Sunday, October 23, 2016

#329 The Evening Gown

I am going through a lean
period. Words do not
make sense or hang
together the way they
should. At night I watch

the stars. They should be
easy to describe. A single
word, a simple phrase.
Instead they are all the
same even though I give

them separate names.
Thousands die by day.
They all have the same
name. Famine & firefights
in countries that were once

romantic, that poets passed
through on their way to
somewhere else. I read a-
bout them even though the
words do not make sense,

run together in a way they
should never do. Stars
do not come out. I give
the spaces separate names.
They are all anonymous.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

#328 Prince Charming


This piece is / a note on this piece.

She found it unicorned inside the
hiding-place of those animals
that did not make it onto the Ark.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

#327 Reflections of Time


Emerged from
a spell of writing A
to the Q of an
email interview.
One unexpected
outcome was a

change in the type-
face I'd been using.
Used to be Verdana—
now it's Palatino
Linotype. If you
can't give your

words historical
importance then
the least you can
do is to make
them look a little
more attractive.





Thursday, October 13, 2016

#326 Une panique au moyen âge


               for Kirsten Kaschock




     Exuberance 
     is in an eye 

               much more be-
               holden to the

          magic of the 
          moment than 

                    to the pattern 
                    of the dance.

Sunday, October 09, 2016

#325 The Life of Insects




Not some-
thing she really
cared about;
but global warming
was drying
up all the
hotpools, & this
was the only
one left, the last
chance to
immerse herself
in a lifestyle
she had always
been frightened of
but wanted to
try before
it died.

Thursday, October 06, 2016

#324 La Page Blanche (2)



Centrifugal
in that it has
a center &
words fly
in all directions.







During &
after. There is
no such thing
as a blank page.


Gravitational
in that the
words are drawn
towards the center
as they cohere.



Monday, October 03, 2016

#323 La Fin du Monde


                                  He followed the travel 
                 guide carefully, replacing the
                                     listed sites of interest with
                        the actual objects when he
                                          found them. Houses that 
              had a history, a row of shops, 
                           fountains, parks, the plaza 
                              with its famous wall of shame. 
                   Once he had the scene he could 
                                  fill it with inhabitants, just as
            the book did when it decorated 
                               cathedral ceilings or described
                     the inside of a hall. Otherwise
                                   façades, or acts of stagecraft.
                         Walls that flickered into being
                 as he approached & hid what-
                                         ever lay behind. He saw the
                               railway station & walked to-
                        wards it. Climbed up the steps
                                      to find it was the concourse 
                   where the world came to an end. 

Saturday, October 01, 2016

#322 Heartstring



I look at this
& immediately
think: my cup
runneth over
. &
then I think: with

clouds? Things
with little sub-
stance to them
except in stormy
weather
? I look

at this again &
think that the
painting is no-
thing more than
a (center)piece

of flimsical whim-
whammery, a
sorbet glass
posed in a post-
card pastoral

setting that is just
too picture-per-
fect. I look at this
again & think: this
makes me think
.