3.3.12

"the wild rose/is the only rose without thorns"
with all my circling, a failure to return...

3.3.12 Manipura- 3rd Chakra

3.2.12

2.29.12

We'd arranged to meet in the woods. An old cabin - gutted. filled with leaves roof half-open to the rain. And it was. raining. The path was dark. mud-filled full of leaves and pine needle glut the sludge of nature. There was no light. only the heaving dark. The heavy trees and their drip of years. All that rain. My feet foundered. branches slapped my face - like hands (like branches) I knew what he wanted. I knew how it would end. And I went anyway.

2.28.12

2.28.12

2.27.12

2.26.12

Sunday as: diapause. or
the heart's own jacquerie.
when every morning suggests: the Rubicon.
the quotidian revolt of a taciturn heart.
or
the lackadaisical drowning by inches.
by moments.
the encomiums of those we do not love.
is no respite.
when diapause becomes:
forever. past. present. future.

2.26.12

2.25.12

2.25.12

fingerprint. as if on my spine. (the base of.)
the way the wind blows so hard today.
scythe and axe. a spray of spring flowers.
we are all alone here. everyone of us.

2.24.12

2.24.12

words. not unlike rain. often refuse to fall. when and where they're most needed. dropped vowels. the silence of certain consonants. All the ways there are to lie. the way he often lies. or smokers. and their smoke. the arrogance of. how words are like. smoke. though sometimes. instead. like flails. like irons fresh from the fire. like the forever string of phrases that can never be expunged. like memory. like the memory of rain.

2.23.12

2.22.12

2.21.12

2.20.12

skipping stone.
the dark precincts of the mind.
ledge of horizon. grasping - fingers. splayed.remembers. before. every day.
remembering: we choose what we remember.

2.20.12

2.19.12

a successful dive?
is one
you return from.

2.19.12

2.18.12

2.17.12

2.16.12

2.15.12

2.14.12

2.13.12 House on fire falling from sky

2.12.12

a rare gift.
like a day without pity. or clouds. or
a clock that runs silent. perfectly on time. always. or
a smile that asks for nothing in return. or
maybe just silence. or the memory of silence.

2.12.12

2.11.12

2.10.12

"togan se" means "he takes" "thog se" means "he took" "cosain" means "to defend" "dibir" means "to banish" "bi" means "to be" "Taim" means "I am" "ni dhearna se" means "he did not go" "Deirim" means "I say" "Deirim ni dhearna se" means "I say he did not go." "brisfidh me" means "I shall break" "Dofaidh me" means "I shall burn" "an bhfeicfeadh se?" means "would he see?"

2.9.12

2.8.12

2.7.12

2.6.12

2.6.12

dusk. a narrow lane.
the spread of the collapsed building all over the square.
jaws of bulldozers black teeth against the sky.
dust patterns across streetlights, sidewalks, walls, fingers.
and the moon: the moon is fat & white & near full to bursting.

2.5.12

descend from gripped steps.

past nails coming lose. and

the stain where someone fell. 10 years ago.

walls. pale yellow. bubbling

from damp.

descend from gripped steps.

into the soot-filled city.

2.5.12

2.4.12

2.2.12

2.2.12

"Ta me" means "I am"

"Nil fir na gasnir anseo" - there are neither men nor children here.

"Nach bhfuil" - don't think

"Ta doras ann" - there is a door in it

"Ceist ar bith?" - Any questions?

2.1.12

2.1.2

to my valentine.

push. slap. bone. crunch. grind. drip. swing. pop.

I know more moves that you've learned in all your years

swinging your fat dangle around swinging your fat guitar

there is not one word you could say I have not heard before.

there is not one place you could take me I have not been.

if you were to bring me a hothouse full it would still not be

enough. and

if you were to feed me a country full it would still not be

enough.

You shiver at the slightest breeze. freeze at the smallest word.

Your world is smaller than the tip of my smallest finger.

there is not one syllable you could tongue I have not licked and

better and there is not one fold you could unfold that would

change any of this.

if you were to bring me a museum full it would still not be

enough. and

if you were to drown me an ocean full it would still not be

enough. 

1.31.12

gardens. gone feral.
the way the shadows fall & fall. or
the way it's always february inside even when
it's "Spring-like" on the street.

1.31.12

1.30.12

is today your day? every minute the ice gets thicker. the town has shut down. storms pass. build. pass again. we prospect the lands beyond Kipling's setting sun. streets with eager faces. getting on with their lives. in a thousand schoolrooms a lukewarm response. time. money. the search for 2 fishermen. masticated. regurgitated. the assessment continues. the latest figures. so shapely. so cold. we prospect the storms. masticate time. assess the latest schoolrooms. the town getting on with their lives. every minute the ice gets thicker.

1.29.12

1.29.12

on Friday, I saw a man breaking stones. sledgehammer. pile driver. shovel. no gloves.
on Saturday, I saw a man selling stolen book jackets painted with pictures of animals.
on Sunday, I saw a man dressed in a blanket & garbage bags slapping his forehead with one hand and shouting something about Jesus rising.

1.29.12

1.28.12

1.27.12

sound-change (a lesson) "h" after any consonant causes sound-change. there are no words that begin with "p" there is no word for "yes" and no word for "no" "beal" is the word for mouth. An thfail me means "I am." sasta means "content" or "happy" nil means "not" I am not. or He is not. or plural: people are not. le means "with" nach thfail me sasta Ca means "where" Ca thfail tu: where are you. there is no definite article "a" or "an" me fein means "myself" tu fein means "yourself"

1.27.12

1.24.12

The Tension between Protecting the Right of Access and Protecting Individuals or Society from Harm.

If an individual who is unfamiliar to you comes to the reference desk and requests material on how to build a bomb, do you provide it? 
[Q: is he a white guy wearing dark sunglasses, a Che t-shirt and a heavy beard?]

If an individual comes to the references desk and asks if there is any material on how to freebase cocaine, do you provide it? 
[Q: the materials? or the cocaine? am I allowed to make a Richard Pryor reference?]

Is it ever appropriate to violate the confidentiality or privacy of library patrons? 
[Q: What is "The Patriot Act"? or Q: What is "Child Pornography"?]

Do children have the same rights to information as adults? 
[Q: Where are their parents? or Q: how about white guys wearing dark sunglasses, a Che t-shirt and a heavy beard? asking about freebasing and downloading kiddie porn?]

[certain lines taken from a library studies textbook]

1.23.12 a series of endless errors.

there are some things about a snow-blurred weekend
words that do not fall into place. so much to see on
the other side of that blur. think of all that red. the blue. 
secrets. all the carefully arranged details of another day.
frost-rime and sleet-stain. slush burned black.
recovering the dumb genius of happiness. of normalcy.
unhappy families are conspiracies of silence.
the intellectual split above the grid of black wires.
On some Sundays I forget who I am. and whether
I part my hair: middle, right, left. or whether
I part it at all. when even the batteries are dead and
Monday becomes the least of all possible evils. 
yes, even then.

1.19.12

1.18. 12 inspired

1.18.12

in the howling wind (read: gust)
in the steepness of streets (read: home)
in the echo of everyday (read: grind)
in the hum of memory (read: lies)
in the scream of days (read: love)
in the scrape of flesh (read: sex)
in the stutter of meaning (read: words)
in the howling streets (read: home)
in the steepness of wind (read: love)
in the echo of flesh (read: home)
in the scrape of memory (read: sadness)
in the stutter of love (read: nothing)

1.16.12

tiny biters. handcuff shimmy-ers. internal explosions.
there's nothing like a new way to lie.
love at first sight. choosing a foundation.
there's nothing like a new way to swallow.
tiny explosions. handcuff biters. foundations exploding.
there's nothing like a new way to dance.
houses made of tinfoil. lovers made of air.

1.12.12

1.11.12

"all men are brothers, that is why we shed tears for people we don't know."

22. 5'10" (or 5'8" depending on the source). 160 lbs. (or 131 lbs).
missing since 12/27 (or 12/30).
"If you ask his mother what his biggest attribute is, she would say he gives the most incredible hugs."

1.11.12

1.10.12

"Darkness doesn't fall, he thought as he swayed to the radio, it rises up from the bottom of the sea and beings to breathe around us."
like hope maybe.
or those monsters that still hide under the bed.

1.10.12 waiting for dance class to start

1.9.12 Waiting in the doctor's office

1.9.12

a whisper. a crack in the sidewalk. (a crack in the world.) the way Valentine's Day always reeks of sadness. His ribs: each. individual. willed to protude. How I know I would never have that courage. How we deify violence. the way the sky is too thin. and ugly.

1.8.12

1.7.12

1.7.12

handprint smear on doorways, frames, windows.
the way the walls shiver with each passing truck.
at the airport: an Egyptian well-dressed and grey around the edges
explains violence to a Lebanese man 40 yrs younger who lays claim to Beirut, then admits Jersey City.
I sit between and notice only their matching backpacks,
their beautiful eyes.
today: early April in December but my bones stay cold. shivering to echo the walls.

1.6.12

1.5.12 more Leigh

1.4.12

in the meantime...
there was something in the way he said those monosyllabic words
that just made them mean so much more
(or so much less)
and his ears stuck full of the sound of his own voice.
always: just the sound of his own voice.

1.4.12 Leigh Bowery

1.3.12 more strawberries

1.2.12

archaeology of a lonesome miner.

as simple as that. like following a map. or a grocery list.
light boxes show negatives for what they are.
words, faces only show what you want.

1.1.12

first poem of 2012.

some words I would like to use in 2012. 

this new year:

effluvial. tumescent. carrion. whistle. schlep and lunge.

smoldering. blinkered. distened. aperture. swathe. (or swathes).

or perhaps to write a sonnet or sestina about anything other than:

rain. the sea. the teeming streets of New York. boots on trails.

the crunch of snow underfoot in an otherwise silent forest.

the way people lie and lie and lie again or perhaps, just

tell stories.