Friday, December 26, 2008

White Mule

In a heat wave enter the rose gardens of Portland.
The victory of rose names over the heat, the victory of bees over all.
Sun, I do not speak your language
and yet you shout louder.

White mule climbs steps to a Greek villa
to be sent down again. Such is the heart.
The mule and the switch have their conversation.
It is okay to be a tourist in your life, but not an impostor.

Convoy of mule days, convoy of mule heart—
low card brings it in, high takes half the pot.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

umbrella today

umbrella today says: bring your umbrella
umbrella today says: don't
umbrella today says: high chance of showers
umbrella today says: are you retarded? bring your umbrella
umbrella today wonders why we bother
umbrella today says: at least for the moment
umbrella today says: i'm listless
umbrella today says: obviously
umbrella today thinks the hard thoughts
umbrella today says: why do we always have to have this conversation
umbrella today: the life you save may be your own
umbrella today says: it's raining. still.
umbrella today prepares for the flood
umbrella today: a new wet you
umbrella today says: yes, still raining
umbrella today wonders when next we'll see the sun
umbrella today is ambivalent
umbrella today is already inside, so by all means, go fuck yourself
umbrella today recommends galoshes
umbrella today says: learn to swim
umbrella today says: well duh
umbrella today: yes

Saturday, December 13, 2008

don't call me at work
and aw no
the boss still hates me
i'm just tired
and i don't love you anymore

and there's a restaurant
we should check out
where the other nightmare people
like to go
i mean nice people
baby wait
i didn't mean to say nightmare

-- from They'll Need a Crane, TMBG

oh look it's a goose

broadcast from the high dry
hillocks. affixed with stitch
and strategy. primary
and angular, of stocky
stiffened cloth.

hands pushed the small shoulders forward.

there's no need to say it differently.

a small boy kneecaps capped in green grass
marched before them waving
fifty-two pinpoints on an ethereal
flag

i think we must simply
adjust

to the readout, of your Climate
Control Center which reminds me
of the clash
of the titans if the titans
were an intricasy of inscrutable
levers i mean that
lee-vers, say it with me and already
it's exploding
like some hot
tomato in the grasp
of some outright lonely
lobe.

cracking it open

Just think he said if
we cracked it open like
pancakes i said no
he said nothing
like that at all oh
i said well
then.

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

once again again

i am at
the still place where
the low voice bawls where
the clock indistinguishes
itself against
the dull
half murmuring
heart.

the night is
glass is
cold on the back
of my neck like
some bitter iced
remembrance i remember
when you saw it tears you
wiped from
your eyes.

what we held on that ugly
carpet our bony young
bodies one summer what
could possibly stand
against all this steady
dripping steady
happening steady
memory accumulated happening
like dust like rust like
the still the still i
want to. i want you. is
what i wanted to say and
never.