too poem in curious style

suddenly i'm a straightman


hamstrings singled out in the frozen closet
accelerate the flow why do you breathe me
dobbin dobby why do you seethe me gnarl
at the hoop's agenda there is somewhat a prize
isn't there isn't always a prize like last year
i meditated on this year and thought there were
fifty years but honestly dobbin dobby breathe me
there's certainly nothing for lack of a better
time i'll take this, with nuts, kiss me you
gnarl pop the locked closet seethe into rivers
taste the spoon upon your back
the wheel under the spoon
tasty switch left on



~



did i mention i bought a watch?


a blinking thing after swell envelopes
violin wonderboys don't smoke it better
jumped into the fray skid
well yes i was scared roquefort robin
i however like dissipation
the white noise boys so the lithium
keeps it up for three years
time sexpot yes like that
tantric endurance like that
slammin on greasy brakes
i forgot we were fucking
forgot is not the right word
threshold of the gate
set low
does that mean
we come through
or don't come through?
i wore a beanie
on a violin
all smiles
also hard
still
late.



~


4 4 04

*

artist's rendering


roughht night on crevice road

tittering vexed cornflower

when we stop     hot radio

when we



shoot     floor the heap

     we immortal?

but enought oft

      onions     minuet

postcards



here's rough stuff

voiced     bedridden

orange peppper



thouggh     toniggght

         toniggght

       tonighht for the fable



no orange     red

red fire outside the

sleeeper     olds up

in flames     one

never knows



how it happenspenspenspenspensputerpunsterpenuteruterpenspenspenspenspensputerpunsterpenuteruter


~



7 16 05

thread re-sponse poems

old pornography


    after Napaulm, really...



old pornography taunts me now
but a job's no longer a job
there is light in picking a piece of fruit
with affection i look back
to when i was jobless
but O that magic feeling / Nowhere to go, nowhere to go!

with nostalgia i'm stirring the cream into the coffee
and my fucking legs ache from the work i have
you are nude, in my thoughts,
and we are together




~!~!~



7 22 06






beautypoem


    after Dervii and love...


i'm bumped into beauty,
beauty is all there is,
in itself contains
all of the other abstractions,

and the leaves,
tiny leaves that shimmer in their dew
wings as the sun comes up

which doesn't come anywhere
a physical abstraction --

why do we do these things to ourselves
when skin is fragrant
touch remembers other times
our longings create

beauty instead of
my heart of grey sky i love better
something i love
like your breath, leg slung over
and eyes say a kiss is perfect
a kiss like the last, nothing original,
so unlike beauty
so unlike a stinking hole of words


~


7 22 06

at the winery

implied mantis foma



last night at work
a praying mantis
stood still on the
concrete. i bent
down and placed
my gloved hand
next to it. it hopped
on. i carried it
away to a safe place
a few feet higher
and it hopped off
and stood still.
maybe there's a
scientific reason
for this odd and
solitary thing
jumping on and off
my hand, a sort
of compulsion
of temperature
or vibration or
something i could
never think of.
but now i write
to you, compelled
also by unknown laws
of grace, in bliss
i think of green
sticks, how we talk,
not caring to know
why we write.


~


7 17 06



foma: "harmless untruths" - Kurt Vonnegut

suchacutup

(raysweat's pressing, remix)



skin hair and everywhere



the thing about Romantics:
we children never had a chance.
it’s just one of those days where
they will probe until they find
the movie many times

look at these hands,
they always think it will end differently,
how they have a mind of their own
the skin of the matching fingernails
pressing the morning
it’s just another snake that hisses

it’s a lock of hair in the bible
long yellow hair
and skin
the skin of an official inquiry
the skin of a faithless grandmother the skin of
a trick of the bible a prayer
sliding into the overhead bin as useless as

the orange cantaloupe moon.
unappreciated coffee.
the ripest grapefruit sun

faith is any book
when you get it on your lips

could be
where the word was open for pressing
you and me against the page

soon there will be your flesh
to sink into (my only interjection! this! right here!)

watch as they try to think
without water
doesn't matter

soon the machine, the parents' unsuspecting backs
will suck us all in

is outside, though,
her duty?
they've seen
behind doing


~


7 15 06

tonight's poem

recovery



stone galoshes in the corner,
why don't they pick up
after themselves? alright, the acrid
air of the tunnel. okay,
the shiny new train and pressure,
letting off steam. i'm sure i know,
even if i don't remember, and i don't
only mean that in a sexual or scientific way.
i walk days around a broken toy.
i walk and disperse. there are
poems written about this, but this
isn't one. i don't have the time for
the story of my life, you understand:
i don't have time. the unsculpted stones
taken from the cold water of the river.
children finally lift me, no longer children.
my head gone from the blast,
check myself in. i don't have the time for
more than one miracle. by god
she made it good.


~


7 15 06

duover

johneee/soniii sf july 2006
starting ovah in the middle