695 Readings | 4 Ratings

Punctual Intellectualism



Regardless the Monkees
followed the beatles
on the Johnny Carson show.
I was given another chance
I suck for the lit tip the foreigner’s
missing luggage. The Promise
Land exhales bail out. A barn’s afire
the last of any herd, sluggish to a pond at night
devotion is coming light
from any source, what might
be the last musical inadequacy swung by
a red lantern back to the house.



If say east-southeast
I still only know
I’m among paisley
and infidelity rocks the interior. Come in
my gasps are the last
you’ll hear of me.



Devoted, our boot soles fell apart
last brook we stepped
it’s not for anyone’s fault to own.
Lavish levers the entire hillside
goes dark. To believe it is grief it is not.
Bordertowns out of business, crossing easier
now that exoskeletons behave polite as ghosts
devour empty rooms, worms slightly lost.
On the screen porch, my flute of trachea after
weeks left sitting. Furious brush strokes
redden eyes to kite to you because
I’ll be gone.



Point your pails
here its ember’s all over
me symphonic singe if
you knew me Croatia. I’ve gone
native, accents on my leather—
to be well with blame
taking a bow after forgetting
an entire play rehearsed.
Blow torches at the bottom of a well
where we conduct meetings and get in trouble.
Where was the lifeguard


when your skate unzipped winter
and you went freezing? Off any record,
can’t we retell this story with fury? Will fury rescue?
Goddangit, pony, ride in
formation. Lesion a yellow
on my chest marigolds
for the old life we can’t stop
thinking pipelines up to here. Exorcize
the saints, patron of kick the dog
against the shrine.
Posted 09/29/09
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