No one seeks peril and yet
there it is, there is
peril in admiring the trees
*****
To say this is real and follows
as I do is not
to say the teeth allow
the tail existence
Treasures drift by sightless but the windows
snag on our eyes
Songs snag
and our eyes are wet with it
The gusts of ghosts trouble
us toward thinking and writing
is always a ghost game
(When Spicer said poetry
is “a machine for catching
ghosts,” he also said, “sex”)
*****
The flowers, the flowers—what
would it mean to be a bee?
To speak in swerves in
a force voice?
words make things name
One tongue travels near
the other and the whole
picture unravels
into movement—this
is not love, but it is
dancing
this is all
gossip about being
this is all
paronomasia and miasma
shaking the entirety in turn
tuning flux
and flaring at the imperceptible
fringes of collision
Monday, June 19, 2006
Monday, June 12, 2006
A HUMAN VELOCITY
Sure I was a molecule
accumulating talk
I came to this wanting
to say something
small about being
with you
an awkwardness beneath gasoline
each weird hospitality flung
into the mouth of a passing bird
I woke refurbishing The Kite Wars
a rabbit, a snake
Korean Dogwood blooming
in my ears
the man loves art because
he is an egoist
in my ears
he is an egoist
Today is something thrown and awaiting
purchase
*****
I was out interviewing clouds, amassing
the notes of a sky pornographer
as patches of the city subnormalized
by fear of fear
like a reef bleaching closed
I took to the streets
looking for a human velocity
thinking of disequilibrium
feeling heavy in the abundance
of summer light
of—this is my favorite name so
far
*****
This is insect speed and we
must be legendary in our hush
corpuses thrumming open
as a patina of grief
corrodes unnoticed in a background
of yesterday’s teeth
This girl is determined to hold onto the geometry
of her love
the newspaper reads tiny coffin moves
scientists to tears
and my extravagances gather
This is deep speed or a dynamism
of the middle
prone
to disappearance
A speed slowed to time outside
culture
in the slick of the thing music
accumulating talk
I came to this wanting
to say something
small about being
with you
an awkwardness beneath gasoline
each weird hospitality flung
into the mouth of a passing bird
I woke refurbishing The Kite Wars
a rabbit, a snake
Korean Dogwood blooming
in my ears
the man loves art because
he is an egoist
in my ears
he is an egoist
Today is something thrown and awaiting
purchase
*****
I was out interviewing clouds, amassing
the notes of a sky pornographer
as patches of the city subnormalized
by fear of fear
like a reef bleaching closed
I took to the streets
looking for a human velocity
thinking of disequilibrium
feeling heavy in the abundance
of summer light
of—this is my favorite name so
far
*****
This is insect speed and we
must be legendary in our hush
corpuses thrumming open
as a patina of grief
corrodes unnoticed in a background
of yesterday’s teeth
This girl is determined to hold onto the geometry
of her love
the newspaper reads tiny coffin moves
scientists to tears
and my extravagances gather
This is deep speed or a dynamism
of the middle
prone
to disappearance
A speed slowed to time outside
culture
in the slick of the thing music
JUST AS A REMINDER...
None of these posts actually look anything like this on the page. Lately the shapes they've most closely come to resemble are clouds, mists, miasmas. Which is good because I've been totally throttled by clouds. So, think of this stuff as the building materials and then picture them caught in an alley vortex, intermingling.
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