Thursday, May 26, 2011


for Maurice
wood work
that "with the exact temperature
of a cardinal's nest" is ruined
feeling it

this is the paranoiac-critical
mechanism of speech

a merry triste
a blue bugger

to regard would be incongruous
the roots are fine

and silent, tipped in the way
of madness the hammock far into antirrhinum buds
delicate issue of cloth an oak tablet
you're to work, root tips licked
by this common edge

a reedy bend, a Tell weakness
crutched neck owned
gets things, like a bed,
in it too. At this point whited

dandelions, that many, ready, swayed
speaking inadmissably at intervals
admissably, wisely, as the race
is doomed to require a breast
be a cardinal's temperature
and so quit its women

my neck is a cardinal's
a pain nest as Paul
Verlaine's ass became,
became Rimbaud.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Huxley Series 3 (final)


"...they will become conduits through which some beneficent influence can flow out of that other country into a world of darkened selves, chronically dying for lack of it."

get to the skin
of meaning, the mouthball
wiped too round to rightly see, or
be groped in confidence, eyed

if the soil's too well draining
the fingers, roots aside, cannot take hold
to pull the body in the event
of collapse

drain's pretense, distillation lost
the shingles poor ladders
gutters a flattened hoop

collected rain
not as this collects what
excellent eye the mouth still is


"...the so-called secondary characters of things are primary..."

a suffering thread
fine with the strain
but our fingering it
with oils, rough
with need for texture, need
ling so and rough in turn
prattling familiarity, as much
precaution to sit as it takes a guest

a calving or buckle of limb
the length of spirit
the French and not the inner


"...that which disposes is ultimately the artist's temperament..."

drawer the mover
and that'll be
the day's movement

the hung hours
dried as on a tarp
relieved, as left bound by pores,
of moisture

I cannot and so never will
direct that anything move beyond itself

the sweat moves beyond
flung as from a tarp
I am the tarp.


"...At least you aren't lulled into a sense of false security by some merely human, merely fabricated order: You have to rely on your immediate perception of the ultimate order."

And isn't this my reading
and that the window.

the shock -- which is at, re
coiling, defiance -- of ignorance

a French window is walked through.
what greater absurdity to deepen Blake's pun
and admit Aldous to the garden.

Eden was of ignorance
we forget, happily.

I inhale ash dust
from an 'urban forestry'.


"...'If you started in the wrong way...everything that happened would be a proof of the conspiracy against you. It would all be self-validating. You couldn't draw a breath without knowing it was part of the plot."

so, you think you know where madness lies.
the distraction, constantly, of truth.

placed, positioned
as in nobler grass
cleared of all angles, grass
then from all sides of womb

the foot is for kicking but
I use it to touch, tread
this lie.

I wind.
a snake's writhing's better shape.


"...the excessive, the too obvious glory of the flowers, as contrasted with the subtler miracle of their foliage."

I feel form knead backs -- which are the ins -- of knees
I come with to've been with, conform to what's rickety
I follow the intent of weight: to settle.

risk fracture.

absolution disorder like a wreck
recover to again cover, lay laurels, trim off iris to note
better the born notes in the garden
what's come formed
there, already

a boy of superlatives
resting delphinium toward his chest swollen
like a fig

woods rotting a boot out, a frog in
before some higher passerine scat

a pebble would fling
were the top laces taken to tie

"'[The Buddhas'] intention is both totality and differentiation.'"
the thing carried out
the fruit

you need to be told the end
if you need fruit

to want fruit

like a boulevard and return


"...view succeeding distant view...So far as I was concerned, transfiguration was proportional to distance. The nearer, the more divinely other. This vast, dim panorama was hardly different from itself."

transfigurative muting
the composition roof
left to be covered with

to look out, to blind and draw,
give me an ear
give me a means
don't tell me grass
in it

the shouts plenty loud
but muted in their abstraction, the call
of what's distant
no shape of being
I don't trudge and keep


"...a retreat from the outward Datum into the personal subconscious, into a mental world more squalid and more tightly closed than even the world of conscious personality."

why don't you come
get me

because I have all I need

I hear a noise
convinced of its purposelessness

I am alive at morning.


"...'the gravity of Nature and her silence startle you, when you stand face to face with her, undistracted, before a barren ridge or in the desolation of the ancient hills.' - Goethe"

ipsissima verba
likely to harm a friend
an ecclesiastes of harm from what's vainly inspired
but good art.

There is no such art.

give me an ear.
kill the angels.
they drown, loud and useless
at a distance of itself

the state, rather
than to state
the more unsystematic
the more in spite of skin
the more fucking by the ruin edge
on a camera

we have always been
where we ought to be.

I am dipped where the scabiosa
dipped earlier so suggested I submit

I am ruin
I am submission
the perfection of indigo
of that distance.

Huxley Series 2

"...the beneficiary inasmuch as language gives access to the accumulated records of other people's experience, the victim in so far as it confirms him in the belief that reduced awareness is the only awareness and as it bedevils his sense of reality, so that he is all too apt to take his concepts for data, his words for actual things."

in consecration
and rage
be consecrated, feed
ceremony in, hurtful contour of June re
cess more fussy for the working of it out
of the body system
laid, gotten there, in a wider grass

a wider grass, leveled, than its form
a longer grass

the size of mind that thought, "if
grass then from all sides of womb"
half-sphere of arm movement
on the back

a lion quietist, its sens


"...temporary by-passes [of the "reducing-valve"] may be acquired spontaneously..."

of a satelitic momentum
on leave
land to say shall we

if the door is dirty
it sounds

if the window
it sounds in pain

and height.


"...the inexhaustible theme of crumpled wool or linen..."

little help to moisture

a paint chip

what house is more beautiful
to observe storms in

and beside it
to observe flaking paint
like hands
out cupping rain


"...This participation in the manifest glory of things left no room, so to speak, for the ordinary, the necessaryconcerns of human existence, above all for concerns involving other was this aspect of human life which I wished, above all else, to forget...[the world] of self-assertion, of cocksureness, of over-valued words, and idolatrously worshipped notions."

others've said more
're less unspoken a constitution
than is thought out

is thought abruptly
and -- unbecoming of a thought --
without pain

given the pain
of ascension

given away what's left
of dispossesion


"...the doors of Vermeer's perception were only partially cleansed. A single panel had become almost perfectly transparent; the rest of the door was still muddy.../ The one-sided contemplative leaves undone many things that he ought to do..."

ought to pass
an eye and mouth
one the other
the better to see, the better in

a cool moment in heat
electricity that's deprivation of one
from the other, to later collide

the movement that's indecision still,
un-still, were the sinistral fault ways
of perception calmed

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Huxley Series 1


"Neither agreeable nor just is."

it's the pain wakes
and the hack through next rooms

scrotum and soap
picked up, pick of dextral cover edge
down on or along the thigh with, along
or down on with both hands

don't triangulate the image
with sun yet


"The great change was in the realm of objecvtive fact. What had happened to my subjective universe was relatively unimportant."

an ergot
or to be extracted so

does it ask, where,
of me that it be near
the mind not the spread of itself
but what spread is out

to match pitch
sick, or in dream, matching
sums pocketed or sound
of clean urine, grass handled, the
feed of handled grasses
quivering under the charge
of their meaning in hand
a campus fixed, everyone a guide
to the very same, to
the campus of grass


"...a breathing without returns to a starting-point, with no recurrent ebbs but only a repeated flow from beauty to heightened beauty..."

there, the floor to tread
as evident

a patch
for the arm to tread, swinging,

elbow and branch common joints
for rustlings against, the later thrill
of rustling

it is cold
enough for a coat, it is
worth walking, patched up

to see


" was anything that I -- or rather the blessed Not-I released for a moment from my throttling embrace -- cared to look at. The books, for example..."

the tubular, rollicking, heel to shoulder callous
of form; bent, so
bend, bent gotten over on, rolling, shoulders
let the bulbage rear
two soaped haunches screening oil, spread
quickening project leakage
into spurts, that
let own rhythmic leave

if eliminative, the product
of shear rashed but shorn still reprieve, ecstatic
largely useless

it's neither to be let or left form
to've taken, full, still only in so much
rumpled antirrhinum as mashed-shut nostrils,
be a depiction entered, awaiting leave
and fold, fold a crude depiction itself
of waiting compartment.
to hear sneezes from.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011


for Justin

1 men

a crack
 to let the river fill

 from behind, a fire log
 picked up by the faster hiking friend
 discarded from the condos in courtyards

thrown at    thrown at me, back
                  throttles me up from bed
                  there is a pain

 my chest – were the log formed
 where the hit fit in, a pec
 toral spread – would be broken

2 men

where, assuming the sheath
that, assuming you're a woman,
you set up and your husband sets into

assuming you are married

does the enclosure of the bed
and the room
and the hall, should there be a door
to the room

quit its irreligious calm
and become something necessary

Saturday, May 14, 2011


a place aurally locatable by train
self smelled, the skin, the skin bored of the outer off
to smell the under, went to the katana and took my sock off

a year-idle hit
's not ours to be part of
the breeze is good
want to be assumed
by matter

I never do that and I should
these are the fans
dell says

to be assumed
by formed matter
things my lungs, like thermals,
took up, causes

all injury
magic mountain
the illness of time

in no such many
the forms at what distance
determinant tide
relief, as no such many

wears down
for, with
what grass
's relief at woodpecking

the profanity of the trauma
in the equality of the forum
madly stressed

smear some crabgrass on a wet trunk
to smell of gutted fish
the skin off

to stay til dark
to know the activity of the light let go
what when I lay me down
's done is uproot

can't tell you oak
nine's wooden light
is to uproot

Thursday, May 12, 2011


a man says "Edison" at me
that he, like Edison, go on back

from 750 ml, to the government
warning lip, poured out

"kiss" less touch, contact,
than gradation of pressure

hold a banana
and put the wine bottle
on the redder of two chairs

I watch girls
sometimes they are children