somedays, i think i'm only posting to get something in my inbox

maybe i should send myself letters.

god knows i have enough postage. if only it were money. wouldn't be rolling other people's butts. and if that ain't a double entendre, well, i need to brush up on my poetics.

A hard one

Been working on a new poem. Proving difficult.

Need to do some more research.

Tell me, guys, do you like it when I post them?

I can stop if it's a distraction. If not, I can pull some out of the ol' archive.

A fun game

Rules:
1) five words per line
2) five lines
3) one word, determined at random by diceware http://world.std.com/~reinhold/dicewarewordlist.pdf (if you get an abrieviation or a word not in the dictionary, roll again (don't use the oed, unless you're on expert mode)); that word goes into the position of the line number (i.e. on the fourth line, the random word is in the fourth position)
4) the order of the five digit number is determined by position along the box's larger dimension, if rolling five dice in a box, or one at a time, if rolling one die outside a box
5) rhyme every other line (slant rhyme allowed) (i.e. ababc)

corollery--each word determined at random is exactly five words away from the next random word

examples:

sloe jin fizz bought by
a cop eyeing refuse that
he'd easily slag until mystery
and world did bite, spat
blood and all that's known

Geese dance, I find it
as lewd as those monkeys
when they unite in public
on a yoga mat, absurd
it is like insomniac junkies
earning by pedling their hineys

Mite who takes a piss
like papa brought into this
world, a hue ungodly like curdled
milk. A cookie batch. bliss:
it's more chunky than gawky.

Crack in the glass would
infrequently converge toward the path
of landed gentry. They should
fuck off, take soma, math
the unforgiven world and wince.

Poetry of the every day

Tilapia, beer, french onion soup.

The everyday is inherently lyrical--the poet brings it out.

let's kick one out

so,

it's more poetic that way.

feel so prose, want so much the poetry.

doomed to prose.

nothing's good enough

Shout out to the Holy Land

Hey,

So excited. That map thing--it showed me that someone from Israel viewed my blog. And the embarrasing poetry post at that!

How exciting.

It's really wierd, though, how do people find this thing?

Anyway, whoever you are over there, all my best.

And peace.

It's late.

not much to say here.

So I got this one, brother:

the burning of desire--

brother, i've felt it to

I was of you--one of the many
lusting and burning

a rough neck
one of the toughs
who sought expression
in line and harmony.

morning, sunshine

Well, hello there.

whooh. did a number last night--not a jay, well, not dope anyway--.

it's been a good run. not that i'm retiring. too early for that, and i've got work to do.

still and all, it's been fun, these last few days with you.

and, well, sometimes it's just plain and.

that said, let's gear up. fall's a cummin, as the old poet said.

must have, haven't they said everything?

and i know, that was the dread comma splice. never thought i'd admit it. say lovey.

so, just you and me kid. let's make it a good one.

poem--natural is a euphism for ugly

the burning fires of desire
brother i've felt them too

i was as you are--

one of the many
lusting and burning

a rough neck
one of the toughs

who saught expression
in line and verse

harmony, if you will

for bert

silence is the lid on a garbage can