Friday, April 24, 2009

Spit

Spit from the
as though the were an infant
rind, the pit, of a peach
to name it if we must, the elusive little
four or three, calling from woods, or
with the teeth of beautiful geese.

Make of me a beggar & I will
be.
Chewing gum is lovely, subject or
object.
You can use a word to.
Make of me.
Papier mâché.
Filled with glace or teeth again to chew with with
which to feed. Repetition at its
finest is chewing gum.

How comical! really, he speaks
or else his hands.
Two voices, really, listening,
or yours, straining up above the other heads.
You’re so clever!
Figure it out.
Pull a yarn or a
stitch a pair of hands up.
You have two
hands for a reason.
There must be more to this life
than this world has to offer.
Take it all
as an apostrophe.
Lift it up.

Have you noticed lately how often
the moon goes soughing across?
The sky
open as a fist to allow
passage.

Maybe if it had
all been weighted differently.
There would be a
deeper explanation.

Watch meaning as
it drifts away from you.
Consider.
What it means.
Or else
all as was
still is.
How memory inhabits
or too emotional,
cerebral?

Notice direction of wind because it’s carrying
something in it
you need.

Shift the
car into park.
Let the river overwhelm you.

Write something more substantial.
Tell me a secret about.

I listened twice to
many strings that plucked themselves silly
or meaningless, like a metaphor.
The sot king sits
sot, hiccupping.

All these little things like contrails,
mapping out, or.
Racing, rewriting.
After all, that’s what a map
is for.

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