romance or lackawanna, green vales

a lesser planet spinning red rosie

furious passion or eh muscular twitch

some choice, fated walk on edgerows

handling damaged fabric, clips here

with old scissors she et a bad news

"now is that it," em thinks, "could be"

in maritime terms, "shut the hatch"

there a pirating go and romance on high

seas so far up, the shutters clap 1/5

of the speed they shd be, seen sunlight

clang to the watery verge (an exposé),

too too harsh for this stuttering life

whose are these hands. outside in the dark the sun burns fiercely, breathes leaping gasses and fountains of fire. a murderous love field, cantankerous yearning. i saw a diagram of this, where earth is a godless body that vibrates along the tines of a tuning fork. n.a.s.a. is dreaming of red rocks, platforms and folds unfolding like hands. s.o.h.o. dreams of an entity of green heat, liquid filtered seas. An eternal righteousness under attack from asteroids. tucks up neatly into a marriage of man and wife. It lights up our life. there in the rift where demons play.

(From 5/11/03 As-Is)

I have been told this is pressured speech, backed up from the pressure underlying the cream or of night bringing on several idylls to bear upon facial tics suck in a breath breathe focus they say as in laboring to birth a crimson afterbirth bearing down upon pressure to under lie the speeches of tacky coms and commandants and computers touching sparking speaking. I take this to mean there is a push and pull, or if my mother survives this I will wander the hospital corridors; there, you have another hotel which is among survivors a cleanroom or a metal bed, and if pressure is also furious life a salmon burrowing upstream against flashing currents of undeniable force it is also a dance with death it is morning, a cool fog overlaying a screen of calm across the pressured stream of logos spilling out upon the air upon the mourning of a dovelike calm, so quiet, so quiet.

inside outside, interior exterior ---
where aspects of light extruded lymph dust
meet the yolk, sticky substance doused particles
felix revisions

affixes, fractures, fortitudes ---
a buildup of plotlines, sinkers and castings
spotty dregs in the soup, as it (she) were
blurry, unfinished

strongish seed package cut ---
your seed in a burrow of memory ache fish
you fishy boy or you pronouncement of birth
traveled extremes

in a natural harrowing shrift ---
in my own rocky shoals, lacerating scales
to be imminent and simultaneously emptied
swap we too remnants

exchange of memory backspace ---
if I could, to inview and meet at your angle
surge of adrenal chemical mix liquidates air
shuffles pages hushed

sometimes relentlessly interior
as if no other world existed in
my shirt fibrous boundaries
stitch words dull repercussions
what was yesterday is today
a difference of shade or tone
now no voices objects windows
idea blimps trawl the cranium

work sluffed off

                 old skirt  patterns

cut, faced and pinked

       with your old shears

layers of emotion

           dregs from yesterday

today a flat surface  selvage

string     can't finger any

can't say clearly even   a hem

or whistle    that was a tune

          stiff ceremony and measures

i think on the quarter notes

                     scuff my shoes

metronomic   now he says "they

finally made it to mars"



OK  there's a link

                      a new address

and a place to map

    on the cerebellum

where    foreign countries

            are collected

Cupid Madonna

warm body waiting, frigid morning. coughs up the dregs of a virus. if this is a diary so be it. the work comes to me. if this narrates itself so be it. laughable, tremulous, the knots she twists. a madonna with two cupids holding a plastic halo above her head. plasticine grace in a blue cape, floating on a quarter moon (the snake invisible). where are you, snake. underfoot, under the perfect manicured toes of the virgin full of grace. be with thee, full of anger and mysterious syllables. broken off at the root.