Monday, January 14, 2008


drive our guns to Nashville
for dixieland medicines. fell
in love with pharmacists of
all sizes. some bow-legged.
a few (look!) loam-walkers!

[notebook, '07]


the legs of the USS
Weymouth Suitcase.
the poorway of piss
hats, nothing else'll
be between the lawn
and the thruway of
the rules of sitting
with me. so i sit by
myself. walk paths.
the corduroy manu-
script written while
the wife is dressed.



cardboard dresses
to board. vehement
undressings and
unpluggings. life
spent a traipsing.


"its the price i pay for
having heat included
in the rent. sure i lose
a few pounds and all
the houseplants have
died, but with the $$
i'm saving, i can buy
new plants and lbs."

Sunday, January 13, 2008


"it's hotter than hell
in a fridge outside."


"customer just bought a copy
of the kama sutra and a book
on how to make long distance
romances work. i was tempted
to advise that he buy a book on
dsl internet. you don't want to
have to do cyber-sutra on a
14 kb/s connection."


"the fraud holding bluffs of
smoked-up heirlooms within
earshot of our war loans. "


"you could hold the dust
of the thirties far behind.
then the dust left you."

[fr notebook]


the out-dance
of jersey-refinery
at twilight

the heavy visits
to new where


"while in separate motels we'd forgotten
to check if the legs had fallen off."

[fr notebook]


filing poems alphabetically
in an airport bar to get you,
and you, and you, in a pile.

[fr. notebook #2]


on the walk home from work,
a dude offered to "bless my
christmas meal." when i said
"no thanks" he looked at me,
offended. so then his being
offended at me, offended me.

[fr. notebook]


almost had someone
convinced that the song
"unchained" by van halen
was originally a bing
crosby tune, almost.

Monday, January 07, 2008


poems using track names from:
artie shaw the complete recordings volume one 1938-1939

    i have eyes
    between a kiss
    and a sigh


    the donkey serenade
    had to be you, jungle
    drums. the non-stop
    flight, a softest supper
    took a million years
    to begin the beguine,
    bill, deep in a dream.


    the rural fantasy
    of jimswingers

their shiver-belt
dept is lead by an
arsenal of shortish
ruffians who weep
up dance drugs.

nor have we rent to read

[from bus-notebook]


two and a half laps around
concourse c. hurt heirs to
parlor stools, sag. some of
the women linnets, chiefly
foreign, sag. paunchy ruck-
sacks, sag. some motorized
clouds takeoff. picturesque
backs of floating postcards
sag. the silver to city point.