Saturday, August 29, 2009

the empty-handed painter from your streets (for Joyce Carol Oates)

you are definitely par for the course in coincidence

we all would if we could

if to do was an is

then the purpose of a preposition’s proposition

like an airplane doing anything to a cloud

would be just another way to lose

lasting is winning

as it stands

as it were

to show or place in a place that shows unlike any other place

the how to of whenever

skywriting calliopes making nothing but sense

like something human

like a leak without anything to leak through it

an empty leaving thing

that never just goes away

kite flying days and nights of oceans on the moon

eyes riveted to a martini glass’s dewy stem

throughthedoor throughthedoor throughthedoor throughthedoor throughthedoor

stick and move

it ain’t quite all over now

not for a now

that is a later before it becomes

a then

like laundry hanging in the window

like tide-pool tea on the 3rd floor fire escape of a cheap chop suey joint

purling and forgetting and rapping and chopping at the sky

there is what there is

blankets on the floor

rolling over and over and over and over


a new way to start anew

every again that ever happens


makes sure that whatever happens


will be that sometimes yes

to the always worrying

why of me