Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Small Examples

When I imagine
war I just imagine
confusion and limp
When I look into
issues of food
I see meats and cheeses
and I also notice
many green and
colorful vegetables.
It is odd when I imagine
my children because
what I see seems
to evaporate the moment
it arrives.
I sometimes feel
like a wet cotton shirt.
Everywhere I look,
soaked in chloroform.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Getting Close

This is what the new CD looks like so far. Here's stuff about the other CD.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Half Info, Half Question

I guess the new Poetry International has a review of Poet's Bookshelf. I haven't seen it, but would like to. If you've got a copy, could you show it to me?

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Asking a Question and Answering It for Myself

Where will you be, Friday, March 2nd, at 11:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m.? I will be in Atlanta at the annual AWP conference. I will be at the Barnwood Press book fair booth (#242). I will be signing copies of Hitler's Mustache. I can control the fine motor movements of my right hand and can thus indicate my actual presence by manipulating a writing instrument. It is a real marvel. I'd like to show you this, if you're around. You could show me stuff too. Like your face and your sunny disposition.


Friday, February 23, 2007

Taking It All In

The math I get from the
TV accounts for anticipation and
perverted thoughts. Some,
with unbuttoned shirts and ample
portions of chest fur, gaze through
the window, fixing their marbles
on an unseen point.
It is like the exact spot of air
between me and the moon.
When I'm addressing
these issues in the board room,
I am careful to look folks
in the eye and concern them to
the vacant.
I get tired.
I think, well, another word.
Bad guys these days still
look like actors.
Even the actors who appear to be
sweet are aged cheese.
You can trap a person with
an equation.
You can visit a psychologist
and lose your temper a little
but then say something that's
really sweet and revealing.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

How It Happens

When I settle into myself
it's like a piano, or at least
the keys being pushed
(like something).
There is the volume control
for the TV and the hat
that is static.
This static hat sits here and then
shuffles away, leaving little
Hung in the hall, on hooks of
gold, hardly dripping
any sweat, I see the prisoners
that I wasn't even thinking about.
I'm not even thinking about
them now, instead
I'm concentrating on
a bullet that isn't acting like a
bullet. No, it's a mullet.
No, the word poultry, or
poetry. No, it's not even that.
I'm talking about sailing
science and wings
spread through the teeth
of a lisper. I mean, the wind.
No, I mean the the
transparent fist.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

90210 Sestina

It began when the Walsh's (Jim, Cindy, Brenda, and Brandon)
moved from Minnesota to Beverly Hills. Dylan
called Brandon "Minnesota." Kelly
loved to shop and was rich and blond, like Donna,
who had a learning disability. The nerd was David
and he was picked on by jocks like Steve.

Mrs. Tisdale, the principal, could barely handle Steve.
In the end, Steve and Brandon
were the best of friends. Even Steve and David
eventually became close friends. Steve and Dylan
too. At the start, I don't know if Steve and Donna
were friends, but they were in the end. Steve and Kelly

had dated, but were just barely friends. Kelly
had a reputation for being a slut because of guys like Steve.
Donna, on the other hand, sweet, sweet Donna
was a virgin and proud of it. Eventually, Brandon
had lots of women. Brenda lost her virginity to Dylan.
Dylan was 17, a recovering alcoholic, a rebel, nothing like David

who patiently waited years to sleep with Donna. At 15, David's
best friend, Scotty Scanlon, killed himself. Kelly
was nearly killed in a fire. Once a mob target, Dylan
faced death a number of times. Always something. Steve
got in fights and even the good kid, Brandon,
had drug problems. Drugs even took hold of naive Donna.

But every one was inspired by Donna.
Her innocence and spirit. She and David
got married. It was beautiful. Once, Brandon
was going to propose to Kelly.
I don't remember if he did. Or if Steve
got married. I don't think so. Dylan's

fiance was accidentally blown up in a car--by her dad! Dylan
dropped to his knees, tossed his head back, and wailed. Donna
and David can almost understand Dylan's pain. Steve
dated tons of girls...O, the people I'm not mentioning! Like David's
dad, Mel Silver, the dentist. Mel married Kelly's
mom.Other things I'm not mentioning: Brandon's

Emily Valentine. Brenda. Euphoria. Jack McKay. Valerie. Donna's
abusive Ray. Claire. Steve's mom. More Brenda. David's
meth dealer. The Peach Pit. Brenda. How much Kelly loved Brandon.


Monday, February 19, 2007

Saying Something

I am trying to find my face.
It was here, but
now it is missing.
In my broken body I am looking
for a key. Now I am looking
for my wallet. Now I am
looking for my glasses.
Soon my son joins in.
In a moment, my daughter
unclasps her face and
hands it to me. It only covers
my nose and mouth. My son
walks over to my daughter
and he unscrews her left
arm and throws it
through the window.
My wife, who is barely
and inch tall, yells, "The wind
will kill us." My kneecaps
are hard wood door knockers.
My eyes fill with smoke.
Something else is happening
but I am looking for elbows.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

I'm a Person!


Friday, February 16, 2007

Reaching New Conclusions

It is hard to produce a clear
sphere of water despite
the abundance of glass
blowers in the area and surrounding
counties. Despite the earrings
of strangers and the many unused
arcade tokens.
Do you have to be 10 years old
in 1982 to understand
the importance of a black
Iron Maiden concert T-shirt?
If you're a person who
ice skates, do you know what color
black is the right color for
the plastic of a hockey skate blade?
I feel like my brothers are
with me as we float
through the furniture. The people
sitting and living on us are our
people, but they seem to
be a new people. Some of them
soak up the wood floor.

The Best Things in Life Are...


Thursday, February 15, 2007

The Superstitious Await Good Luck

I'm never quite sure as a human
if I'm sputtering like a
dignity ham, or sorta breezing about
like an outside dog. Half of me
is hog and half of me is cold cur.
And still there are thoughts
of winning the Superbowl
and how that might
relate to pressure
relieved from a certain valve.
This valve I mention only
because I have been accused of not
mentioning it.
But now I see how the balloon is filled.
Now I notice the notes in the solo.
I mean the sousaphone in
my forearm.
Of course, the things which relate
to varieties of rock-n-roll (for
instance, the drumbeat) occur.
Yes, the barking was everywhere.
I mean, no matter
how many times I said "It's just
the mailman," still
the belching of the
distance. And in the distance,
unwinding on a couch, the
rare plums are waking

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Appreciating the Simple Things

To be a pop singer is terrific
especially when you can
dance like a gazelle. If you're a newspaper
reader perhaps you recognize
the way in which the words create
bits of information
that sorta hop along on, like,
funky chopsticks.
It is almost as simple as lining up
the letters in the alphabet and learning
to arrange those letters in ways
that create tiny portals to
something else.
Something else, now that's what
I'm thinking of.
Even at this moment a synthesizer
is fading in and soon the soft
swoon of a face will begin
splitting. It is the shiny teeth
I really like.
I really like the shiny teeth.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Snowy Dead Geese, Or Something Whistling?

Snow like dead geese and
when you move
a deep ocean in your legs
so that you believe you're
a broken VCR.
My whole life I've been trying
to not be what I am.
I keep saying, "I'm in an egg!
I'm Cinderella!"
I say, "Am I hole in the earth
that is opened?"
I mention this to all of my
illegitimate kids.
They are lined up, uniformed,
and generally attractive.
With the hush in this winter
I know the wind
is causing the roofs to melt.
This stuff swelling up from
the ground is called
a drift.
I remember as a child in Indiana
that it's the drifting that's trouble.
My wife says, "Trouble?"
I say, "No, but something whistling
is happening."

Monday, February 12, 2007

Certain Strangers

Have you received a postcard from Tennessee? Did it lift your spirits? Is it nice to have your spirits lifted today? The answer to these questions is yes. O god, I know it's selfish, but it's true: it feels good to get praise from certain strangers.



This is something. I mean, only 4 out of 10 stars, but then Hitler's Mustache isn't for everyone. He's nice anyway and says some thoughtful stuff. I appreciate it.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

What I Was Saying When I Was Trying To Say Something

I have ideas and sticks that
build little beaver damns in my
forehead. I even have a waistcoat
that I keep in a paper bag.
There is other stuff.
A pair of scissors in my stomach?
Even if I understood modern physics I
couldn't lift it across
the kitchen floor.
My problems are more like
gossamer. Gossamer problems.
I sure do.
And they are a terrific band.
I once saw Gossamer Problems
on their "World without a With"
tour. They more than
rocked. I was loaded.
In the deep of the corn fed night,
I come running through thick
music. The muzak in the background
is the music to the muzak behind
the muzak. It is not exactly
a series of Russian dolls, but
it is more stupider.
Once, when I was hurdling through
the milkshake of a relationship
I spelled a word with straws, but now
I've been stabbed by a blue vein.
From this angle, I appear
to be robbing something.

Friday, February 09, 2007




Wednesday, February 07, 2007


Say, "Rock-n-roll!"

Labels: ,

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

I'm a Person Who Speaks Quickly

I said, "My parents don't like my book,"
but it turns out that it's not near
so clear.
I'm telling you, my brother is a saint.
That guy's a pile of love.
As a kid he had ice skates that cost
a hundred dollars, which was
ridiculous then, like
stories at scout camp.
His feathered hair was the impressive
chest of a wind-blown bird.

Monday, February 05, 2007

I'm a Person

"Victorious homecoming" and
"winning one the right way" is really
nice, especially if you
"would want your son to be like this"and
even if you want to
(something else).
The "fans who insisted" on being
part of the television set
are beautiful in their "this is great
for the city of Indianapolis" way.
"You can bet this city" will be
"lit up blue."
Even Peyton's wife Ashley
believes they "did such a great job
this year and it's so exciting."

Sunday, February 04, 2007

A Long-awaited Equine Score

Perhaps you still know nothing about football.
Perhaps you are not "proud of Coach Dungy" or
"excited for the team." You may even scoff
at mentions of professional football.
I understand that.
Also, I understand my unaccounted for thoughts
which are blisters on my vertebrae.
So, what I'm saying is: I know it
doesn't matter where it comes from, in this case
the Colts, but what matters is that it comes.
Thank goodness.

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Very Important Lessons

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Little Things in Other Worlds

There are little things in the world,
including blocked tear ducts
and tiny tears in the carpet.
If you have petted a pet before perhaps
you will understand
the nature of petting,
which is fluent in happiness.
O how I hate a thing like "happiness"
and a suffix like ness
since i say i'm not e.e. cummings.
Of course, all of us are
e.e. cummings in a way. In the same
way that I love happiness since
there's nothing better than it.
What are you, an alien?
I doubt it.