The Soul selects her own society,
then Shuts the door.
e. dickinson

Thursday, March 6, 2008

for CLos


I forgot to mention, on
the phone, while you
were cutting the wind
in half when talking about
death, that anonymous verb
on the line like a pigeon
had flown through
the really good reception
of I don't know what you
said, but it sounded like
a damn good idea
probably because the
subject was made of
glass in what you were
saying that I could see
straight through it and
wow, how beautiful you are
when talking about death
while still in boxers
lying in bed, waiting
for a reason to go
blog about it.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

pome for Winona Ryder

Hair, there's
a skhanda of. high-school
in the living room, a
squad of geeks parallel
the football team. When
will we apply
for Publisher's Sweepstakes
like you said? I flip my long
sentence over to you
while a paragraph
of girls in shoulder pads
face themselves
in the mirror, a patch
of green square tile
when Veronica walks
over to Jason Dean
in the cafeteria, himself
a solid persona of velcro
and the milk carton
to make it casual
when all they want
is to fuck. What happens
when two people kiss
on a screen, does it
ignore the surround sound
of the weather it occurs in?
"Monday morning, your
history", she said, but
what about the presence
we give to yellow? Or
the red handtowel I see against
a black Whirpool stove
that makes me want
to tell the cops
1988 was all your fault
that the comma was
a knob to what you
keep in the drawer.

Before you say Color is a Consequence of Will & Collision

Its those motions
again, you are
the way it is


you say book,

and I want

nothing more

to get

in the way

that you say it


over the cell-phone

and its


in the milk glass
reception, it is

so white in there, up

before we came

we were persons
merely talking
about what
it'd b

e like

if we decided
to come down,

and so

we did, and

how post-operose!

that you decided
to take over red

the way you've

said it to me before

you ever
decided to
put it on
"Skittles, too

contains its own

& your skin,

is proof of it.

Pinball PoeMechanics

Check out this video: pinball punctuation

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Using the form of a pinball machine.

from Paragraphs on Conceptual Writing" Kenny To;the G says:
"When an author uses a multiple modular form she usually chooses a simple and readily available form. The form itself is of very little importance; it becomes the grammar for the total work. In fact, it is best that the basic unit be deliberately uninteresting so that it may more easily become an intrinsic part of the entire work. Using complex basic forms only disrupts the unity of the whole. Using a simple form repeatedly narrows the field of the work and concentrates the intensity to the arrangement of the form. This arrangement becomes the end while the form becomes the means...". So then why not apply this paragraph to any form thats already out/in here, especially a form or one considered a cultural relic or game like pinball? It'd be nice to keep & use the physical form of a pinball machine, instead of those online ones. The physical aspects of it, finger tappings, body all together involved in a thrust from head to toe, in which, he goes on " Writing of any kind is a physical fact. The physicality is its most obvious and and expressive content[...] the physicality of the work can become a contradiction to its non-emotive intent. Rhyme, meter, texture, and enjambment only emphasize the physical aspects of the work. Anything that calls attention to and interests the reader in this physicality is a deterrent to our understanding of the idea and is used as an expressive device." Ah, this is very nice. And it would be even nicer to have a printer of some kind, perhaps, attached to the pinball machine so that when the game ends, a hardcopy of the poem comes out. But why the need to involve a print-out? The pinball machine also seems to resemble, or at least animate, the printing process. It does start to seem like a printing press, with its gears, reminding me of that ancient one in Keith Waldrop's basement, but with the brief gestures of push/tap/pull levers & all the bright carnivalesque coquetry working together to combine lines in however way yet to be thought out.