
Even when
refurbished
to incorporate
beautiful en-
suites or worn
with denim
for a smart
casual style
property derived
from things from
nature is a step
back in time.
an on-going series of poems inspired by the great Belgian painter

Economics is boring. So
too are all those Star
Wars toys when / they're
kept in the box. & boring
is why even the live
bad man black dog bite
mix of Henry Kissinger
as he mounts his return
to Hollywood is now
available in French for
free. How else to explain
the media visibility of
Chaos theory with its
streaming versions of old
cell phones being tossed
into the trash? Beauty is
uncovered in the most
surprising of subjects—
the discovery of a new
food, a detailed snap-shot
of online teen behavior—
but the duende is too fragile
to survive by scraping algae
from the rocks upon which
they live. The pressure to
perform prevents proteins
from being made. Every
poem is the story of itself.

Begin by dismantling the self. Taking things apart is fascinating. A first pivotal step is the right hemisphere of the brain; is tagged with Hamlet, madness, melancholy; includes coral, jelly fish, anemones. The colors of the actual products will look slightly different in reproduction. A character map is free on all Windows machines.

Unlike, say, the Gaelic
for kiss my ass, most
Declarations of In-
dependence are top-
heavy with awkward
or extremely dated
references. Some-
times they present
as an organic synthe-
sizer, a Granny Smith
apple perhaps, with a
sound set restricted
to industrial use
because of extremely
mixed reviews. At
other times as an
holistic framework
that purports to look
at all aspects of life
as spiritual practice
but then recommends
the confining of women
to the home & the use
of tanks to shell densely
populated areas. Colon-
ialism is a patriarchal
system. The methods
devour themselves.

Sometimes she con-
fuses words that
sound alike. Such as.
Violets & violence.
So. She thinks the
soldiers are off
picking flowers.
Have brought some
to her. She goes
out walking to show
them off. Back to
the sea. Dressed
for. All in white.
Morning. Her face the
color of violence. Some-
times she confuses
words. Not always.
Life is a parasol.

Pick a point in time
& stick a pin in it.
Attach a piece of string,
50 or 100 years long.
An area defined, ob-
long in a circle's arc.
Three sides with forest
lining them. A low
block wall across the
other. In front of which
a faceless avatar being
stared at by a windowless
mansion. Grass underfoot.
A plaster ceiling overhead.
Deadening the acoustics. A
silent century. How grand.

They're keywords. That much he recognizes even if he doesn't recognize the discipline that they come from. "The labels could mean any- thing," he thinks. Which means. He carries one himself. Or two. He doesn't think. Which means. He isn't. He appears. Walking towards one of two horizons. Which means. They may not be.