Look to the pale east—Chicago
and see
bright red
infrastructure rising in the morning—
wan scratches
of lakeshore
and slender
white sky—progressively occluded
by
what once
seemed
swell—
if frivolous
on blue paper.
Now—in such
grim crowded
correctness
of weather—progress appears
a little
swollen—and that red,
quite a bit
duller.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Monday, September 29, 2014
SUN DRUGS
It seems—by this
wornout green-
by-burnt-
umber fringe of
late September—that everything
must be more
than a little
bit tired—or
else, such slack
agglomerations as these—
mums and petunias; that brazen
short skirt
and long oatmeal sweater;
or even—the whole hazy
conceit of those
two separate
seasons altogether—simply
wouldn't be able
to keep themselves
propped-
up so flimsily—simply by
leaning dispassionately
back on each other.
wornout green-
by-burnt-
umber fringe of
late September—that everything
must be more
than a little
bit tired—or
else, such slack
agglomerations as these—
mums and petunias; that brazen
short skirt
and long oatmeal sweater;
or even—the whole hazy
conceit of those
two separate
seasons altogether—simply
wouldn't be able
to keep themselves
propped-
up so flimsily—simply by
leaning dispassionately
back on each other.
Friday, September 26, 2014
DAY 8
But then—
the very next
day—the sun came again;
yellow
by
way
of burnt orange
by
burst
of bright born-
again magenta—
and it shone—warm;
the same
simple perfect
circle—from the other day.
Only,
now—
little things about the disc
irked him;
the ardor
such a
juxtaposition
of shades seemed to inspire,
and the over-
simplicity
of the shape—and so on.
And then too—the prodigious
height
and weight
of the very
thought of
day-after-day
truly began
to dawn
in his mind,
and he suddenly kind-
of wished
he'd drawn—
the whole dumb thing a little differently.
the very next
day—the sun came again;
yellow
by
way
of burnt orange
by
burst
of bright born-
again magenta—
and it shone—warm;
the same
simple perfect
circle—from the other day.
Only,
now—
little things about the disc
irked him;
the ardor
such a
juxtaposition
of shades seemed to inspire,
and the over-
simplicity
of the shape—and so on.
And then too—the prodigious
height
and weight
of the very
thought of
day-after-day
truly began
to dawn
in his mind,
and he suddenly kind-
of wished
he'd drawn—
the whole dumb thing a little differently.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
DISTILLATION TECHNIQUES
Lately
it's been awfully
strict
with its urgent—
run!
and cough it up—
quick!
after midnight
kid!—
and just try
to savor—
now how
the bitter
taste of recirculation—
doesn't bother
stopping
to settle-
down on your
acrid soft
palate—until after.
it's been awfully
strict
with its urgent—
run!
and cough it up—
quick!
after midnight
kid!—
and just try
to savor—
now how
the bitter
taste of recirculation—
doesn't bother
stopping
to settle-
down on your
acrid soft
palate—until after.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
CAUGHT BETWEEN
Like warm
only wetter—a reared nestling;
the next
to last one—
headless,
bristling—though no longer
bedraggled
by foggiest intimations
of saline bluegray;
its soft fraying spine—
clammy,
primitive,
over-conspicuous—
folded perfectly
neatly—inside its
gold coffin—this intelligent
tin—of delicious
salt brine.
only wetter—a reared nestling;
the next
to last one—
headless,
bristling—though no longer
bedraggled
by foggiest intimations
of saline bluegray;
its soft fraying spine—
clammy,
primitive,
over-conspicuous—
folded perfectly
neatly—inside its
gold coffin—this intelligent
tin—of delicious
salt brine.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
BARELY
Sweet humid reek
of mellowcreme
exhaling—orange wax
and honey
green—from smart
countertop
heaps
out—in the dewy dark kitchen;
By Jove—is it
nearly
Halloween—or almost
summer?
GAMBIT
All on one side
of me—a hopeless late-
September
drowsy bee—
woebegone,
gaunt, loopwinging—absolutely must
keep trilling;
buzzing
past—the twitching eyeteeth
of a miscued
mongrel's
dirty hanging jaws—because
sometimes
I guess
the way
we get by—is simply
not
by betting on it.
of me—a hopeless late-
September
drowsy bee—
woebegone,
gaunt, loopwinging—absolutely must
keep trilling;
buzzing
past—the twitching eyeteeth
of a miscued
mongrel's
dirty hanging jaws—because
sometimes
I guess
the way
we get by—is simply
not
by betting on it.
Monday, September 22, 2014
MICKEY MOUSE PANCAKES
Child of the morning—
is there none
of this—
silly strawberry
bow tie's blithe
joy in your heart?
can you see
no point?—not so much as
a hint
of solidity?—even in the most
durable slice
of golden flecked
toast laid-
out next to me?—rough hewn
and shiny crusted
and gilded in thick jam—and
hot cocoa,
powdered
sugar-dusted
marmalade—potatoes gratin!
or at least—the
up-curled little
quiver—of bacon
that signifies the whole
of which
they know
you to be capable—not to mention—
like it or not—
all
that I ever am!
is there none
of this—
silly strawberry
bow tie's blithe
joy in your heart?
can you see
no point?—not so much as
a hint
of solidity?—even in the most
durable slice
of golden flecked
toast laid-
out next to me?—rough hewn
and shiny crusted
and gilded in thick jam—and
hot cocoa,
powdered
sugar-dusted
marmalade—potatoes gratin!
or at least—the
up-curled little
quiver—of bacon
that signifies the whole
of which
they know
you to be capable—not to mention—
like it or not—
all
that I ever am!
Friday, September 19, 2014
TRUCE
Okay—so then maybe
he's just
the most charitable kind!
of artist—
one who—often downright
overripe
with things to type—
no longer
minds—the quiet
depravity
of all these aimless
and enfeebled
fruitflies in his kitchenette—
he's just
the most charitable kind!
of artist—
one who—often downright
overripe
with things to type—
no longer
minds—the quiet
depravity
of all these aimless
and enfeebled
fruitflies in his kitchenette—
Thursday, September 18, 2014
IN THE TOILET
Whenever—the hard
pushes off
of what's
soft—that's all
it takes—
to make
your whole day start spinning
around—just like
so many
timorous cups of bold coffee
preceding—yet another
indefatigably
strong stream
of weak pee.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
ALSO-RAN
Even the warm feel
usually created
in my mouth
by the word—homemade—
feels chilly
and hard
when compared
to the bright wednesday
light which—I swear
is bending
a little
more generously
around the two tender
and feculent men
genially splitting-
up—a dilapidated
white
sandwich in the back alley.
usually created
in my mouth
by the word—homemade—
feels chilly
and hard
when compared
to the bright wednesday
light which—I swear
is bending
a little
more generously
around the two tender
and feculent men
genially splitting-
up—a dilapidated
white
sandwich in the back alley.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
SO LONG, FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT
Suppose—for a moment
Chicago-
land's oldest
facades of ruddy
brick—
all leaning
chipped
and gritty—definitely no longer
pretty
to see—save maybe
for
nearer
to the hardly-
seen
bottom of each—
here
and there—a curious
but inadvertent
green mossy gully;
suppose—
each
little dismal
individual brick even!—still
had something
tough—to say
about us—
like—I don't
know
maybe—just
you do what you can.
Chicago-
land's oldest
facades of ruddy
brick—
all leaning
chipped
and gritty—definitely no longer
pretty
to see—save maybe
for
nearer
to the hardly-
seen
bottom of each—
here
and there—a curious
but inadvertent
green mossy gully;
suppose—
each
little dismal
individual brick even!—still
had something
tough—to say
about us—
like—I don't
know
maybe—just
you do what you can.
Monday, September 15, 2014
(I HATE MONDAYS)
Don't even—think
of consecrating
the idea—by daring
to speak
it—out
loud
in cold gloom;
just—first
have coffee
alone—in your curtain-
dark
kitchen,
listen—but distractedly
to blunt piano
chords looming
and
wreathing—like the steam
rising-
up from your coffee—
so delicately
all around
your chintzy clock radio,
and then—finally
just forget
whatever
it is—I was saying.
of consecrating
the idea—by daring
to speak
it—out
loud
in cold gloom;
just—first
have coffee
alone—in your curtain-
dark
kitchen,
listen—but distractedly
to blunt piano
chords looming
and
wreathing—like the steam
rising-
up from your coffee—
so delicately
all around
your chintzy clock radio,
and then—finally
just forget
whatever
it is—I was saying.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
NUTS INTO BUTTER
Once—or maybe
twice
a month—
the everlasting oven-
tree
of heaven—feels just
heavily
laden enough—
to let go
and—laughing
drop
down several
common cups—
of its vast
imperial
collection of daybrown—drupes
for the roasting!
Friday, September 12, 2014
BONY KING OF ELSEWHERE
Biting down—as
scrupulously
hard
as he alone can—
into such nauseatingly
shiny
stainless steel roasting pans—
he finally
sees himself
furiously clamped onto leanness—
as perhaps
the only long
dimension
of life—thinking—Jesus,
such interminable length!—
without any
other real geography—looks dull
and
tasteless
as death.
scrupulously
hard
as he alone can—
into such nauseatingly
shiny
stainless steel roasting pans—
he finally
sees himself
furiously clamped onto leanness—
as perhaps
the only long
dimension
of life—thinking—Jesus,
such interminable length!—
without any
other real geography—looks dull
and
tasteless
as death.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
—OF SEPTEMBER
Sorry—but
all of the
velvety Bach
chorales—spicy black
chicory
coffee—and odd-
scented cigarettes
it could
possibly muster
just won't keep
a homebody comfy—
when that
first chill!—still arcane
and divined
purely
in the abstract—
of winter—nevertheless
first
dares sneak
inside—to tickle
his still-
burnt
umber neck
near the middle—
all of the
velvety Bach
chorales—spicy black
chicory
coffee—and odd-
scented cigarettes
it could
possibly muster
just won't keep
a homebody comfy—
when that
first chill!—still arcane
and divined
purely
in the abstract—
of winter—nevertheless
first
dares sneak
inside—to tickle
his still-
burnt
umber neck
near the middle—
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
STARSTUFF
Glib—tall men
will all say
on any
old gray day—
cloudy
and slow
like they know—
and with
with an odd bit
of a glum sort
of soft jab
to your kid ribs—Eh? Oh!
The sun!—she
ain't got
no soul
whatever
today!
But you—
being so
solicitous—
you'll want
to know
precisely—who
the hell
are they
from Adam—
to know?
will all say
on any
old gray day—
cloudy
and slow
like they know—
and with
with an odd bit
of a glum sort
of soft jab
to your kid ribs—Eh? Oh!
The sun!—she
ain't got
no soul
whatever
today!
But you—
being so
solicitous—
you'll want
to know
precisely—who
the hell
are they
from Adam—
to know?
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
HOMEFRIES
Simple—
whenever chips
are down—you hardly
even have
to call—
in a little
low-
statured—lost
and found
brown
dachshund
or
basset
or beagle hound—to automatically
bound
forward
to vacuum
the whole complex
and
wrecked situation
clean off—
the ever-
loving ground.
whenever chips
are down—you hardly
even have
to call—
in a little
low-
statured—lost
and found
brown
dachshund
or
basset
or beagle hound—to automatically
bound
forward
to vacuum
the whole complex
and
wrecked situation
clean off—
the ever-
loving ground.
Monday, September 8, 2014
ONE STEP AWAY FROM THE SHOESHINE
Oh—Although! each
of my blistering
feet
is so tired—I'll swear I'll keep right
on trying—
to walk
on the bright side—
because—damn! it's the same
story—beating-
blind rain—
or white nauseous
sun shining—I've still
got! to keep
getting on top
of the need to get
going—in order
to ensure
the best of my
stir-
crazy customers—stays completely
satisfied.
of my blistering
feet
is so tired—I'll swear I'll keep right
on trying—
to walk
on the bright side—
because—damn! it's the same
story—beating-
blind rain—
or white nauseous
sun shining—I've still
got! to keep
getting on top
of the need to get
going—in order
to ensure
the best of my
stir-
crazy customers—stays completely
satisfied.
Friday, September 5, 2014
PINK AND WHITE ONES
Even if it's not
the default—let alone
preferred—
there's something
perfect
surrounding
the summer
rain's blithe
aerial
actualization—of three
black and
heretofore in-
authentic
iron fence posts
of words—
wet morning glories!
the default—let alone
preferred—
there's something
perfect
surrounding
the summer
rain's blithe
aerial
actualization—of three
black and
heretofore in-
authentic
iron fence posts
of words—
wet morning glories!
Thursday, September 4, 2014
LIFE SCIENCE
What abominable manner
of creature
is this!—who would dare
to exist? leather-
headed
mock-tailed—always rushing
around through thick
briars in a piss—yet
never quite
arriving there—
at the end
of his nightmare;
like a edgy wild
rabbit—who nonetheless
still can't help
constantly
falling asleep—
and waking up
trapped inside
the dim haunted
mind of a tortoise
who—himself
feels half-
sure he's—a shell of a hare.
of creature
is this!—who would dare
to exist? leather-
headed
mock-tailed—always rushing
around through thick
briars in a piss—yet
never quite
arriving there—
at the end
of his nightmare;
like a edgy wild
rabbit—who nonetheless
still can't help
constantly
falling asleep—
and waking up
trapped inside
the dim haunted
mind of a tortoise
who—himself
feels half-
sure he's—a shell of a hare.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
SYMPATHY FOR THE NEXT DAY
Listen—because right now
the solemn
popular anthem
of just
a few—rusted old
fan blades listlessly turning
and reverberating—softly
off
these repeating self-
similar cubes—
of itchy pastel cardboard-
bordered
limp plaster peeling—
and sticky brown
and beige-
flecked linoleum
floors and muggy drop-
ceilings—sounds to them
kind of
all-
like—dang dude!
the second day
of school—
sure isn't nearly—as cool
as the first.
the solemn
popular anthem
of just
a few—rusted old
fan blades listlessly turning
and reverberating—softly
off
these repeating self-
similar cubes—
of itchy pastel cardboard-
bordered
limp plaster peeling—
and sticky brown
and beige-
flecked linoleum
floors and muggy drop-
ceilings—sounds to them
kind of
all-
like—dang dude!
the second day
of school—
sure isn't nearly—as cool
as the first.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
ARGUMENT AGAINST EARBUDS
And to think—
while you were
out there—
running
this morning—turned inward
and so
furious
under the difficult
green
canopies of treeleaves—
for something,
from something,
whatever
it was;
cicadas'—
enduring coming
and
going oscillations
were
all the while—in alternations
gently
and then
rather
generously massaging—
whatever sweaty
reasons why
you could have
possibly offered!
right out of
thin air—
along with most
of the humidity.
while you were
out there—
running
this morning—turned inward
and so
furious
under the difficult
green
canopies of treeleaves—
for something,
from something,
whatever
it was;
cicadas'—
enduring coming
and
going oscillations
were
all the while—in alternations
gently
and then
rather
generously massaging—
whatever sweaty
reasons why
you could have
possibly offered!
right out of
thin air—
along with most
of the humidity.
Monday, September 1, 2014
LACUNAE
Hang loose
glum Chicago—tropical orange
and yellow
discreet crews
of workers
have come!—to finally
patch all
of the sorest
and dark-
hearted
holes
in your street—
that is—just
as soon
as they've labored
in earnest—to
empty a truck
or two's worth
of styrofoam
Dunkin' Donuts
cups—and shelled enough
David's
sunflower
seeds—to fill at least
one of them—
half
the way up!
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