am

paste this stride.
a snare riddles,
and i lag.

confide in sills.
blow the bulb.
springtime.

rags, rulers,bones—
clarinet’s shadow.
peel this print

a drum. grackle.
leaden gut,
chin resting on hands.

baleen helmet.
rampant coupling.
archaeology.

marrow’s eckell—
a tracking method,
mud on the fingertips,

point neck to sky.
grounded,
longing. distances.

here. there.
attempted.
voyeur. shovels.

pm

bedsprings are fictitious. legends of accordions. again, reeds – blown into and out.

the rocking of the gothic font, the metro in paris. a gang. but, i won’t go there.

i want to say something about muppets. i don’t know why. think about how fozzy

the bear must feel against the palm. ball bearings swinging on the ends of fishline.

a good idea for a sculpture.

the kind of animal

that mah-jonggs the walkway with clackings and snaps. snaps back with a spring. springs back with a clack. a clack. a clack a clack. paving stones and what’s underneath? what’s underneath? something on a reel. one two three with a flap. this is called super-eight. memories scented with lemon. not magenta, but salmon. not salmon, but sandy. not sandy, but parsley. not parsley, but rain. that always wears a hat. that always locks the door. that brooms every corner. that corners every room.

the kind of animal

that swallows its own tongue. that pie-plates its eyes. a telephone animal that won’t come down from the top of the pole. a kind with claws. a kind looking sloth with claws and pulp. cut from a cloth with buttons for eyes, he throws sand. he throws sand and a whiporwill won’t holler. a glass of warm milk. black ink dripping from nub. the wind kicking up and the dust fills his eyelids with lint. stuffed with it it weighs him down. straw in the mouth. a chain around the ankle. the toes.

Failures

The back wheel of my bicycle has something called a “hub,” which is the center of the wheel that connects the spokes to the bike frame. The hub houses the ball bearings and also the freewheel, which allows the petals and chain to rest while the wheel is spinning. Some time ago all of the grease leaked out of the hub and as a result the ball bearings wore a groove in what is called the cone. The cone keeps the ball bearings in place. Although the grease was replaced and the ball bearings set right, the groove in the cone made it impossible to tighten everything together properly. If tightene,d so that the bearings were snug, they would get caught up on the groove in the cone. As a result of the loose fit, one of the bearings has fallen out of the hub altogether, and now when the wheel spins the others clank and rattle around. In addition, the back wheel is extremely wobbly.

* * *

One should not rely on the chocolate dip on a Dairy Queen ice cream cone to keep the ice cream from dripping down the sides of the cone.

* * *

courthouse

bank

classroom

bedroom

parentheses

what is it that you are trying to accomplish?

everything is a front page headline,

i can’t see when headlights shine in my eyes.

how do you feel about other people?

my scalp. my eyes can’t figure out what kind

of robot this is. where i’ve seen it before.

a baseball bat in the trunk of every car.

in the corner of every room

where do you live?

a terrace laced with philodendrons. a dungeon.

a wig made of chains. a wristwatch. staring at the sun.

fences. i’m holding my breath.

what will you do?

make a paper airplane. open the window. scribble

something on my skin. triangulate. tie my shoes.

reappear. scrape. fallow. steam.

who do you love?

parabola. houdini. you know when it’s so hot

that the air wiggles? the loudest noise in the room.

a firm handshake. the linked fingers that catch me.

ripcord. hotbreath. wallet.

how old are you?

i can run three miles without stopping. probably

four. in love with the desert again. hair on every

part of the body. custom fit boxes for everything.

larynx. studio. drunkenly, i stumble and fall.

tomorrow, palacial, orangutang. tundra, sundry, penny candy.

at this point

the porcelain beyond repair

my hands chapped

and beyond that bleeding

that cloud not a cloud

a zeppelin a wig

the bottle

a decoding machine

the war nearly over

reconstruction tuned

promised for cassandra

this will happen and this

will not happen who can

know who can be sure

guff,

the floor crumbles

but, i don’t fall

i can’t explain

slats a lot for the motion

paper cuts.

the inside of my mouth.

lilacs, aroma of.

level playing field.

* * *

_____bears

feather-bed. forty-seven geese.

weather-bed. radiator. bedspring.

mirage. the next elvis. chinstrap penguin. porter.

we had a lot of fun with the piggy we stole from the shed.

last-chance. hallelujah. expressly. not. a menalaeus.

mofo. strummy that six-shooter. transcribbler.

pollutor. murderer.

_______________________________________

the cats are killing again

the new guillotine

salmonela does not concern

the cats are killing again

the mice are listening again

the new tread-mill

danger in a nutshell

the mice are listening again

the snakes are calving again

the new emergency

pink teeth enrapture

the snakes are calving again

the cats are killing again

the new revolution

frotage for frogs

the cats are killing again

non sum qualis eram

cylindrical

stacked knuckles belated

a quarter-pound of ground lamb on the counter top

* * *

population explosion

the solution is not to “green” (as though there were such a thing) all of the jobs will be lost

all of the “jobs”

“lost”

* * *

yes sometimes i have too much hand-waving. or at least it seems that way. bouyancy.

a life-jacket is an orange item. this this this is not a flammable. great.

like a little bear with a café wrist. bouncing a ball. rubber. population. personelle. no one frying up pickles and peanut-butter. formica. this is what i’m trying to get at. the yellow formica. stainless steel. marbled yellow formica. midnights and midnights with the light on and the window open. talking. smoking. children sleeping in the next room. this appeared to be my turn to make black and white pictures in which i look silly with a too long beard. scalloped around the edges.

* * *

sidewalk. serrated. pitfall. flip.

formica.

frightful.

momma i’m deafening.

arpeggio. ricochet.

follow this trajectory.

concertina your reflexes.

proserpina. partridge. porter.

* * *

coal. languor. enervation. anaemia. poverty of blood. declension. asthenia. adynamy. cachexia. rope of sand. totter. tremble. shake. halt. flag. eviscerate. mettre de l'eau dans son vin. gimcrack. gingerbread. evanid.

* * *

the following are the results of entering the previous text into jackson maclow’s diastic reading engine.:

is (as smoking.

next room.

with were thing)

least that is up is the window talking.

room.

be beard.

i’m arpeggio.

smoking.

next room.

with were thing)

least that is up is the window talking.

room.

be beard.

i’m arpeggio.

smoking.

next room.

with were thing)

least that is up

* * * 

blackberry belle

belated

all least black stacked [pattern not found: ^\w{5}b, skipping]

knuckles gingerbread.

trajectory.

trajectory.

blood.

declension.

halt.

explosion

there be all least black stacked [pattern not found: ^\w{5}b, skipping]

knuckles gingerbread.

trajectory.

trajectory.

blood.

declension.

halt.

explosion

there be all least black stacked [pattern not found: ^\w{5}b, skipping]

knuckles gingerbread.

trajectory.

trajectory.

blood.

declension.

halt.

explosion

there be all least black stacked 

* * *

epic cafe

explosion

up this black concertina partridge.

life-jacket like edges.

up this black concertina partridge.

life-jacket like edges.

up this black concertina partridge.

life-jacket like edges.

there’s a trill in this heat

this is the heat, right here held in the round of my smoothed shoe

this foot has toenails and this foot velvets the clay with a scuffle

a sound like a piece of paper being blown off of a stack by the wind

let’s call it a slip-cover

let the wind fumble a while with this intimacy, this team of bodies assembled

training for the ikibana that summer will bring

i’m walking the spine of the roof

spooling love-whispers around my spine through my mouth

spooning dust into clay pots for later in the evening

chewing ashes into silences delivered

i keep the things i’ve learned in my pocket

corner of the yard a chimenea embroidered with bouganvilla

pink slip-covers

something dropped, stepped out of, puddling the floor

kissing ankles hello, or good-bye

i should know which…

a soft pink dress. light-weight. silk.

ankles.

shadow puppets behind a scrim

preparing morsels for a pewter tray