Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Stalks
Stalks of corn blow in the wind.
I run through you, cutting
my naked arms,
bare legs
on your leaves.
The sun like
warm bread
wraps around me.
My smile spreads
the pale blue sky.
Freedom runs through me.
I am part of the land.
I stop before
a totem:
a corn stalk laced with ice,
silent, unmoved,
too angry for the wind to touch.
I melt a moment
and tears spring like so much grass
after the snow thaws.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
broken color
world finds nothing smart
swim the ether
cords tangle until knots
like tarnished tiger lilies,
their dusty faces
remembrances or translations
of orange-ginger grain;
their texture pushes
against the slate
words slide into some
dirty water, disintegrate
into wholeness again.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
The Weather Inside
The weather looks inside,
wears down my body
inches and inches, pounds and pounds.
I find a belly in the mouth of each beast I meet.
The scent of daffodils and fire
rests on my tongue.
They would never dance for me,
Not in this ecstatic moment of pressure,
Building into witness.
I am a structure
bleeding and breathing arches,
in tune with steel and concrete.
I bless your mouth, impress horns and tails
onto your body like ancient wings.
This is what we find: struggle and more of the same.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Fall
The sound of the rake against
the pavement moves me to the window.
I examine the crooked bones,
follow them down
to forgotten flesh, which builds below.
The remaining flesh slowly forgets how to ache,
what colors are, how to access memory.
I’m attending a memorial service –
bags line our streets like lies
to be taken away by familiar strangers. I could make a song out of you.
We decompose; sentences disintegrate into silent earth, fall under snow –
oceans we find inside ourselves daily
wash away; too much of a tide pulls
the curtain across inside-eyes.
We no longer see in speech
the way we had conceived.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Discoveries
Body is not like paper, tape, a vegetable or protein.
Body is not against body. Body does not want body to slip.
Mouth is not part of body? Mouth sweeps body out from under itself, like brain.
Brain removes self from body by defamiliarization and or deconstruction or and destabilization and or disassociation and or depersonalization.
Wholeness implies fragmentation.
Splits become inevitable when brain-body parts are seamed together in the fragmented moment.
When goatskin is used to patch up body parts, they get especially brainy and subject to fragmentation.
Roadkill body rediscovers and must reinvent and bind body. Body feels used, scraped, and betrayed by brain for brain said body was in a safe place.
When goatskin covers body’s eyes, the smell of fresh rosemary will wake brain from illusion. Memory must be reenvisioned.
Dirt past is made of sticks, dirt, moss, stones, decongesting body, decomposing body, decompressing body. To dig through dirt past and present will tire brain/body.
Digging through dirt past and present hardens body, polishes brain.
Brain/body communicates brilliantly, shines like a spotlight, illuminating parts of brain/body that fell through fissures.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Become draft
I took a wolf spider in for my own,
named it and watched it grow,
as I used to watch caterpillars;
I wished to behold metamorphosis.
I would adore each furry individual in one form
climbing up netted walls or my finger, in another
still as the twig it rested its naked body from, and finally,
as it emerged, abandoning the chrysalis,
just another grave. I longed for that state
as a child, to hibernate and then become.
I waited in my eggshell
and ate bones, attempting to harden.
Bones turned to rusty steel and my eyes
fell into the bank of the river searching
for a relevant undertow.
Was it a mistake? Crawling into the graves
might have been easier, more restful
I could've found the dirt blanket,
tucked myself in like the earth
I knew I was.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
I Am A Dusty Shadow Swallowed
by the earth. I roll in dirt,
delight in the twigs I catch;
wisps and wisps remember me.
The whole is undone, window
without a frame or connection humming
every naked note sweetly—
I remember the song that was sung openly.
I smell the fire of measures and scream
for panic, pleasure and return home,
unfamiliar, a stranger to my body.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Tiptoe experiment #1
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Post-Digital Experiment: Linear Typos Quiz
If you take quiz, please respond with the results: what Personality Type or Linear Typos you are! Thank you.

