So what?

The wiliest of all wiles inside
Made the point serenely
One at a time

Do not topple yourself with verse
Verse - it isn't even hardly
It's more like a list
Of harmless grains
You might find in a fourth grade schoolbook

Not a pretty picture
Jacarandas stink
Life moves on
People die and so forth
News to me
News to you
Good news
The good news

Poetry will not save you
But you can save poetry

All you have to do is sneeze three times
and say
there's no place
like home

Meeting people to eat
The people of Mexico
I want to go home
Lollipop does just fine
Nothing in the middle
And I have to bite
I haven't read anything
For a long time

Shave myself good
Damn fine
Somebody swallow me

I never could think that way
Got no problem talking
Popular possum
Play yourself
Hey
You're pretty good at that
Did you know?

Do you understand a Shakespeare of a bloke
A man looking for some kind of love
Writer no doubt
Sometimes you don't know how a person's work
Can Be anything other than something that hooks them
Early on
Until they don't know they are doing it anymore
It should be something you love
It should be what you love
Lusioned much with love
I lay a centipede awake
On my desk
The centipede takes off it's several boots
And stays a while
Calling itself Faith

found halfwit
produces
Pheromones

over the counter

furious abstruseness mistaken
for an impetunosity
for blabbermouth

A Student Sitting

Who's rude
When you walk right past
And I'm stoned and I'm silent

Purple hair
Take up the girl
Who knows me and my position

I think too much
Somebody knows me thinking
Fortunate unfortunate

Cross-legged bear interrupted
The lecture begins
And it's time to turn the page

Just because we are the greatest country in the world does not mean, automatically, that we are its greatest people. It is the call to do good and behave righteously in the face of freedom itself that makes our country the very finest, but our country, our land, is so much more than we can be, though we never had the grace to see it. So take up your grace as you take up a mountain.

Love and Forgive

Who opened the door
To that redhead

Licorice afternoon drinking
On the park bench next to your
Favorite park bench

A curtain will do just fine
But the stage should be hidden somehow

Cope

Park

Was a baby born? (Did you take care of it? and love help me and Jesus help me)

I'm beginning to become
One of those pathetic poets
Don't I just know it

Bleak unique critique

I disgust

Obsequious can get you out of almost any jam
But wouldn't you do better to put down some butter first?

Punny cheeky Watson

What do you love
Besides the task of recording
Cognizing isn't good enough

I've got one of those things in my neck (seriously)
It hurts when you move it

I challenged the scientist and his very methods. I believe that when you talk about the full extent of a man it is hard not

You have not yet learned
All there is to know
About seeing
Don't you think?

Emily

The formative important eyes
Found nothing in the fog - of the physician's patch -




This mind is stark solemnity
To dwell upon a couch
But growing is not possible
Without Oscar the grouch




I whispered to a ventilator - Naked
as the sun-----
Hovers-----in moonlight

Who Say Nothing

Pose
Until
Umm
You
Are
Comfortable

What do I want?
What does she want?
The question

the answer could not possibly be secretary of state, could it?

How personal is your personal?

I forgive you
Open blissfully fragrant quill
Penmanship is dead
Interior monologue until pose reposes
formality takes another bow
and gunmanship
explodes

Justice and freedom have new billowships
Integral to my survival

And hardly open to suggestion
Grapenuts with yogurt or milk
The answer is obvious!

Hooray for us!

Art will swallow restraint like jello swallows coins

Too simple may berries stick
Fingers lick and slobber because

otherwise it just doesn't work

Have you gotten anywhere?
still where are the boys
Leaning heads down alleyways

Not true. Somebody.
Maintain why it is
That you took a step round on a bit of poetry you thought was finished?

Art is never finished
I was not the person who said that

He said the artist is never finished
He threw darts. He painted. I saw a painting of his that I liked.
The crucible -
What is the art of never touching a work again?
Self-restraint
There cannot be an art in such a thing as restraint
Can there?

The Slaves of Cats

Fumble more I love you
Feed straight your imperfection
Prepare my affection
Idiotic


Oh I will one day ask for perfection
Scratch and sniff
Catch a scent
Purring


Outside a hurried man takes a different road to class. He greatly appreciated the change. It was right before the anniversary of his marriage to Erica Potsen. Love travels up and down in elevators. It only distracts you from the stairs. Posterchild for the posterchildless, a posterchild for posterchildren, the man keeps right on walking and reminds himself of where he's going.

John Robertson, bird imaginer, stepping into a puddle. He thought that was funny. He, of course, was imagining birds and stepping into puddles. It would not have been funny to anybody else would it. no. Good fortune to Elizabeth, he thought as he looked at a picture of an English coin.

He kept walking down the street, mumbling little bits of songs he learned when he was in college. But he was thinking. Running over why he was singing, never answering it so much as to keep just right on singing. Louder at bits of road without any people. Never happens in New York? I sing down West End Avenue. Put a Beer in me. Never with other people. Then you get lots of people singing and it's a nuisance you've created on a residential block. Nobody ever told me to shut up, but one time a man did yell and curse at John Robertson. John stopped in his tracks. He wondered if he ever did that to anybody. He could not remember that ever happening.

You are so in me
That the me I see
Can only be this
Beautiful question

Hey

Hey Mama

Are you gonna walk like

That very much

Longer


Do you rock and roll all the time

When nobodys

Watchin You

Have you seen

My favorite bone?

Thank You Dear
For Saving Me
The boredom of
Pornography

Your sit
I like that you sit

Found

What am I to you
What can I be.

I want so badly to
be all of it.

Demand of me that
I may better know

how to be an instrument
of your dreams

You frighten me in your
constant satisfaction

Because I know myself
to be lower, perhaps, Than
What you know

Found II

Of your pleasure

I want none

I give it all to you

You are afraid of my
anger, which is nothing.

A trifle and temp

Next to all the love

I bare in faith for

you. As wings yearn for
the ground, so I to you
cannot stand this separation
You are the dream which causes me to wake