Wednesday, December 9, 2009

steel sinks and plastic trayed light bulbs


york hip yar

industri (bostonian semi-france) 1886



clearly an after that follows the morn. some dusting of white on your pupil. now there's the shell of it!!

henry meet salvador. good morning sir.

and how is it that you seem to see this? well, i look closely at the seams.

so you're saying there are two eggs in a frying pan;

(as if) one of them?

yes. (yes) (a wonderful crop) they are

awaiting the harvest

and in that manner they are the same; they are the same.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

in the spinning wheel wind

what did you say when you found the smell?

i asked, where can i find them at sunset?

they sit on the edges of the rising tide

if he is there, yes, then where is she?


after the bathtub filled over with weeds i reached for the pocket watch with her words ringing, "take what you want"

it was one of us who had the scythe in hand

nov ember to see

carrying pseudo-seriousness surrounded by the colors we saw

and then there were the headed ink drips on the return

Sunday, November 29, 2009

this hem line

when i know someone to be there and it is now the here that is my frame.
as it happened to be november twenty first

with our tea not unlike that towel

(this is not an) escape (from)

those plotterings of others on into the backs. them that i love.

as i know in some moments less than (i can see from below)

alice i have never been more uncertain

some staircase that happened to be the one. disintegrating with every muscle pulled too limp

our light faded faster than the time

and we reached for the cables of where we knew things had been attached

attempting to rationalize some consistency to the batter churning (churning) as i worry it has been overfolded

Thursday, October 29, 2009

gathered up against her wings; our passages beneath us

counter clockwise ti-tah-tuck-tackering and then the stillness

you can come here too

and be as we used to be
because before is now

mr and ms
on a sunday afternoon

well i just don't know

before i found mr. winton
holding what i thought i was asked to hold

there are moments when we talk with damp tongues
as if we were the protagonists in some famous film with butlers

i asked an old woman where iselin was. she replied i was on it; but she explained, there is another

it begins as a drive i have done before
to a house i now know
with a door that has a mail slot i like to call through

as we do
we did
sipping into our adventure
a doodle within a cup
do you know where we are?
do you know where that is?

the droplets all around
on and on and on our umbrella
tiny ballerinas in the rain
high school as in homecoming
when i was lost
your hair blew in the wind

behind the glass surface
where we had escaped those nights

then sprinting
this is where we have been!

there in the wind
between those rocks
the bells across the sound

that's what i mean
we couldn't get home

tied to the bench where we sat
a white line into the split tree

we were late
that day
he knew

did you catch me a fish?
what is that.
what is that!

blue moon in the whites of your eyes

because it seems to me that our adventures were our most real moments

throwing the satellite nonlines to hearsee what the other is doing

is what i see what he sees?
the slow speeding arche
silent light before sound

there are phone calls
text messages
answers that involve driving
bringing things to places
a sense of being here
as they both are
when one meets the other on the way to
refusing to be too serious

color stillness grounds the colored twisting