he's not a very good teacher
at all
i'm not quite sure what it is he likes
and from this much information
it looks like he doesn't exist much

he just comes down stairs
and i can't even understand a word
and now, after this, I swear I'm
changing a few important things
because this is just too much,
really throws the shit to the forefront.
Really, now just come downstairs and teach
me something? Ok and so i cant understand
because I'm in a different room
and he's not even talking to me

he's there,
leaning,
not knowing he's knitting his eyebrows
all over town

and when he sees the dog
he just loses his shit
and is like talking like a baby
and his hair is flopping all around

later he really,
i mean really, mops the floor

i'm ok
like a little field mouse is
or a cactus is

One says
"its ok though, it's all fine really"
or "ya i'm totally fine"
"everything's ok, not great"
"i'm ok"

i ate like 6 raspberries
and then put on my comfiest shirt
and now i'm just being productive

tea
that's been
in the cupboard
too long
is disgusting

a beautifully built one
well constructed
fit to serve
and hang
this one is good
very expensive
enough to not even give


then i get a kiss on my cheek

making things
like a little privelege
learning something
getting out

not taking
not taking
not taking
breathing while not doing it
breathing in my nose with smells
and thinking of babar
and of the plight of certain animals
and a situation i read in a book once
and not taking
and
then
eating watermelon?

when i'm having a good time
and the sun is setting
and the sky is blood red
or orange, pink
or purple too
and white
and blue and i see a
crescent moon
and maybe a star
or venus
i'm really having a good time
then.

when i'm thinking about you
and see the moon
it is my secretary

over there
trained,
a karate fighter
runs on the beach
takes small meals
prays
but who does he think of
when he looks at the moon?

fire
play
burnt
personal experience
maybe a song
actual warm

a fire,
people coming over
smoke,
"white rabbit"

true religion

summer fires,
golden as a little golden ring
leaving smell on One
leaving beautiful black behind
in a circle on the dirt

summer fires
coals
putting out them
washing the black ash off my feet

a whole cooler filled with ice
and a whole bag filled with charcoal

and the small room that the dark
makes all around us?

some grass,
some river flowing,

all the birds are quiet
too

"postcard"

"wyoming,"

"2008"

certain

living in a little hole?
eating little pickles?
living?

little stoves with blues
wittle tinky fridges?
little tshirts?

"love"
bathtub conversation
what to do?

ground that holds all
the whites
ground that is moist
ground that kisses
my forehead


ground eats electricity
ground drinks water
ground spits green


ground


also winning,
inserting.

sitting round a
table with small
pink flowers
in a cup

"tea lights"

tea: ceylon,


"life"

five small men are somewhere
playing cards
small table

just come over here
and stick your hot mouth
over this candlestick, see
suck it in to blow it out
and then there is smoke to deal with
over dinner

all the way on the constant
all the way on blacktop pavement
let us go to the desert
and let us believe in dirt clods

a little bit over the crust
and over the edge

of the green hill
in a red shirt

and believe in
no moral cause
my friend
but that of
the orange you're
eating

for me!

a big number
for you!

small boxes
filled with
tinsel


for you!

new mexico, 2007

special candy
in a cupboard
with words on it
children words

new post privat
queen of
cards
of a table

she's like a little bell
that keeps needing
to be rung

this is a song.

can you see what i see?
a star a star
shining from afar
and it twinkles like a little
eye or hair

twinkles like a bell
and a voice
saying things
it
has
said
many times

twinkles like a drip
in a bucket
ding ding ding

every shine in every eye
and every smile on an inanimate object
every figure in a cloud

and all the dances in smoke
and all the flashes in the corner of your eye
and all the spills that make shapes
and the faucets that talk

the purple towels
the lilac pens
the periwinkle fleeces
the violet stationary

the smell of uncooked tofu
and it's juice

a living room with no windows

trees
tree
trees
cut the sky
cut
cut cut

"play"

is never play.
it is perversion
and hellbentedness
and boredom
and grease

all them sit in a circle
and they hold hands
and they sing a song to the food that they have

they sing a song to the food and they are children
and they don't care about the song
and they don't care about the hands

they don't like the food.

the whole sky is filled with ice crystals
and there are golden rainbows in it
and the whole ground is full of confused children
who do not care

three old teachers
like the dog and the rain and the horse
three old benches

the dog follows
the rain falls
and the horse is somewhere

the dog begs
the rain whips
the horse won't let you too close
but also will let you pretty close

the dog barks and is scary
the rain makes crops grow
the horse is a little horsey and twitches with flies