d, Friday 's


  Friday's on the way

          but I gotta crash I'm bushed,


, and ,


     And unlike my enemies I don't believe in death,

               to Stephen Hawkings  is it ? and whoever else born of their resentment and hatred
                                                    of life,

                 thinking it ends at clock's cut,,

                                          no, not so,

         it's richer more complex,  more elevated,
                 it's always been so,



Already all ready Thursday


 That's right all ready Thursday a name of gods and places and your rational heart thinking its all okay that finding something it was trickery only kept us apart we were broken things shat into the water

    that voice continues while the old president builds and unbuilds the dreaming of others hoping a new messiah could be born a moment's notice

and Hosanna! Hossannah! a Logos Saviour Messiah   Moshiach  chosen to lead the world  Messias ,, Christ Al-Masih                  Mesuch born leading everyone to
     a promised  claim  of real estate

   each group imagining and some more than others ours is special our turf's better 'n yrs

working the years keeping their own piece of fancy real estate property taxes sailing up the decades

roll by

~   I gotta run, back to this song later,



Wednesday was

Wednesday was like you __________________, now the week's half through,

speak, speech which is the beauty between two,

  No, that doesn't work., Not getting it, broken things everywhere commas, period, just juxtapositions falling apart

apart failing failing part, fail art, art thou there?

My brain wasn't working it was missing our conversation, how cld.it be otherwise, what went wrong, it was my fault, all , all                 ,                         all              m                 I             n              e,

  cld. it be otherwise with your fears and mine                  o                  w            n,

 a body reaching for loneliness out of habit falling into the     whirling of time,
    and on top it all

                                                        working high speed at a new edge a 21st c. adze

                                                                         some one called it failure

               bt was it?       or was it another type of success
                 I can't believe it happened

            i  cant believe either in life or death
                          you you hard headed folks with your jets and bets your Leers and careers,

                  none of yu believe in death when the chips are down,

     her hands trailed along the water,
          i was knocking at her door
                    flowers or chocolates,





    take an airplane to the center of the univ   ver se   e    e e  e 

   the air plane of    consisttency        cy  cyy yyyyeeeee 


Another Tuesday


Another Tuesday will come again  ,
                 with you in it,



.... .... ......n


that's right fuck jane austen 

  i really dont care
  o stick her on a stamp 
     out to the coal shed
                 (an her crappy o so british books)
   out   out she goes she goes
               out out out
           along with the rest of the lot

         I really dont care and you dont either
              dont pretend you do you do you do
                   not care about her hills and boroughs
                 mansions and servants and catching cold
                    on the moors, there are more important
                   things in life than her her followers, her 

                 bks, boring as clones of varry  gotter and the 
                               palooka herself that other
                               causten, the twitter pal
                             of 'teven bing
                            the bore within
                                     the bore

                               their 230 books, 
                                their endless parade of twitter
                               in a ditch followers
                                 living in slum apartments
                           while Miss Princenton lives it up
                                      and patriotic as putty
                             dumb as mud

 i dont know what to say, except that it's hot,
                    that i prefer Emily 
                                 I prefer Emily
                                I prefer Emily Bronte
                        I'd choose Emily Bronte
                              any old day

                        every golden night
                                      Bronte this and Bronte that,
                               real love not  class
 british bs
              but suffering a la Dostoevsky
                            and real feelings and lives, and deaths,

                    not the upper crust exclusions of the millionaire
s         of empires and their builders

                         so fuck Jane Austen

                                     that's right, Ditch her an her crew,




  I remember a Tuesday two years back, the long lonely
               the idea of her being somewhere else, unreachable, the pitch of death at my every mouth,
                     the romance of emptiness, the loneliness  dying

there was nothing  Romantic about it, it was hard, painful,
                            what was a poem to do in the midst  of all of that?


Asking what it meant, those words phrases wrung from the mist not from a conversation ,

  I was better than him, not in the sense of being a superior being or person

but I was better meaning less sick, more whole, more twogethers my pieces less intact,

          cutting on the board of excess the paradigm paradise the good fool wandering her kist,

dark before dawn,

__________ Improvise improvise ,



Today was Monday Lance Corporal ...... y...



Today was Monday drum rolled cartography 605 shine those buttons

straighten that beret Buster in this outfit or yr done
fried bacon and out on your ass

Walk the Sergeant Major's girlfriend home
its your job

dont matter if you get a hard on there's nothing you can do about

and her name is Sharon (Boyer street)  she has big boobs bigger than you can say
her mouth is wide and size 7
her boobs are really big and your mouth

and you go hungry walking this girl round the block what the hell you doing it for?
you have no money

Do you have cigarettes? you have no stomach

you're so hungry you have no stomach


that was Monday, they called it, Sergeant Major

have no idea whatever happened to him

and to Sharon with the big boobs, I don't remember and her smile,  hair
hanging over one eye, and her glasses, 

I  have no idea what happened to her  

I may have tried to find out later,

but am not sure, don't remember



Sunday became Monday


             That was yesterday Sunday. Sunday became Monday what's happening with the false idols of this world and the believers in death and taxes? there are those what die going to hell burning gnashing of teeth, others lift their spirit up to heaven and glory, not the false figures of Babylon and summmer simulacra the body toil and cracked eclectic electic not electric Whitma's fire of opening

 raod and long catalogue of the past and the river breathing down fire of goring river flames the ore

 the core of its effluent camera

 Nones none of its  strue it's all fiction, falese,fading, fable, true, false, faith,wraith, strewn,





Saturday's coming

                                    with your hips

                                                       thinking of lightning with your lips





 to be done


you were Friday
you always were the hope and truce.

the love of a  becoming rapidly knowing what's blue and good, holding
  my arm and right ,

to between its open sudden book,
its sudden open booking,

and like that, your lover,






                                                                              Postage not included
  Batters not provided

                                 lavender forgone as your lips, hips, your wide bastion of plate and song

           the love you could have gone,
                                                                             and i am whispering with my lips

      acorss the boom,

                           come to me           acorn, i  can't speak what i could not speak,

 speaking to you in the tender of night 

     crossing the bellwhether of the dill with a cinammon pressed thread

                                                     as no one's seen Mona in thebackwater pushing rigging loves

             on t he fair top sail of your body and it's as if a  hand cloned the wikced passage

                            of french to english and english to french and you're holding me
                         you're beholding me mama  ,

                                                               like a song in any dirty bandanana 

Miss doubloon and Miss Rangoon

                                                                                           apprised of all matters

                 their rapport with the king  (of bodies and sex)

                                                              reporting to the rear desk

                                              where al smiles made

  So thursday was missing you , again,  as  usual

                   again ,

                                 missed her,






I missed Wednesday


I missed Wednesday but the hump back whales kept trundling over the water like a cat used to

  and the rumble of big whales whoofing at the roar bottom of a huge mouth opening ocean

       was over there . yet ours never happened .

                   the enemies got in the way, holding back and out the won of love, the wrangle of climb and this

  woof of mountains

  Wednesday dyad was making and meeting, accepting and humbling and
                        then an artist could say her books met you, met your love

                 although you always refused me, rejected me really  the pretence being
           you had more virtue to offer more to hold on more money in that bank
                  that eternal bank of virtue women, esp. white women conceal

                              only to show after all to demonstrate to reveal
                                                        that                                  is                all  the same.

But that was Wednesday in  a  possible world, and the summer sun went down and

             she has thundered his body.

____________________ And lit his kittens or stared his crop. and this wonderous mason of thatched house and  a hut inviting you into her body.





   Choose day over shamble. Mark footpath with smokefall and tall ragged building the skyscraper Empire State and the other one the Chrysler was that it?

the antler of walking geese camber of godling ducks the crinoline of rare feet on a woman's laid back love
       her ankle sunned by that touch as her foot resting              on what precisely bare sheet of

________________  free Tuesday repair the subconscious defeat hope by win .

                                                                                   _____cld anyone understand you it'd be poetry

working the fruited vine of this sweet mouth the lip and taste
                                              of watered mouth