don't inject your topic where my cower
worked its papery dawn to pieces, though
this sounds foolish, pages caught
revenging roaring girls dressed to what
loafingly tackles the blurt of "theoretical"
twice-removed, almost by an already
dead his that was a cat who could
be called who, at they when difficulties
prosper like saying pieces into
the ownership's mouth, all what
makes the coming tears come and not
come, as the seeping grows vague
in the least brainward way

for mel

verbs and meat toward an anthem with
"I fucked a dense torte" as refrain
your stop has to come then would form
rare aloneness to alarm the yours of
the equipment till as-well-as days smoke
up the part that is place or places us
in relation to could, very inclined
to move a (the) rock on the (a) mouth ground
out via minimal mind

confronted in a surprising nemesis, enemy,
friend the all that you show goes away reading
itself among the plums yet to form over
headless offenders equipped with frailty leads
transparently theirs, though I am a scary
note tucked forward into the doings referred to
as yours, not filially drunk in the ways
of passivity differently keeping templates to
drink from

coup of the telltale toc not as in any
wire you travel painfully down, minding
our births dirty at vein level, so veins
that house the inability to help or go or
just eat a bag of its own food, which would
fuel the opposite of persons being governed by reading
romance into how the mouth forms you while
it sleeps, if does do sleep and mouth
what stands for creatures' flow
past objects eating the same that's eating
them, this is how breaks take you
not cleverly, in the case of trained rats,
but uselessly, in the wakes of inflammation

limitation as evidence of some light
that they await, when it is not there
in their known place though I'm not a girl
building model women reversed to want
the saying of them to happen soon,
her temporary parents sidling up to a box of
units, how many in a unit they may
be heard saying between breaths to discern
yours from the ones that were yours
it's not myself I invoke when I say that
to the drawer of forks, accepting tines as this room
full of removable faces

of the eye also you receive receipts
a form soon being lifted in small amounts small-ly
repeated, as a day is, repeatedly lifted,
infirmity keeping the rooms huddled
but at large in the index to which purpose
the being at it serves (ever to option us)--
though thinking in the way turns grass
diacritical, something should would never say
"a refinement means a person who is licking
something said by should"
which we are all for when surprise at theirs
feeds ways to locate i.e. commit to
the us taken back to gone or fallen directly
that incision creeping open let them in

I locked the wanting of the door as a soft
fish would in airing the room, found the feeling
of a landscape when persons not there re
arrange it with the goods allotted us
verbs turning to nouns out of habit forewarning
that which says as it absorbs watery filth
restrained by that it was a home for some
who look like ours but are not in thinking ours
nor could laughs mask revelations to the room
in mind refracting "tomorrow burned you
down for us" as though one
had stated its intention to return

long live the momentary for there's
neither penetration nor a shot from a gun
to confuse the moral frequency with which
the eye factors passing facts to lesser organs
"I love you" is saying something more
to itself than termination of acidic tastes
incorrigible during the coming together
of matter never broken from the start, heel
of boot, cleft palate releasing sound into
the van as a tasty morsel. stop starting with
this is universally noted, so's
the incomplete abandonment through which
we are traveled

& make sure our existence still has roads in
other words, botch contempt as those such as we aged
in rotting barrels would when cornered by any
part of speech dangling through the grate like
that never sweetening it unless you play the
vietnam card habitually, an action marked
between how your face feels its suffix being
continued despite watching for durable outs--a
long shabby denotation, a singing astigmatic
difference, even a physical badness mini-construe
us toward how to stop imagining which
being thought might please us

this end like an ending quite unstopped
to leave the mantras room softly as a leaving
deserves that care, which I can't credit
to their selves recorded by a pen too fat
to make a very nice thing out of yours
or in English take the angles in which
our listing swims away from them, stop
the lists from such cadences

how can angels have numbers in them
breaks toward edges naked amid juxtaposed
objects & abstractions that name you
as yourself, so why be described/accused
in the evening like that on the left where
it hearts yours through agreeable windows
proving that does loves her, for Free Will
is on deal with Yes, as in Did you
see (seem to kill) my house? as in
Should you not be (been to burn) without
a happiness? omitting the complement
is savory--its keeping of us in these
places occupied by I shall not & vaguely
bought, a person can, which is, testify
via unknowing relatives

nutritious the love toward registration whosoever'
s midnight questions, like he's Balto-tropic
but madly this having to eat a meeting does wager
to mean what doing does to one through mouths as a group
or language/rails that terminate forward, they
who say would say "a kind of" future as in pend
as not in no arms to pen confessions of having
searched for seeing, the abilities suddenly forsaken
how can you keep your "lucky to have been the object
of screaming" away from refreshments which
when referred to hesitate in etcetera time, because
the infinite is a space too whether or not
you keep aware that way, as I do

for you cannot know that except the stats
which the ramp made of brain brushes
which the gown made of men-brains they
grasp alarmingly for leaks
of the not saying it spinally out of sac
out of very nices and bilgewater pearls
as what act as high/low corks
thoroughly, vertebrally suspended mid-vessel
where their lies enforce precision of objects
relating to lack of objects (realm-specific this)
we were their "sorry to have burnt you down"
who to be seeming thinks it is good
to continue walking

boustrophedon
the book such as paper
never to notice the hand in
that hand is
my hand
forcing one to bear
more weight
as 1450 overtakes
our person
alities, passing
us around from
word to lack
of verbal
context
always a lawyer teaching
a fly who
developed no heart
to speak of

I hear the roaring sea.
Must be the Astral Plane.

Sure.

We looked in the Hooters' window
put each thing we saw into categories
like Staunch or Velvet
this distributed the scene
with a lot of blood

minutely briefly there
a potentially afternoon substation
you couldn't recall the present, her stick, our neighbor, that chest
but the future echoed in
all vida and macaroons, which I hate

when I come back from the air then
I will tell you the truth
over phyllo suches weakly
literal as money
could

I learned a lot in today
what to omit in reply
taking 9 words yonder
this dead & alive at once
stuff suits all of us

 

part of breakfast. 10 pistachios 10 raisins 2 hard-boiled eggs milk with pure bee honey. this is what the one taxi driver told me to eat to make me feel happy.

last night another taxi driver gave me a book called ECKANKAR Ancient Wisdom for Today: How Past Lives, Dreams, and Soul Travel Help You Find God. I asked him if it was a cult. He shrugged energetically and said, "That depends on how you define 'cult.'"

The book says you can often recognize the Astral Plane by the sound of the roaring sea.

caveat: the ject within

all I do is read

I never read
any even
words
even

&thena
ssumeda
nonex
istent
need

look at my
faux fulfiller
of the vista

This Is Probably Too Revealing

I collected it
rubri
cated them all
the while
strong desire
to belch the
history of
writing
into my non-
fisting
fist.

people read
translations
of programs
dedicated to
this month
it’s something
to read
ancientness into

read a book
a day
like the monk
eys caught
in the id
eogram.
(oh boethius.)
diglossic
recipe for
those couple
gestures

my weekend was exactly like this except in baltimore

Gentle Reader

i'm getting on the napowrimo bandwagon late and poorly shod. i'm not sure i could be less interested in writing poems than i am right now. which is not really normal for me. maybe it's my change in diet. i shouldn't take nutritional advice from taxi drivers. or that remains to be seen, i reckon.

heart rate, heart rate, come come
sell love from my trunk
but it has to be pure
right out of the hive
trying to
trying to be a
pink coated
make some cash
have optional body
I killed myself
by changing my status
on myspace
to dead.
I can kill you, too.