a name for something proves nothing. Right
James Schuyler marqueed.

It couldn't be simpler.

Congealed pizza never tastes just right.

Recite the lines ... Let them die down

You know what? I hadn't thought much about it. Until you brought the subject up.


~~ *#****# *####*

It couldn't be more connected by "and" and "and."



I'm sorry I mentioned it. It was meant as a lacy red missle, but it just goes to show you.

The thrum of hummingbirds, indeed.



Embellished imagery's a subfunction of contemporary diaspora aesthetics. At least that's my guess, o wild diva of the underbrush.


I'm thinking of the radiant subtelty of a pig.


Gray briads of familiar noise.

Psychic veil.

John Lurie is the Keenau Reeeves of hip haberdashery.





Recite the lines
let them die down
and into the ruins

I thought about going undercover.


Geof Huth says, "Many visual poets do not yet fully understand what they're doing, do not yet understand what they can do and how their poems can mean." I've been adding a few strings.


My wake shines, now it is growing dark.


The days of the marquee are numbered.