Monthly Archives: August 2009

Building a duckbill

sail the dark out of it first.

I’ve been driving and visiting relatives and getting used to the idea of Virginia. And I’ve got to try and break myself of the opacity habit. More clean lines and starker figures to be drawn. It used to be that a person could have ideas and get them straight and set them down and I could be that person. But somewhere along the way all my wires got meshed up and the signs took themselves down off the wall without me knowing and every conversation I entered could turn into a political trap.

I want to have the properties of a hybrid animal and not feel bad about the fact that chimps have more highly evolved genetic material than men do. Yesterday, in a friend’s kitchen, I had a discussion about the types of animals men should be scared of and a week before this I’d seen a hippopotamus climb out of a pool of murky water and step into its full shape on some concrete steps at the national zoo. These are creatures we should have no business with. I would not want to set up a lemonade stand with a hippo. My friend said that he thought there should be a face-off between a man and a chimp (sorry for the delayed and tasteless joke here–for both the chimp and the woman whose face got taken off) and how since the incident with the woman who’d gotten attacked, he gets angry whenever he sees chimps on TV or at the zoo. He said that he should be the one to square up against a chimp, that he was sure he could take it out.

There are lots of places that this could go from here but I’m tired so I’ll quit for now. This may well continue tomorrow. G’night.

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Thinking spaces

Just as things come into frame, they jut out and leave. I tried to post something that was staggered but the spacing didn’t hold so I cut it.

It’s swelter here. Hear the heat as it goes up, up and other letters get delivered where they go.

You will join us, yes? You will take off your coat and stay a while? Let me show you the door?

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2 a days

So in football this would be the time to swear and sweat and try not to lose too much water weight and spint the shins up, halve the oranges, cut the lights in the gym.

Words words words words
Oh, Baxter! We almost died in a taxi in Amsterdam and our drawers remained relatively unsoiled!

(That last bit was from a little black book.)

Tomorrow we go to the storage facility. Roam the air conditioned cement walkways and roll up doors. I’ve got to get better hobbies than sweating.

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53, 7

And so I screamed again.

My mother grabbed it out of my hands…something for the body, keepsaking

employment on any basis

63 men had passed through the room that night.

bare and sentient, a wall has little to do with what goes on round it and if you’re fixing to think about running for office all the calendars will swim before you spitting off your hourly commitments. Spare the goods, wistful in this heat.

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Base and Fears

Back to the state, a curriculum of beaches, not the grass waving high and pale as weather swings in.

You’ll lick the new stamps, place a triangle of glass on your head and wait for an assignment. This is the life of a spy.
Toward daybreak and/or rifle-cracks, we edit our bodies’ shape. Inkblot and formulae.
(Two wards the brick hand your idle, slack weed it hour Bodhisattva aping glots and form you lay.)
Pronounce the last word with a shrug and watch the person standing with his jaket folded over his arm at the crossing post.

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