...thanks reich...

morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling teach me a morning knee swelling morning knee swelling teach me a stretch morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling teach me a stretch monring knee swelling morning knee swelling teach me a stretch thank you morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling teach me a stretch thank you shake hands morning knee swelling teach me a stretch thank you shake hands thank you shake hands thank you shake hands morning knee swelling morning morning morning morning morning morning mourning mourning mourning mourning mourning mourning mourning more more more more more more more more morning morning morning knee swelling morning knee swelling morning knee swelling mourning my poor knee damn pains and swelling mourning speed mourning speed mourning speed morning knee swelling and mourning my speed morning morning morning more morning and the basement dark nothing seen but early day pressing its cheeks against the glass and eyelids quiver and adjust the morning and the knee is swelling the first step the worst step first step the worst step the first step is the worst step morning knee swelling and the morning

Resolutions

Gluttony go guilt go cursing go alcohol go shower-baths go demons go meat go insincerity go memories go smoke go reminiscing go worries go sweets go salts go regrets go idleness go incompletion go pulling looks go poor manners go tender words go phonyness go hands go boasting go self-love go pampering go large claims go ignorance go tempers go fear go carelessness go spendy habits go heartbreaking go mediocracy go wants go promises go tv go sleep go naps go hell go lateness go lies go selfishness go bias go internet atombombs go debts go superiority go inferiority go dirty shirts go hair growth go apathy go drunk misbehaving go hurting go jealousy go daydreams go lust go wandering go aimlessness go indecision go faults go music go rejection go appeasment go skepticism go pessimism go bliss go work go slave trading go harassment go poetry go narrow mind go sum ups go dazes go dirty dishes go eating out go forgetting go half-assing go smart-assing go news go weather go missing items go

In New England wondering...

Drives
Nightly wanderings
stop lights, barriers
villages where houses warm the bones and out along the edge of the yard creeps the drives.
They know spinning
like water. They know bread
crumbs like air and smell the
rubber layer thinly spread
on the road of the curve
where the houses look like hell repeated
infinite turns and grids. I've seen it concentrated
on the patriot lines running down the main street of
a harbor town and I
cried for the residents.

exercise

First meditation then clear it yes everything even this, even the frame digging into my gut as I half drift and half work...

Right, a boulder charges, better, rolls lopsided but spheres have no real sides
but yes this is jagged and damn right there are at least some identifiable surfaces
anyway rolling and trees are either blasted or the vines and branches are reaching to touch the land made meteor
and not simply touch but grabbing leaves like fingers and mercy grips i remember mercy and i was good because my
little hands were manipulative and my tips would dig between each bone in the back of the hand
i would pluck strike and dig into the soft spots the pain centers and i could bring an over sized child to their knees and
power through my hands has been often achieved besides all that i recall the look of this play yard
it was small and dusty and mostly mulch and i know only a few children and every game was king of the hill regardless of
its title or the actual rules every game was a conquering effort and i remember the play yard
i cant believe i'm not coughing through this memory even though the dust and airborne dirt is unmatched
particles kicked up by filthy sneakers running and tagging and killing and conquering and shaping the traits for the rest of their lives
i remember a tether ball and i would hit to destroy it and winning came second to the hit and sharp pains and callus formed on my palms
and would rip the dangling dead skin with my front teeth and have nightmares of the consequences of swallowing my own skin and sometimes
i did it when i wasn't thinking otherwise i would spit it out but often play it between the spaces in my teeth i was scared of the dead skin forming
into a creature inside of my body but my true sensibilities told me that it would gladly reunite with my body and simply be accepted and devoured by my organs and recycled back into the flesh and i knew this and pictured the whole scene as a boy and now i picture me picturing this and yes i can
remember a few things once the boulder starts rolling...

,Besides Ornette,

Radiator, hot, silver
rings or pillars
loops a formation
near the window
and I
elbow rested on the direct hot
covered with my sweater that
someone said resembles one worn
by a distressed writer I replied
dead on
I reply now in silence,
besides Ornette,
who does much speaking,
Fireous Tongue!
All but watching this corner
Ottoman sitting
elbow on the heater
and, yes, Ornette
people walking and walking
always walking
who's working and
who's picking up the kid
who's getting coffee and
who's dying and treading down the seconds
look at this block
and the auto nexus!
I know nothing
finally peace
I rage with the pace, Ornette!
you slow me and then
turn me loose, rabid, and who are these people?
I watch them, hands in their pockets, dangling bags
senseless buying
bundled children are they
the cold spins us foolish
look at this block
it's noon and I'm no pedestrian
I view and throw down
An angel floats past the filth
Horns are fighting Apologize to Ornette!
Neighbors tens of feet in reach could be enjoying the window seat
as I do laughing at jipsters whose jokes bomb but still their embarrassment saves them
I'd rather wear ties and shovel papers into the financial furnace
I'd rather dig ditches and lay pipe I'd rather do you notice my pushing?
and how I join those rejecting that crap? and have you, then,
fulfilled your purpose? your intention?
I admit my connection
the album is done and so am I.

Steely Dan Moment

Today I was listening to Steely Dan's Aja on my stereo. I was also listening to it on my laptop. I spent an hour trying to sync the music perfectly so I would be surrounded by it with multiple speakers. Turns out I got really close only once. There was a delay when I pressed PLAY on iTunes that I couldn't quite figure out. A variable I considered is that computers, especially one as old as mine, often has internal spasms and the delay could be longer or shorter depending on what task the computer is performing at that given moment. I'm on vacation.

oh, goodness...

This morning...clouds. No, not me. The sky. I'm fine. I can say, though, I walked over some patchy grass cutting the sidewalk corner, finger up my nose and my nail scooped a fine idea. While an Asian woman passed with a yellow Labrador. She saw. And my hand retreated and cupped the coagulated mucus, or better, the booger, and I passed her with acting confidence saying in my step that she imagined the whole damn thing, but watching her from the back corner of my eye gave it all away, and, yes, my cupped hand did too. I needed to roll the object between my fingers. For my fingers' sake?... ... ... To feel the quick pinch-the crust inflicting a spot of pain?...Or for the sake of my brain? The pleasure of the act alone. Well, pain is a message sent from the brain, perhaps it's all upstairs. Then what the hell are my fingers doing? Ah, expand, Michael! This is not worth the contemplation...

I was being filmed in the background by public access television and...

I once threw my t.v out the window
She was a whore, bitch did me wrong
She left for months, I read books
and books and books
played the intellectual
pretended with pen
I wrote about a balled up
newspaper page on the sidewalk next to the fence
of a park--garbage
I wrote about babies crying--garbage
Leaves changing colour, bells crashing,
rain--garbage, garbage, garbage

Then, she found me
I was stuck, slowed on the highway
Hood propped, poking around the mechanical guts,
knowing nothing
Her truck--big warm empty
room for 1 more
the rain came and I went

I dream in minute pitches
I shower with jingles
my dramas are hers
I laugh with the studio audience
I still throw things out windows