1.
each place is a trail, a change
an existence that is named
looking closely changes a place
out of context, within another context
2.
I work out of what is around me - ground, voice, thinking
these words - from my surroundings, my days
then find their way in disparate sentences
weather reports slipped with news headlines
or arcane paragraphs, they are letters from the past
a few minutes, days, months, many years
sometimes stacked, decks of an ocean liner
sometimes as scraps or hoardings
once they were approaches, ways of introduction
now less familiar - hints, glances, ricochets
or little dances with verbs
3.
I've collected my bodies as they sleep
all of them given to a little man
and he will presume to speak
because I am not
… a goddess? …
his horn indignant, the passages simmer
I stoke the hot walls
everybody knows better than me
Hope is the violin they play at my death rout
but I’m still clicking
and this body that ...
Keep moving!
4.
... negative sublime
... rhapsodic quotidian
... no originary meaning
5.
Indifference as a strategy.
6.
The subject of every conversation
planet-wise birds further travel
planes dash moments
sleepers pass into other zones
cargo leaves us here for water
the original message loss
7.
Each moment must be doubted.
It must be doubted by being kept open.
The poem won’t finish.
*
I can't answer these questions.
There are always gaps.
8.
I've been thinking about
the way lines fall
intensity/ concentration
looseness / with space
what happens to/with the breath
the way mind changes
9.
Don't wanna be a factoid!
I need a new window.
10.
making things with words
the difficulties and dangers in doing any such thing
11.
I love the particulars
taken as ordinary
it seems to me
what world is made of
rain as sticky or shivery
cold beaten fine
each day walks
or salt crust
tasted on the rock
the grit I get down to
12.
expecting openings and closures to be heralded
a woosh, an electronic handle
drug with a dangerous name
grievous monkey out of control
treasures do the talking
they report the crime
trespass and knowledge
13.
I feel like hiding this week. Quietly.
Why is there no quiet?
OK, given there is no quiet, I'm hiding behind my Grado SR-60s.
Rather my noise, if it must.
Last night listened to Bill Evans, Waltz for Debby .
That was what I needed.
Tonight, Freeform's Audiotourism. Vietnam and China remix album.
I read somewhere it's a good album to listen to with headphones.
They were right.
Preparing for holiday is wearing.
The world is full of stuff, full of forms, and the drag of technology.
I couldn't get time off for a funeral today.
I have no time, only noise.
Hiding in the bass tonight, and the ambient noise of China and Vietnam.
14.
T. Bone Walker singing 'Stormy Monday'.
How cool is that.
'Lord have mercy! Crazy 'bout my baby.'
And Little Willie John singing 'Fever'.
I don't have the blues, but the blues just is.
A sunny day, still no rain.
‘I Can't Quit you, Baby'.
15.
I'm listening up after a big wide week
"free your mind and your ass will follow,
the kingdom of heaven is within"
Funkadelic
Or is it the other way around - free your ass
and your mind will follow?
I still haven't decided.
Where is within?
Where should I be looking?
"I'm so confused about the whole thing."
16.
playing literal with the image
Unexpected rain last night. Just the merest of drops on my face before and after visiting Annette in hospital. All kinds of tasks ahead of me over the next few days. All I can do is muddle through like a human. Woke up this morning, which makes it sound like a song, woke up early, unlike me and out to the kitchen. Yes, there has been real rain, and the bricks were gleaming, that fresh smell on the ground and garden.
Morning
drops blossom
wet black boughs
17.
sunny, but …
dark days
18.
The evening is green cool.
Now for the time of sport
in the blue light of television.
Now for the dark heat of cooking
and night's yellow light.
Still no time for reading in between
the necessities.
Catching at music and newsprint.
19.
variables
rain, we of resistance
make slip and whisper
heat green
metal separates a hidden
heavyweight windows
fluctuate
exterior cloud valence
20.
how do we know these things?
We don't.
We walk.
We don't.
The skin, lichens.
Dust in the mouth.
21.
The production of doubt.
22.
Ach, the poets are all insane, we’ve had a gutful
Of piddling excuses about how the cat
Swallowed the form delivered with as much éclat
As some ancient rhymer trying to pull the wool
Over the pentameter, or some doomy wastrel
Murmuring by the hour in the internet hells
...
23.
a day
I have had nothing interesting to say for months, which is why I've been hidden away.
The train this morning made an alarming clunk coming into Central.
I am supposed to go shopping tonight and have rid myself of a heavy a load to carry.
... I am suspecting that Mark Young is getting all my mail and I'm getting someone else's bills, with my name on them.
... they say I may just look up again, in an instant, and it's all down the dizzy way again.
I have enough difficulty with keeping track in the world so I don't have the need to wear machines in my ear.
The crows seem to have gone from the street, we have the magpies back and the little birds.
I was standing next to an airconditioning vent yesterday ... and it was making a wonderful thick swirly off-rhythm, and I wished I had a recorder to get it down.
... I wish people would stop hosing their own personal concrete.
The air is thick with winter sunshine hanging off fume.
24.
... there is more than one surface
25.
issues with 'issues'
what really matters ... doesn't