untitled

August 27, 2015 § Leave a comment

she says it’s soil not dirt dirt is dead

 

 

 

frontiers

August 11, 2015 § Leave a comment

on Pluto there are shapes we recognize

 

 

 

untitled

July 26, 2015 § Leave a comment

only if you clean all her little jars

 

 

 

untitled

July 16, 2015 § Leave a comment

old age it’s fish sticks and mayonnaise

 

 

untitled

July 10, 2015 § Leave a comment

hornets cover the robin in the grass

 

 

untitled

July 5, 2015 § Leave a comment

the red boat never been in the water

 

 

post-modern shit

July 2, 2015 § Leave a comment

even Rimbaud

‘s not obscure

he’s excrescent

 

 

 

 

ROBERT CREELEY ant ant ant ant ant one

June 13, 2014 § Leave a comment

 

FOR

 

Forget it,

man. It’s

over.

 

WHO KNOWS

 

Reading requests

for work’s

like working?

 

WHO

 

Underneath

there’s

more.

 

 

BILL DIMICHELE ant ant ant ant ant four

June 12, 2014 § Leave a comment

 

climb down the ladder

many times more ladylike

terminus of light

 

 

one little nail-hole

is treasured as the gateway

its mystery breath

 

 

fallen from the trees

and into her red mitten

the visiting moon

 

 

returns the moonlight

half-lion and half-pharaoh

mingles with the guests

 

 

heart beating so fast

and under my fingernails

acorns and oak trees

 

 

sarcophagus lid

sinks low above the treetops

wash it down with beer

 

 

GARY HOTHAM ant ant ant ant ant 1994-1999

June 9, 2014 § Leave a comment

 

on the bus tour

the darkness of the tunnel

on everyone’s face

 

 

in the desk drawer

papers that were hers

every day

 

 

the trees bend

a wind we can’t get

by

 

 

tall grass

in the tall grass

a while to listen

 

 

down the hall voices

the soft click

as the door shuts us in

 

 

around our feet

water on its way

to more water

 

 

the rain not holding on

to anything my father turns

66

 

 

home late

the darkness the stars

are in

 

 

on the rocks around us

water splashed

out of the ocean

 

 

snow flakes

no one will miss

melt in her hand

 

 

a few feet

from our feet

the ocean bottom starts

 

 

only the sound

of their car

comes back

 

 

 

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