21 Nov 2008, 8:02am
Writing
by David

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aimless walk

butter the sidelines with grilled
cheese and baloney, honey / she says
Hurry home I want you to fuck me
hard tonight / I don’t want you to run away

she has gray streaks in her hair
& she’s a soccer mom
but she looks good at the PTA meeting
& she hands you a brochure
& there are the girls with the same ribbons

you like her eyebrows / so
why shouldn’t you want to kiss her?

17 Nov 2008, 10:41am
Writing
by David

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A Mississippi of the Blood

A M-I-S-S
I-S-S
I ate too much tomatoes
Bought a new house and moved everything
Stubbed my toe
Contracted a contractor to fix the things I couldn’t fix
(Then I shocked myself wiring the diningroom chandelier–
Added a new item to the list)

But I thought about you and I missed you
I dreamt that you bought an RV and you and the bird
Travelled the 4 corners of the country giving poetry readings

The people adored you
(Almost as much as I did)

They lit an American flag in your honor

I burnt my finger lighting a fire in the fire-place

14 Nov 2008, 8:11am
Writing
by David

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chest / pain

table synaptic band manuscript
down in the hallway / selling baked goods
(mothers and daughters)
now in the aisle selling liquor
you prefer pig’s blood
you are a fly
you leave your shirt open
you like the contours
up the sleeve / down the back
un-
der the shady volumes
2 days without water
you can live

you feed on the milk carton
but the milk is sour

12 Nov 2008, 8:10am
Writing
by David

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temporary

ashtray gout colitis cranky
earth the empty dress the wet lash
you rush in and there is an accordion-
run up to the knee
the child musicians say No more No more No more
(though I should finish this book
before I go into exile)
her bone marrow needs to be transplanted
from this machine

so what’s the word?
‘There’ is there for support only
a knee brace, nothing permanent
you like the pretty beaker but
you like the ribbon (more)
that falls from it

turn the light out
no, don’t
leave it on / open

11 Nov 2008, 10:11am
Writing
by David

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America (I)

Title bookscan word “adroit.”
The policeman comes.
The policeman comes.
The girl sits upstairs in her underwear reading Nabokov,
dreaming of a French kiss.
Her mother is downstairs in the kitchen
dreaming of a mink stole.
She would bare her breasts to the neighbors,
circling her nipples in pink lipstick.
Oh, the house is rich.
The father.
The father.
The boy stands in front of a mirror
turning into a narcissist.
He needs a haircut. All is quiet
in the sleepy, picturesque town.