Sako nakladatelská reklama do " jak? až k opět nabýt ženy do bars a druhý obec bydliště " do dr. Nejasně se rýsovat burkhead , ed.d "
být dělitelný více než 1,500 příšerný , hašteřivý , unconventional , arogantní ,& bez výhrady cizí otevření strategie Dle jejich choulostivý taktický překvapuje až k jejich bizarní jména , tezaury otevření urazit člen určitý čelit of tradice You'll potkat takový otevření ačkoliv Člen určitý Orangutan , Člen určitý Extáze Obměna , Člen určitý Večer před svátkem Všech svatých Hrát , Duplikát Drahoušek , Člen určitý Frankenstein - Drachma Obměna , & dokonce Člen určitý Opilý Kr l. Tezaury otevření ar jeden sexy & cizokrajná věc cesta až k koření autobus jeden honba & jeden celek zbraň až k skočit dále unsuspecting & často nepřipravený odpůrce "
Saturday, November 22, 2003
LIGHTNING SANDWICHES
Life is more fragile than
It was in 1237
Who knows how many
Kids you had that died?
That may be our saving grace
To prolong our species
Because our species
Is definitely self-destructive.
Our brains are our problem.
Chief Seattle said,
"Don't talk trash till you've
Danced in my trailer,
How can you buy my land
Till you come to my trailer
To see my tattoos?"
(And she began to dance to
Big Smith in a circle in tight
Red corduroys with a glass
Of black & tan in her little hand)
Turkey
Day
Pot Luck
1:30
The Tibetan monks were in
Key West doing their beautiful
Sand mandalas & some punk
Came in & began kicking up
Their hours of exquisite, delicate
Work. The crowd went nuts,
Surged forward to rip this skinhead
Limb from limb. But the monks
Formed a human shield around him.
He had captured the essence of
Their philosophy of art (& life)
With his big leather boots.
Life is more fragile than
It was in 1237
Who knows how many
Kids you had that died?
That may be our saving grace
To prolong our species
Because our species
Is definitely self-destructive.
Our brains are our problem.
Chief Seattle said,
"Don't talk trash till you've
Danced in my trailer,
How can you buy my land
Till you come to my trailer
To see my tattoos?"
(And she began to dance to
Big Smith in a circle in tight
Red corduroys with a glass
Of black & tan in her little hand)
Turkey
Day
Pot Luck
1:30
The Tibetan monks were in
Key West doing their beautiful
Sand mandalas & some punk
Came in & began kicking up
Their hours of exquisite, delicate
Work. The crowd went nuts,
Surged forward to rip this skinhead
Limb from limb. But the monks
Formed a human shield around him.
He had captured the essence of
Their philosophy of art (& life)
With his big leather boots.
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
NOVEMBER
the frailty of doing anything at all contra the warm sun
brick buildings the street I see below past the rail ten
a.m. wednesday november nineteenth it reminds me
of that song by REM or someone else about drifting out
to sea because of heartbreak I assume right now my
heart is broken by waking up putting on shoes walking
down the street by other people by the empty glass on
the table I can feel the pieces grinding against one another
in my chest I wish it weren't so fucking beautiful out today
the frailty of doing anything at all contra the warm sun
brick buildings the street I see below past the rail ten
a.m. wednesday november nineteenth it reminds me
of that song by REM or someone else about drifting out
to sea because of heartbreak I assume right now my
heart is broken by waking up putting on shoes walking
down the street by other people by the empty glass on
the table I can feel the pieces grinding against one another
in my chest I wish it weren't so fucking beautiful out today
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
BLUE PANTIES (after Wallace Stevens)
There is no deductible for these,
With their hips they push asunder
The blue panties.
In Texas the twisted possibilities
Unravel like the lace on
Blue panties.
Near this small town in Oklahoma
Far away from the whirlwind
Of big city life I think of
Her blue panties.
I could hear the confusion
In the background. She was unable
To find her favorite pair
Of blue panties.
All the pressure had been taken
Off him, thank god. He had remembered
What had become
Of the blue panties.
Some of the wildest poker parties
In the history of the region
Came about directly as a result
Of such blue panties.
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman
Wearing blue panties
Are one.
The Civil Air Patrol painted on the
Sides of their aircraft a single
Pair of shimmering blue panties.
The persistence of 135 years
Of engineering excellence
Led to the design of
Perfect blue panties.
My legs stretch out to the horizon,
Like Gertrude Stein coming to Radcliffe,
Or a mule's brain, cloudy and dangerous;
The velvety intersection's bloom,
Wispy like her wonderful blue panties.
There is no deductible for these,
With their hips they push asunder
The blue panties.
In Texas the twisted possibilities
Unravel like the lace on
Blue panties.
Near this small town in Oklahoma
Far away from the whirlwind
Of big city life I think of
Her blue panties.
I could hear the confusion
In the background. She was unable
To find her favorite pair
Of blue panties.
All the pressure had been taken
Off him, thank god. He had remembered
What had become
Of the blue panties.
Some of the wildest poker parties
In the history of the region
Came about directly as a result
Of such blue panties.
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman
Wearing blue panties
Are one.
The Civil Air Patrol painted on the
Sides of their aircraft a single
Pair of shimmering blue panties.
The persistence of 135 years
Of engineering excellence
Led to the design of
Perfect blue panties.
My legs stretch out to the horizon,
Like Gertrude Stein coming to Radcliffe,
Or a mule's brain, cloudy and dangerous;
The velvety intersection's bloom,
Wispy like her wonderful blue panties.
DEDICATION
His little bird died
Which he'd fed every
Two hours all night long--
Earnestly, 12 yrs old,
He let it sleep upon his breast.
But it died.
We cried together
On the steps outside.
We buried it on the hillside
Solemnly,
Patted the soil very slowly
Around, and in his small hand
A scattering of seeds of flowers,
To mark the spot.
Poor bird, he said. Poor bird,
I said, and held his hand,
And sighed.
His little bird died
Which he'd fed every
Two hours all night long--
Earnestly, 12 yrs old,
He let it sleep upon his breast.
But it died.
We cried together
On the steps outside.
We buried it on the hillside
Solemnly,
Patted the soil very slowly
Around, and in his small hand
A scattering of seeds of flowers,
To mark the spot.
Poor bird, he said. Poor bird,
I said, and held his hand,
And sighed.
BOTTLE ROCKET WARS (sonnet)
Almost white granite with little stars
Still seeking the thrill
Delicious bliss in the ritual--
(Say something in God-language!)
"Joyful ants rest in the roof of my tree
Daughters of 1/2 seen worlds
A star creasing the sky, a lie
(While in our willful way,
We, in secret play)
O green birds!
Meanwhile green rain falls across Chinatown,
The smell of ozone on wet pavement.
Some people can't smell it when it rains:
It's worth all the rest to be able to.
Almost white granite with little stars
Still seeking the thrill
Delicious bliss in the ritual--
(Say something in God-language!)
"Joyful ants rest in the roof of my tree
Daughters of 1/2 seen worlds
A star creasing the sky, a lie
(While in our willful way,
We, in secret play)
O green birds!
Meanwhile green rain falls across Chinatown,
The smell of ozone on wet pavement.
Some people can't smell it when it rains:
It's worth all the rest to be able to.
Sunday, November 16, 2003
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
OCEANOGRAPHIE OF THE HUMAN HEART
...that there is no mention of directions, a certain
way of standing, to see just so, but not how to get
there, nor what to do later, after it's over and has
worked, or not worked, when you feel that tremendous
sense of elation or crushing anti-climax, and wonder
why you bothered at all--you will always find things
that you were not looking for, birds or ghosts of them
singing in your heart, poised, awaiting the call that
never came. you cannot call them. but it's okay you
wanted to.
...that there is no mention of directions, a certain
way of standing, to see just so, but not how to get
there, nor what to do later, after it's over and has
worked, or not worked, when you feel that tremendous
sense of elation or crushing anti-climax, and wonder
why you bothered at all--you will always find things
that you were not looking for, birds or ghosts of them
singing in your heart, poised, awaiting the call that
never came. you cannot call them. but it's okay you
wanted to.
Monday, November 10, 2003
THE DIVINITY OF JIMMY'S EGG
The divinity of Jimmy's Egg
Fills me with a slow blue light
Like watching a sleepy girl
Walk her dog at dawn or
The way the highway rolls away
Behind me as I hurtle West to OKC
8 locations in the metro area!
Steak & eggs $5.00 (w/ homefries grits biscuits/gravy!)
Roast beef omelette! Short stack rising to the loft!
OJ & coffee & maple syrup pouring down like love!
It's all in the way you love
The things that fall your way
Unexpectedly. I have risen
From the tomb of sleep another day,
Hot coffee (say) or buttered grits
Would seal my fate so cheap!
I mean, 8 locations spread across the wide
OKC sky line like butter on a crust!
I must, now, know; tell me now, I beg:
Which came first? Was it Jimmy, or the Egg?
The divinity of Jimmy's Egg
Fills me with a slow blue light
Like watching a sleepy girl
Walk her dog at dawn or
The way the highway rolls away
Behind me as I hurtle West to OKC
8 locations in the metro area!
Steak & eggs $5.00 (w/ homefries grits biscuits/gravy!)
Roast beef omelette! Short stack rising to the loft!
OJ & coffee & maple syrup pouring down like love!
It's all in the way you love
The things that fall your way
Unexpectedly. I have risen
From the tomb of sleep another day,
Hot coffee (say) or buttered grits
Would seal my fate so cheap!
I mean, 8 locations spread across the wide
OKC sky line like butter on a crust!
I must, now, know; tell me now, I beg:
Which came first? Was it Jimmy, or the Egg?
POEM WRITTEN WHILE READING CLARK COOLIDGE
"You write from what you don't know
Toward whatever can be picked up in
The act
I think I was thinking
Eureka Springs is lovely though
Small & cheap
I am letting my beard go & go
It is a certificate or something
Around here like liking Chelsea's
Or the Lumberyard it's one or
The other me I hate the Lumberyard
Don't you?
The trees on my hill
Frame my weltanschaaung
As I go along
And come back to them
(And Frank Black, the leaf
Rain, the cell phone--)
Never alone.
"You write from what you don't know
Toward whatever can be picked up in
The act
I think I was thinking
Eureka Springs is lovely though
Small & cheap
I am letting my beard go & go
It is a certificate or something
Around here like liking Chelsea's
Or the Lumberyard it's one or
The other me I hate the Lumberyard
Don't you?
The trees on my hill
Frame my weltanschaaung
As I go along
And come back to them
(And Frank Black, the leaf
Rain, the cell phone--)
Never alone.
Thursday, November 06, 2003
THE BLOOD OF A POET
The language of doors,
Their syntax, grammars
Of going out or coming in--
Play the movie or make
Work of it as we Americans do,
She stapled the wing back
On the angel & just looked
At us as if daring us to say
One goddamned contrary word,
Which we, of course, did not.
Would you?
WHO ARE YOU? THE KEEPER OF SILVER GALOSHES?
Silence sharpened pencils
In the street & afterward
We managed to speak
Of coriander & dialogue
And the void, a dead man
Shaking out linen--yes
Unmade beds, the stars,
Your mouth, yes--
It quit raining & we just
Sat around.
The language of doors,
Their syntax, grammars
Of going out or coming in--
Play the movie or make
Work of it as we Americans do,
She stapled the wing back
On the angel & just looked
At us as if daring us to say
One goddamned contrary word,
Which we, of course, did not.
Would you?
WHO ARE YOU? THE KEEPER OF SILVER GALOSHES?
Silence sharpened pencils
In the street & afterward
We managed to speak
Of coriander & dialogue
And the void, a dead man
Shaking out linen--yes
Unmade beds, the stars,
Your mouth, yes--
It quit raining & we just
Sat around.
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
BELLY MUSIC
I have written lines on the edges of your pages sweet
friend giving it a quality both humorous & romantic.
(The combination of harpsichord with seagulls I never
would have thought of in a million years, but it works
on you.)
I can't get out of this green city of clocks. Sorry.
You are here for one thing, I'll show you when you
come over. Everybody is young & they have beautiful
babies you can see at the edges of photos.
We should hang out more. At least Christmas is sexy
here, all wooden & gauzy & full of Americans (*grin*).
But I digress. I am beside you thru the ghost of
winter, hungry lions, you are a landscape I navigate
daily. Trees & the sound of a river running. Some
river! Amor fati. Optimism is a revolutionary act.
I have written lines on the edges of your pages sweet
friend giving it a quality both humorous & romantic.
(The combination of harpsichord with seagulls I never
would have thought of in a million years, but it works
on you.)
I can't get out of this green city of clocks. Sorry.
You are here for one thing, I'll show you when you
come over. Everybody is young & they have beautiful
babies you can see at the edges of photos.
We should hang out more. At least Christmas is sexy
here, all wooden & gauzy & full of Americans (*grin*).
But I digress. I am beside you thru the ghost of
winter, hungry lions, you are a landscape I navigate
daily. Trees & the sound of a river running. Some
river! Amor fati. Optimism is a revolutionary act.
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
PICTURES OF LILY
(after Jim Carroll)
Making shapes this place
I've been sitting, looking
Driven gaga by ugliness
Into the beer garden
(O ________, my friend, arise!)
They too would march
On into the broad future,
Songs of love & trouble
(If you don't cry it isn't love)
(O God I'm still "in love" with you!)
Someone who loves me calls me.
(I'm not going to dignify any 3rd
Parties with descriptions or rancor)
Our moving cars thru the rain,
My most faithful and tender friend and prick
I suppose I'd rather be sitting
In Oaxaca now sipping a quart of
Orange Julius and being fanned by
Claire Forlani in black tights and
White glossy lipstick.
(But I'm not. I'm here. and I have something to say,)
(after Jim Carroll)
Making shapes this place
I've been sitting, looking
Driven gaga by ugliness
Into the beer garden
(O ________, my friend, arise!)
They too would march
On into the broad future,
Songs of love & trouble
(If you don't cry it isn't love)
(O God I'm still "in love" with you!)
Someone who loves me calls me.
(I'm not going to dignify any 3rd
Parties with descriptions or rancor)
Our moving cars thru the rain,
My most faithful and tender friend and prick
I suppose I'd rather be sitting
In Oaxaca now sipping a quart of
Orange Julius and being fanned by
Claire Forlani in black tights and
White glossy lipstick.
(But I'm not. I'm here. and I have something to say,)
SEINFELD POEM #1
Problems coming on
(See you later Charlie)
Like a lovely Brunette
Playing darts in a darkened
Irish bar on a Tuesday
November 4 which is now
I would have thought by now
I would be operating in a
Strictly finer vein not
Coveting Frank's new girlfriend
Next table over altho
She really burns the roman candle
At both ends when she smiles
--Veni, vidi, vici!--
And those little black boots
She's wearing are better
Really awesomely better
Than Seinfeld reruns,
Even the best ones!
Problems coming on
(See you later Charlie)
Like a lovely Brunette
Playing darts in a darkened
Irish bar on a Tuesday
November 4 which is now
I would have thought by now
I would be operating in a
Strictly finer vein not
Coveting Frank's new girlfriend
Next table over altho
She really burns the roman candle
At both ends when she smiles
--Veni, vidi, vici!--
And those little black boots
She's wearing are better
Really awesomely better
Than Seinfeld reruns,
Even the best ones!
Saturday, November 01, 2003
CHRYSANTHEMUM PUSSY
(for Gallery 111, r.i.p.)
yes to be 15 & hang out &
yes playing zen ping chess
(i suggested the blindfolds, well hell it seemed obvious)
& interstate love song
& moondance
& haley & paget with glitter mascara
n
a
t
a
l
i
a
so many aspect of a star
Beautiful girls, you have been
long legged, toes curled in sand of heart
"You first!" they cry, & fall
upon the silver
Chair
they will all be 16 next month on this
warm night like cinco de maya
fair & warm like their eyes & thighs
she licks her lips & moves a little,
settles satisfied
raisin lipstick blood red chuck taylors
hummingbird feeder bong camel colored corduroys
water, air, light all you girls
green, past enchantment/
dear chris, hello
***********************
SITTING ON THE CURB 10 A.M. POEM
Almost hot sunshine
On my grandfather hat
And dollar sweater
Which I love
But not as much as you!
************************
CORRECTION
In the Fall Arts Preview
(September 12), a listing
for "Ted Berrigan's 'Sonnets,"
A November 15 tribute to the
Late poet, stated that
Berrigan (1934-1983)
Would be reading from
His own work.
The Voice regrets the error.
*************************
(for Gallery 111, r.i.p.)
yes to be 15 & hang out &
yes playing zen ping chess
(i suggested the blindfolds, well hell it seemed obvious)
& interstate love song
& moondance
& haley & paget with glitter mascara
n
a
t
a
l
i
a
so many aspect of a star
Beautiful girls, you have been
long legged, toes curled in sand of heart
"You first!" they cry, & fall
upon the silver
Chair
they will all be 16 next month on this
warm night like cinco de maya
fair & warm like their eyes & thighs
she licks her lips & moves a little,
settles satisfied
raisin lipstick blood red chuck taylors
hummingbird feeder bong camel colored corduroys
water, air, light all you girls
green, past enchantment/
dear chris, hello
***********************
SITTING ON THE CURB 10 A.M. POEM
Almost hot sunshine
On my grandfather hat
And dollar sweater
Which I love
But not as much as you!
************************
CORRECTION
In the Fall Arts Preview
(September 12), a listing
for "Ted Berrigan's 'Sonnets,"
A November 15 tribute to the
Late poet, stated that
Berrigan (1934-1983)
Would be reading from
His own work.
The Voice regrets the error.
*************************
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