tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830482007-10-18T21:30:38.893-05:00my notebook weighs 40 lbs. but i never have to lift itturtlenoreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1102701415875378062004-12-10T11:54:00.000-06:002004-12-10T11:56:55.876-06:00

leaps soft arms and strong shoulders wrapping me up from behind fingertips rough from strings skin smelling faintly of chlorine all of the safety the world has to offer me shaken from the ice in a gin & tonic beaten out of rainy nights on sidewalks jingled from keyrings or zipped up my calves of all these things none so complete a modern mosaic of tiles taken from these of all

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1101165995854661442004-11-22T17:24:00.000-06:002004-11-22T17:26:35.853-06:00

space space space cross-hatch opens hydraulic step out into un-stepping keystroke into negative space little hyphen against the sun airtight face blinks in the light and you must construct a barrier between those who are unknown and what is yours first they will be allowed to be together and then they will infect you the age of consent dragged down and with it your children; before

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1100113574892442302004-11-10T13:05:00.001-06:002004-11-10T13:06:14.893-06:00

whatever i find how to start today again take off all our clothes walk down the street like in a dream with sweat between the sheets i know i can make it be tomorrow under bath water but it won't stay warm with my breath i'll make it now make it always until some petty piece of today cracks through my hum the promise of tomorrow still hot in my skull

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1100113540371803782004-11-10T13:05:00.000-06:002004-11-10T13:05:40.370-06:00

::over the horizon i come, airborne, windblown, and wearing aluminum tape: captain butt-pirate from outer space! ::i cut an opening in your window and you step out into my arms whence we fly to spain. ::we are greeted by spaniards, marionettes, and boxes of clean, custom-made underwear ::happily ever after

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1100014935043703972004-11-09T09:41:00.000-06:002004-11-09T09:42:15.043-06:00

spam poetry cryptographer nauseum ambrosia devotee deprecatory evolve aden attributive laurent trifluoride oyster wore rna sneaky colorado novo bedspread airline alarm trioxide cursory bathroom bay copperhead husband kitchenette myosin sprint paean alkene

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1097855863778879862004-10-15T10:49:00.000-05:002004-10-15T10:57:43.780-05:00

lyrics... did you hear the one about the guy who was hung like this we all went up to the cathedral to catch a glimpse ever since that god-damn painting he's looked real enough to eat star of an action movie we would pay to see just in case the loincloth slipped the greatest story ever told was when his mother said son you were a miracle well she had to tell him something

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1094233767162543392004-09-03T13:48:00.000-05:002004-09-03T12:49:27.163-05:00

lyrics... When I want to protest I see a t shirt on some slob That says mess with the best die like the rest He tells me to get a job When I want to march against Unjust wars or unemployment I’m blocked by fundamentalists Who seem to find enjoyment In standing at the intersections With oversized colored signs depicting products of abortions pleading, what about the baby’s rights

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1083958989871036372004-05-07T14:43:00.000-05:002004-05-07T14:56:22.780-05:00

a cough recorded in introduction to a song inflight, spill my newspaper clippings earphones screeching banshees actually inside my ears, whoa this modern age for another $10 please divert your attention from the window view midwest patchwork zoom out to midwest mosaic, scored crosswise, scribbled with rivers and shredded with giant claws, stomped by giant boots, pull away from flayed

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1083608740154795752004-05-03T13:25:00.000-05:002004-05-03T13:33:41.793-05:00

crucifiction did you hear the one about the guy who was hung like this we all went up to the church to see him, and to lift the loincloth ever since that damn painting made him look too real it was material for an action movie we paid 8 bucks to see the greatest story ever told was when mary said to her son the illigitimate heir to a dining room set, son you were a miracle well she had

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1083608462145311942004-05-03T13:21:00.000-05:002004-05-03T13:24:27.653-05:00

flee market something worse than insects has set up shop on roosevelt and canal streets spend $10 on a pair of shoes in which to escape this poverty this embarrassment of trinkets, greasy food, junk metal gallons of house paint, premixed, all the shades of red and orange just in time for fall

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1083608143875255282004-05-03T13:15:00.000-05:002004-05-03T13:32:21.420-05:00

libros frios cold books collect on clark street sidewalk in cardboard marked permanently with black toxic ink covers torn or missing i scoop out the story of job, a children's with illustrations and something with a fine hard cover which i will refill and give away free books, free the books, a mistranslation i take as puppies needing homes and do my best with one or two i take it

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1076361834174074622004-02-09T15:23:00.000-06:002004-05-03T13:39:33.013-05:00

worms in food worms in cats spray the cats till the worms come to the surface cook the worms out of the food cats eating the worms eating the food it's all rotten, and the spray doesn't work i'm in big trouble if i miss a worm or the cat gets out a giant waterslide with no water a swimming pool with no room to swim fully dressed and the music is good but where are the costumes what an

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1075936677654408352004-02-04T17:17:00.000-06:002004-02-04T17:21:19.153-06:00

did i die in your dream? it means i'll live a happy life, you know, if i did... yes, and i became immediately but not abruptly sad. a slow, warm, underwater sadness where dingy curtains fluttered, or maybe there was no breeze, and the women in glasses were not beautiful but pushed hopeward. or idled gently toward hope, turning slightly in the weak current. i was there with the women after

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1075933837372742342004-02-04T16:30:00.000-06:002004-02-04T16:44:37.793-06:00

http://www.uiowa.edu/~iareview/mainpages/tirweb.html Ada Limón "The Lessing Table" The Iowa Review Volume 33, Number 1 Spring 2003

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1075417701663551442004-01-29T17:08:00.000-06:002004-02-09T15:27:02.670-06:00

found poems in emails one. so uh i was wondering if you're not busy later i have a couple tickets to this film it's a festival type thing, very edgy and whatnot i was hoping uh maybe you were not busy and you might like to come with me so maybe you could give me a call if you're interested it would be at around 8:45 and i could pick you up in my sunbird two the flow is

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1075324327567551402004-01-28T15:12:00.000-06:002004-01-28T15:13:41.860-06:00

don't want to bother let's keep it neat that's how you'll meet me-- short and sweet don't take the time and that's all you get all you'll know of me is short and sweat 5 minutes and a cup of coffee i'll be ready that's how you'll get me-- short and sweaty

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1074808074078855812004-01-22T15:47:00.000-06:002004-02-04T16:47:01.890-06:00

my birthday present was a history book-- the history of my life up to the present: the hair i'd cut off or lost down the drain, my fingernail clippings collected, yellowed, thrift store cast-offs and acquisitions, partners and positions, derailed plans for excursions, excuses why i didn't get the dishes done, afternoons spent napping-- you don't want this book. don't worry that if you

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1074016876372643782004-01-13T12:01:00.000-06:002004-02-04T17:26:40.983-06:00

Gram’s balcony An old cement dog stares with chipped eyes out the glass sliding doors. That ugly thing, I can’t stand to look at it. But it was my mother’s. Doesn’t that breeze feel nice. Her chair faces the narrow street and the 7-11, which has changed names and ownership 5 times, and the alley behind. I saw some people dump their garbage there last night. She sees a lot that’s

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1074015578732370262004-01-13T11:39:00.000-06:002004-02-04T16:54:59.716-06:00

Meridian, the semi-annual from the University of Virginia Matriarch Laura-Gray Street Meridian Issue 9, Spring/Summer 2002 jubilat: everything is relevant Tattoos Rafael Pérez Estrada Translated from the Spanish by Steven J. Stewart jubilat 6 South-West Review The Devil in the Details Sue Owen Southwest Review Volume 87, Number 1 2002 Poetry Magazine, Chicago One Week

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-107394546327403512004-01-12T16:11:00.000-06:002004-02-04T17:27:01.496-06:00

Cancel my It’s funny; in the papers I never get to read About anyone I know. It would seem that All that matters is What important people Do, or dead people And I don’t know Too many of either.

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1073501849678966042004-01-07T12:57:00.001-06:002004-02-06T17:21:57.543-06:00

Reading Aesop & guessing at the morals— The boy who cries wolf stops crying To weary himself with his father’s sheep, And the lioness wins the contest for the choicest piece of shit If not the biggest, and the cock finds a jewel among the litter But would rather it were corn— We keep a part of each to be a better person, Flatter a friend, read a story before dismissing it. Do something

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1073501862554921622004-01-07T12:57:00.000-06:002004-02-06T17:19:42.640-06:00

You bought supermarket sushi Which was actually not that bad According to at least one other person, Suggested a film that I found maddening And amazing. No one but you would've come with me to Cal’s, That little hole in the ass of downtown Chicago, To see homo punk rock singers grind their shoulders Into broken glass. But you were too candid: about your love of pale girls,

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-1068669116581889442003-11-12T14:31:00.000-06:002004-02-06T17:27:31.450-06:00

one thing to learn about camping is that a thing is not either dirty or clean or if this is possible then please show me the line and when it is crossed: when leaves become shit and shit becomes leaves. there is only living and not living and this gets complicated too. even as the branch grows the other, deader end is lopped off. i, like the dog, have failed to heel. disobedient,

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-877486142003-01-20T16:16:00.000-06:002003-01-20T16:18:52.000-06:00

maybe if we sleep on the floor they'll be less offended than if we're found squeezed into a twin bed, legs entwined but when we wake up they've gone out anyway their errands make us errant but we keep quiet even though i whisper a-----, a----- right down to the tickle fight in a borrowed t-shirt in the morning light, we're living a cliche that's never looked so cute in slept-in mascara

turtlenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3083048.post-858483272002-12-11T12:09:00.000-06:002004-02-04T17:31:19.373-06:00

Hey, where did we go Days when the trains came? Up on the platform Waiting for the CTA, Swingin’ your blond ponyta-ail, Against your Donna Karen Tapping your manicured nails To Oops, I Did it Again It’s you, the brown line girls, You, the brown line girls. Whatever happened To the purple line express I’m already late for a meeting Forgot my lunch and my hair’s a mess.

turtlenoreply@blogger.com