Local notebook

I was just stacking wood one day

I passed some firemen hosing off a tarp

this scene came to mind

about following one's intuition

just mowing the lawn

I asked some passing travelers if I seemed fallen in the margins

the idea arose from the scene

I heard the spaceman yawn from the transmitter lilac

"I'd Rather Be Hay'n"

I grabbed for a beer

my wife would kill me, which is why I don't have one

I passed some top left birds

I passed a rusty unicorn

we can have a little fun with kindness and appreciation

this generation has an image based view of the world

I found it twittering in a psychedelia

I passed the kickoff for the project fair

just cooling heels at the city center

I passed the rising scene of thought

a gulpy moan from the drone swamp under

the story is brought to life by performers

spring is the perfect time for a trip to Ireland

Egot Binden's emissary

In this poem, sorry, text, I use the word "irrupt": "irrupt" with an 'i' and two 'r's, not "erupt" outwardly like a volcano. I should also give you some context. In 1976 a lot of us were thinking pretty hard about the politics of organic food. The food philosopher Egot Binden was making waves in the international foodist community, "Eat? Nay, vote" being his most famous formulation. So this poem, sorry, text, came out of that. That milieu. I wanted to spread the word, so to speak, to irrupt into the poetic, textual community, to win minds. Thirty years later things look a little different. I'll let you decide how.

Next next

My hair smells like your spit because you keep spitting in it
Maybe my hair smells like your spit because you keep spitting in it
This is another case of far out moralities
Maybe this is another case of a non-moral con
Maybe my hair smells like your spit because it's spitty
I have "spit hairs"
And yet you are very suspiciously spitting all over the place
In order to clear your mouth
And including my hair place
Saying in order to clear your mouth
Maybe that in order to clear your mouth this is necessary
Yep but why necessary to stay in living room or near hair
Maybe that's just what the doctor ordered
That's just what the doctor ordered
Maybe I had a doctor who was certain
I had a doctor who was malfeasant but certain
She said I wouldn't come to harm by the spit treat methodology
Maybe she said something but the anaesthetic was strong
Maybe she said that right now would be the hard part
That there are no connections to a next part
She was wrong
Maybe she was wrong

No War Not Hollywood

The squirrel was very much alive

This was in the park

If you let it be cathartic there it is

An embarrassing man was walking by loudly

Looking like he'd dipped his tufts in the pond

A squirrel is the hound of a tree

The whole tree is flat for the magnetic squirrel

One long flat highway maybe miles long and wide

Like facts about intestines and summers hey

Everything is wobbly and stupid looking

The park patrol is removing pieces of park

Students ride by on incredible blue bicycles

The squirrel picture action connection remains weird

Someone was setting up a tent with colleagues

And was interrupted forever

The squirrel is alive and very solemn

The squirrel is radioactive?

The squirrel is toxic feral and eschews contact

The squirrelly squirrel is embarrassing

The park present seesaws into a long can-be

You can choose again

You're sitting at your desk. The report is sitting on your desk. Have you given blood today? Have you written to the natural woods? The morning is standing over your desk. It's the morning. The bartender knocks the wooden Somalian attention knocker on your desk. Time to pay up, the tab. He puts the bill on your desk. Or he is a woman bartender. The light shifts and shifts back, slaloming a north trail. The woods partition your desk from the sands. I'm going to write this down for you. You're just a civilian. The sun arcs. It looks like he's going backwards, doesn't it? Let's look at photographs of Japanese bullet trains. It's as if barns were no good anymore. Is your desk supposed to glow like that? Anyhow a fair amount of the regular sequence is maintained. The important bits seem radically placed and wirey. Fast teeth chattering outside the mouth make for a face in conflict. In disharmony with the bees who can sense it. You chose your tooth way. You were sitting at your desk and you chose. The choose noise kablammo.

Portrait of a self achiever

Tanny Frent Starbux runs a cooking blog
called "Just Add Lemon." "A successful
apple pie equals a walk to the drugstore
and back. Voila! Done cooking." Corporate
sponsorship: see her attempts to popularize
the No Hands Enchilada Bellymaker. Rent
is $600 for her whole deluxe loft. Her beau
Gerard makes a mean hot chocolate. Drizzled
creme, mmm. Food geeks: their first date
was a cakebaking summit -- not! It was
the movies. It was a hot date, with a
twist. Zesty, fun but complicated, like
-- oh, she couldn't help it, she -- like
the coveted Drunôt torte. Sappy, yuck! But
not so simple. We're not done. Tanny's doc
thinks her drinking's hitting "yikes." And
Gerard's been suspended from the police, "in
too deep" on the case of the kids food
choker. Stick in there, Ger! Diane hasn't
forgotten you (we were married -- oops
did I say that oops did I say) but he's
pursuing the case badge-off. Smells like
trouble, even overwhelming Tanny's "chicken
trifecta" scent parade. Smells like trouble.
Trouble in paradise! You can reach Tanny
at keepin_it_meal_@yahoo.com.

Not a game of sound

the highway in the chip bag provokes a lot of highway driving
the chips are always running into speed

children on the overpass do spy-by-light
was actually a nightmare
I had once about the children
the narcotic crow blur

the highway in the chip bag includes the chip bag
the chip bag enjoys the highway's curls
something about enjoying a chip by the river
up-curled by the curvy way that is always going

where we are going and where we are going fast
into wraps always tighter as the way cords grow
floating   the olive in the grand martini
the white wet church of in-river-being but out laid
out on the edge on the seat of the rim of the cup of it

actually an inferno or a flame-motif pincushion
lifted in closeup by the hand   and closer in
chip makeup   the mark of a driver   actually
a nightmare I once had about interminable driving

responses
chips what a horrible place for a highway
feeling ripped off when they open the bag
whoa is this billy ocean   nevermind
I wonder what I'd pull out of my pocket
am I and the chip man of the same sort
and how can I be safe in the world
I went to the river last week and noticed nothing

Cadets

I wear my hat, I call my hat "Don't Turn
the Switchlights On," I call my hat "Jen
Childs," I wear my hat because it's cold
out, I wear my museum gloves, I call my
museum gloves "Champagne Jen Childs," I
wear my museum gloves because it's a museum
out there, the cases radiate in Magic Purple
and Trees Fall Indoors and Tugboat Blue, not
one minute goes by, it's sifty, you shouldn't
bring suspicious pens, the railings are not
a game, the railings are "cerebral," cotton
is okay to bring, hats okay, get ready for
the highway bridge, get ready for soft bed
mindframe, for "total bird's eye view" gull
by gull, gloves prevent dirty, good, I'm
inviting you to the sailboat, I'm inviting
you to the phone, I'm offering you the chip
bag, the chip bag is absorbing some table, I
doubt for you, that is I okay your doubts, it
is cold, it is a museum, get ready now for soft
bed mind, get ready for underpillow, sign our
heads hotel mints, get sifted, right, am I good
at inviting

So you can sort of see his bias

This is the Time Magazine artistic rendition.
That's the 2006 one and so obviously post-case.
Yeah, that's the foldout of the facial recon.

I don't know if anyone has any specific questions.
To simplify, it was the differences that one does notice.
Another thing is the kind of artistic liberties involved.

In his apology, it says, but there's no other way.
I saw a guy who was naked, a guy who looked like him.
To me that visual image commanded solemn truth.

We haven't got to that section yet though.
This is the Time Magazine artistic step.
Yeah, that's the corrected foldout mockup.

If we want to get into some theoretical thought,
This is the Time Magazine art fold spread. Sure, sure.
The way that you know. One is lost. Yeah, that's corrected.

Very acceptable in the small hours of the night

I was grumbling that I had not claimed
my privilege of 60 years to be excused.
I am sorry that these shoes are a full
size too large. I hear the skirl of bag
pipes which announces that they are not
far. Ah! How it skreeks! When a man sends
you the flimsy, he spares you the flourish.
Ah! Skreeks! How do you flourish? It seems
that some outward obstruction in the gangway
prevents one. I parted with my wife and
children and went to say goodbye to my
good friend. I was feeling rather
sluggish. This went on, with this
and with that, and with what not, five
nights a week, until the small hours of
the morning.

"SWEET CHAIN" Off Limits: Real Industry Shifts

STYLE GUIDE is a warning to PALS
PALS sound system louder than ever
in cars in moving wedding chapels
that PALS should try harder because
this year's STYLE GUIDE is saying
five years PALS: O.U.T. soundless
chapel bridals the new norm no
"SWEET CHAIN" sounds from PALS in
today's normative bridal weather
people want QUIET HAIR and the
rad piercing of a nosebridge NO
NOISE i.e. QUIET SYSTEMS so PALS
doesn't quite do it? emphatic yes
from STYLE GUIDE objective critics
of the industry standard and PALS
can you hang on and not introduce
new products for a minute of time
in a fury of NOISE when NOISELESS
QUALITY is gaining speed? traction?
foster growth PALS but not in NOISE
in NOISELESS WONDER of the kind
of new French order STYLE GUIDE
is initiating with the support
of many

From east or west the invasion of home

The man with the highest set of personality
numbers wants to know what's up with this
Guernsey spread. "The spread describes our
active and -- get this -- inactive movements
very uncannily well. Weird huh?" I.e. map
plots of population vs seagrass etc. of the
Bailiwick when overlaid onto our plots form
a near perfect spread. Cool huh? "The Bailiwick
is known for its steepness of port and so
am I," begins the report by the man of highest
standing. In 1866 he published a novel set
on the island. Violence erupted between rivals
on the rival Bailiwicks Guernsey and Jersey.
So... "So we have been proceeding without
any rival, deviating from the perfect spread."
So... "We have to, we need to, we must find
them." But the light is very dim. The Jersey
people are nicknamed crapauds. The lead crapaud?
Logically, "the man we are looking for is known
for his flatness of terrain of port." "To avoid
being puppets of a map plot spread we must be
puppets of the map plot spread." That's the
current patriotic scenario leaving many of
our Bailiwick dumbfounded. The head man wants
to take away the dancing machines and make
winters harsher. We have to season and comport.
Like Mongolia's traditional wrestlers, we are
always "thinking ringside." We may have pancakes
for dinner if it fits the rich archives. If it
makes history look great. "We islanders are faced
with a steep walk to harbor. But we must see
the sea!"

VH1 Enter the Titans

their first rock album was called "seriously moaned out on sour glycerin"
the cover had a floating caption in blue-chrome digitally textured foamstuff
the single on the album was the title track "seriously moaned out on sour glycerin (right now)"

the b side of the single was an instrumental version
with added thunder effects and catchy thunder parts
his tour manager said he doesn't know how they do it
the band practices all day and all night
they travel the world playing rock
life on the road isn't peaches for the band
and rock n roll stadiums are nasty
they were interviewed on the radio by a preacher
the preacher said that they were his favorite band
and that when he preaches he has them in mind
they said something about the artistic process
and the triumph of finding that riff

"the good old days are over" jan peck said to trent sedge in the tour van
trent said "you're right jan but we've got to roll with the punches"
"trent we can't just throw some lightning on this and make it okay"
"all i mean is that if we are going to keep working together as a band" said trent

a gossip overheard
the newspapers had the story
the band was going to break up
the band were in switzerland and heard from their label
the label was fairly like what's this guys
it was one of those situations where the band had to have its hero box some gossips

Focus on the now

My stirrups used to believe that for Halloween when I was nine I dressed as a Pennsylvania di-hawk. They say, "The ones that recover the best are always those who stop looking in the rear view mirror and start focusing on what lies ahead." To which I respond, "What if what's ahead somehow betrays what's in my past? I feel trapped in between two worlds." To which they respond, "I think perhaps I should leave now. I think that this is getting too much for me to handle right now." Which went right to the top of my list. I have this rule.

Infrario

What's the ultimate difference between a lemon and a lime
to every pizza delivery guy in town?
As much as you like throwing on those thrift store duds
I wish you liked having the answers as much.
I don't know that we'll ever find the Scandinavian surge protector.
Fox kicked out an A. Whoever did it should get it.
That's from high high up. Pathetic. Company lamas.
Nowadays, gotta have a face. Infraradio.
So you don't mind if we take a look at your computer files?
Verification shouldn't be a problem.
Why do I remember ragweed? "Vera" snakes?
The new hill snakes are twice as deadly.
Am I hooked up to a mainframe somewhere?
Well then I'll stay tuned.

Thoughts while reading the moonbent straw

I open with 500. Hello? Yes, it's me. Really?
Over the years, in addition to teaching.
He's caring about your case.

If I can make her happy, who's to say what
my life is or isn't worth. Oh, Pierre.
Hold me tight.

The Verbault requiem. Oldest living requiem.
First piloted by George and Bruce
Requiem.

What are you doing here? I heard some noise
in Eva's room. I wish I could, Helene.
But all this sounds fishy.

Stanford boasts many academic luminaries. You're
joking. No. Only you could risk your life
as you did.

A defeat. The most historical defeat. Gentlemen
crossed by string. The lineup, sugar. Love
you, sugar.

Excusez-moi, Eva. I should have understood earlier.
I'll drive you home now. Check. Fold. That's
a pot. What a day! Okay.

I turned on the light. Her bed was empty. Her
clothes? Also vanished. My bed is between hers
and the doors.

Oh, I don't care anymore!

Restoration of the boardlounge samizdat newscloth

Stuart Kessler Gardening Club is
beginning to ask what it means
to "be seen" with a beautiful
friend. Like in romance comedy
rain, the difference between
"getting drenched" and "free
spirit." Ahem. The chairman
raises himself from a potted
plant. He sees if he can touch
the ceiling fan. The board
is at lunch. Stuart Kessler
chairs the board but is not
the chairman. Stuart Kessler
greedily at lunch. Stuffing
his splotch-dotted sideways
lemonhead with stuffing and gravy
and turkey. Stuart Kessler pretending
to give one rip about gardening about
anything but his own gross sexual (mis)
conduct gross sexual ego. Sounding
like one airplane air duct. Fast air.
Candice Flowerly his turkey-tongued
shill. They eating lunch together in
greed. At a circular table in
the god damned Associates
Lunchroom, pests. While the bored
stiff chairman sits in the frosty
cold boardroom with Stuart Kessler's
pet plants and the god damned pink
intercom "cute" pink. Stuart Kessler
buzzing in to check up saying "wrong
number." But you can't get a wrong number
on an intercom Stuart Kessler. Candice
Flowerly laughing full of food in the
background. The chairman's wife asleep
in a thicket on the tennis mountain.
After the food party. A life full of
food. The intercom badly grounded. A
buzzing constantly. Stupid wallpaper
like scores of piano music. But ants
marching. Marching marching. Stuart
Kessler never marched a day in his glass
pane life. Fainting his only time in the
club garden. "Allergic" to gardens.
Crepuscular and enshirted. Born
in shirts. Stuart Kessler the same
Stuart Kessler with fan sex. For
the gardens. The notoriety of this
guy the fan sex strawberry nipple shit.
Like "bringing food into the bedroom"
with this guy. Candice Flowerly complicit.
Taking auditions auditions for this slob.
Crepuscular honeys siphoned from mansion
barns. Belles of the balls
from farm towns. Into the loving
arms the loving arms of Stu Hot Stu
Kessler. Stu Kessler with the bird guides
but hates outdoorsing. Stu Kessler the only
one who loves winter. Electric heat
for his foodmiracles foodroom. "Allergic" to
being a niceguy only ha! Massages
7/52. The chairman massaging his own
temples. In the frosty boardroom
intercomland. No chair for the chairman
is "so funny." "If I catch you sitting
in one" Stu on the 'com. Like he can tell
over the frequencies but he can. Somehow
he can. Someone tells him maybe. Candice Flowerly
giggling background. So the chairman has to
sit on a pot of Angel Ivy Ring
Topiary. Not so humiliating but
for being in this temple. This temple
of Stu the God. Stuart Kessler the God
of triumph. Stu Hot Stu Kess this foodsex
archduke. This enterprising stay-at-home
gladhander. This intercom rude guy. Hard
on his homelife his sand-blonde daughter.
Candice Flowerly playing wife-at-small-
home. Stuart Hot Stu Kess Kess Kessler
enchaired telling his daughter run some
credit cards in the living room. And to
be "in shape" better. "For the family
name." And counting bills and still
the intercom. The chairman at home
now. The chairman's wife at home now.
The chairman and his wife at home now
thinking about making bad dinner.

Mokes in the grotto

"That chick with nu-metal hair is still blocking your front porch"
"You're so icy on the phone can't we meet"
"It's tough grade work, chopping digital wood, these new phones"
"I know which is why"
"Not likely, I'm supposed to take off in five"
"Another job"
"No we're going to see the last episode of Seinfeld in theaters"
"Today's theaters are unsafe"
"Yes, the last Japanese catastrophe was extra alarming"
"Well no one's holding you back"
"Kiss my mother's forehead for me"
"What about me, do you think I can go out"
"With the chick standing there and all"
"Yeah, I mean remembering the last time"
"Then not unless you want a knuckle sandwich"
"And what if I do, what if I want one"
"I'll kiss your mother's forehead"
"It would be comforting"
"It's their poor hearts, you know"
"The mothers"
"Like someone just left them on"

gurt narrative

sup diaphanous milk sheen
burp bubble over my yakwide outhouse homespace
shab gourd narrates
tramples the samphire
another word for glasswort
'very good' now 'with new exactness'
swiftly the german pearl comes in
glib ugh parroting
kipping through the headliner
just to jet a foul
stream in the black car home
the maypole dance
patients stratified
jonesing for the security beacon
on the mind of the travelers-home

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