I've never been big on banging garlic. I usually squeeze it and then either chop it to bits or press to a pulp.

Current Status:

There Were Errors in Publishing.

553 Permission denied.
553 Permission denied.
553 Permission denied.

gravel

I'm going to cut some carrots.

I put gravel up there because it came into my head somehow looking at this empty box.

And I am thinking this space needs some attention.

winter arrives wind known
endemic loon
madden eye socket

rapture

my garden
stalk inmost an anguish
dread restless lung

tatter mercy swart omen
target nuance

bang haggle bang broker
and untune avid

piano

circuit blast timbre
thew money mine tardy

repudiate arrow then

aghast at side
shadow

unable to summon the
names of these strangers

neither now nor tomorrow
what joys nor parched sorrow

might me trust

omit

and forgo thus an intellect mired
in theoretical
muck

as we forgo those

who have forgone before us
and deliver us from bedlam
lately deployed for an aerie fleet caper
lynched common incarnate and carcass

o civitas over which hovers a flesh-headed bird

job opts

one discomfort witness occurs 
branch strip outward its ugly
moon focus if any crank ever

up dizzy and bleak suburb how
how ugly one reflects crossing
blue frontiers fear witness

victual drain but the concrete
one nut sentiment one the
locality one marginal itinerant

one journey physical drift
grueling glib indigent one
land not matter of one other such

that control animals are killed
in two shifts some one some
body animals are laced toxicity

struggles a prisoner real
time burns and twists wordless
needles perforate flesh

Many thanks to Del Ray Cross for publishing the following poem in Shampoo 11:

Gene splice

To improve on the human
     heart, a boy enters
     the bush, that

path through the trees
     to which he belongs,
     that path by which

the sun breaks into arrows
     eaten by leaves
     bleeding yellow,

leaves bleeding red.  He
     knows this wealth by
     a yielding of hands

which hold only light
     and function at
     once as a lung.

Invitation

Come through the slats
then, alike slices
of sunshine.  This
leaflet, you too, might
read.  But what do
I offer, you ask, other
than a framework, oh,
for fervor today, unnamed
and unknown as, before
long the telephone
breeds.  Some signals
demand more than
others, as with the wind
fist awe dabble mean
interim naught, an
archive pervading each
portal budge witness
forge clement un
certain or boldly
daze claim. And
who am I to
dispute such device.

11:16 AM :: ::

Stephen :: permalink