Thursday, 2/21/2013

Up early morning   a cold house
sunup    NPR interview with Dr. Sam ("Erasing Death" 
near-death, flatline, arrest, lexicon
of in-between and aftermath); FB's litany of food
    and protest; shower to rinse all
night away; a world out there through steam

and to the harbor post office, tape and stamps

sad new shop, so hip
waiting for customers (all fishermen, 
marine researchers here)
                          
         Hwy 1 traffic in pushy
wind, exhaust from a semi that
thank god turned at the power plant (the oar
         the red oar still stands in the corner
         of my front room, unbaptized)
                                       
     I try a haptic "after Stephen Vincent"
     to the White Arcades
     with blackened twig stubs
     on old paper, then slide my wet
     fingers over 

Michael home from work, kitchen
fills with purpose, light

my language inept and no saw words
go, some dream, soup, little beauty    

Sukiyaki Western Django's
chartreuse, yellow; Tarentino cameo
those godawful accents 
    but knowing, going
with the distortion, self-
uglifying, glorifying
                  swaggering
tongues
Takashi Miike's got "pure punk rock"

        now what's that yelling outside
                            in the dark
the chirp 
of a remote key

Lucy's bark turns
to howl

Random lines from online:


             I have been quiet
            raving up and down,
       my hair the air of eiderdown
    my face the way a melt comes down
in the place that all the cameras found

---Gala Bent, Violet Strays


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