old poem

strange
what some things produce
when other things won't come

action in this
strange
instead

'Others Narrate With Lyres or Harps' by Fernando Pessoa

Others narrate with lyres or harps;
I tell with my thought.
For he finds nothing, who through music
Finds only what he feels.
Words weigh more which, carefully measured,
Say that the world exists.

poem

win what

gain and losers

fit fitting fit

lost losing lost

there isn't.

then

again

there wasn't.

troubles unsaid

saying said

saying

weather wears want.

gain is gaining

font.

poem

Birds don't need

GPS

and
neither

did we

poem

warm
life
comfort
pay

figure

in

life

so loss
isn't
gain

then &
again

finish

mind life

gone

left
gone

trickery

what
gain

finish
dinner
with
grand
ma

drool

perfect.

trouble

that

light

not

her

s
l
e
e
p

poem

photo genetics

wait line

poem

going away

nowhere ways

rap music

silhouette

but fuck that

an arachnid

poem

nowhere near
cavalier

remeasuring
reevaluating

twenty times
ten

all the length
in a bend

importance

craving.
not wanting,
not needing.

there's a
somersault
somewhere.

weaving.

what would it be like?

bode

childhood
florida vacation

feel

in

between beers.

Patio,
what has
the winter
to hold?

agreeing gathering

flashing

two lights

furthering

from

eachother

over

powerlines
and trees
and me

category no task predictions (circa 2002)

sincerity sells me short

the focal marking of focus

A tree thrashing
in the wind for
the duration of
my attention.

A Symphony
of captured,
sorted
spontaneous
laughter.

Keep on doing what makes you want to keep on doing

Lazy has new business.

Unobtrusive objects
serving the slowing
of lessening natural
Need.


muscles
tense in

symmetry
touching
in timing.

No
Arrogant

Agreeing-
gathering.

slow fast, feast light
comfort patterned concepts

all questions easily out
non-verbal compliment ready
others sound & place relate to
activity in place already
all is ready, wood is mainly wood

category no task predictions

Manifest Types

Anything
is Impossible.

time lines you

stresslessness you

Regular release
is unquestioned heat

Time, to gather
Together

Accidental Irrelevant.

Practically Frantically

make a sensible mess make sense,
stop how.

two realize an inexhaustible variety of combinations.

rable-rousing sensitivity
talk starved excitement

Pretension parade
Sarcastic charade

forth hence ha!

infinite recollection of guilt. hope.

repetition
hope
recollection

This to Them.

the time since

took serious

away from us


Inattentive of the above
I'll say I've won with
blank banners drawing
attention to wind.

poem

pretty and fat
skinny and ugly

master
electrician
with
early
onset
alzheimer's

everyone is older

he doesn't say thanks
so his son doesn't say thanks

grating an old brown hat into boiling heavy cream

they severed your ties so many times that there are still leaves yet to fall

then there are none, yet there's no such thing as nothing really

really there isn't nothing there even though everyone is older

where water comes together with other water by Raymond Carver

I love creeks and the music they make.
And rills, in glades and meadows, before
they have a chance to become creeks.
I may even love them best of all
for their secrecy. I almost forgot
to say something about the source!
Can anything be more wonderful than a spring?
But the big streams have my heart too.
And the places streams flow into rivers.
The open mouths of rivers where they join the sea.
The places where water comes together
with other water. Those places stand out
in my mind like holy places.
But these coastal rivers!
I love them the way some men love horses
or glamorous women. I have a thing
for this cold swift water.
Just looking at it makes my blood run
and my skin tingle. I could sit
and watch these rivers for hours.
Not one of them like any other.
I'm 45 years old today.
Would anyone believe it if I said
I was once 35?
My heart empty and sere at 35!
Five more years had to pass
before it began to flow again.
I'll take all the time I please this afternoon
before leaving my place alongside this river.
It pleases me, loving rivers.
Loving them all the way back
to their source.
Loving everything that increases me.

poem

he's outstayed
all his
welcomes.

all the movies
with talking
animals.

guest poem by logan bednarz

I believe I can fly

I got shot by the FBI

poem

you owe it
to yourself
internet.

the child sings
along the sounds
of the city bus

humming

neverminding

the don't
play with
that.

poem

s
t
r
a
i
n

e
v
e
r
y

n
e
r
v
e

i
n

e
v
e
r
y

p
o
s
s
i
b
l
e

w
a
y

t
o

k
n
o
w

&

e
x
p
e
r
i
e
n
c
e

y
o
u
r
s
e
l
f

a
s

y
o
u

r
e
a
l
l
y

a
r
e

Andre Brenton's poem 'There's No Way Out of Here' deprived of references to love and also with the word raft changed to fart

Liberty the human color
What mouths will fly to pieces
Roof tiles
Under the thrust of this monstrous vegetation

The sun a setter dog
Leaves the stoop of a fancy town house

Slow blue chest where the heart of time beats

Stream of stars
Who washes away the punctuation marks of my poem and those of my friends
You mustn't forget that in drawing lots I won liberty

The explorer grappling with the red ants of his own blood

Right to the end it's the same month of the year
Perspective which allows us to judge if we have to deal with souls or not

19...An artillery lieutenant is waiting in a trail of gunpowder

as everyone knows

In otherwords the world that won't exist

O superimposed windowpanes of thought
In glass earth skeletons are stirring

Everyone's heard of the fart of the medusa
And could if it came down to conceive of any equivalent of that fart in the sky

product

so I saw walking
two squirrels
doin' it
on a tree and

look up and

there's this
young woman
knowingly
smiling
pushing a
stroller

Later 10 by Robert Creeley

In testament
to a willingness

to live, I,
Robert Creeley,

being of sound body
and mind, admit

to other preoccupations -
with the future, with

the past. But now -
but now the wonder of life is

that it is at all,
this sticky sentimental

warm enclosure,
feels place in the physical

with others,
lets mind wander

to wondering thought,
then lets go of itself,

finds a home on earth.

poem

turn back,
relapsing right,
uplifting so.

O

no nonsense,
except in its place.

what a place!

what was when

generator
noise starter

gather up
and away

to being
meaning
made
fun of
finding

CBN zeitgeist

The answers are not based on politics, morality,
What do I do when other people swear?
laws, or any other "establishment" notions of human affairs,
How do I find a good church?
but rather on a modern, non-superstitious based understanding of
When does the final judgment take place?
and how we align with nature, to which we are a part.

grandpa

grandpa

in dialysis
in diapers

was still




hitting on
women

pee

out of underwear
into
an identical pair.

O pee,

you are

relieving me

of icons of pent up

everything

alligator

cautiously customized computer
jack nicholson's eyebrows icons

coelacanth journal poems

Slow Dance



Brain bed

Boob desk

Flat flat

Flat.







Morose



This morning I mop my floors. And so,

with wall to wall carpeting clenched cold and wet between my toes, I press on

on the dryer, and soon my bedspread is tumbling dry to the rythem of my big toe,

the captain of the toes, tap-tap-tapping.

Dot-dot-dot, dash-dash-dash, dot-dot-dotting.









Poem



They laughed.

They were laughing.

Were they laughing?

People laughed.

People have been laughing.

People should laugh.

Some people are laughing.

All people must have been laughing.

The smartest people will be laughing.

Her friend is an accountant.