Thus—is it
surely
still
composure that's the coolest;
so spake—the cagiest
and most
decorated
of the regurgitators—
after
their Thursday
night—potluck
dinner was over.
Friday, January 30, 2015
#2
A clumsy, loose
andante—
trundling forth,
first to sooth—
stiffness;
Lucy and me—eventually smoothing
out and
walking more
mildly, despite
the sliver
of cold white sun—to become little
more—than a pair
of keen and
clement noses, honed—
eventually—
to mere aspects
of a single-
pointed thing—ferreting
only for that
dirt-simple pleasure—
some delicate bit
of earthy tenderness—
the perfect little spot—
so much the harder
to sniff-
out in iron weather.
andante—
trundling forth,
first to sooth—
stiffness;
Lucy and me—eventually smoothing
out and
walking more
mildly, despite
the sliver
of cold white sun—to become little
more—than a pair
of keen and
clement noses, honed—
eventually—
to mere aspects
of a single-
pointed thing—ferreting
only for that
dirt-simple pleasure—
some delicate bit
of earthy tenderness—
the perfect little spot—
so much the harder
to sniff-
out in iron weather.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
FREDDIE MERCURY V. CHICAGO
Face it—any way
the wind
blows—for any
slight
duration—
is the likeliest
antagonist—
toward
your
bike's orientation.
the wind
blows—for any
slight
duration—
is the likeliest
antagonist—
toward
your
bike's orientation.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
DIGNITY
No rewinding necessary—
and never
mind
its bulk.
Simply remain
calm—and
slow-
ly,
slowly—move in
to
ruin—
the smallest
and least-
civilized—
shred of that knot.
and never
mind
its bulk.
Simply remain
calm—and
slow-
ly,
slowly—move in
to
ruin—
the smallest
and least-
civilized—
shred of that knot.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
POWDERED WIGS
It makes good music—the whole of Palmer
Square park
has never known Mozart.
And yet—
streetside—so many
staves
of tilted bald
oak limbs interleaving—
pitch toward his
namesake
to listen—inclined to wear
deferentially—thick
crowns of white frost.
Monday, January 26, 2015
IN THE NAME OF THE SON
Jesus Christ
almighty,
kid—how
do you like
what seems to have
happened now? On
or around
our upside-down
plastic ordinary
planet—after
the Proper
of the Mass
got invented?
Previously—a servant
content doing
all daddy's sweeping—
that composer
is creator now,
a great architect—the tall slender
letters of his earthly
name gilding
all the bedrock;
our performer—still
just some carpenter—
straw for his guilt-
stricken little
bed in the corner.
almighty,
kid—how
do you like
what seems to have
happened now? On
or around
our upside-down
plastic ordinary
planet—after
the Proper
of the Mass
got invented?
Previously—a servant
content doing
all daddy's sweeping—
that composer
is creator now,
a great architect—the tall slender
letters of his earthly
name gilding
all the bedrock;
our performer—still
just some carpenter—
straw for his guilt-
stricken little
bed in the corner.
Friday, January 23, 2015
FUGITIVE
Giving absolutely
no regards—
amid the snow white
peaks—of silence;
commuters
mildly smoking
soft cigarettes
together—in dead
of winter.
no regards—
amid the snow white
peaks—of silence;
commuters
mildly smoking
soft cigarettes
together—in dead
of winter.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
THE EVERLASTING ALLEY
Bristle-
whiskered city
fathers, come clean—
tell me
quick! whose the fuck
bright idea
was this?—panoply of gristle-
colored puddles—and pits
pockmarking
the murky snarl
of grave-gray patchwork
asphalt
chunks—so abhorrent
to even
the most anemic
demands of motor traffic;
and which, for that matter,
barely seems
to accommodate its
roughly unending
occlusions of
wobbly top-
heavy tubs—erupting like packs
raunchy spectators—as I
and a deteriorating cockerspaniel
march towards his back door—unwilling-
yet-
unwitting—
participants in this—so rich
a grisly
pageant of your urban
architectural piss.
whiskered city
fathers, come clean—
tell me
quick! whose the fuck
bright idea
was this?—panoply of gristle-
colored puddles—and pits
pockmarking
the murky snarl
of grave-gray patchwork
asphalt
chunks—so abhorrent
to even
the most anemic
demands of motor traffic;
and which, for that matter,
barely seems
to accommodate its
roughly unending
occlusions of
wobbly top-
heavy tubs—erupting like packs
raunchy spectators—as I
and a deteriorating cockerspaniel
march towards his back door—unwilling-
yet-
unwitting—
participants in this—so rich
a grisly
pageant of your urban
architectural piss.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
PAW PAW
Hunkered low
along treacherous stretches—
another pair of—
dogged lion
colored scapulae—goes
un-
coothly bobbing—
crippled
by salt—
through the land of the big wind.
along treacherous stretches—
another pair of—
dogged lion
colored scapulae—goes
un-
coothly bobbing—
crippled
by salt—
through the land of the big wind.
ALEATORY
Actually—it can be
pretty
grating—
how predictably
avant garde!
the pewter-
headed
woman's old
apartment's
brown—
radiator
sometimes sounds.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
AMEN CADENCE
If you only
but knew! how—profound
and authentic-
ally I hear you—a sorry lame
pack
of dull insolent pitches—
claptrapping
down
past that
rattling heat machine
thing in the hall—and then
confounding up
some rickety laminate
zigzag of ground
every morning—hounding
like you do—for brown water
and wet food
and a little light
banter—by the clickclacking
faucets
latches
and switches—presumably concerning
wherever
the selfsame noisy
hell in the world it is you're going—
without ever even
so much
as offering—to take your good old dog.
but knew! how—profound
and authentic-
ally I hear you—a sorry lame
pack
of dull insolent pitches—
claptrapping
down
past that
rattling heat machine
thing in the hall—and then
confounding up
some rickety laminate
zigzag of ground
every morning—hounding
like you do—for brown water
and wet food
and a little light
banter—by the clickclacking
faucets
latches
and switches—presumably concerning
wherever
the selfsame noisy
hell in the world it is you're going—
without ever even
so much
as offering—to take your good old dog.
Monday, January 19, 2015
A CONDOM FOR LADY MARY
A pleasant day—and
fecund enough
for January—a mauvewhite tree
is posed
waifish, leaflike;
while
the surveyor—lord
of many dancing
and laughing kingdoms—
decorously pisses
each away.
Friday, January 16, 2015
WINTER MANNERS
Not until
once again home—derelict,
naked, sipping and staring-
down another late
afternoon in his
usual haunt—an empty kitchen;
does the poet feel the gnawing
responsibility engulf him—to examine
more precisely
ideas of the morning—a sun
he'd like
to have maybe seen—piercing
through cold clouds—so round
rubicund, and kindly smiling,
always alone,
but never for so much
as one moment
apprehended
as being
lonely—for swollen out
less
than he—with sacred assam ginger tea
and more, presumably,
by the piquant
heat—of earthly
sympathy.
once again home—derelict,
naked, sipping and staring-
down another late
afternoon in his
usual haunt—an empty kitchen;
does the poet feel the gnawing
responsibility engulf him—to examine
more precisely
ideas of the morning—a sun
he'd like
to have maybe seen—piercing
through cold clouds—so round
rubicund, and kindly smiling,
always alone,
but never for so much
as one moment
apprehended
as being
lonely—for swollen out
less
than he—with sacred assam ginger tea
and more, presumably,
by the piquant
heat—of earthly
sympathy.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
CONSEQUENT
According to—planetary motion,
one could suppose
slightly longer and widening
orbits of afternoon—in which
a bicycle rider—
windburned,
stouthearted—
travels—always
absorbing each and every
antecedent flung
across his spangled
patterned paths
with alacrity
and quickness—and a dim
sense of pride
which somehow lightens his burden
proportionally
with each uptick in the
daylight;
until
eventually, he's feeling so
slick that he slips—landing off-axis completely
with his erstwhile
procedure—arms and legs
frozen stiff—supine and
wide open
as if—
struggling
to embrace
such a huge risk.
one could suppose
slightly longer and widening
orbits of afternoon—in which
a bicycle rider—
windburned,
stouthearted—
travels—always
absorbing each and every
antecedent flung
across his spangled
patterned paths
with alacrity
and quickness—and a dim
sense of pride
which somehow lightens his burden
proportionally
with each uptick in the
daylight;
until
eventually, he's feeling so
slick that he slips—landing off-axis completely
with his erstwhile
procedure—arms and legs
frozen stiff—supine and
wide open
as if—
struggling
to embrace
such a huge risk.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
SYMBOLS TURNED TO WORDS
Tripping—alone with Molly
under the gray hibernal
oak trees
of afternoon's imagination—I feel my own
mentality
slowly swinging
open—to the weird
sounds of
a few new birds calling—unseen
down another
snow-muzzled
corridor of ashy city;
and I apprehend
attention—ordinarily all left-
feet and
hands kicking
hard at the sharp air—now bending
back—supple,
ready to settle
easily
for the laziest-
possible definition
of poetry going.
under the gray hibernal
oak trees
of afternoon's imagination—I feel my own
mentality
slowly swinging
open—to the weird
sounds of
a few new birds calling—unseen
down another
snow-muzzled
corridor of ashy city;
and I apprehend
attention—ordinarily all left-
feet and
hands kicking
hard at the sharp air—now bending
back—supple,
ready to settle
easily
for the laziest-
possible definition
of poetry going.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
THOUGH THIS BE MADNESS
Just before
the end—whatever
was it?
a crusty Polonius-Judas
confided
so readily—
to the doughy old mom
and the oily
stepfather—of a
poor and un-
interestingly strung-
out young Jesus
Christ-Hamlet figure?
Something
about how—leavening
is the soul of bread,
and though
the kid's last
supper may have
been done a little faster—
sadly,
it was over
all the sooner for it;
and there was still just
so much—
method in it
that it
was hardly satisfying—let alone
worth it.
the end—whatever
was it?
a crusty Polonius-Judas
confided
so readily—
to the doughy old mom
and the oily
stepfather—of a
poor and un-
interestingly strung-
out young Jesus
Christ-Hamlet figure?
Something
about how—leavening
is the soul of bread,
and though
the kid's last
supper may have
been done a little faster—
sadly,
it was over
all the sooner for it;
and there was still just
so much—
method in it
that it
was hardly satisfying—let alone
worth it.
I ONCE OVERHEARD THIS FROM MY KITCHEN
Dross
glopping—some ice-
thick
sounding singing—
jangling,
going
slopping—down an easy-does-it-
tomorrow drain.
Another numb-
cold titular
Tues
day
bath-
room-
down-the-
hallway sink
water wasting—way
a-
way
away.
And away
it pipes up,
giggling again as it
keeps on
wenting away—try? Oh, Daniel,
laughing—weep-
ing—really,
this?
This is
serious-
ly
you
keeping
on trying?—so hard
for some-
thing. What? Already—just
to keep
some empty—
pipes from freezing!
glopping—some ice-
thick
sounding singing—
jangling,
going
slopping—down an easy-does-it-
tomorrow drain.
Another numb-
cold titular
Tues
day
bath-
room-
down-the-
hallway sink
water wasting—way
a-
way
away.
And away
it pipes up,
giggling again as it
keeps on
wenting away—try? Oh, Daniel,
laughing—weep-
ing—really,
this?
This is
serious-
ly
you
keeping
on trying?—so hard
for some-
thing. What? Already—just
to keep
some empty—
pipes from freezing!
Monday, January 12, 2015
ARTISTIC DIFFERENCES
Like
a bridge
over
troubled
water,
he provokes you—
and
passively—to
circumnavigate
some
under-
lying issue.
a bridge
over
troubled
water,
he provokes you—
and
passively—to
circumnavigate
some
under-
lying issue.
Friday, January 9, 2015
SUPER POWERS
And lo—
with the single light
wave of his hand
all the snow
in Chciago was turned to thick buttermilk
to be
churned by willing
masses into
endless beautiful batches
of
silver dollar pancakes—all
for his live-in
girlfriend's capricious
enjoyment—
after her breakfast.
with the single light
wave of his hand
all the snow
in Chciago was turned to thick buttermilk
to be
churned by willing
masses into
endless beautiful batches
of
silver dollar pancakes—all
for his live-in
girlfriend's capricious
enjoyment—
after her breakfast.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE
Blindsided—even as I happen
to advance
past reprehensible walls
of frost-
nettled plate glass—and utterly
confounded
by the mere glance—because
now
at once lusting-
after,
and despising—
the tidy perpendicular
stature
of all those unclaimed stacks
of gold-
glowing french
fried
potatoes inside—
to advance
past reprehensible walls
of frost-
nettled plate glass—and utterly
confounded
by the mere glance—because
now
at once lusting-
after,
and despising—
the tidy perpendicular
stature
of all those unclaimed stacks
of gold-
glowing french
fried
potatoes inside—
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
DELIRIUM
Suddenly—by terrible
three o'clock on another
heinous and
temperatureless Chicago afternoon—
the way the shit-
green glinting
frost clung—so rude
and
immediately—
to every shivering cranny
of my great
and yet poor-
statured black
lab's swollen
muzzle, distended
cheeks and dumb tongue—
was only—glowingly
funny.
three o'clock on another
heinous and
temperatureless Chicago afternoon—
the way the shit-
green glinting
frost clung—so rude
and
immediately—
to every shivering cranny
of my great
and yet poor-
statured black
lab's swollen
muzzle, distended
cheeks and dumb tongue—
was only—glowingly
funny.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
ACTION POTENTIAL
This is it
this is
it—this is it
I know it,
exactly—when I say
I'll say
I'm saying
I'll say it—Action! Then Bam!
on just about any
old cold Tuesday
snowsleepy morning—Epinephrine!
Make way!
Shiny skinny pretty
monochrome
chains of—adrenaline!
come slam-
dunking incautiously
romping,
shimmy
shammy
whammy-
shake—jangling down the frayed
and confused
ends of
a pile of lillywhite dendrites
and—just like that; heck
I'm awake,
and I'm here,
and I'll stay,
to fight—the same day
back
out of
plain sight again.
this is
it—this is it
I know it,
exactly—when I say
I'll say
I'm saying
I'll say it—Action! Then Bam!
on just about any
old cold Tuesday
snowsleepy morning—Epinephrine!
Make way!
Shiny skinny pretty
monochrome
chains of—adrenaline!
come slam-
dunking incautiously
romping,
shimmy
shammy
whammy-
shake—jangling down the frayed
and confused
ends of
a pile of lillywhite dendrites
and—just like that; heck
I'm awake,
and I'm here,
and I'll stay,
to fight—the same day
back
out of
plain sight again.
Monday, January 5, 2015
SALAD FOR KATE
Goddamnit Kate—
after years
there are definitely days
where
rather than love me—I'd sooner
have you
simply go
screw yourself up—wide
sour and
huge like a whirlpool—
all around the million
or so
greasy little globs of me—
pinning
each of them—hard
fast and
like hell—
to every last
boundary of your vast
and prodigiously
pungent volume;
all for the sake
of re-
creating regularly—a pretty
dang usable—
ephemeral solution.
after years
there are definitely days
where
rather than love me—I'd sooner
have you
simply go
screw yourself up—wide
sour and
huge like a whirlpool—
all around the million
or so
greasy little globs of me—
pinning
each of them—hard
fast and
like hell—
to every last
boundary of your vast
and prodigiously
pungent volume;
all for the sake
of re-
creating regularly—a pretty
dang usable—
ephemeral solution.
Friday, January 2, 2015
RETURN OF THE THIN WHITE DUKE
So pumped-
up,
it's deleterious
and so much hip
swagger—they're nervous
not to mention—nosey
but fucked if he
doesn't already
know
it all—man, he's only
as deaf as
the volume at which he's shouting; and it's
always something—dizzy
cool about his
miraculous and never-
ending and bowie
knife-
inspired suicide,
claiming—
it's actually all this dang
checking in
to make sure that I'm
still dead—
that's making me
look like I
feel so dead-
tired.
up,
it's deleterious
and so much hip
swagger—they're nervous
not to mention—nosey
but fucked if he
doesn't already
know
it all—man, he's only
as deaf as
the volume at which he's shouting; and it's
always something—dizzy
cool about his
miraculous and never-
ending and bowie
knife-
inspired suicide,
claiming—
it's actually all this dang
checking in
to make sure that I'm
still dead—
that's making me
look like I
feel so dead-
tired.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
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