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Wednesday, May 19, 2004

OK Joe?

POEM UNDER RECONSTRUCTION

Sunday, May 16, 2004

No Mistakin' the Vibe in that Place

Ghost of an overtone
amber glass sucks the
last available night

and sprinkled like tiny
pieces of balled leather
stood on end; serious

talk will do this, or
a Manson on a hill who
produces all day and night

'Any color you desire
so long as it's
black'

yesterday like blue
rushes of oil
the meter clicks on
measure waves

i've measured them too only
in aquatic grace
across tables my hand
meets nothing
then a hand in my pocket
pull consisitent notes
tremelo verse put
songs of collapse

songs like vibrations
not to be trusted


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