Monday, December 11, 2006

bay poetics cento

bay poetics cento with first, last, and middle lines from kari edwards (1954-2006)
by Franklin Bruno


maybe at the next stop; a double feature with buttered popcorn

~

a city in which order is not yet established
there are those who pronounce flaneur
and sent geek armies to reinforce language
but consumed by patchwork
for the smack so personal bleeds color from the mind
the clumsy flutter surfacing to air
of crashing it unites the way of unites
to spare you the Palo Alto allegory
in the place where computers come to die
“cut ways in it,” they said

~

narcoleptic parking lot/in my head
street cleaning
in my cocktail uniform
a partnership or a criminal action
will always get a seat on the bus
coupled legs/and a birdbath
in the corner and vegetable crates
risotto of morels, spring onions and chervil
cut edge of spring
grace knocks on my door, too

~

two lines of pencil seal the same true thought
try and encompass and you cannot
a health of the mass, from which to register
the mostillusion mainstream
to be in California
another bogus radicand
an abstraction grounded in the material sensibility of division
a mixture of stock footage and miniatures
connected by passages of poetry
without even an imaginary or dead person (attached)

~

they grew apart and he wrote a song
did we ever live without
music and the act of being selfish
they would rather it was not there at all
“we are not required to agree”
to pronounce Britney stupid
(or co-opted, if you must)
It is satisfying to cut, cut, cut
she cannot spin straw into gold
she reads to me about utopias

~

I am the word the available thing
I am connected to a phone tree
it is my country and I am sorry
I do own a shoe rack
I too cut my hankerings, but promptly
“I’m channeling some heavy shit”
I worked as a ghostwriter for an illiterate
I am not able to get off work
I think I still believe that
i knew i would dream

~

i keep asking for a door with meaning

~

I think of poems that founder that are mid-
Repetition. Day’s lily like this.
BlakeOfEquinox sings to Numb
the -------- of gravity
iblical tea timed TV cut
glish scratches
Words like dreck make the scene
their
suffering [meaning
a self]

~

no set hours to go in and work
but they are paying me $75 an hour
and water was my dirty name
she cut the thick substance forming between them
the whirlwind drawing in
one was born trackless
having survived, because of the hard seed
we report flash floods in north
north of market’s shopping center mecca’s
the power plants and dams – containers made of steel

~

you read the spines from the books
jig-sawed
through a vivisection
a smoothie wasn’t so smooth the second time
we can feel it in our lungs
in practicality’s overpass where charred bodies now hang
they certainly like nausea
where divine things factor their dicks out
grace = cash
could have been spent on dentistry

~

the forced door of weather
cuts the thought, at once
wine forces your focus
one never gets to say so anymore
and you my bright particular
thank you is that where music
functions as frosting
one song, the song added or
cakes in great number
the refusal of the birds to change their ways

~

this is how to cut it
the granite grace of terror
not like gardens, but underneath
the popcorn seller is shown to possess the same character
been raped is getting up again
to go on, past the draperies
the extended season of mandarins
incomplete without her pencil and circular “o”
can’t fuck with bedrock, so good thing it’s not bedrock
like having the power to move around taken away

~

i am lollygaggin’ towards separation, going west, following the sun

11.30/12.06
--------------------------
Original Post at nervous unto thirst

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3 Comments:

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