Saturday, February 12, 2011
excerpts from Paradise No. 2
are you a vocal opening and noising like
the dual natures look at knives in bags
a sick deal to brutus he took to
but then they don’t talk in process
bury later tones in nudes
the doors all open and no one cheats
that covered the sex with something like a shop
the machine said one message
before it all got crated off to the simplest
she still hasn’t had any or been had by any
in burro factory
so naturally pregnant
if I know more I can solve that attitude
and bring you into the light
but in so doing go sand-blind at the PR
just a headache to maintain and my disbelief
that it’s all a fence of veins that’s so
now it’s hard in there and shooting on your speech so
causing your atoms to do the tighten up also
and by the cotload do we nightly avoid thee
or so this bite on the arm would have you believe
that’s thou for a pee in a sleepwalked library
by the border of half turned half mast gaze
glorious as halfsmart luck
in ancient foster grants
now nicaragua can finally afford the bobsled
time to get cut from the lotus team
as the suns come untied and dance sin into ‘em
as the flood comes in large groups
before any bless you
I give this advice freely albeit to a dumb bee
to the commoner pastry
here’s hunger and here’s duty
your door to stop as a mirror parcel insured
deafened by small degrees
sinks beneath the weight of all wet ideas
we’re flying now and feeling sick
and a lowering chin
at this time we are the best
we can be.
I am going there and taking all this
shit with me.
the announcer announces storms to
the armed services.
I will have sex before I’m through and you
know he will.
in the inside pocket of his vest a snack item is rubbing
a small raw patch.
your message must’ve gone straight to the save
file, he never heard it.
and other half serious situations, like a date
with a snaky bloodsucker.
late night has a new
every time I think of something I was born to
depose I see the sky and chill.
then the doors comes on and I’m royally
trying to order the terribleness, too hard maybe, too
much like volunteer fire-raising.
on xmas in the yard the spelling of everything will be
changed, for the good?
the club barter director locked it
they don’t exist, but they are absolutely
outstanding, those that were visible.
make it one hell-kite and one uphill only
skibob, charge it.
she has folds but it was dark enough to imagine them in
and there’s the national horse-
you may say whose baby you think it is but the fact remains
you’re going up.
not so much to be analyzed by such devices, more to remain
a voltage, observer.
had that purging issue, you know, the teen natives
thing, the bombovers.
hide and go to hell and back in and seek
the emergency exit, over and out, Pugh.
how did he get those beast images to stick, to man
a wide distribution beheading?
if it’s a stall it’s a series, if it’s a manger
it’s a director’s cut.
everyone’s a pro and knows a rube around
these distinct corners.
the phone at the desk is ringing incessantly with the pain
of a hundred odd duty slobs.
he just lays there, like a body, screwed by his
uncle the cork head supplier.
you can go through here and get your own
show in minutes.
in this code room we clarify daily
results by circling each other’s doubles.
I think you might
a sympathizer of whathaveyou
they can smell the stuff all the way
you cannot just frontally assault, first you must gilt
and finally, get demoted.
this accent is the way you become
a star; fluid and a spark.
the minute are always with us, like
the log line cannot be spoken but I’ll indent
it in your driving pillow.
I’ll striate and you can
wear a fish with nicotine
teeth for my crown.
as the slant goes so
go the revolutions.
it all quiets down so it must be opera
for the tents.
it doesn’t know where it left
it does that under arm
they all do it but most especially blind
the monkeys that bleed at the ears get thanks
for the correction fluid.
you can tell the honcho by
and that would make all these goers
this standing eight count you’ll be
humming at breakfast.
and would you could make the cot in the back beat
for you when the drain is circling again.
so like a god squid dude shot
in a discount target.
the suit or the size
if we can get through this first year the rest is solid
by the loadless
running with firesticks to the anterior
of the national fret.
a dime store with a stolen cigar
store is no bargain.
they don’t make parts for it
unless you can prove
where this genius moron called papp
gives his offspring a single digit
and the brave says shoot
straight into that door
of the spirits.
and dynasty barely
grazes in its contrasts with
the revolver where we’re pictured
with us-likes the prodigally un-
you can always count
on me to lie through my final drafts.
who forgot to use too much bleach?
am I really as hard as all that?
he asked these things and still
the real charges against us are
never with us like the rich would have
you taker of all dangerous rides
then folder upper
or come all at once
but for the secret agenda of a bargain
assurance agent but what durable
paint except in the strictest postage
senses is a threat.
where we all get to
begin as strangers fuck it up fast then
my day has just gone crazy.
might be anything at the door stays.
might relegate my drooping condition
to the homoerotic and the indian’s low
they got enraged
there they are patting and saying
win and digest and predigest and biodegrade
and don’t forget to churn like a bird
or stain the air like a clockmaker
a few of my tips for the natural life:
take up cycling on the grave
of someone you thought you might never get to meet.
draw a picture of a viaduct on rice paper
then make a cake of your dreams.
tick till someone notices.
always spruce up before filing
for an antler removal permit.
use your third spoon first.
monroe deserved some sort of reward for dying
like a champ, but that’s no excuse for you
getting maudlin about the black situation.
if you start out with a strong morel foundation
you have the makings of something born
in the dark and harmlessly fungal.
it pays not to know anything beyond
and/or pursuant to what’s read to you through
the bathroom door.
chew gum in case of copier.
if the chief says it ends in a dance, chances
are he’s seen something moving in the smoke at night.
you mustn’t be so literal with your pompadour nose.
don’t become a conclave of three unless it has to
do with not becoming a riot of two.
the firebug will inherit the thinking
saturated in the best fluid.
stay white in tents and adjusting
constantly in all other tallies.
insert a russet a day, if you float
you’re an iceberg, if not
you’re still a distracting episode.
go kiss al kaline for luck, he’s dumb and full
of the hope of the carousel.
say hello to feelings!
transversely go baldly as an amendment to the dimensions
nature attempted to imprint upon you.
make a mountain out of every thing, observe
your flock ignoring the mountains you’ve labored
to provide, then banish australia from the parentheses.
make yourself a gerund in the eyes of the divine, divine
in the sight of the bare and viable, invisible to the terminated, forfeit
to the squeegee of the beast, tar brushed mesquite virus to paris.
denote on my time, detonate on your own.
this is the man you’re to educate
and his windbreaker advance
he’s a lecher and an ally
to the dulcified and as genteelly a convent
fix-it-guy with tiny periscopes
it’s in the best-selling cook
that we find ourselves reflected most
aromatically and write poems of which
this paper column he said is too narrow to be
quite the farm animal of previous dumpings
his mom made soup and was predisposed
but only to doodle the heads off
replace them with a light toast
donating vast stores of underpants to the outdoors
and surreys to cops
now she is dead and will lie down
soon as the ode is a jam and
clad in old noah habit
the quiet of electronics and smoking overdraft
with the ears affixing to the mudslide as randomly
the cure for long legs
a target litter to keep anchored in
home as a tactical hoofmark
I can semi-move
I can hawk the meta-static
metastasize when the military met sally
there’s a pamphlet on how to tile in a blitz
the nature of making quilts and calling them
comforter the clang of the history of too late fire
and I take mine still with extra spice and highjack
and it’s all entirely legal when mourning
Stalin’s mama and the sacred blister capped
like that micro-fleet they kept rerunning it
till it became it’s own need for an antidote and it’s own
antidote the candidate as essential oil
a bag of micro rat shit you can absolutely tell
by the pattern of the wounds and freckles of the devil
on the jars in the shrink-wrap in the cases headed deeper west on
we stopped at a truck stop and that was the moment
she called me shaggy
I had headed for the throne
not my fault the yearbook photoshoot had had to be rescheduled
or that all three sets of parents were jet-skiing in Belfast
a personality is purely an ecology
a complete set merely weight to hold down a custom display case
and a girl who thinks she’s fat and is a stalemate
it was this sort of understanding that made him make himself a series of
actually of priests then all go waterless
eat his own obscure admittance form each
like this is to be his castle
and these the exclusive members
and the hate with which it was all presented at the fair
the kiddies love the big plastic bees and need the stories
how I got stung and had a reaction
the year it all became the alibi to glue
the year it became a published collection of puns on
erode to whispering about the days’ balance strictly
in the documentary box
for cat or cash or hat
as a kind of cavalcade luxo-rake
as the blew descends upon the simplified bach passage
or whatever peculiar inevitability was piped into that passageway
between the storehouse and the storehouse’s temporary
imprints in landscaping
had they waited for the bagpipes to stop or the cameras to
settle on a spot and watch it till a form fills it
then be reassured by the form’s inadvertence
then confer it a wingspan
the ground a certain credit
too all those who said what they said but were thinking
overdue or exact as construction in a slaughter
itemized for U-2 as a joint
the mangle and polish the subsequent decipherment
by the lungs in hour-top tons
impound your scapes.
lower land and breakdown spoons full.
I take you off the forefoot.
I back you into a swimmer.
broadcast your grades.
proceed to the front of the falter.
I get baby-like to orbit.
telepath your am-ex union.
box the old wraith.
I fly you to a bridge plan.
I non-issue on the paper.
launder all your televised guerillas in epoxy.
jar biliousness renewal.
I churn to you, potbelly.
I lay a siege numbed.
debrief in numbness.
blanch at the suggestion.
I lactate, ape-man of the storm, toned, at work.
I paper fossilized.
fountain as pricey, fountained.
I smoke, I house votes, I vote till it collaborates, till you co-op.
I get deft when expected to get ferocious.
wag at not knowing the difference.
take stock and hose interrupter.
I castrated the band, they made me an honorary teamster.
I become expressway.
bog as marker by-product.
affix patents to such as unclasp, sharkproofskin, part-time jag plumbing.
I medicate I?
I plush it all by a gonad all reverential albeit omen.
care less than to cultivate a chemical ejaculate.
always envisioning dinner in the magic.
I trim hideously lovely, I reinvent the maiden as a direct synthesizer.
I wear long legs and walk you to a uniform.
lullaby by the fragment.
keep checks from a kinky mom with a bitterer teenager.
I know which side my hindquarters are contracted on!
I bang! on preserved time.
tan in costume with dog complement, devoted tooth, hysteria as investigative landscape.
torture that landscape into guy partitions.
I respect the story.
I go on record as such.
mythologize, bamboozle, flood (I made that ceiling).
rent snatch disco for a private function, defoliate it like a childhood pigboat.
I appear to snap to.
he is a cunning saint who politely reasons with embers.
arbitrates the calcium from a draft.
spells chimera as a seven year old spells supplement to nourish.
he will go the length of the immaculate, worm, abstract, combat, fractured.
he remains unfazed by the roiling dietician timpani.
demarcates ions by ‘razmataz’, ‘remittent’, ‘moneyed’, ‘perception’, ‘gallant’, ‘rim’.
a pressing need to return to the trove of etchers, to the repurposed chalet.
he collects top-grade heritage, lines his seat with marvelous loose inflection.
he connects the bacteria with the reactionary.
rebounds against mutes.
exits before the credits.
he can’t find silly.
he has no foreseeable ending.
but what a finisher!
prefers a salt pianist to cocoon.
he just put a coat on a woman’s superlative.
he used to be a professional hatter.
no conventional lungs makes hush-hush feasible.
stupefying journalism is just one.
he feints, cashes, feigns an orgasm, makes tracks for the fridge.
he can play captiously without teaching his conduct to be essential.
loves a midnight ham and operates his own invisible blood.
is a sucker for a pin curl.
he will have seen the maltese falcon eight times by the time this reaches nagasaki.
he rid himself of all sharpness.
had his head carved into a ship.
might’ve been pope had the shirt been any other shade.
he has the plan to end springtime in a fusible seizure.
he is the hand in the handstamp.
slept through the place instantly passed with no questions asked.
as a rule his general stupor is only a frame and tempting at that.
he fills his own jaw with enough color for a dozen seizures.
he will terminate when good and ready.
thinks a fit as romantic as the curvature of a gull or the light on a cobra at a bullfight.
wants to be known for having no monthlies.
he, unpopulatable, decides to get organized, revokes all future debuts.
he flies a swatter.
ducks the killer quack.
weakens momentarily at the sight of nipples.
he bucks up, gets pickled, expends.
he is preparing to transfer en masse.
carries optimum coverage.
deviates only long enough to pretend to fuck a mechanism then clears that crucial byte.
he gives the polar stripe a new name, point-blank, safely lifeless, kneeling to housekeep.
watches the bruise yellow.
he swallows the out-basket hole.