Tuesday, March 25, 2014

the is

spelled the hung er my
leg swoll  )L the dou
ble ph one the d ouble
p hone I ccalledd my
ththigh its clotted ha m
y l ung ex planation s
poke back into my m
mouthth where the ash
congealed where the  )sal
ted shoe(   ‘s’s


the seen

my foot ,which the lunch
and glass was ,the floor
flew was what I said the
salad shrinking in a lake
was your forking lips your
eyes the wheels what
has passed I sez to you
will pass ,the cebolla
en su bruma colorada
your shirtsleeve is the
sausage in your throat yo
ur throat and glass is sal
ad is your forking eyes
is the wheel passing
through your sausage

What meaning is hidden beneath his tongue?
- Ritual of the Bacabs

the ink

dreamed the wet lunch the
faucets dreamed a sack of
peels and shoulder lost the
wet sack my shirt swam
across the peeled water
was my dream of stone
rising through the trees the
trees were instructions b
led where Lunch was b
right with ants were
woven for my shirt my
aching shirt remembered see
n across the crawing water

sort of ,shaped

the sieve

tomar A flojar yr in
sect storms the moon a
neck ,river  .the trembled s
tool the gravel talking in yr
plumbing where the soap m
ist s t      s ≈ ; ≈ ; ≈ ; ≈ ; ≈ ; 
a pen re duction was your
answer and a thumb inside
the skull’s ƒ clot ted
water was a jar a question
:lip or pencil ,bat
and laundry burning ,a
tragantado ,T ieso

        ...was the swarm light

Wearing a mosquito net, he poked the turd.
- Baron Geraldo

Saturday, March 22, 2014

the chore

the runny rice your leg
shakes off the rice in
gredient runny cheek
revolved the mirror’s
rice sticky on the
glass your runny
documents your rice
fulgor revolving on
the runny couch the
door returns the
runny sidewalk says
your face your rice
your runny habituation

...soon torn...

the sandwich

the absosorbtion of your
what you saw your what
you see’s the feathered
edge the feathered hand
spread behind your back
connection of the hair and
faucet spread tresses or
convection to the eye the
hair the spig got spraying
at your face was sp raying
said upon the wall your
face your fac e

...oil ,hair ~

the sawdust

es capada ,nor intensa
,intonso was escaped and
hairless was a broken egg a
sticky comb held against a
skull was lentes broken
,narcos ,cabildo de sangre de
rramada was yr thought
reversion ,enrevesado ,fono
emético ,reversion of the
neck you left behind ,be
hind the bathroom mirror
which was la puerta ,mirror
toward the sticky stairs

...funerales ,y roncar.

the split

leg’s shadow ,s nore ,l
ame the cloud the cloud
shadow fingered was the
filthy soap was fingered
on the egg the egg gl
eaming in a tree glea
ming in your lap a bed
of soggy leaves bene
ath the chair benea
th the splintered wood
the shadow slides a
way the wall is blank

...the cloud the egg...
the membrane

it is a long SUIT murder
identified SUIT transcende
leg lint SUIT bloody taste
kinda foamy SUIT morning
muttered tox SUIT poetid
fungus foot SUIT spelling
cloud defecation SUIT
root constraint SUIT bullets
canned beans SUIT arc
smoking SUIT brains un
written seed SUIT mask
ideas ,index ,SUIT swallowed
the animal bread SUIT viol
ence features snake SUIT
bam membrane toasted SUIT
bond eaten SUIT subjects
dribbled in the SUIT river
in the blemished SUIT kitchen
stemming SUET twist SUET
SUET brimmed the deep SUETSUET

With chunks from Jim Leftwich’s
Six Months Aint No Sentence, Book 69, 2014

the maps

on the DOGDOG roof hanging
skin DOGDOG to fly left
DOGDOG underfoot and
wheeling DOGDOG bare chill
DOGDOG the swarms of s
hoes DOGDOG bruised boo
ks infected leg DOGDOG
your bladder wall DOGDOG
signals nothing DOGDOG sun
glasses’ blank reflection DO
GDOG home ink DOG
DOG the loose ink the
DOGDOG ink the br
uised tickets DOGDOG
DIGDIG count the DIG
DIG signals giggling in the
DIGDIG dust the dust

With chunks from Ivan Argüelles’
“5 days counting”, 2014

the speed

SITSIT tropical inches lost
foot SITSIT breeding in the
shifts SITSIT grief fever
luggage SITSIT like voice’s
distance SITSIT recalculation
sleepy maps SITSIT smeared
with corn SITSIT milky sand
wich rising from the SITSIT
dung SITSIT drifts of feat
hers SITSIT faded ginger
ale time SITSIT the spine
growling SITSIT water ac
hing in the SITSIT motel
your aztec radio SITSIT
arrow dust SITSIT time
walks SITSIT the chair’s
worn SITSIT rag something
whirs SOTSOT dispersing
tunes SOTSOT bitten in
the SOTSOT unfurled sky

With chunks from Ivan Argüelles’
“Joe the Navajo”, 2014

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

the really

so I dudoubted all
the  ...waisted in the
water’s pale lung
yr  ...knot suit ,f
“lung” agaghast the no
te ,b all of noseblow
,kinda ratty ,een yr d
rooly sh irt yr h
opping sw an thropod
or  ...what’s that r
uns ,along the lapping

the soul

beets numbered d ragging
clouds across the bed
yr heap neck decrusts
yr dog’s pile ay b
ank sin L y por eso
el banco’s vaciado
ni mon eda tiene ni
haspirina  .nor the roott
recounting nor the “he
headache” otrora men
cionada  .)))just think
,or blank ,and cclutch
yr cc oinns                

the shale

ex spinning conconju
gation wear yr lap
pest uululation what yr
fat fork lost a th
read shivering in the
desk lamp light yr
}numbered shorts{  a
faucett ccrime a
lotería flying from the
second floor    █              █

buzzing ,bust

the chump

really knob-like ,wizzened
,courtly ,if the sc
oured throat spoke a
s tone a s lab o’ s not
.was capless really ,noddding
,ccrawled a ,b lister ,n
ails cclinkkink in your ffeet
a “really was” eh hah
mattered darkly where the
irrigation canal minds a
way beneath the bloody

relentless ,and a ddepth

the steep

aspects of off the varioffus
chilloff balam much less off
the young sea slivers off meat
tint ,off ,war piece expedition
off the language disaster from
off the seep the mothoff
hints saturday off the
antacid bunnies ,off dust
off soup off cigarettes’
gaseous wallmart cornoff
dynamic fluidity in the
eyeball off asparagus
shifting off disturbance void
or off chance or off urge
or fish sleetoff’s fragmentary
“guidance” off determined dis
turbance chickens off
the rover evacuated in the
watches off your eyeball
off your dog’s fuzzy storms
popoff fragmentary snow
sausage off the pressure
light reinvents the morning

With chunks from Jim Leftwich’s
Six Months Aint No Sentence, Book 67, 2014