Wednesday, December 9, 2009

steel sinks and plastic trayed light bulbs

(ch'i)


york hip yar



industri (bostonian semi-france) 1886



stoppush



lumen{s}




fi.lm.ing_co.lo.red_wi.th.our_se.mi.-_au.to.mas




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?

(perhaps)
(i)
know

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





running
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
questions
answers that involve driving
bringing things to places
handshakes
stories
games
laughter
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