have removed the easy tool bar
from the top so i'd have to fuck around a bit just to get to write
some new post, but
on the way I read Untitled by Sean Taras

two poems

me and paul have nothing
to talk about ever, this is really a mess!
even then he landed five full times without a broken leg
(reminds me of a  short bio that appeared
for chapterhouse many odd years ago
where i woke wif one
) now off to dive school dive
in flo from
a plane , pics of it i have seen sometime on an album
fleshy cheek pulled by the act of falling
onto hard and soft winds
(where i woke wif one every morning
as a paratrooper
(the Temple poems i've lost
rape on the sociology floor
        on some alum database

----

i saw the old man and wondered if it was a railroad accident so many years ago
and even by the door of a taxi, some old foreign fella with his tails in the smog,
the large city -- large it being the reason all have left and what's left,
only the smell of the small, ever cordial
JK being so much friendlier on the internet than in a bar
perhaps he didn't recognize the frames nor the name
nor the face where the frames sat upon and the name came out of
i counted the slew of them blocking the door

being a third generation (rat sperm, i apologized,
outside depressing mode which may be intrinsic of couriers
inside -- RE w/ his psychic ability to predict life-long friends,
of the girl he meant I highly doubt whatever her name, name of girl,
same brown hair beside her, asks me life-long questions

October 19, 2012

after all these years
look at us
still so very good to each other

October 15, 2012

oct 15

Steve Wallit has that mean lefty loop
-- a hook, really, that aims for the solar plexus
and Bob Saperstein has a metal meter ruler
likes the Acoustic and goes on his knees
to confirm American Accuracy
Ilya and Vlad could hardly give a shrug
at 30 inches, and Steve says,
why don't you care about this?
hands on his hips
drops a ten for the night and leaves.
Alex comes in early almost every day,
is a maintenance mechanic now,
used to be a professional boxer, I ask him,
almost as a tease, for lessons.
Swivel around
Are you not cold? I ask Steve and he asks me
Do you think it'll last? The club? Everything
is off the record.

but what difference does
in October more than
some houses
American comic-spirit
dictionary, style, in that
verse, opens

an example in mind
I cross the hundred-foot
from an audience of a child