Friday, April 29, 2016

Airs on the G String/Mark Young


Bach may have
publicly stated

he was wryting
songs of praise

to a Xtian god,
but I think he had

a much more uni-
versal one in mind.


parency. The
skin stretched.
Through which
the light once
shone. Now stripped,
glued to the
wall. Stories told
about it but
lit from the
wrong side.


today's iso-
topic comes
from living in
a world of
lives &


Taken as a
given. So

different from

as a gift.


Lost &
in a
small area
of time he
cut back
& cleared
in order
to grow


Physical land -
(e)scape. Arrogance
of. Or passivity.
Slowly taken
over or is
overrun by. He
implored himself,
a voyage of
self-discovery. Spin
cycle. River drift.


& not all beginnings
are the same
no matter
how much alike
they look. Not
all are
beginnings. Some
may be. The end.


The balance
        even if

The man next door
with a chain saw
        cutting trees.

        Bowie video clip
on MTV.


He carried a cage
with nothing in it.

A small bird.
Thalidomide wings.

Flew quite delicately.
Mouth open. Mute.

A beautiful song.
It carried the cage.


Always a part of him
that didn't understand, that
came in late after the
introductions were over.


Those parts of
      his life that
      he couldn't
currently transcribe

he planted with
      flowers in the
      hope he could
pick them later.


If in the
                old lovers
are the closest
one comes
to having
he shall
still be

Sweet Tooth/Sanjeev Sethi

I’m an oxymoron in incubator
of excess seeking
nidus in never-never land.

Dressing up desire
makes it easier to accept.
Urge seems less ugly.
Cerebral undertones add
a coat of cleanliness.

Had execrableness
been sedated,
exigencies wouldn't
have snared me.

Friday, April 22, 2016

In the Sheer Drop of Noise on a Highway/Raymond Farr

Back then my feet were sugar to wandering boys
& so I would never wear shoes

I left ashes in the air of the rooms I exited
I was clutching at isotopes but laughing in the bathtub

& you walking away with the bath water—
There was lumpy vomit all over yr bell bottoms

It was like you were standing there naked
On the other end of a pay phone, the words ORANGES

& SARDINES plastered across the vacant lots of yr eyes
It was like yr hands were paper nests piled on the trundle bed

& winter was a lion roaring in the sheer drop
Of noise on the highway—a flock of galumphing

Goldfinches twisted by nihilism into bird origami
Only darkened our view from the river

The Bill Amending the Career Plan/Matt Margo

He claims that she works in the station. The action is merit-to-merit at noon in reverse. At dusk and off Irish fields, pure truth—it also rains. The action worsens want to teach. No use having the belly up… I thought I showed eye-popping support for his work, and look where the guy is now. We want to get out of the water below, with all this academic buffoonery that operates on high and at home. Willy-nilly women recognize the original plan operator, the London water depth, the hour… It is going to be good to point out that the quake caused the temporal. I draw body and soul, clowning him to come down, take shame in the face, and demonstrate courage in practice programs. Home family cinema forces us to accept this. The creek of stones is prohibited, yes. It has now been voted the best in the field. I’m ready to go back to this new old, accompanied by redness and gentlemen. Let’s take advantage of the week about to leave.