Yips (Jyllands-Posten publishes drawings of Muhammed 2005) 9/30
And you raise the club – you swing –
You biff it –
With everyone watching
you miss downhill
from 10 feet away
with no wind –
And you blame everyone – your caddy –
The time of day – this climate
of war –
The fact that you receive death threats
at work –
The fact that you draw cartoons for a living –
That you didn’t sign on for this –
That the whole thing is kinda stupid –
30 September 2010
Lump
I have a sinus infection. So that explains the lateness this week.
I will do my best to keep it going.
Lump (Washington National Cathedral built 1907/1990) 9/29
In 83 years
not much occurred really
Theodore Roosevelt
laid the first stone
before 20,000 people
George H. W. Bush
watched the last finial
rise into place
Between
a few wars with little
to show for themselves
The invention
of television
Space flight etc.
I will do my best to keep it going.
Lump (Washington National Cathedral built 1907/1990) 9/29
In 83 years
not much occurred really
Theodore Roosevelt
laid the first stone
before 20,000 people
George H. W. Bush
watched the last finial
rise into place
Between
a few wars with little
to show for themselves
The invention
of television
Space flight etc.
28 September 2010
Strap
Strap (William the Conqueror invades England 1066) 9/28
A body
on metal table
wrapped in
the flags
of the dead
Until
it is mummy
of color
Release it
into the water
or soak it
in honey
until soft enough
to eat
A body
on metal table
wrapped in
the flags
of the dead
Until
it is mummy
of color
Release it
into the water
or soak it
in honey
until soft enough
to eat
Color
Color (Rosetta Stone is translated 1822) 9/27
And there was understanding
across this great world
Things that we once knew were returned to us
and things we thought were known
were shown false
Everything turned an onyx reflection
inwards and then outwards
Like a ghostly version of your own face
staring out from behind the mirror
after a hot shower
And there was understanding
across this great world
Things that we once knew were returned to us
and things we thought were known
were shown false
Everything turned an onyx reflection
inwards and then outwards
Like a ghostly version of your own face
staring out from behind the mirror
after a hot shower
27 September 2010
I've discovered a snag in my word of the day.
The e-mail with the days word arrived at 8:30PM in my inbox.
I am at work Sunday nights until after midnight.
SO
Monday will have 2 poems. One early, one late.
Mira (Francis Drake completes his trip around the world 1580) 9/26
The Concorde landed in Texas today
493 years to the day
that Francis Drake completed his
3-year trip around the world
And what monsters were found
at such high altitudes
floating belly up like otters among clouds
That night we were looking at the stars
and just below Pisces you pointed
the sea monster Cetus with its star Mira
demanding us to look
There is the beast that swallowed Jonas
The hunger of deep space must be gigantic
We will keep our noses down to avoid our fate
The e-mail with the days word arrived at 8:30PM in my inbox.
I am at work Sunday nights until after midnight.
SO
Monday will have 2 poems. One early, one late.
Mira (Francis Drake completes his trip around the world 1580) 9/26
The Concorde landed in Texas today
493 years to the day
that Francis Drake completed his
3-year trip around the world
And what monsters were found
at such high altitudes
floating belly up like otters among clouds
That night we were looking at the stars
and just below Pisces you pointed
the sea monster Cetus with its star Mira
demanding us to look
There is the beast that swallowed Jonas
The hunger of deep space must be gigantic
We will keep our noses down to avoid our fate
25 September 2010
Scratch-off
Happy Anniversary to me!
Starting today, every poem will be written as it is posted. So each poem will be unedited and posted as soon as it is done.
Wish me luck.
And be kind!
For the rest of the month I'm going to write a poem about a historical event that happened on that day as well as using the word of the day for the title.
Scratch-off (the last Magdelene Asylum closes 1996) 9/25
This is how it happens :
These nuns sell some land
This is in 1993
The land developers find 155 bodies
Like some horror movie
They take the bodies and cremate them
toss them into a mass grave
These women
most of them just young pregnant
or mentally handicapped “socially dysfunctional”
They washed clothes and sewed
Weren’t allowed to talk
It started in 1767
30,000 women
most never allowed to leave again
Not one eye blinking
Not one word raised
for 200 years
It took a land deal
And the invention of cheap washing machines
Starting today, every poem will be written as it is posted. So each poem will be unedited and posted as soon as it is done.
Wish me luck.
And be kind!
For the rest of the month I'm going to write a poem about a historical event that happened on that day as well as using the word of the day for the title.
Scratch-off (the last Magdelene Asylum closes 1996) 9/25
This is how it happens :
These nuns sell some land
This is in 1993
The land developers find 155 bodies
Like some horror movie
They take the bodies and cremate them
toss them into a mass grave
These women
most of them just young pregnant
or mentally handicapped “socially dysfunctional”
They washed clothes and sewed
Weren’t allowed to talk
It started in 1767
30,000 women
most never allowed to leave again
Not one eye blinking
Not one word raised
for 200 years
It took a land deal
And the invention of cheap washing machines
24 September 2010
Mapuche
Ladies and Gentlemen it is this website's first anniversary.
Send me something nice.
Or buy a book.
Mapuche 9/24
I don’t want to be a white man writing another guilty poem about brown men
I don’t want to be a gay man writing about anal sex on a subway
I don’t want to be an English man writing about history or the way things were
I don’t want to be a young man writing in emoticons
I don’t want to be any man writing about breasts and vaginas with teeth
I don’t want to be a son writing about fucking my mother or killing my father
I don’t want to be an educated man writing about the less educated like they are dicks
I don’t want to be a man writing about the low classes or high classes
I don’t want to be a poet man writing poetry about poetry
I don’t want to be a man trying desperately to leave the shadow of the 20th century
I don’t want to be anything to anyone
I don’t want to be a white man writing about other white men
I don’t want to be a man writing for other men writing
Send me something nice.
Or buy a book.
Mapuche 9/24
I don’t want to be a white man writing another guilty poem about brown men
I don’t want to be a gay man writing about anal sex on a subway
I don’t want to be an English man writing about history or the way things were
I don’t want to be a young man writing in emoticons
I don’t want to be any man writing about breasts and vaginas with teeth
I don’t want to be a son writing about fucking my mother or killing my father
I don’t want to be an educated man writing about the less educated like they are dicks
I don’t want to be a man writing about the low classes or high classes
I don’t want to be a poet man writing poetry about poetry
I don’t want to be a man trying desperately to leave the shadow of the 20th century
I don’t want to be anything to anyone
I don’t want to be a white man writing about other white men
I don’t want to be a man writing for other men writing
23 September 2010
Splenic
Splenic 9/23
It’s red and moving – the spleen is where it all goes pooling and filtered out
Everything ends here – here the purple goes blank
It’s red and moving – the spleen is where it all goes pooling and filtered out
Everything ends here – here the purple goes blank
22 September 2010
Enormity
Enormity 9/22
I
In which a statement is made and the first layers of understanding are expressed
II
A metaphor is presented and the statement unravels until it is a tiny point of light
III
The problem is restated over a vast field of background information that resembles a lawn strewn with corpses
IV
A conclusion is reached but it is unsatisfying and the period lingers coldly
I
In which a statement is made and the first layers of understanding are expressed
II
A metaphor is presented and the statement unravels until it is a tiny point of light
III
The problem is restated over a vast field of background information that resembles a lawn strewn with corpses
IV
A conclusion is reached but it is unsatisfying and the period lingers coldly
21 September 2010
Musaf
Musaf 9/21
There is a roll under your tongue – where
you write late at night – the jaw drops and you scroll
the unrooted organ
It is a spoon – held over a flame melting
These are instructions sealed in your chest – you are
made of mud – someone sent you out – unlocked
You dropped your cases – the arms tick
The letters are thickly black and illegible – you are
piling tongues
The scroll is tongues? – It is a dead father’s voice
calling down your throat
There is a roll under your tongue – where
you write late at night – the jaw drops and you scroll
the unrooted organ
It is a spoon – held over a flame melting
These are instructions sealed in your chest – you are
made of mud – someone sent you out – unlocked
You dropped your cases – the arms tick
The letters are thickly black and illegible – you are
piling tongues
The scroll is tongues? – It is a dead father’s voice
calling down your throat
20 September 2010
Molecular Electronics
Molecular Electronics
The thought of my cells dividing makes me sweat
There are mites on me right this second – on you too
We have eco systems – regions – continents?
At the window the moisture is pulsing into a map of space
My toenails brittle themselves and become yellow
I sweat at the idea of lice
I sweat and it freezes into salt
Inside me there are bacteria rotting meat that I ate yesterday
Your shit is food
Those cities of mites are crawling in your bed – in mine
They have cars full of children
The thought of my cells dividing makes me sweat
There are mites on me right this second – on you too
We have eco systems – regions – continents?
At the window the moisture is pulsing into a map of space
My toenails brittle themselves and become yellow
I sweat at the idea of lice
I sweat and it freezes into salt
Inside me there are bacteria rotting meat that I ate yesterday
Your shit is food
Those cities of mites are crawling in your bed – in mine
They have cars full of children
19 September 2010
Mounting
Mounting 9/19
At the light there is that river of space
divided by the small white line bridge
Across the void he is standing sunglassed
and moving his head around looking
There is that sudden announcing and the
checking him over
When the bridge pulls out of the concrete
and the little man begins to blink walk
we cross ourselves and watch each other
After the first eye catch
there is a moment before the discovery
of an abandoned building and the dust kicks
At the light there is that river of space
divided by the small white line bridge
Across the void he is standing sunglassed
and moving his head around looking
There is that sudden announcing and the
checking him over
When the bridge pulls out of the concrete
and the little man begins to blink walk
we cross ourselves and watch each other
After the first eye catch
there is a moment before the discovery
of an abandoned building and the dust kicks
18 September 2010
Something Interesting
The soap opera As The World Turns aired its last episode yesterday.
The show was on for 54 years and was the second-longest running television soap in the US.
There were 13,858 episodes and it was the first soap opera with a running time longer then 15 minutes.
The show was also the last broadcast before President Kennedy was shot. ABC was the only network airing original programming at that time of day. A few minutes into the episode it was interrupted by Walter Cronkite. The episodes were aired live and the actors went on performing not knowing that the show had been interrupted.
The show was on for 54 years and was the second-longest running television soap in the US.
There were 13,858 episodes and it was the first soap opera with a running time longer then 15 minutes.
The show was also the last broadcast before President Kennedy was shot. ABC was the only network airing original programming at that time of day. A few minutes into the episode it was interrupted by Walter Cronkite. The episodes were aired live and the actors went on performing not knowing that the show had been interrupted.
Staid
Staid 9/18
Columns are staid in attendance to the site they are placed
they wince over lovers angry leavings and the coming dust
They are staid in the face of advancing tanks and raised bayonet
The coming barbarians do not faze them and the fog
only manages to slide over their arched marble surfaces
We are staid in our houses across the country managing our affairs
We are staid in the face of lips coming and going and saying
any number of things we regard as true or false
The advancing is only an advance if we take time to notice
the cold raised skin on our arms the deep thickness about us
Columns are staid in attendance to the site they are placed
they wince over lovers angry leavings and the coming dust
They are staid in the face of advancing tanks and raised bayonet
The coming barbarians do not faze them and the fog
only manages to slide over their arched marble surfaces
We are staid in our houses across the country managing our affairs
We are staid in the face of lips coming and going and saying
any number of things we regard as true or false
The advancing is only an advance if we take time to notice
the cold raised skin on our arms the deep thickness about us
17 September 2010
Stringing
Stringing 9/17
Line down my finger over my wrist – it is the bridge of a viola
plucking up my arm – my veins are purpling against the grain
and I am tightening everything against this moment
I am raising against your chin – everything is prickled hairs
on the body – my arms are bows moving across lines – we
are moving across lines – we are poles in a field transmitting
This is a grid of poles – a line of violin strings playing against
lightning – metal and making a net of electricity – the bow
land pressing against – humming
Line down my finger over my wrist – it is the bridge of a viola
plucking up my arm – my veins are purpling against the grain
and I am tightening everything against this moment
I am raising against your chin – everything is prickled hairs
on the body – my arms are bows moving across lines – we
are moving across lines – we are poles in a field transmitting
This is a grid of poles – a line of violin strings playing against
lightning – metal and making a net of electricity – the bow
land pressing against – humming
Cupola
Cupola 9/16
The building has an eye and it is watching – fixed
It centers on a drift – clouds drawing on a board
This dome is a stand it’s legs are catapults
Launching the stones upward – it is a beige eye
An unblink – a sunspot looping blackly
The building has an eye and it is watching – fixed
It centers on a drift – clouds drawing on a board
This dome is a stand it’s legs are catapults
Launching the stones upward – it is a beige eye
An unblink – a sunspot looping blackly
15 September 2010
Niente
Niente 9/15
We breathe
We are all locked eyes and pupils dilating
Our skin is raised against air
We are post-fucking and locked
Hands leaving white
You say don’t let go of me now
Our noses are pressed til cracking
Our focus is hazed
We breathe
And are dripping
We breathe
We are all locked eyes and pupils dilating
Our skin is raised against air
We are post-fucking and locked
Hands leaving white
You say don’t let go of me now
Our noses are pressed til cracking
Our focus is hazed
We breathe
And are dripping
14 September 2010
Farm
Farm 9/14
Palm on palm – the edge of the woods are clean
We lock eyes when we pay debts
We measure our fields – we come daily
upon them in the fields – picking lettuce –
What if I give you chocolate – not gold –
And then the foil tarnishes to pewter –
Palm on palm – the edge of the woods are clean
We lock eyes when we pay debts
We measure our fields – we come daily
upon them in the fields – picking lettuce –
What if I give you chocolate – not gold –
And then the foil tarnishes to pewter –
13 September 2010
Psychograph
This is sort of an automatic writing moment.
Psychograph 9/13
..,,,,;;;;;;::::,,,,,,;;;;;;;””””””””;’’’’’’’;;;;;…….
;;;;;;;;;;::::::;;;;…..,,,,,’””’’’’’’’’………;;;;;:::::……
,,,,,,,,,,,,,:::::::;;;;;;;…,,,,……
:::::::’’’’’’’’’
tres aboreal shantih catorce de juliet
burn break blow
Psychograph 9/13
..,,,,;;;;;;::::,,,,,,;;;;;;;””””””””;’’’’’’’;;;;;…….
;;;;;;;;;;::::::;;;;…..,,,,,’””’’’’’’’’………;;;;;:::::……
,,,,,,,,,,,,,:::::::;;;;;;;…,,,,……
:::::::’’’’’’’’’
tres aboreal shantih catorce de juliet
burn break blow
12 September 2010
Lekach
Lekach 9/12
Apples make a cork noise – a screw down into the wine neck noise
and the metal slice goes through the skin – it is popping
it is splitting – separating – a pulling wound that is red
and it is coating in honey and filling the plates
It smells like fall – like leaves on the sidewalk and the rain falling
over the grasses
Tongue burns the white brown and the golden mass fills the cells
it makes everything burn brighter – makes your nose
skim the surfaces for familiarity – each section leaves
a noise on the surface of the ceramic plate
Each core squares firmly on the wooden plane – and sits
darkly holding its seeds
Apples make a cork noise – a screw down into the wine neck noise
and the metal slice goes through the skin – it is popping
it is splitting – separating – a pulling wound that is red
and it is coating in honey and filling the plates
It smells like fall – like leaves on the sidewalk and the rain falling
over the grasses
Tongue burns the white brown and the golden mass fills the cells
it makes everything burn brighter – makes your nose
skim the surfaces for familiarity – each section leaves
a noise on the surface of the ceramic plate
Each core squares firmly on the wooden plane – and sits
darkly holding its seeds
Monogenic
Monogenic (chair) 9/11
A rightful sit an upright solid thing filling with light and flesh
Dead tree you are carved up and stoic in your cage
Smooth from asses worn until dirty and never washed
Chair you are a rain spotted site a fresh filled meadow covered in dung
An essay on resting
A rightful sit an upright solid thing filling with light and flesh
Dead tree you are carved up and stoic in your cage
Smooth from asses worn until dirty and never washed
Chair you are a rain spotted site a fresh filled meadow covered in dung
An essay on resting
10 September 2010
Pant
Pant 9/10
if I have a hard time looking you
in the eye and speaking clearly it has
nothing to do with your eyes
nothing to do with your smile or the crinkles
around your mouth
it’s just the air the tight pants
the something I ate
I am not in love this is not about love
my breathing is regular see
your hands don’t make my heart skip at all
I don’t think about your stomach
if I seem shaken it has nothing to do
with you it’s gas or caffeine
or the sick uncle in Florida
it is not your leg touching mine under the table
if I have a hard time looking you
in the eye and speaking clearly it has
nothing to do with your eyes
nothing to do with your smile or the crinkles
around your mouth
it’s just the air the tight pants
the something I ate
I am not in love this is not about love
my breathing is regular see
your hands don’t make my heart skip at all
I don’t think about your stomach
if I seem shaken it has nothing to do
with you it’s gas or caffeine
or the sick uncle in Florida
it is not your leg touching mine under the table
09 September 2010
So-so
So-so 9/9
Trees are a black foreground and the clouds are
a glowing white backdrop painted onto the light box sky
It is the first day of cool weather – the first fallish moment
I have placed my ass in New York for a year – what
have I received from this tower?
This glowing sky – this September – I have been given
a rotting flower – a pumpkin carved with Jesus
No – I have taken these things
Scooped out the insides and placed them on a table there
are knives and I am taking each apart and making a collage
I am using the blood of things to make alphabets
This A is bone marrow – the N a failed romance – what
am I doing here?
The sky is always like this in September – this weird calm
this Magritte sighing
I am waiting for fireflies to make comets – cicadas to sing elegies
Trees are a black foreground and the clouds are
a glowing white backdrop painted onto the light box sky
It is the first day of cool weather – the first fallish moment
I have placed my ass in New York for a year – what
have I received from this tower?
This glowing sky – this September – I have been given
a rotting flower – a pumpkin carved with Jesus
No – I have taken these things
Scooped out the insides and placed them on a table there
are knives and I am taking each apart and making a collage
I am using the blood of things to make alphabets
This A is bone marrow – the N a failed romance – what
am I doing here?
The sky is always like this in September – this weird calm
this Magritte sighing
I am waiting for fireflies to make comets – cicadas to sing elegies
Hunt
Hunt 9/8
I’m tired of love
Of the game – the endless parade of candy
There is a loss here – my head is hurting
I’m tired of everything that is
There is no there there – no – there is
but it is a quietly roaring hated there
I’m tired of throwing arrows
Slinging the energy of myself into the world
There are fibrous strings leashing onto strangers
I’m tired of being drugged
Dragged around by my hopeless naïve sentimentality
It’s a field of clover bending under the sun’s hand
I’m tired of myself
Of being hopeless – of the taste of blood in my mouth
I’m very tired of not getting what I want
I’m tired of love
Of the game – the endless parade of candy
There is a loss here – my head is hurting
I’m tired of everything that is
There is no there there – no – there is
but it is a quietly roaring hated there
I’m tired of throwing arrows
Slinging the energy of myself into the world
There are fibrous strings leashing onto strangers
I’m tired of being drugged
Dragged around by my hopeless naïve sentimentality
It’s a field of clover bending under the sun’s hand
I’m tired of myself
Of being hopeless – of the taste of blood in my mouth
I’m very tired of not getting what I want
07 September 2010
Incompetent
Incompetent 9/7
I’m tired of love
roses are tired – I’m allergic to perfume
If I just grab you and throw you down right here
Now I mean – on this sidewalk
Nothing can explain how you really feel
the trees are not happy for you – will never be
I want to be forever
Leaves keep falling – keep coming back
Sun still rattles the windows
and I am tired of love – of not being thrown
I’m tired of love
roses are tired – I’m allergic to perfume
If I just grab you and throw you down right here
Now I mean – on this sidewalk
Nothing can explain how you really feel
the trees are not happy for you – will never be
I want to be forever
Leaves keep falling – keep coming back
Sun still rattles the windows
and I am tired of love – of not being thrown
06 September 2010
Discomfort
Discomfort 9/6
– then he pushed me against the wall
my hands against stucco – bruises welling
up – held me and fucked me
I’m not telling you this because it was fun –
because it was – or because I like the
attention – because I do – I’m telling you
so you become jealous of your lack of wall
Your lack of support – no hands around
your waist – no rough sandpaper hair
on your back – no cock
– then he pushed me against the wall
my hands against stucco – bruises welling
up – held me and fucked me
I’m not telling you this because it was fun –
because it was – or because I like the
attention – because I do – I’m telling you
so you become jealous of your lack of wall
Your lack of support – no hands around
your waist – no rough sandpaper hair
on your back – no cock
05 September 2010
Pepper-spray
Pepper-spray 9/5
Admit I’ve got you by the lapels
that your jaw is hinging on a wire – laying
silently – your teeth are popping corn
I am holding you an inch from the floor
Admit that I’ve got your buttons in my fists
that your threads are undoing – rewinding
and jamming the gutters
This is a bloodletting
I am a stabbing
Admit I’ve got you by the lapels
that your jaw is hinging on a wire – laying
silently – your teeth are popping corn
I am holding you an inch from the floor
Admit that I’ve got your buttons in my fists
that your threads are undoing – rewinding
and jamming the gutters
This is a bloodletting
I am a stabbing
04 September 2010
Bulls-eye
Bulls-eye 9/4
Clear lens
subtly making rainbows
against the hollow of horn
the inside of head
the cockles of tongue
Clear lens
subtly making rainbows
against the hollow of horn
the inside of head
the cockles of tongue
03 September 2010
Gall
Gall 9/3
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I
02 September 2010
Goelette
Goelette 9/2
Water is a map of stars – a swirl of floating
points on a pulsing black
There is a sense of paint dripping from the moon
And above is the fixed porcelain sky – vented
lopsidedly cracking
We are sitting in a bowl floating that ocean
You are dipping candles – slow wax fingers
I am tying and untying lengths of rope
There are 100 corks filling 100 holes
Our little bowl has no spoon
Water is a map of stars – a swirl of floating
points on a pulsing black
There is a sense of paint dripping from the moon
And above is the fixed porcelain sky – vented
lopsidedly cracking
We are sitting in a bowl floating that ocean
You are dipping candles – slow wax fingers
I am tying and untying lengths of rope
There are 100 corks filling 100 holes
Our little bowl has no spoon
01 September 2010
Band
Happy September!
Band 9/1
I am sick of beauty
There is a bag in the corner for it
For the eyes that shine when I enter a room
For the hands on my arm on my hands on my face
For the mouth on my mouth
The tie on the bag is silver
The bag is soaked in kerosene
I have one match and it is windy
Band 9/1
I am sick of beauty
There is a bag in the corner for it
For the eyes that shine when I enter a room
For the hands on my arm on my hands on my face
For the mouth on my mouth
The tie on the bag is silver
The bag is soaked in kerosene
I have one match and it is windy
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