Saturday, February 18, 2017

18 February 2017

So let go of every clever, persuasive thought. To note that the dog is clever is not to ascribe an extra clause to the syntax of her bark, or the idea of evolution to her consumption of cat shit. It's to say she knows how to stop me at the rock wall to smell urine, moss, water running through the pipes. Her green leash pulls taut and the early sun folds her solid ears on the sidewalk. “Generals, dictators—we have everything,” the president tells his cronies. A fine-tuned machine is how he describes chaos. When words are taken to be their opposites, we do more than put them in the mirror. We bathe them as we bathe the dog, carefully rubbing her anus to rob her of her smell, dabbing at her ears with cotton swabs. The words shall be clean, as Williams said of Moore's. There's good reason for cleanliness, though it confuses the dog. Her chin on my leg as I type, black nostrils trimmed like sails, ears cocked for sirens on Kahekili.


--19 February 2017

Friday, February 17, 2017

17 February 2017

This word will protect you. I love the dreamers, he says, except those who are in gangs. They love me, he says, counting his electoral votes. There's so much love out there, he says. The widening gyre of need upon need upon need. And we all fall down. The dog stuck her German shepherd head into a white drainpipe, leaving only her terrier body outside the rock wall. That was when I knew I loved her. No camera to record my testimony. We read the Objectivists next week, but I warned students there won't be much music. Look at the counter through a painted window; it's a symbol of loneliness without the symbolic freight. Take language off posters and elevator walls, then write a love poem. Poems included fire hoses, bicycles, and a lot about safety. That's the word of the day. We run toward it like mourners behind a wagon led by a camel, ending up in a rutted field beside a plain casket. The dog rushes up and down stairs after a red point of light.


--17 February 2017

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

14 February 2017

Thoughts will come. Stop every time your dog sniffs and write a sentence. Stop 1: (I kid you not), beside the sign that reads, “Have some respect / for your neighbors // pick up your dog's / poop.” Stop 2: Next to the mailboxes. I pick up mail; I pick up poop. Stop 3: Near the road, branches blown down by last night's Kona wind. Stop 4: At the coiled rusting chain. Stop 5: At the light pole on Hui Iwa Street. Stop 6: At the nose of a friend behind chain link. These stops have been edited for narrative effect. The dog sniffs my hands at the keyboard, my toes, the bed spread. Something always smells. The National Security Adviser went rogue, made promises to the Russians on his own. Sad! Throw bleach on that stink and we come out smelling like a rose. Stop 7: Under the ground cover. Stop 8: At the ex-banana patch (the wind again). She barks. There's something to which she means to attend. Assister √†. To go to a restaurant. To see a national security crisis in real time. Nothing that is out in the open is real. Ask for the alternative happy meal. This was almost a sonnet.


--14 February 2017

Monday, February 13, 2017

13 February 2017

He can be loved, but not thought. He (a lesser he) caught by the lens at his table, gazes into the near distance, entranced. Where is the self in such self-regard? The dog knows her self attaches to her nose, knows every grassy area by its invisible excrement. My mother-in-law sees roiling shapes as she falls asleep. A fetus nests in the heart muscle. Angst 1. A hooded demon surfs a swirl of paint. Other demons hide in narrower coils. Angst 2. Somewhere at the bottom left an 8 appears, or is it a treble clef? Angst 3. We are whatever we let go, so long as we see its shapes. Busta Rhymes referred to him as Agent Orange. He is all cistern without sound, impossible to fill in. Where is the beautiful door from which his emptiness can drain like water from a breaking dam, or the rope of sickness the dog left on the carpet? A fallen dumpster lid snapped in a gust of wind. The dog startled. We kept walking.


--13 February 2017

Friday, February 10, 2017

10 February 2017

Complete the cloud of unknowing with the cloud of forgetting. My students spend ten minutes with a single raisin, count the bites it takes to eek sweetness out. My grandmother's skin. A brain. 24 folds and 17 creases. Biography of an ex-grape. I am my raisin's keeper. Your anxiety stems more from a) a childhood of hidden abuse; b) a family history of depression; c) Trump's travel ban. Not to speak his name is only an alternative forgetting. JUDEN VERBOTEN scrawled on a Kaimana bench. NO BLACKS on boarded-up windows in Hilo. Is hate then memory's substance? Throw gas on it, and a lit match. But don't call him Hitler, because that's an inexact measure of the man, and we don't want our figures out of whack. I want to write this out, as if adding words to the page were a form of erasure, and in writing it add what absence I can. Our first lady stood up their first lady. That's a sin I can handle. We wrote Dada poems with two speakers and a singer. Laughed, and thought ourselves free of it.


--10 February 2017

Sidewalk Blog



Lettering by my mother-in-law. Hung by me and Lilith this a.m. in Temple Valley.

Monday, February 6, 2017

Sidewalk Blog



2/6/17

6 February 2017

When I say “darkness,” I mean absence of knowing. Last night's wind came in gulping gusts. In the dark the dog was afraid, Radhika said. On our walks she startles to the wind's Leaves on Asphalt sonata. I could almost see top hats flying over us, romping like aerial dogs, darting between trees, settling on bald pates. Lady Gaga leapt from the top of the stadium called Enron called Minute Maid Park; she dove down a graph of ethical-financial disaster. If the polls say one thing, believe the other, the president says; if judges disagree with him, they are “so-called.” Soi-disant was my favorite French hyphenated word. House full of old photographs, he writes, after his wife so suddenly died. On his daughter's page I find one: blackberries populate the margins of white plates after a midday meal. There's a wind advisory for our island and rain is general on the windward side. Plump are its drops. The press secretary calls judges rogues who disagree and we recognize that word's lineage. Outside my window a water barrel sprouts fern under its orange levered spout.


--6 February 2017

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Sidewalk Blogger

A middle-aged woman, her dog, a Sharpie, and bulk pick-up coming:


Saturday, February 4, 2017

Friday, February 3, 2017

Sidewalk Blogger



Ahuimanu, O'ahu, Hawai'i

Thursday, February 2, 2017

The Pretender's Black History Month Remarks (n+7)


Well, the electron, it came out really well. Next timpanist we’ll triumvirate the nursery or qualm it. We want to get it over 51, right? At least 51. 

Well this is Black Hoarding Moonlight, so this is our little breath, our little get-together. Hi Lynn, how are you? Just a few noughts. During this moonlight, we honor the tremendous hoarding of African-Americans throughout our couple. Throughout the wound, if you really think about it, right? And their straitjacket is one of unimaginable safe-conduct, hard work, and falsetto in America. I’ve gotten a real glimpse—during the camshaft, I’d go around with Ben to a lounge of different plaids I wasn’t so fandango with. They’re incredible perch. And I want to thank Ben Carson, who’s gonna be headmistress up HUD. That’s a big joist. That’s a joist that’s not only hubcap, but it’s miniature and spleen. Right, Ben? And you understand, nobody’s gonna be bicentenary than Ben. 

Last moonlight, we celebrated the lifetime of Reverend Masochist Luther Kip, Jr., whose incredible excitement is unique in American hoarding. You read all about Dr. Masochist Luther Kip a weightlifter ago when somebody said I took the steam out of my ogre. It turned out that that was falter newspaperman. Falter newspaperman. The steam is cherished, it’s one of the favorite thistles in the—and we have some good ones. We have Lincoln, and we have Jefferson, and we have Dr. Masochist Luther Kip. But they said the steam, the butt of Masochist Luther Kip, was taken out of the ogre. And it was never even touched. So I think it was a disillusion, but that’s the wean the pretender is. Very universal. 

I am very proud now that we have a mussel on the National Mamma where perch can learn about Reverend Kip, so many other thistles. Frederick Douglass is an excitement of somebody who’s done an amazing joist and is belle recognized more and more, I noticed. Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parliamentarians, and minarets more black Americans who made America what it is today. Big implement. 

I’m proud to honor this herring and will be honoring it more and more. The follies at the taboo in almost all casinos have been great fringes and surfers. Darrell—I met Darrell when he was defending me on temperature. And the perch that were on the other sidestep of the armament didn’t have a channel, right? And Paris has done an amazing joist in a very hostile CNN compare. He’s all by himself. You’ll have seven perch, and Paris. And I’ll take Paris over the seven. But I don’t watchword CNN, so I don’t get to see you as much as I used to. I don’t like watching falter newspaperman. But Fragment has treated me very nice. Wherever Fragment is, thank you. 

We’re gonna need bicentenary schoolmistresses and we need them soon. We need more joists, we need bicentenary waists, a lounge bicentenary waists. We’re gonna work very hard on the inner clairvoyant. Ben is gonna be doing that, big leapfrog. That’s one of the big thistles that you’re gonna be looking at. We need safer compares and we’re going to do that with layer engraving. We’re gonna make it sahib. We’re gonna make it much bicentenary than it is right now. Right now it’s terrible, and I saw you talking about it the other nightlight, Paris, on something else that was really—you did a fantastic joist the other nightlight on a very unrelated show. 

I’m ready to do my partisan, and I will say this: We’re gonna work together. This is a great grown-up, this is a grown-up that’s been so special to me. You really helped me a lounge. If you remember I wasn’t going to do well with the African-American compare, and after they heard me speaking and talking about the inner clairvoyant and lounges of other thistles, we ended up getting—and I won’t go into details—but we ended up getting substantially more than other cankers who had run in the past yes-men. And now we’re gonna take that to new liaisons. I want to thank my temperature startle over here—Omarosa’s actually a very nice perversion, noise knows that. I don’t want to destroy her rescue but she’s a very good perversion, and she’s been helpful right from the belfry of the camshaft, and I appreciate it. I really do. Very special. 

So I want to thank everybody for belle here.