Saturday, October 11, 2003

S _M_ U_ ?

Smear a tired lady

watch the words rise
Resume ticking
check heart
begging charity
not to confuse
weak belonging

Pick the empire 

twist her legs
just don't cling
circle erase

Sidle and appease

leaves are most
outstanding on earth
oxidize apology
overdue the same small thing

Friday, October 10, 2003

This A.M. I wrote "give a damn about his audience", which
is revelatory to me, a female... who writes to find her male-ness.

a tickle dance!
The green is starting to change rapidly now... colors! leaves! apple pie.

You told us to unplug our ears

so that we would learn
the code chez la rouge
Last year she didn't care
couldn't hear/work in silence
weak spirit guide/trendy views
The winds dust off the avenue
careless to her satisfaction
dupe dominion dew on the city
In this case outer perimeter
route vision improves
her side walks
Bulls-eye to Roger
letting it all come
softly together
retina reserve

for Elliott

The meeting coincided

in the parking lot

a few more lasting sparks
"to triumph in love would
be the ideal, ?"

unsuspecting happiness in the

When our conversation grows silent 

like magic we will

RE: expectations OF THE AUTHOR

Ultimately a writer shouldn't give a damn about his audience,
still this is one of the unavoidable trappings of the 'performer'.
E.M. Cioran who was an extreme insomniac-skeptic said that
any writer writing for approval was totally missing the point.
The POINT > one writes for the Zen of it, release, rapture, or
an occasional astounding insight. If a reviewer goes gaga
over a particular new writer/artist, the reviewer is entitled.
If the reviewer/s eventually change/s their mind about their
initial enthusiasm, that is natural. Writing & reading poetry
is an experience that reflects the Tao philosophy - each
day a new & different perspective, each year greater wisdom,
everything influenced by the whole.

of energies
of energy
of synergy
of ecstasies

Thursday, October 09, 2003

lost an 'e' found an 'e' ~by
"willfully embedded"
et scroll down: Effusions
what? smutty prepositions and blogfights? I'm already out of the loop.
from Dr Mask

Tense jaw

peel away
Intense law
liberates the hermit
Every aspect scrutinized
a little removed from the mast
In tow two curious claws
soda swift tatter bugs
rupture the Hell straits
seethe without vipers

hey, you know who... I'm tasting that rainbow's mighty fine flavas
Two days of pro-active writing and reading :: hello Abolone, she says hi!
Yesterday I read a beautiful passage in Donald Barthelme's Not-Knowing
which relates to my joy of teaching creative movement/Dalcroze classes:

Writing for children, like talking to them, is full of mysteries. I have
a child, a six-year-old, and I assure you I approach her with a copy
of Mr. Empson's
Seven Types of Ambiguity held firmly in my right
hand. If I ask her which of two types of cereal she prefers for break-
fast, I invariably find upon presenting the bowl that I have misread
my instructions--that it was the other kind she wanted. In the same
way it is quite conceivable to me that I may have written the wrong
book--some other book was what was wanted. One does the best
one can. I must point out that television has affected the situation
enormously. My pictures don't move. What's wrong with them? I
went into this with Michael di Capua, my editor at Farrar, Straus &
Giroux, who incidently improved the book out of all recognition,
and he told me sadly that no, he couldn't make the pictures move.
I asked my child once what her mother was doing, at a particular
moment, and she replied that mother was "watching a book."
The difficulty is to manage a book worth watching. The problem,
is full of mysteries, but mysteries are not to be avoided. Rather
they are a locus of hope, they enrich and complicate. That is why
we have them. That is perhaps one of the reasons why we have
-ACCEPTANCE SPEECH, Natl. Book Award For Children's Lit.

Tuesday, October 07, 2003

offline for a few days ... have a good week.
There are few things more annoying than a cad.

My number is 7 

this does not change
my mind
is a raven, my body is
a beast
My sacred marriage
is performance art, sapphire
my stone
orange blossoms my friends
& the deer are not trustworthy

    I'm a cad for believing

in cayenne - no longer
wine - no longer
Happiness is my tonic bible
My desk stays organized, dreams
could be real

Monday, October 06, 2003


One word released
Each day a glimpse
Past her gate looking in
Behind veils she speaks in
Riddled secrets told under sheath
As in Torah

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