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Sunday
Oct022005

Intersection

The intersection between this and that, can’t and can, is and isn’t, no and yes is the place where the world begins.

Sunday
Sep252005

The white bindweed petal falls 

The white bindweed petal falls
toward the ground
like a cabbage butterfly’s wing fluttering
where the trail turns

south and thighs, not “made
of light” but almost, squeeze my head, dragging
it to where I finally hear
the petal hit the ground as you, moaning
more definitively than

meaning has a right to, hold on,
like me, for dear life -- and so,
in spite of the fly-swarmed raccoon
corpse behind us
on the trail, we happily

squirm on the ground, in love
with words made
from weeds

bacteria

dirt

Saturday
Sep242005

Roost

Emily Dickinson and nude Malcolm X slow-dancing in a lit-up city apartment at night while a homeless woman holding a black plastic garbage bag looks up at them from the mouth of an alley across the street. A rooster’s head sticks out of a hole in the bag. A cartoon bubble emanating from the chicken’s beak contains the words: “The chickens will come home to roost.”

Friday
Sep232005

Beat

as in “Be at” where you should go and be there NOW

We have to bring back
the concept, be-

at-
itude. As in beat. As in
nicking

(according to a certain rhythm)

little holes in things, tiny
tunnels of focus through which we
maneuver
into zones of the most

intense lucidity. Soon
neither relaxed nor
obsessed make sense, only

seeing does, only
being so in tune with beauty’s ruthless
hereness does, and so

(knowing how only outside of poetry does
poetry exist)

we glimpse through
an open window on a July night
on 113th St. what we always knew

was there, Emily and Malcolm
lindy-bopping to
a song called “I Felt

a Funeral in My Brain” and then
the lights go out and only

the unexpected, so
miraculous yet commonplace, is left

as is
the beat, this’s pounding and

-- listen to those tablas! --

a whole lot
of other
thumping, too

Tuesday
Sep202005

Estrangement

1. Figure in hooded Moroccan abaya/no face visible/black background

2. Abaya thrown open like an exhibitionist might throw open a trenchcoat -- what is glimpsed, though, is a dark space with leg fragments strewn about like chunks of interstellar rock adrift in the far reaches of the universe.

3. Desert sand in moonlight. Beyond a far dune, a city burns.

Saturday
Sep172005

Evening

Field north of Smiths Mill Rd. Geese honk above trees at nightfall. Huge moon. "It's yellow," Che Prasad says. He laughs and we run across the field. Suman chases us. A black cat from somewhere follows us meowing. No wind. Che Prasad rolls in the grass

Friday
Sep092005

Natur (e) al

For graffitti.  Term to describe the idea that word constructions are natural.  As in nature-based

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