Thursday, October 30, 2008

Response to Jane Kenyon's "Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks"

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/briefly-it-enters-and-briefly-speaks/
(Same word,line, and punctuation count per stanza).

I am Spanish model with ribbon-shaped disease,
a hideaway for frustrated Swedish hydrangeas. .

I am dark envelope, poker overtaker, meat developed lover. . .

When sovereignty's hourglass outgrows warthog slavery
and bloody sailboats stain towels
then his bedside is limitless. . .

I am a rotten professional depressed platoon. . .

I am Western granulated daughter-in-law,
eating chitlins with ethnic chili udders. . .

I am a ripe thirteen
they are gray-and-red wardens. . .

I am spent and open,
change herder, loving old English hotels. . .

I am both adjacent and candy tray. . .
the hole showing, I
am better beer. . .

I am birthing fish while fighting off snakes
or other known poets. . .

I am enormous at night thereupon
penguins, the biggest nun in Gemstone county. . .

I am loose-woven even vowels
roaming macho, I love sodomy
as well as all verses in Matthew. . .

Poems That Are Gang Related

I Free Range Lice
for Jennifer (Theniffer)

Sea lice constitutes more than a fact of life in ocean living.

Kitty cats are infecting salmon eggs (the gods must be crazy,) causing problems in the ozone.

Usually mites stay away from cats but in Australia a girl was bathing her cat and well. . .

Similar to Australia, Africa has become the arena for a little known concept called "organic hands." In sum, you effectively measure the nourishment in natural plants, alongside kids with nasty diseases and inject the treatment into their hands at the supermarket. This is also known as the "National Bug Busting Day."

My second job as a manager of poultry products has led me to begin chewing on feathers. Not just any feather but ones from specifically agile creatures. I love the taste of skin fragments and the possibility of it leading to a late night. (You know what I mean.)

I also love rabbits, combing over their nipples and slowly removing pesticides and other chemicals from their fur.

In my poultry managing business we carry a wide range of anti-lice, anti-parasite, anti-chemical products for your dog and other family members. It's all natural, completely made in the home or at the elementary school. For more information, please refer to the encyclopedia under "origins of the body."

Jeans Join Ears,(Screw Scars)
for Jess (BLV)

Right now, each ear as one.
She spoke in an amusing dialect and then came to bed.
A tiny bend,
a tiny and then singular
and a developing sight
venturing outdoors to grab
at young metallic forms
before building to a show of sound.

I pull or "touch."
I say, "our eyes are always the same size."
or rather a portion of the hands are set and
gently pulling at the interior.
Then close and sticking.
Then our fingers despite.

Titles starting with "S."
If instead of tendency we
used joining.
the seamless.
The only effective marking
left on this halfway.

Road Under Flame. (I curb air)
for Alex "Mo" Burford

Markings alert drivers of
your spraying- a mix of
propane compressed with
Beijing's air.
Under the conditions of
kinetic energy, there came
an ever curling flame and
then the occasional "hipster" anecdote
(something of shrunken heads and
experiencing you teetering
on weather patterns.)

The occasional "off-road" distraction
was helpful in building foreign
policy guidelines but then we
remembered the media was
under government regulations

and then officials were forming strikes
against thunder storms

and then you burst into the
White House screaming "THE AIR AROUND
A DEAD MAN IS A COLLECTION OF POETRY"

to which I began putting on numerous
layers of thermals,
proclaiming "NO WORLD, you're
veering. Come be on the road
in a quickened pace."

Monday, October 27, 2008

11:50 PM

Nichole Hermance speaking as the buffalo me.
"One time I made pancakes for breakfast and the next day I shat 50 barbies."

Head, Pole and Nation

The things I thought so big. The things East like orgasming through ice hunting blubber while all the while mounting drums. [Have carried.] Have moved inward parts divided by some 600 masses coming through channels and subsequent events floating in the sea, [made of leather.] Dragging men, the call of missing breasts now lays frozen. Now we say to eyelashes. Now we say mid-summer. As there is fleeting, so is there launching.
The seagulls, now slippery and bloody [come in sets] with heads rocking, a manner much like giving to men [upon said private] no more dots to mark a panting eye.
Something came of being well maintained. To be like white trees and not good meat. This is the question, is it not. Is there too much vision blurring and is there not the dirt to make speech again.
This bed has transformed to bones, working its way through an Atlantic shattering. This takes Capital, this takes an energy of turkeys but the horses are moulting, [too late a fall.]
If breaking up of words means plaque. If indeed nothing found then nothing lays claim and all is traveling and all is checkered. In best of sparring this makes holes and makes face upon silver ears, ready for harvest. Such giving had always been and this is a gifting bases and this is the golden and the golden is for the baskets.
What then is nurturing. If planting means loss of name, of keeping, such shame of the new generations and all is surrounding. Now how to stand. Now to pray. Such brilliance like the fine lines of ink [like in rain] no more to waves. No more to a hasty hunger.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

More Stein Inspiration


(Stein collage for English 382. The edges were cut off a bit by my scanner.)

Guitar
There is a time when there is rubbing, when there are long limbs as if chimes. There is a whole and there are finger-like corners and in the breathing of the holding is erupting. This is relationship.

Green Chair
To sit is to make strings and to then make yellow. Rather to become helmet now to practice. Now to a baby or was it the lack of upright to the ceiling to the calling that made hair to weave.

Flag
Not wedding ring but finger pulled, left such a dusty to an existence of hooks.

Bookshelves
It is only between. It is only open and is only a little wet. Said to be collected it is love. The sound here, left over to become strolling musical before pyramids. Said to be a fountain, the light tapping of cotton on embroidered backs.

I Like Parties With My Friends

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Yesterday's Fortune Read. . .

"look for the color yellow tomorrow for good luck."

TODAY
"Cut the whole space into twenty-four spaces and then and then is there a yellow color, there is but it is smelled, it is then put where it is and nothing stolen." -Stein, Tender Buttons

I am working through Stein thoughts. Hopefully I will have some of them posted by the end of the week.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

The Beckoning of Days

OR
for the captain of a ship

I suppose what replaces then is substance. I suppose an outward, a licking, such great and necessary touch then paper. On paper we make hands to make different. Use numbers to see drops- hardly to the day of such,

I see curling in.

Wave movement, not so much as to match up each corner but place on cushion and on the disappearing nature of floors.

In times of less presence there is a heavy thumping. There is longing. There are questions regarding the way language motions to eyes then back to beating.

There are strips that stretch further now while clocks I know not and some covering. This over all spirals dictates a certain amount of pages to follow at sunrise.

Without blaming or asking what is suitable. Without ever getting up but always in a swinging motion, allowing for a handsome set of fingers and patches to make do and feed.

In coming or going, take not so much of the walls or stairs. The array of reds and oranges. Take easily of the two lines, the three, the wholeness. Say nothing of a glistening. The softness within an octagon. Say gently of what water does.

In the days of passing, no more than the guiding of shadows within another. Something to show for a time formally known as awkward. One was numbering while the other a map. All so long and full of zeal. While there upon an aspen dangling. While there like layered jackets coming from within couches. Something the sound of mild, drawing to point to channel, more the direction to islands.

And then of hands sitting circled and moon-like. Recognizing that in pit there is a deepness for a bending green and a deepness for moisture. There are fixtures and they are dry but they are moving. They are heavy in the mist and now to a gallop.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

REPRESENT YO




















It's moist, it's folding! Watch the Flarf Collective reading from Minneapolis.

NAS class/Stein

Crown
How much kingdoms. Many damage, under the spanning till finally naming populated. Such crisp eve. Such running aground/across news. Many so great to exercise. Care for on shore, all subject, all called admiral. Sweet speech. Always laughing on skin and red cape. Return to gold. Not simply rule like alligator rule but of fort. These two boards between, now overlapping. Stringing up birds, a corn-costume. They delve and torch. They top to bottom to delve to famine. There becomes metal resistance. In trees, like necks. In water like starvation. Lifting up. Not able to collect- followed to a green mercy. Now land and eyes reduced, demanding in relation to weaving cloth, the cheekbones get home.

Curls
There can be seen a great and tragic blue south and reaching back to mounting.
Approach being motioned, sent away, meeting on spare, adorned mistress. In such a way to inflict soaring. Taking like niece, daring and aboard.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Thursday, October 9, 2008

GAH!

(Specifically four minutes into the video).

Monday, October 6, 2008

West Wind Review (WWR)

THIS YEAR I WILL BE EDITING THE WEST WIND REVIEW ALONGSIDE KASEY MOHAMMAD. IT IS GOING TO BE A FINE SPECIMEN OF A BOOK.

(from Kasey's blog)
West Wind Review, Southern Oregon University's annual literary journal, is seeking submissions of poetry, fiction, and cross-genre writing until December 1st.I am serving this year for the first time in an official capacity as a faculty advisor for the journal, and I'm excited about the direction it's going. The past two years' editors, Jess Rowan and Maurice "Alex" Burford, have set a precedent for the inclusion of interesting, innovative writing, and I'm confident that that trend will continue this year with new editor Lacey Hunter.Include a maximum of five short (1-3 pp.) pieces or two longer (4+ pp.) pieces. Make sure that pages are numbered and that your name appears in the header of each page. Work may be submitted as attachments in Microsoft Word to westwind@sou.edu, or send by snail mail to:
West Wind Review
Southern Oregon University
1250 Siskiyou Boulevard
Ashland, Oregon 97520
If you use regular mail, be sure to include either a SASE or an email address at which you may be contacted for a response.

Friday, October 3, 2008

New Poems Finally

What I took from the 2008 VP debate
OR
Main St.

Some say it's also, and well,
up here in Alaska we
*wink* we hold tight to and
then also clean We remember
and our grand kids
remember and our great
grand kids remember what freedom
and gender was
A "top ticket" ya know,
none of this East Coastian-ness
(bushes)
(bushes)
Regular six packs on a
boat cutting taxes,
cutting more taxes
just your average kitchen
table setting- I sit around
kitchen tables too in my neighborhood,
that's where things get
executive and then there
is something of teamwork,
"fairness" (like in heaven)
Like up here in the ice
where decisions are always
being put in vans
and on fields (not like
back when your hair
started going grey) like when
bangs came back- like when
there were 12,000 bushes
and then 5,000 and some
new schools and "M word"
dropped,
that's just my new
tolerance tattoo, there
across my chest in Hebrew
script no less
(say it ain't so)


JOE!


PACK!


"we're ready for McCain to leave. . ."?


OUR TEAM


TROOPS
@soccer games
(backed into corners smiling)
Backed into the environment
drill
drill
Bushes
drill
caps
drilling will help us leave and bring millions of jobs to those who and then there will be cowboy hats, and also there will be small business private health care lacking fear of terrorists and the nuclear weapons will stop because if those go off there will be a lot of unhappy people


Behind The Door I Cum Gloriously

so escaped through tapping, some kind of thing like hotel room (the night I grew a penis) and person switched in and out of friend 1. bald, male in mid-twenties, 2. curly womon in early forties, something like East Coast it's not that it wasn't working on top like repetition but we clothed and behind and the hard under, such amounts sprinkling but more to the extent of a hose

and then your mother walked in and I wished for janitorial skills


She Was Southern With Northern Mechanics
(the following poem was sculpted using words and phrases from Sherry Markovitz's commentary on her art showing of "Shimmer.")

I painted big just after my father died. Remember lions- hosing down, paint again. I gave the donkey quite a large penis, very nurturing, very "Autumn Buck" on the surfaces not fully satisfied with Eternal hanging, natural, each time found constantly combined New Guinea- a piece to do Victorian and ceremonial outfits. A frill around its neck, around time I made walking ground- I used mud, bones and a blanket as an infant which I called my mother. I used to work it with my fingers just a rag, a female elk, a queen.
What started out as a formal small wood something, glued copper, enough to really love transitional- often lost piece and bring it back several times before so much adding, removing, adding, removing- sort of like a salutation and spiral hand gesture- Simultaneously pink belly years started the making of fate. I made having new. I wanted make always collected lots and lots of feathers so the skirt, old feathers netting posture, getting very wonderful. I covered only face together. I went "around the world"-wild with color, place, the time I was struggling with exhaustion awake and engaged but a seamstress. Conflicted during the Civil War, it was also a time of barely madness- that's why I used flowers in place of a found and empty braid. The light purple is church in intimacy all sewn, the steel, the turn, they made the bullets a reusing, breasted Buddha- the main bed a translucent yellow, a "greasy yellow."
My mule is a potent founding of construction but white, working on getting so tiny, is moving, wants light, no bones that she wants first an old day and so started coming out is being even with world expression viewing them to be disarming, face cross, love the fancy noise- there is a tendency to overly depict wanted shimmer my love.