There are no simple words.
Is there simple love, shy love?
Is there narcissism?
Is there weakness in my forearms, shaking, thunder?
Brilliance, decisions, suffering.
Category Archives: fragment
What is the margin?
Who is the crap, who can adapt?
Where is the freegan who is the veegan who is a vegetable.
Zucchini and pumpkin flower omelette.
Pretty sure____
The hand crawls. Skin crawls.
Standards that we fail to live up to.
july 20, 2007
Fear of start.
Just wait ’til August. How is everyone today. We’ve gone from Have a nice day to Have a great day and these baristas call you “Miss.”
Line up all my relatives. Kristin in a dream – whose voice is that? High and girlish on the phone mail. Who <u>is</u> that?
Sam said Landfish. Mary Ann spelunking.
My disciplined classmates. My oversight. My limited perspective.
july 16, 2007
Emmy’s birthday uncertainty. Overwhelmed this morning. Poetry oozes pus.
july 14, 2007
Washed up on the shore of paper.
Fabric rent. I want a shibori jacket.
Winy. Surrounded. No uppekha.
Mudita, Karuna, Metta,
the Heavenly Abodes.
Some remarks on poetry. Some purity. Some pain. Some stretching.
She went to sleep and never got up.
There is some appeal in books.
Thank God I never.
Retreat. Let’s go on retreat.
Let’s visit the jungle.
Let’s get information on the situation.
Sigh. Pushing into unknown territories.
Sip of latté. Sip of capability. Sip of Venice. Second marriage. Didn’t work out well.
Lost my faith. Lost energy, lost lore, lost love. I am skeptical.
Poem: all the old-time ladies’ names gathered in one place old-timey timey.
Pillow Book, I want it.
Secrets in the teeny tiny.
I won’t allow the conflicts of the day into my prose. All illusion all the time.
It’s unusual to have a mustache.
Override non sequitur.
I’m going home soom. I’m used to haze and clouds, I find them comforting.
june 8, 2007
Stopping. moment. moment. moment. need a punctuation mark like “bullet,” period raised, superscript,
Express, maybe anorexia is more interesting. More interesting than hair styles.
Jim. Sam. Bob. Bill. What will they do?
Apple powered and a candlelight. Photos in the Times.
Computer science, computer necromancy, data alchemy, a shifting science, a business logic, a failure.
It was after her remarks.
It was on account of his smirking.
It was on account of being steady state.
I make afternoons. It was way past afternoon.
I have a hard time
it’s a means of self expression
after all there is no work
or is there only work
I don’t know my bowels need moving
I am obscured by my files
the most salient invisible
what of it
this is after all
this is whatsoever
this is misbegotten
not story story story story
what about the world
this planet doesn’t want us after all
oh am I still and forever hunting there is no whatsoever
Soil resting in the sun, plants are busy. Plants don’t need a path and nor do animals.
Abridged luxury. And I am NOT online.
Her friend Rafael. I don’t have a dog, there are no stories of him anymore.
Attention. Quality of attention. Lies to recreate to reinforce the hard rind around myself.
Barbecue all day Saturday we will be mowing the lawn.
Unwieldy Characters. Awesome characters that I will try to separate. An effort.
Dreams of misbehavior in the presentation. Dreams of sexual arousal. Dreams of dreams. Dreams of washing, dishwashing a large green rubbery container, unwieldy in the soapsuds.
may 31, 2007
Timesheet. Front Porch. Armchair evaluation. Interim Patience.
It is nice to jettison almost all these things. Full garbage cans and full recycling. Being present, remembering myself and my stomach full of gel and wanting to be somewhere else not here not in the parking lot.
What about a CSP reunion? I am undecided, in a murky turmoil.
Shock of Ron Ferguson’s reference to Gail Godwin’s novel what it was. About coalescing, coming together and apart, Monrad and Rob in trouble, what about Joe, what about Warren?
I want the jewels. The fiery heart of jewels. Topaz, citrine, aquamarine. I want to investigate the heart of the ruby emerald sapphire. Wisdom, compassion, purity. Okay. Something higher than a mountain.
I’m not sure what time it is. The anxiety of the future has me in its grip.
What else would one do, where else would one go? I am dismayed.
Well, this is a form of discovery. A forum. A process. Why do I make comparisons. She is struggling. She is struggling with the form. It is daunting. But what else is there?
Where are we going with it, what is the next step? The next next next step. The first step already taken. Words left out.
Make a sign of the singing telephone the whining plane the oozing telegraph the miserable surrealist stuck in his nonfunctional parlor dreaming of Guadalajara. Was it parody?
Grass on my sleeve
Gaze the hard g followed by the hissing z
Or gauze or geshe or
the thrashing doves The sign of
why don’t we all go home to the drowned home with the backdrop of garbage the white elite the bored the this the that
Mercy
may 28, 2007
Halting pages. Tumbling trembling. The -ing captures things as happening things. Alliteration. aligned with Dogen avoiding capitalization language forming sentences no declarative I declare, no comment Alleluia Amen this is how I end it
Oh that is it and tonight the Dinner Party a casual affair.
Flooded with resistance like a blinding light.
None of this material was ever here.
None of these objects can be licked.
None of this writing can be read.
None of this talking can be heard.
Wishing for a voice.
Wishing for a voice.
Dreaming of comfort, dreaming of collapse.
No dreams, not at this time, no.
I thought I saw one of the many Scotts twenty years later,
twenty years ago.
Children wearing gray and brown. Wishing for grey gardens.
may 25, 2007
Undo, undo, undo. Redo, redo. The present always seeming trendy, up-to-date. My jaw, my gland, my stars. My capability.
I am resting.
I demand the freedom to misuse punctuation. The further
I go, the more perfect I get. Microsoft Word a continuing hindrance.
Desire composes. Composing, composing. Greed, hatred, and delusion. Putting away desire and grief for the world. Burdens. Putting away the burdens. Freedom is tranquility but composing is not. Composing is agitation, discharge of mental electricity. Composing, composing. She is a random fragment.
may 23, 2007 Wednesday 8 am Starbucks
Stealing time. Stealing it and hiding it in a perfect hiding place. Buried in a perfect dirt hole. Tell you how I miss, tell you how I miss my objects, tell you how I miss my dirty objects. This is like a gaping rawness in my heart. This is like a virgining of the flowers. This is like rotting. Don’t want that habit. Objecting to the purity.
I will ask why. Ask the hard questions. Adapt.
Not even in personal writing do I feel comfortable with the imperative.
Some things I don’t have room for. Titles. Organizational structures. Some things I have a talent for. Some men are women, some women are men. I have my own clients now. I’m managing the project. This is my practice. Practice management system. What is manageable, what is unmanageable. What is your sentence? Linda saying. Job interview. I will ask you a hard question. Your job is to ask the hard questions. Change management. This and that. When are we on the same page.
Com mun i ca tion
Se man tics
It’s not just semantics. I will blurt. I will micromanage. I will be an addict. I will repeat the question. I will get the job done. Please.
Silences. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t tell anyone. Blossoming of lies like bindweed. This one doesn’t trust hate like a fool.
may 14, 2007
Lost luxuries—lost luxuries of isolation, roaming, leaving home. All the diligence, the discipline it takes, the spending and the strengthening. Part of that muscle just wants to collapse. Oh wait, that’s not the muscle, that’s the mind. What is the ethical muscle?
Honors. No one knows. Sheer beauty of the uneditable. Sheer beauty of the secret. Sheer mudra, sheer blankets, shearling. The objection, the object model, the white suit.
She is guilty. Turn the corner, there’s an ice tea, there’s a way-too-good time, there’s a summer, there’s an ice cube. I am disestablishmentarianism, I object the mailman.
Anonymous harping. The effort to situate ourself I mean herself outsides the bounds, the grounds. Here I am—a Deity! a Diety of the Powerpoint! Someone rolls on the floor laughing —
Andalusia. Spells. Smells. Coffee bean.
I forgot I was a poet
with this sun thing I embraced
there is an eager energy there
sun energy—she lets it play
she delights in the sun
a form of ecstasy
but dangerous
Joanne Kyger Joanne Kyger Joanne Kyger just an image
I don’t want to be involved—I’m on the plane with you, I’m in the air, I’m living in the braided strands of synapses and emotions in your body—this is oppression—this is not freedom oh Pandavas
something that I can’t resolve with mind
she clings to analysis—my savior
she clings to—something? harmony
she’s wondering about her clothes
may 5, 2007
Trepidation starting to write—iron chains, bit in my mouth, torture devices all around my head—
wind blows fluff past these windows
struggle
it seems ceaseless
I will work with Inna. She is from the Ukraine and she has definite opinions. Sigh—I am—sigh—repulsed.
Morning waves of aversion rise like nausea where am I, what am I doing.
Misconceptions. A tension from upper back through neck and into head.
A sick daring causing stomachache
a slight—what sort of slight
naming what is “hard” obscuring what is “soft” or “easy”
Some problem with the order—where are the 30—were there 30 or not?
honking, rapid, repetitive
see ya later and I got the door
salad for here
sometimes best to disappear
Girls as big as horses, reminiscent hooves of shoes, long hair like manes sleek with exercise.
What business are you in?
Every movement seems audacious. Basic rule: to think, to work, invent.
Dave and Heidi. Julie and her baby.
Conestoga.
Mental flexibility is so important.
Just to let you know.
issues with travel come up when other people are doing it
the day your son gets a passport
the day a friend misinterprets
the horsey women leave and so do the foxy women and the blondes
Stone woman, take it back. TAKE IT BACK! Zip—and nothingness; or emptiness and that is that. Alternatively peace.
and animals at all four corners and canopies of birds. Need Need Need Need Crochet a cap of need, I’ll make it up to you.
Yes, the lies of training, the absolute corruption of conspiracy, my sons—they stabbed me in the heart and left, reverse Samaritans, walking on their own and I am alone and without sustenance. I miss my drive. I bought some pants and patience.
Consumed, I am consumed. The self—to disintegrate it.
I believe in an-atta and here I sit consumed.
The words the words the words the magazines. Shopping at Goodwill immersed in a fabric well waiting for the dingdong bell that makes me finished and the mothers buying clothing for their kids. A load of sweetness.
Courage fails me, flies off like a flock. Set aside this jitteriness in jars. To have no adventure—it’s having no adventure, isn’t it?
april 30, 2007
Stone woman took birth back. Stone woman got surrounded got compelled and crushed stonecrushed crushed crushed stone.
Play with the baby. The gratitude, the relaxation of no baby. The brutality of babies here at home. And how will they travel? And how do they know when to come home? And when to fold their little wings and settle down and when to roam? And what day must it be for questions to make arbitrary sense? And what day must it be to clear the question buildup, do some dusting, and serve sandwiches?
A soft, soft inversion, a simple comfortable balanced inversion. Spent no time at table. Practice scooping, scooping into singing veins, the hard attack. The tremolo. The tremulo. My dad, his hand under the baby’s chin, familiar escapade.
Simple. Simple. Simple. Sometimes your writing is so simple, you can’t do it, you’re stuck below the rungs of simple with your monkey-loving hands, reaching, reaching, fingerly grasping.
april 29, 2007
limited expression limited by cloudiness and long fatigue. Unjustified by Sunday’s simple misery. So long, let go,
long song, still flow. Say so, how know, myrrh go, far low. Fairly groveling on the mat, not willing to hold still. The atmosphere changes, the mind follows. The feelings follow, and the feeling tones, a flock of sheep with perfect teeth.
I see your teeth, I see your sheep, your shape, your perfect hair. How adulterous, how adulary, how omniferous. Iron shapes the seedlings, tender iron flowing in their veins, their tremulous simple veins. Hard to know, hard attack,
mé l’art.
What am I doing? What, where, when, why, who. How. Mystery. The mystery of a white box, simple, cube, smooth sides, plastic.
Longing for the quiet of the bustling morning shops. In the small town, does anyone arise before 6? In the village, do you encounter people on the street? In the English village, naked people with monstrous faces? In the white north, chanting lunatics? In the humid south, alligators are successful, polar bears are not. Difficulties among the animal populations.
april 25, 2007
Been a long time. The project is red, as red as the buds. The questionnaire is purple. Disability and rescue. Caught between the acts. You could say caught but there is never any stasis. Rest in flux. The boredom of hostages. Involve your body, musculature, mind, and investigate. Investigate the virtues.
Nothing simple here. No lily.
The frog lily, the toad flax.
Animals have not been aroused.
I can’t write untruths.
And speech becoming cleansed to silence.
Dishes—plates. Cups, forks, spoons. Bowls.
Shocking in the office. Four seasons.
Using the word “imagination” like there was no alternative.
april 18, 2007
When I read the teachings, I want to write like a teacher.
There is no teacher. Water lily.
There is no teacher. Amaryllis.
Some of these explanations, some of this story-story- story-story. Trying to maintain some equilibrium as far as project goes.
Aftermath.
No luck.
I need my myths. Myths and symbols. You know I am an arbiter of objects, time for splotch art, hey I am a splotch art.