Saturday, December 31, 2005

poems / "five liners" / "moon enslavement"

1.

the suitcase abridger, a
geoff of interchangable pants
abruptly roughened,

haircut aftermath, a night
of professional living



2.

promomoter of pungeant
western medicines. fell
in love with a pharmacist

over the phone.
wasn't the same.


3.

aviaries who recover
the detritus of puttrees
lodged upward,

heavy hair metal
era scissor-kicks



4.

brusque jowls on the jaws
of the big apple blackout.
finally!

our canals carry darkness.
floating gunshots too.



5.

a want
to rattle
a thesp

westing a turret
to walk



6.

its back on the bus
to fredericksburg where
the first thing i'll touch

will be the tussle
of american water


7.

twenty five minutes
of darkening hallways
on the carpet

lightening tastes like
gangs, unbridled



8.

one afternoon
followed another.
its clemency for

old moxie girls
slung over.



9.

blackleg blazer
on the hobby chair
is an alcoholic

a drink
for a drinker



10.

no thanks, I'm
a barrel, a big barrel
of air filled with

the war-aprons
of Niagra Falls



11.

the kitchen
the kitchen table
turned itself into.

the bleats of the living
and other rooms.



12.

modal jazz his
served trumpted in
corduroy streets.

that's god he thinks
he's miles davis.


13.

or, the pitch
of my voice to
commemorate

the dead singer
sweep up



14.

a breather
in a food court.
a repertoire

of local dis-
colorations



15.

men dressed for
alcohol, drank
alcohol.

take th at shit
back to boston



16.

a priest in their
cigarettes, the
gist of an in-

finite rouse of
a first date



17.

i'm filing sheet music
arrangements and
wondering if you'd

ever spoon
miles davis



18.

get you, and
you, astride an
alphabet of

old suitcases-
old and empty

19.

pour me a pillow
of pier singers

privy to pillbox
pianos. there is
plenty to pilfer.


20.

the waiting room
hits the road

saying,
hello ghosts,
not yet



21.

a two-tier
middy blouse
of drunks

pouty-brim
ruffs of hair


22.

drive our guns
to Nashville
on all sizes

of big leg (look!)
loam-walkers.



23.

fertile theory
fat chicks. old
poetry chaps

ah decent
uh buttons loud



24.

hell tumbling
in-hand if as the
wife dressed

smoke.
your smoke.


25.

in leiu of
the corduroy
jukebox an-

other chapterhouse
skyline sang



26.

the memory of
the room the kids
were built,

tore the sleaves
up.



27.

over a clap of wine
and
arthritic lovemaking

an hispid yawp
split the ranchers



28.

an autumn
where our hair
fell out on stage

not a dry eye
in the house



29.

the paths to
the olden tackles
I can dance

on your shoes'
manuscript



30.

let them stay on! he
with an imprint of an
oven top

said that’s all
his wives of them


31.

trouser priests, or

the history of a city
with its lights turned off

no plans
for saturday night



32.

ol' famous eyes

the mechanics
of kissing your wife

one unwritable city
to the next



33.

old rifles
i've had relationships
with early metal

here, to pacific
iron-rail, too



34.

taking the train to bowery
tunnels. sweats under
the arms. sometimes

it takes a little over
three hrs for clouds to stretch



35.

a bench under
dust. public transportation
where you fall

asleep. mouth open.
pants hitched.


36.

a bus one struck
and killed a woman
named roslyn.

she had her faith.
a lisp. pistol parts.

37.

the symbol for the elegant gold
says "i'mm in love with your wife"
from one foyer to another

the pages of my suitcase
read like a



38.

every saturday as
a singer of motionless
country weste rn

we move over
lap steel thown in



39.

the whip is the hat.
the hair in the garland
torn from the rifle

revival. my hair
can absorb thoughts.



40.

out of the
bathhouse, as
slighty as

an inebriated
soviet tune



41.

an addiction
with the strength of
twelve addictions

the great destroyer
of our evenings



42.

this bridge out
fits the water.

my skin, they say.
is a flophouse,

yes'sir


43.

you'd foghorn-
sit. with hiccups up
in the alcoholic rooms

blown handsome
- on


44.

casemated in jowls of
old baltimore's very first
virgin mary bathtub

your face is a bridge of
pre-recorded shade



45.

dudes.
like Au-

amen us
to death

-aw man



46.

pairs from airs
pastor. a bout for
the dictaphone dust.

the hiss of her
saccarhine thighs.


47.

me, a plastic walk--
the first to drink
from another woman

when the lord--
when we get ready



48.

bouts the shoulder
in front of the beaumont
twelve years after

the dining room table's
queens of england


49

to children spitting
glass in parking lots.
dead poets. (in)

a restroom. saying,
"who stays / goes"



50.

his elbows discharged.
a pelvic grunt he wept-danced.
sashay down the hall.

another southern knuckle
popped. old floorboards




51.

my arms are
my slide action shotguns

stiff-side fringe/tassle
tore. my mason-dixon

line. blurs.


52.

we forgot to
feel our legs fall off,
thumbs too.

old mornings
in separate motels


53.

had his legs removed
by endless parades of
old mistresses each
under the moniker
and this old war-hat



54.

between the lawn
and the thruway of the rules
of sitting with me

at the very least
is wrong


55.

left forcasting
waiting room chairs

unhurried legs of
golden state warriors

equine pistols



56,

filing nothing
but sheet music

in an airport bar
to get you, and you,

in a pile.


57.

transfer tickets
make sense to me
the deaths of getting old.
this is a sweet casket
we're all in.

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