Lean me into your dextrose cooing. What I have learned, paratactically, in the machine, cognates turning against each other. I feel your wheel me in me. Think of in me then this way or don’t. I or you or otherwise. While you were weeping, I was made into a weapon of mass insurrection. We could isomorphically be on purpose–like all flour–floural. Show some impathy for chrissakes, when in rooms, do as rumors. I heard you could be mine or mind or mined ore mined ore mind mined. I can see by your hands you are right for me, but wrong is the new right. Let’s sit on it awhile, an eggland’s best impression of an egg. Now I am too big to flail. Now I am for your enjoyment. Now I am your Kierkegaard. Where is my gadflyswatter? I may think of you so often so off then is my thought. My idea of you completes you modally. For example, your nevus is where I’ll keep all my notion of beautiful error w/r/t mapping the inside vertically. Vertiginous love works in our favor, as long as our blindspot is all below us. When I look down I see you look down and say Don’t ♥ w/ yr eyes. Up eyes up, where there is nothing to see nothing. For nothing is my love. Ash tree to ash tree, dust bowl to dust bowl, thou shalt return.

Found Object Poem by Bill Allegrezza

Found Object Poem by Bill Allegrezza

Bill Allegrezza is giving away found object poems.  I got mine today.

]]> http://aksm.wordpress.com/2009/11/18/103/feed/ 0 aL Found Object Poem by Bill Allegrezza Found Object Poem by Bill Allegrezza http://aksm.wordpress.com/2009/11/04/99/ http://aksm.wordpress.com/2009/11/04/99/#comments Wed, 04 Nov 2009 02:32:49 +0000 aksm http://aksm.wordpress.com/?p=99 ]]>

Pamplona and Venere in seta (Venus in silk) Lino Tagliapietra (Italian, b. 1934) - Corning Museum of Glass

Window entering the widow minus

n^th sulk the veins; sine of the times

as we say a gray wool coat

three quarter length Alzheimer’s

tan pants, seventy-four years gone.

Booty is immortal they say

stolen from the gods, obliterated

goods because they say so,

or do they say so because the goods?  No matter,

we have them on autodialer.

Jame’s Turrell’s Meeting at PS1

the brain of the creator as a fish
aren’t we diabolical meat design?
stand pressed in ready
make it knew eh?
forget I then
a purgent codor
speak within tongues
naked mew
teach me ear apparent
while I in
the room.

Your post-

apocalyptic hoo-ha

is gobbling my synaptic

spandex ERROR MESSAGE

Please notify

the administrator

who is

out to lunch poems.  You know

Whitman was a big mow

none better than you

as nine say lum–

an impassable seal

not better so.

sharp edged axes?

¿Great is the English speech?

brood

begins I’d again

why’d the apple

a skin above

the rock spring

wide I’d gorge

climb I the ring

then turn me in

you in turn

in.  What care

was given.

It is looking dark.

Cut back

and back, the dark

is come.

contested border?

You are trap.  If decide now

then much so depends

on the disinvented wheel-

house.  O Ivanhoe,

You rough side only

tearing down of the

Little Yellow Church.

Osa Price remembers

New Jersey Zinc.

It comes from the people,

four with Red Bluff

was a Carbide town.

I’ll dig ditches before I leave.

Then he got a job digging ditches

for $3.35 an hour, but from that day

they started dismantling

and removing what pieces and parts of machinery

and what they wanted to save

and salvage under pressure in rotary boilers, the rope,

cotton waste and rags.

Mostly cobbled from It Comes From the People by Mary Ann Hinsdale, Helen Matthews Lewis, S. Maxine Waller AND http://patersongreatfalls.org/0325pgf/00a.cgi?cr=12a00a00&hd=dhd&tl=dtl&tr=dtr&nl=dnl&bl=dbl&br=dbr&ft=dft&crx=00n