what pulls the tall thin girl's white towel
closer to her teak tent-pole legs, three
delicately bent, lean firecrackers and
a curious quarter-stick of dynamite
fixed toward the ocean, so many
seem over-prepared, hesitant like
gulls idling on an island of wet rock
white wind a steady beating, just starved
kept from instinct's kiss, though the peddlers
the combers, the oogler's eyes, the uninitiated
family men, the habitual nappers, each shovels
a new hole where no new holes could imagine
their digging;
three lean firecrackers and
a quarter-stick of dynamite.
27 July 2010
18 July 2010
George Plimpton Headache (Revision 071820101722)
I am sure I will die young
...hammerbang
......hammerbash
.........hammCrack
What cruel carpenter fucks near the reclined
And I know, George Plimpton finger-taps a cotton knee
In the packed back seat of a Silver Cloud
Though, having read through the obituaries I prefer
Philip's pounding contrast, its striation
My dreams puncture film
Insecurities of proof regarding
Petty, pretty well-dressed bourgeois
Busy bosses promptly impress, remain soigné
And sew with their feet. But the ending's neat: motion
Flickers a painted on Ka-Poe!, colors Bang!
Fall off the screen, the Rolls' door Bang! sheds snow
The black matte inverts, awake
.........hammercrack
......hammerbash
...hammBang!
I am content to die so young.
...hammerbang
......hammerbash
.........hammCrack
What cruel carpenter fucks near the reclined
And I know, George Plimpton finger-taps a cotton knee
In the packed back seat of a Silver Cloud
Though, having read through the obituaries I prefer
Philip's pounding contrast, its striation
My dreams puncture film
Insecurities of proof regarding
Petty, pretty well-dressed bourgeois
Busy bosses promptly impress, remain soigné
And sew with their feet. But the ending's neat: motion
Flickers a painted on Ka-Poe!, colors Bang!
Fall off the screen, the Rolls' door Bang! sheds snow
The black matte inverts, awake
.........hammercrack
......hammerbash
...hammBang!
I am content to die so young.
11 July 2010
03 July 2010
pop song > painting
improperly framed
the transparent glass pane
brushes against its own infertility
the director's proclivity for
carnassial misdirection
into the soft sand
the director writes the word
"SOUNDTRACK"
black shot
fingers sever
black shot
whispers, twice from her
once from her consort, leading
her hands cross.
she is not guarded.
she hides nothing.
you must listen
the director is pleased
tells her, "There is nothing
that needs to change."
the transparent glass pane
brushes against its own infertility
the director's proclivity for
carnassial misdirection
into the soft sand
beneath Pfeiffer Beach
with a waterworn wandthe director writes the word
"SOUNDTRACK"
black shot
fingers sever
black shot
whispers, twice from her
once from her consort, leading
her hands cross.
she is not guarded.
she hides nothing.
you must listen
the director is pleased
tells her, "There is nothing
that needs to change."
01 July 2010
the real wet pussy
I saw you last night
past the panning red light.
Technology has advanced
beyond the declining limits
of one woman's humble, earnest
potential.
Relax.
I did not set a trap
in which a lady
gets caught, merely
a fireworks extravaganza
to draw your attention
to the steady panning red light.
Did you see it?
past the panning red light.
Technology has advanced
beyond the declining limits
of one woman's humble, earnest
potential.
Relax.
I did not set a trap
in which a lady
gets caught, merely
a fireworks extravaganza
to draw your attention
to the steady panning red light.
Did you see it?
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