Sticks, when they fell, danced like leaves
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
it has a way of filling up time
and imparting something if not
direction
then osmosis.
a float in a sea of consciousness
jellyfish inn at the out bar
and the leaves llike air
in the virtual distance were battles and the texts
of empire. the music suitably background
but filling. as if ceasar carried an orchestra into carthage.
a sublimation of fighter jets and car bombs.
keeping the rabble in pablum reserve.
what to do with all these boy babies we've bred?
we know what to do with the women.
in the real distance commercial
properties developing under jetwash and bracken.
pick up a jewel-by-the sea for a song. register
under the dark clouds , while waiting for a giant rat
to come lumbering up and dispense stairs to a hammock
on his back. climb aboard, it's party time.
china and the years of the reds.
google sized fries and do you want an edit with that?
isnidious insiduous the pot warms.
*
so where to find relief?
in an examination? choose one
a
b
c
dilleneate dilletant, show your adherence to novelty.
smoke your pack a day and porcinely proclaim
my new rain forest a success the day before
the mountain slides down taking all those brand new
roots with it. the ghosts were dancing around the fire
pit all last year. didn't you see them in the evening
mists, eating rootstallk, chewing nodes? glad to have
you join us and i wipe the mud from my eyes.
we are here together where all the closed books go.
ah the langoliers. how cliche. how yesterday. ashes.
but the mud, as it worked its way like thick phlemg
into my nostrils then my lungs, an eboal quick pneumonia
began to soothe me. i always knew the way home
might be painful, but this was like a warm cave sloshing
over me, just don't fight it dn't panic
then i woke up here
you can let me go again
i've shed the shell
***
in reality it's sundae afternoon, sliding like a bad lover
into monday. cool grips, the sky is suitably nappable.
i want to wash my greasy hair in a long hot shower,
shave all my pits, climb into bed again, see what desire
pulls out of thin skin. all my obligations are met for
the nonce. what dreams might this day hold?
reading new poems and
schematics of old poems. watching
new movies and learning
that 12 isn't far from 16
watching time displayed
in the flame of the candle
mildly scented
pyromanic trance
the hint of smoke alarm.
it tasted like whisky
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
so you drank it like a video game.
throat burnt with a woman's tit
and you for tat and nexting into the moment.
see how fine the caterwails walled.
a little goose, a bit of loose and then such nonosensitive
music. were they talking to you? to me, perhaps?
we don't know but let's enjoy the fumes
while they last. time for a remix and look, there's
beth orton on msn. next you know, bjork
will be on the fashion pages of people
in the best dressed column. pick a subliminal
message and stick with it woman!
mirror gun
and the bosstones of barroom brawls
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
final last tunes on the magic giving ring.
the wooden frog straddles strings
cracks a past right in your face.
right in your face.
what you do now sucker?
kiss it and make a princess
throw it and make a frenchman
flip it and try again.
that'll be 26 cents please.
keep the penny.
double shot of jose cuervo
and you can squeeze out the lime's line.
it runs from her ass
all the way past his fist.
duck
realising she'd missed the bus, maia hopped on one foot
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
did the rain dance on the corner of fifth
and tezaqual. no one watched as she removed
the first veil but by the time
ofthe seventh there were several comanches
waiting for the four fifteen. still maia
on the one foot, blushing in her pink angorafor all the world a flamingo,(she got the translator
on sale at the fea market. only a dollar. she
was willing to put up with whatever
glitches came her way as long as they'd direct
her to bathroom when the time came.)
suddenly she wasn't there anymore. the bus
came and went again, popping like britney's chorus/
it's up to the next passenger to decide what she was
saying, where she went.
state strate strafe strife
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
get it straight the father
he left the night you were born
left for better climes and slimmer timez
it just took years for him to get there
travelling with your school pix pulling him back
each time, they float now in his water
you know the body you gave to flame
then fire then earth then air? he passes now
thru all of them, saveable at last, with no pass.
o and he sends of course
the message you never got.
not this father
but my father was never there.
each night he'd come home and play the king.
she'd be shrinking in the corner
and bloom when he praised or cornered one of us
there with his logic and his almost love.
making me believe it was me
that could not live up to what i was
nothing
in his eyes. i never told him i could be rescued
as well as the next baby. why didn't he know?
it's not this father. this father is lifted past
his mist. takes of the woolen cookie tray
loves with absence, reminding me how how
lonely he always left us. never knew the meaning
of obligation. it's not this father. it's just...father.
and what of the last branches of st. loyala
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
if the research bears out
it will show a huge swatch of history
benched on a gristmill. smaller and smaller
slices of the proverbial pie, a shilling's eye.
yes, there's a college with almost that same
scent your parents had, half moth balls
half old pussy ground by cigarette. the question
is how much you want to be a legacy.
oh scrap me a nametag at the o4 reunion
i'll be coming home susie. look towards the mountain
at sunset. i'm riding the last photon in.
can you pick me up at the station?
i'm bringing caramels and crocuses. you wanted
spring, now you can have it in four easy lessons.
1)light the sandalwood candle with a smokescreen
2)turn the tuning peg to the right.
2)no, the other right.
3)get good music from bearshare
4)if i go crazy now, you can call me superman
incense & wolf-shadowed tunes
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
how when the sun's out
beating on the horsetrack and you park there
right beside the big suvs and the valet
sees you and tells you to move
but you're just waiting for your boy
friend to get his last paycheck
and the boys are in the back saying but i've never
seen an actual horse race and they still don't
cuz you have to drive in ever ineasing circles around
the flagged off valet parking area while the gamblers
and families file into the clubhouse area
itching to catch the last four
races live and up in the party
box they begin to yell and scream
unitelligibly but you're on the other side now away
from the pounding hooves the jockeying
for position the nose to nose and sacramental tickets
torn in two then four then eights and sixteenths
thrown into the air by losers raning down
like glissando confetti as you round the last curve
taken care of
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
i caught the milky
way from a sky i've never seen
moon rose blood red and big
god's angry eye above waters
avenue, over the semaphores, forever
rising, falling.
she sings to me a song you dedicated
then, when i never heard it.
let's sing it together now.
outside this first floor window
my doors, shut,
i hear the piano play in that apt
you rented, on the edge of a river
i never stepped in.
there's a different you now, a different me.
we haven't met. never will.
in the morning the microscope becomes a refuge. inspect the welds. safety first. recurse into the small universe of surface.
at this moment the place is quiet polite phone bleeps, spilling plastic counted and bagged. but wait, here come the people.
useye test for ueer update: add tolerance for the reflector test. remember the blind spots
later it's lunch. i found an intermittent cause. the veins got crossed, influx of multiplex from bus a to bus c. the brain couldn't figure it out.
now we ride along behind the deisel hog luis in an orange vest holds his hand against the traffic. we stop. the mini bobcat creeps along, slowly. it's feeble claw hangs like a carnival game in front, some freakish carrot for a metal donkey. what of rafael, driving? he's lost in the morning's dream of fields of strawberries, stretching along the dirt road from one pavement to the next. there's a layer of ice over each plant which he must thaw with nothing but a butane blowdryer. and he has to pick 20 flats today to make enough for beans and tortillas tonite. forget sending beatris and pili enough for new school dresses. he stops abruptly at the ditch's edge. he does not know how he got here, inside this open cab, pushing a grasshopper leg into reverse, the metal jaw clawing at reeds, lifting them above his head like that scene from alien when the creature bursts out of the science officer's chest the very first time. he remembers pili got dysenterry though, last year. frost on the berries outside the trailer he shared with 14 others. he looks over at luis. luis is waiting for him to move the machine again. luis likes his orange vest, likes standing in the middle of the road, holding his hand out to traffic, his hand bare, head turned away from the oncoming cars. rafael asks luis in cafe guadalaja at lunch why don't you wear the orange gloves when you do that? luis just shakes his head, runs his finger down the edge of the picture of pili that rafael gave him last year thinks of the birds they released on the day of the dead.
~~
refugee
Unregistered User
(2/15/06 1:46 am)
Reply strong as dopamine
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
we learn in reverse
review recursive tide
a shill to bide. the oil runs
quick as blood thru our engines
pumpishly. what will will you
take with you refugee ?
better to let them shoot you
in your streets. let's have
a study break, one where we watch
termite bellies splice onto bacteria
and distill ethanol from straw. let's
drink it in big hummer gulps, pretending
the short term lack of orangedog butterflies
won't lead to a price increase in our
morning juice. let us ruse, from a 450 feet
away, and put our brethren behind
the last bars we'll ever need-
the ones etched in our eyes.
indiana, what blue skies hovered
over you above the wavering gasohol
lines wrapped like mirages across the desert
and when can we lie in you again?
this is written somewhen in the early
part of a decline of an empire. lead
poisoning, too late to stop the euclid smoke.
eresis, the will of entropy and ebony
gleaming in a milky way. i'd like to die
in new zealand, watching those skies.
ii
the martin strings are shrill
but resonant. i understand the incoherence
which makes this unreadable. but it
behooves me to write this way,due to the influx
of sinister atoms across this vector.
this is code for tomorrow.
argentian football stars dress in the shroud
of turin and parade on olympia. no one
notices. the sheer incoherent apocalypse
each prophecy fulfilling itself, prophetically
the powerful playing their roles, and we bit
actors dying on the beach of saving private ryan.
gimmee all your filthy lucre.
marketing for pop u lar i i i ty
where in all this
is the face of god?
look around you they show me
it's on everything green.
III
the song is off key tonite
but the timings almost alrite
no it's a reggea and it's not sposed to be
***
take 5.
sometime it was they set up camp
late in the afternoon. lyre would take the pot
off the back of the wagon, samuel
would gather wood. she'd place a gram
of fresh water, sweet from the high mountains
were the benzene had either filtered out
or had never landed in the snow. himalayas
she remebered the sound of it, the towering
ice,the heavy waterskins, the quietness
of the gieger counter, the clear test strips.
their fortune lay in the slow descent, melting
just enough to fuel them . if the sun stays
lyre thinks. if our arrays hold out.
they set the panels up toward the west to catch
the last of the sun. rootstalk and potato.
carrot and apple. steamed. nuts rounded the meal.
samuel uplinked to their contacts in beijing
the stars were close
there few lights below them anymore.
****
what would you take? these drooping petals
effluvian traps, the sixteen years of school pictures,
a poem your first dead girlfriend gave you what
would be in your box as you move along the high
road, between the river and the ocean, northward
and out of the sea? the tides will take it all.
let me just take a rest here on this banyan stump
i remember when
i remember i
remember.
it has a way of filling up time
and imparting something if not
direction
then osmosis.
a float in a sea of consciousness
jellyfish inn at the out bar
and the leaves llike air
in the virtual distance were battles and the texts
of empire. the music suitably background
but filling. as if ceasar carried an orchestra into carthage.
a sublimation of fighter jets and car bombs.
keeping the rabble in pablum reserve.
what to do with all these boy babies we've bred?
we know what to do with the women.
in the real distance commercial
properties developing under jetwash and bracken.
pick up a jewel-by-the sea for a song. register
under the dark clouds , while waiting for a giant rat
to come lumbering up and dispense stairs to a hammock
on his back. climb aboard, it's party time.
china and the years of the reds.
google sized fries and do you want an edit with that?
isnidious insiduous the pot warms.
*
so where to find relief?
in an examination? choose one
a
b
c
dilleneate dilletant, show your adherence to novelty.
smoke your pack a day and porcinely proclaim
my new rain forest a success the day before
the mountain slides down taking all those brand new
roots with it. the ghosts were dancing around the fire
pit all last year. didn't you see them in the evening
mists, eating rootstallk, chewing nodes? glad to have
you join us and i wipe the mud from my eyes.
we are here together where all the closed books go.
ah the langoliers. how cliche. how yesterday. ashes.
but the mud, as it worked its way like thick phlemg
into my nostrils then my lungs, an eboal quick pneumonia
began to soothe me. i always knew the way home
might be painful, but this was like a warm cave sloshing
over me, just don't fight it dn't panic
then i woke up here
you can let me go again
i've shed the shell
***
in reality it's sundae afternoon, sliding like a bad lover
into monday. cool grips, the sky is suitably nappable.
i want to wash my greasy hair in a long hot shower,
shave all my pits, climb into bed again, see what desire
pulls out of thin skin. all my obligations are met for
the nonce. what dreams might this day hold?
reading new poems and
schematics of old poems. watching
new movies and learning
that 12 isn't far from 16
watching time displayed
in the flame of the candle
mildly scented
pyromanic trance
the hint of smoke alarm.
it tasted like whisky
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
so you drank it like a video game.
throat burnt with a woman's tit
and you for tat and nexting into the moment.
see how fine the caterwails walled.
a little goose, a bit of loose and then such nonosensitive
music. were they talking to you? to me, perhaps?
we don't know but let's enjoy the fumes
while they last. time for a remix and look, there's
beth orton on msn. next you know, bjork
will be on the fashion pages of people
in the best dressed column. pick a subliminal
message and stick with it woman!
mirror gun
and the bosstones of barroom brawls
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
final last tunes on the magic giving ring.
the wooden frog straddles strings
cracks a past right in your face.
right in your face.
what you do now sucker?
kiss it and make a princess
throw it and make a frenchman
flip it and try again.
that'll be 26 cents please.
keep the penny.
double shot of jose cuervo
and you can squeeze out the lime's line.
it runs from her ass
all the way past his fist.
duck
realising she'd missed the bus, maia hopped on one foot
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
did the rain dance on the corner of fifth
and tezaqual. no one watched as she removed
the first veil but by the time
ofthe seventh there were several comanches
waiting for the four fifteen. still maia
on the one foot, blushing in her pink angorafor all the world a flamingo,(she got the translator
on sale at the fea market. only a dollar. she
was willing to put up with whatever
glitches came her way as long as they'd direct
her to bathroom when the time came.)
suddenly she wasn't there anymore. the bus
came and went again, popping like britney's chorus/
it's up to the next passenger to decide what she was
saying, where she went.
state strate strafe strife
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
get it straight the father
he left the night you were born
left for better climes and slimmer timez
it just took years for him to get there
travelling with your school pix pulling him back
each time, they float now in his water
you know the body you gave to flame
then fire then earth then air? he passes now
thru all of them, saveable at last, with no pass.
o and he sends of course
the message you never got.
not this father
but my father was never there.
each night he'd come home and play the king.
she'd be shrinking in the corner
and bloom when he praised or cornered one of us
there with his logic and his almost love.
making me believe it was me
that could not live up to what i was
nothing
in his eyes. i never told him i could be rescued
as well as the next baby. why didn't he know?
it's not this father. this father is lifted past
his mist. takes of the woolen cookie tray
loves with absence, reminding me how how
lonely he always left us. never knew the meaning
of obligation. it's not this father. it's just...father.
and what of the last branches of st. loyala
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
if the research bears out
it will show a huge swatch of history
benched on a gristmill. smaller and smaller
slices of the proverbial pie, a shilling's eye.
yes, there's a college with almost that same
scent your parents had, half moth balls
half old pussy ground by cigarette. the question
is how much you want to be a legacy.
oh scrap me a nametag at the o4 reunion
i'll be coming home susie. look towards the mountain
at sunset. i'm riding the last photon in.
can you pick me up at the station?
i'm bringing caramels and crocuses. you wanted
spring, now you can have it in four easy lessons.
1)light the sandalwood candle with a smokescreen
2)turn the tuning peg to the right.
2)no, the other right.
3)get good music from bearshare
4)if i go crazy now, you can call me superman
incense & wolf-shadowed tunes
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
how when the sun's out
beating on the horsetrack and you park there
right beside the big suvs and the valet
sees you and tells you to move
but you're just waiting for your boy
friend to get his last paycheck
and the boys are in the back saying but i've never
seen an actual horse race and they still don't
cuz you have to drive in ever ineasing circles around
the flagged off valet parking area while the gamblers
and families file into the clubhouse area
itching to catch the last four
races live and up in the party
box they begin to yell and scream
unitelligibly but you're on the other side now away
from the pounding hooves the jockeying
for position the nose to nose and sacramental tickets
torn in two then four then eights and sixteenths
thrown into the air by losers raning down
like glissando confetti as you round the last curve
taken care of
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
i caught the milky
way from a sky i've never seen
moon rose blood red and big
god's angry eye above waters
avenue, over the semaphores, forever
rising, falling.
she sings to me a song you dedicated
then, when i never heard it.
let's sing it together now.
outside this first floor window
my doors, shut,
i hear the piano play in that apt
you rented, on the edge of a river
i never stepped in.
there's a different you now, a different me.
we haven't met. never will.
in the morning the microscope becomes a refuge. inspect the welds. safety first. recurse into the small universe of surface.
at this moment the place is quiet polite phone bleeps, spilling plastic counted and bagged. but wait, here come the people.
useye test for ueer update: add tolerance for the reflector test. remember the blind spots
later it's lunch. i found an intermittent cause. the veins got crossed, influx of multiplex from bus a to bus c. the brain couldn't figure it out.
now we ride along behind the deisel hog luis in an orange vest holds his hand against the traffic. we stop. the mini bobcat creeps along, slowly. it's feeble claw hangs like a carnival game in front, some freakish carrot for a metal donkey. what of rafael, driving? he's lost in the morning's dream of fields of strawberries, stretching along the dirt road from one pavement to the next. there's a layer of ice over each plant which he must thaw with nothing but a butane blowdryer. and he has to pick 20 flats today to make enough for beans and tortillas tonite. forget sending beatris and pili enough for new school dresses. he stops abruptly at the ditch's edge. he does not know how he got here, inside this open cab, pushing a grasshopper leg into reverse, the metal jaw clawing at reeds, lifting them above his head like that scene from alien when the creature bursts out of the science officer's chest the very first time. he remembers pili got dysenterry though, last year. frost on the berries outside the trailer he shared with 14 others. he looks over at luis. luis is waiting for him to move the machine again. luis likes his orange vest, likes standing in the middle of the road, holding his hand out to traffic, his hand bare, head turned away from the oncoming cars. rafael asks luis in cafe guadalaja at lunch why don't you wear the orange gloves when you do that? luis just shakes his head, runs his finger down the edge of the picture of pili that rafael gave him last year thinks of the birds they released on the day of the dead.
~~
refugee
Unregistered User
(2/15/06 1:46 am)
Reply strong as dopamine
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
we learn in reverse
review recursive tide
a shill to bide. the oil runs
quick as blood thru our engines
pumpishly. what will will you
take with you refugee ?
better to let them shoot you
in your streets. let's have
a study break, one where we watch
termite bellies splice onto bacteria
and distill ethanol from straw. let's
drink it in big hummer gulps, pretending
the short term lack of orangedog butterflies
won't lead to a price increase in our
morning juice. let us ruse, from a 450 feet
away, and put our brethren behind
the last bars we'll ever need-
the ones etched in our eyes.
indiana, what blue skies hovered
over you above the wavering gasohol
lines wrapped like mirages across the desert
and when can we lie in you again?
this is written somewhen in the early
part of a decline of an empire. lead
poisoning, too late to stop the euclid smoke.
eresis, the will of entropy and ebony
gleaming in a milky way. i'd like to die
in new zealand, watching those skies.
ii
the martin strings are shrill
but resonant. i understand the incoherence
which makes this unreadable. but it
behooves me to write this way,due to the influx
of sinister atoms across this vector.
this is code for tomorrow.
argentian football stars dress in the shroud
of turin and parade on olympia. no one
notices. the sheer incoherent apocalypse
each prophecy fulfilling itself, prophetically
the powerful playing their roles, and we bit
actors dying on the beach of saving private ryan.
gimmee all your filthy lucre.
marketing for pop u lar i i i ty
where in all this
is the face of god?
look around you they show me
it's on everything green.
III
the song is off key tonite
but the timings almost alrite
no it's a reggea and it's not sposed to be
***
take 5.
sometime it was they set up camp
late in the afternoon. lyre would take the pot
off the back of the wagon, samuel
would gather wood. she'd place a gram
of fresh water, sweet from the high mountains
were the benzene had either filtered out
or had never landed in the snow. himalayas
she remebered the sound of it, the towering
ice,the heavy waterskins, the quietness
of the gieger counter, the clear test strips.
their fortune lay in the slow descent, melting
just enough to fuel them . if the sun stays
lyre thinks. if our arrays hold out.
they set the panels up toward the west to catch
the last of the sun. rootstalk and potato.
carrot and apple. steamed. nuts rounded the meal.
samuel uplinked to their contacts in beijing
the stars were close
there few lights below them anymore.
****
what would you take? these drooping petals
effluvian traps, the sixteen years of school pictures,
a poem your first dead girlfriend gave you what
would be in your box as you move along the high
road, between the river and the ocean, northward
and out of the sea? the tides will take it all.
let me just take a rest here on this banyan stump
i remember when
i remember i
remember.
posted by hiccup at 10:15 PM
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