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Wednesday, February 29, 2012
2.29.12
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
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.
the way the wind blows so hard today.
scythe and axe. a spray of spring flowers.
we are all alone here. everyone of us.
Friday, February 24, 2012
2.24.12
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Thursday, February 23, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
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.
the dark precincts of the mind.
ledge of horizon. grasping - fingers. splayed.remembers. before. every day.
remembering: we choose what we remember.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
2.10.12
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Thursday, February 9, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
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.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
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?
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
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.
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