xes and oes

why would one try to diagram ecstasy?

_____________________________________________________

________________________________________________________








Every body is sweating on the bus but no one is complaining.












_____________________________________________________

35 about me (which I never got around to publishing on FB and now it would be an annoyance and so i'm thinking it's a way to reenter the wilderness.)

___________________________________________________________________________________

a context, a culling:

I was tagged a few times and decided to use the form as an exercise for writing a memoir. i was also reading my life by lyn hejinian, and became very interested in the idea of telling one's story by way of alternating perspectives.

i feel that we are by turns insects, birds, idiots. we are pieces of songs scribbled in journals, pieces of family, memory, yesterday's breakfast, gas station signs, and gashed knees. we are bits and parts and effluvia and heartbreak and so much more.

this is an attempt to capture some of that so much more.

___________________________________________________________________

1. “Conceived in the idiom of the instrument.”[i]

2. Sound of arm or wing flapping.

3. Toys under couch cushions, dirty ashtrays and silenced music.

4. Getting her adult feathers. Picked on, plucked off.

5. Lots of stares at my tiger umbrella.

6. My plant-life fell off the back of a truck.

7. Simple, green bean.

8. Egress, dotard.

9. Herky jerky heart parts.

10. Acacia leaves.

11. Ant parts in the soap.

12. In the shower forgetting my dance moves.

13. Afraid to become her.

14. Bells of an ice cream truck.

15. I’m being self-indulgent and I like it.

16. Tube feet, whoosh whoosh.

17. I’m 35 and I have never owned a car.

18. Ambidextrous, slanted writing.

19. I am going to die before I finish.

20. No patience for chitchat.

21. I just ate a whole bag of pita chips.

22. High school dropout, failed cheerleader.

23. Pillbug, echinoderm.

24. Also, her and her and her.

25. Three or four a day fat during punchball.

26. Woe, bluebell.

27. Gun, Wing, Skull.

28. Eco-friendly collision center.

29. Pink Floyd and french fries.

30. I’m not going in there. There’s responsibility in that room.

31. Deciduous, show enough face pattern to separate.[ii]

32. Radiolarian when exponent.

33. The elephant stepped on the molasses.

34. Crumbling irascible.

35. Mountain a silly dress I wear.

---

[i] Gizzi, Peter. The House that Jack Built: The Collected Lectures of Jack Spicer. University Press of New England: 1998.

[ii] Robbins, Chandler S.; Bruun, Bertel; Zim, Herbert S. A Guide to Field Identification Birds of North America. Golden Press: 1966.

___________________________________________________________________

Welcome friends, to the sounds of insects.

yesterday at lakeside park, i lay in the grass for a rare, calm moment.
opened eyes, grass, humming and buzzing, itching but happy.
on the walk home, a tick on my shoulder.
next time, i must remember to spray MYSELF with the insect repellent, not just Phoenix.
anyway, i take it as a reminder to further my insect studies.
o, coleoptera, how you break my heart!

_____________________________________________________________________

things get both too ugly and too lovely sometimes

________________________________________________________


gilded gets grating
everything becomes something



_________________________________________________________

bugbird poem as memoir (a beginning)

________________________________________________________




1. Usually lamellate, sometimes flabellate.
2. Call is an ascending whistle. 3. Tegulae present. Body flattened.
4. Deciduous, show enough face pattern to separate.
5. All killing jars should be wiped out occasionally.
Wingbeats slow enough to be counted.




1. (superfamily scarabaeid)
2. (common loon)
3. (achilid planthopper)
4. (bridled titmouse)
5. (mockingbird)

...porch...

________________________________________________________



It must be my vitreous humor, this myopia the meatus of our cave dwelling.
We rant in posterior chamber, suck carbon through filters, acquiesce to searing conjunctiva.
I worried the daydream so belligerent I breaked it.
Clenched shell to palm shards.
We sit and draw, accuse, and sometimes look one another in the eye.
Sclera in orbit.
Can't you see it.