Poems

Eerie jections

09.12.2011 Poems

The horse is more or less off course you could say always cut the horse and keep the crystals pissing which is to say take some names down some blinds, have tea in the evening or just [holy moley, I] as ever I pitched for a couch outgoing in disposal broken as in my fridge is, as [...]

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writing is a speed buckle up worm.

09.08.2011 Rants

I think about whether real relation has a place in writing. Whether it is work to say these things like we’ve been saying them all along. Like all we were thinking were these things that needn’t be said and are and are also so so beautiful and arranged and un worked and whether it is [...]

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Brest Poems (August 11th – August 22nd)

08.30.2011 Ephemera
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Postcard Project August 6th-10th

08.17.2011 Ephemera
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It was not a good week for poetry this week. I fell off the wagon for a couple of days.

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August 2011 Postcard Poetry August 1st – 5th

08.04.2011 Craft Circle
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This is a simple concept. Send a handwritten poem out every day to a list of people and get one in return. I’m checking myself before I wreck myself.

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Friend in the sense

08.03.2011 Rants

that all thinking is fraught I reckon with work, with perturbations in the shale of friendship, with hailing and calling on the hail to break us down. With the kinship of ever outlying areas of expertise. Synergy, bitches. With the precision of compliments offsetting any general malaise that forms on my head rashy and whammo. There it is. My [...]

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Dove Song

07.18.2011 Menagerie

Song go the under steps of a little dove dove of my blouse a parlor dove a mouth, garage dove of many darkly treading and picking the weasel doings and doves of the news inside basins in beans, tidings, duvets a dim lip on the moraine a smidgen a little nest lighting the barracks in which [...]

Tagged as: Animal Poems

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Tuesday Clip

06.21.2011 100 Days

Sandie, here is your baby here is her mohawk do does she: not cry, not O they O her head is a circle her kneecaps, yammering O, O this summer drought makes the leaves feel left, lisps the little clip of language to her head (pink) :clip    

Tagged as: templates

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Uz

06.07.2011 Job
26 of 19 in Job

I am a child of the east, a dweller of pastures, a goat tribe. And indeed there’s more than one tribe. A strong wind of people blowing up my abode.  It’s rocky.  horrible.  shit passed thru at some point; by wings turning over into blades. My tomb and/or spring therein, “Job’s well.” So say them all, made flowing [...]

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Working Titles

05.18.2011 Poems

We are the ones in steel gray. We are American gray, gray with an “a,” with brushed aluminum and chemical polish and hairlines tapering across the horizon. We are dipped into bins individually, then baked in ovens until not-so-very-hard. We are dark umbers, shimmery creams, but we don’t glow – we skin it. We are [...]

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