A Large or Splendid Residence

Racing away from painted lines,
the simple equal of beads
balance against each other.

Each can see the lumber lines.

Someone is still waiting
around for quarters and dimes
to be chucked out of windows.

I align the grove debris
and think of other things:
Orthodox gyros,
active adult homes atop retainer walls,
stacked blue tollbooth tiles;
we’ve seen movies on this highway.

I clear the over hang just fine.

I ignore the landscape arrows,
all their recommendations,
all their large, aluminum peppers.

There’s a genius growing
inside of me right now.

It bingos in the morning,

it click-clicks industrially

after sleepless nights,
after regressed ubiquity.

First just the lip balm,
then just the powder.

We’re such a short distance
from the palace
but we’ll wait
a long time anyway.

Facet by Dean Young

For weeks, I’ve gone unbroken
but not unpunished by the quiet
of zero degrees which is worse than
the quiet of twenty when at least
you can’t hear the stars wheeze.
I can’t make it any clearer than that
and stay drunk. A crash course
in the afterlife where I still walk
beside you but unable to touch your hair.
It worries me I could no longer care
or only in a detached way like a monk
for a scorpion.

(from Elegy on a Toy Piano, University of Pittsburgh Press 2005)

From Robertson, from Ruskin, found in the Office of Soft Architecture

“The intelligent part of man being eminently if not chiefly displayed in the structure of his work, his affectionate part is to be displayed in its decoration.”
-John Ruskin

I’m reading this really neat book right now called Occasional Work and Seven Walks from the Office of Soft Architecture by Lisa Robertson published by  Clear Cut Press.

Here’s an excerpt from the manifesto:

“Soft Architecture will reverse the wrongheaded story of structural deepness. The institution is all doors but no entrances. The work of the SA paradoxically recompiles the metaphysics of surface, performing an horizontal research which greets shreds of fibre, pigment flakes, the bleaching of light, proofs of lint, ink, spore, liquid, and pixilation, the strange, frail, leaky cloths and sketchings and gestures which we are. The work of the SA, simultaneously strong and weak, makes new descriptions on the warp of former events. By descriptions, we mean moistly critical dreams, morphological thefts, authentic registers of pleasant customs, accidents posing as intentions. SA makes up face-practices.

“What if there is no ‘space,’ only a permanent, slow-motion mystic takeover, an implausibly careening awning? Nothing is utopian. Everything wants to be. Soft Architects face the reaching middle.”

What a mouthful. An amazing, amazing mouthful.

Everybody’s Science

Streetlights sit outside cornered walls.

We spend a few hours inside.
We meet after days and days.

The casio sounds a little too loud.
I drink water, you the well.

My feeling is more the being here,
this way when you answer for me

you answer wrong.

United fronts are more true
and the bars start to drop

before we begin to move.
Waiting comes more naturally to stones.

I would canoe around the world for you,
just not now.

While You Sleep She Makes Your Jewelry

Check out some really awesome jewelry made by a really awesome poet.

Mactaggart at Etsy.com

Even the item descriptions are poetic.

Here’s one of my favorites from the “Tortoise in the Bay” necklace:

“It might encourage sleep with a lemon between lips.” Intriguing…

Etsy is a really neat site of DIY crafty crafts. I always find about 800 things I would like to buy while I’m browsing.

In other news, POP (Poets off Poetry) will soon rise like a phoenix from the ash…stay tuned.