a sampled universe

arrest warrant 2

a criminal complaint, just kinda whining & dining

on the lapsed judgment, over by the bars:

bending a tapas bar means blending a flopless blur,

or, a very moving violation, it reduced me to

tears, it was a heartwarming spectacle amplifying

how you can identify with yr murderer ...if you wear

a wire you might trip over barbed comments

& end up buyin’ boots made of Barbie’s cement

see? what i meant was, hi C in mento is B&C

in mental or locked wards all across

this state (meant: the key slips like words

in the oiled or natural gassed wards for a warden who

does hard time to come back from, with his

difficult poem allowing me to get out on bail-

ing out the sinking shipment,

i think that’s what a ship meant

back in the day:

lock up behind you,

nudge & nudge and wink &

nite

sordid sonnet 18

long to slow goes that way & this

jabber strays to a closed laff

each aim’s a target becoming miss:

please talk to our staff

bent words get to metal

it’s probably all mental)

in the hard-fought battle

derelict’s errata

managing unclocked hours

start-processed incorrectly

guilty pressures rattle:

speed runs flat, a

mortgaging—just unsung plowers

scheming  (indirectly

a sampled universe

arrest warrant 1

a get outta jail free card, reserved: 2 hotels near

the pen (a ten-jury) , incarcerated for somethin’

i’m never done with, inautomated for having fewer

jobs than a dangling robot ... the possibility of parole

for a non-volant crime, the probability of langue for

a neovalent cram;  imho:  criminalistics measures

states of lines, and counties toward refraction, or

locked up by drawing good ....... so they say:   free prison for

everyone, the amer (bitter) european way

way down past the simmering feudal inks:

beat the rap a la disdainful policing, table (hip)

hopping spirits, waiting to be hard    is hearing as if

wattage included, iow, they also slave who

stall & wade, demonized by demons

wdn’t you slay?  i’d suggest that his writer’s block

gestures toward a cell block, in oven words: almost

common sense sells me, it’s a whole new

edition of      our prison notebooks

Reading Helmut Heissenbuttel's Novel

Novel [3:21]

Read by James Sanders

Novel
Helmut Heißenbüttel
Translated by Rosmarie Waldrop
Volume V of the pamphlet series Diana's Bimonthly "Deduction of the Innocents", 1977
Originally published in Textbuch 2, Walter Verlag, 1961

Breaking Engine (Cheap Chemicals & Dear Water)

a crash

over or around--

            not really the people

                                               

                        the first civic improvement

                        (downhill run,

green would work with

purple              at the stages

            biographoscope

            under the waves

                                                                                    all told

                                                                                    epic for affordable laborers

                                                                                    build a library, etc.

            if you have an

electric link that person re-

assembled, actually he’s

been there about a week

           

                                                  zoooom!        slaked off at low flight

    city has a turpitude

                removes paint

                                                            hanging there the target

            nestled in among         slug             a hurting source code

housatonic

breaking

in the early day                                   a phantom with wages

      bricks hauled and shadows built and earth arranged and shadows built up

labor practice

is the first thing

you think about                                   a knife with fine verbs

                                                                        I           dissociate

           running across              post-industry               sinking down

     walls that don’t hide

                        eyes with acid             agoraform,  this not knowing is for sale

    

                        (torn sail

                                               

                                                if you have an electric link

                                                dawn encoded with letters

                                                homes burn

                                                inside sentences

                                                magnetic signal

                                                crouching                    in a black dot

            smoke in wires

            a letter dated:    “ago”

            smoke in the old shacks

            thought nothing of it

                 & thought nothing

            a place of work

            empty space cataloged

            smoke in the waiting

            my eyes say

            blindness all digital

          a crash               a whole slew of

                                                hiding inside living             smashup

      written hands tremble

a note on two poems

Return to the Ash Gate and Imaging Margins are by a friend, Joice Munyan.  She doesn’t have a 3-dimensional existence, but is rather a heteronym of mine.  She did these 2 pieces in January of 2004.   –mp