Monday, January 30, 2006

On Girl Beach

what’s that
on the cusp thing?
like a page
before it has a foreground
and a background and a middle ground ( ) between
the middle ground
and the foreground. like
bits of sentences
just heady
for cohesiveness
( ) and the background. where the earthworms
dry-out ( ).
that makes a little snap.
is in your pockets. taking sand
for your body. workmen do things
with buckets ( )
and large sandwiches. sand
-wiches. sand-castles. you’re a
- it’s a word thing. what’s it
like when you die?
before you die? when you’re dying? dying
for it?

Thursday, January 05, 2006

'Isolated Elements Swimming in the Same Direction for the Purposes of Understanding'

Listen! Those notes are as tight
as peas in a pod. When I indicate
a left turn, I catch her
stovepipes in the rear view mirror.
In nothing flat, a rental in Spain
slips from the vendor's lips. His scuba
cheeks ply the coastal shelves
with a coral blast. Poke me
if he does it again! Glissando
of modern condominiums.
I flossed with a tulip
when she reached the stop
and mumbled a Caribbean shiver
straight from the watershed
in the traffic. I winched
intensity like a soccer coach.
Here we see that shambled
octave mopping up the macadam.
If I bump up the font an entire
pixel, is that better? A blind
corner irons out its kinks
in less time than a sunfish
slips through Perspex.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Bake Off!

It's simple, really.
Snow cakes evolved from a layer
Of parmesan melt-wrapped onto the spoon
Left in the dishwasher for a week. Cologne's
drawing power draws from its
Draughtsmen's glib expertise at the tweezers.
But all's reducible, now. Back to the icicles
Of non-sequiturs flaying the horse's rump
At the edge of the cave. And the page's
Penchant for snow cakes seems anachronistic.
Another German town under the Revolution
Was Mainz. Let them eat snow cakes, really.
Last week, a shopper found a toothless grin
Baked in a brioche of self-denial.
A windy absence at the centre of history.
But truth gets chewier as the tumbrel
Approaches the scaffold. Editor notes
That cooking delights in prose.
A snow cake needs an egg, an idea, some flour,
A territory, and an ex-lover's
Toothbrush flying its frayed surrender

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