Saturday, December 29, 2012




clark coolidge
when he played drums for
serpent power


Learn how to put things will you?       the pencil
won't stop probing       miracles occur down the tube
ink in your shoes through a flatter hat you couldn't
run    a whole airplane lost in the Atlantic
Never to be done again the Pacific gleaming
put on orange pants for trawler duty
there's something in the learning glass apparently
peppermint will improve you Palmer Method
she's alive but she's a mess      torque you see
that's an idea       an alum shield the duration
THUD       somebody's here       the pain will kill her
the blood will hurt a lot very much can't stand it
the survivors stood on a shutter while the sun
made with the steady blinks and moved multitudes


Put on this wig and fiddle with those bottles
weak hands in a vast landscape       resultant
the effect of certain chests       see if you can
set this safe       a potpourri of betters
there are certain Houdinis       obstacles here
the pen flows where the brain cramps
the city blows only the museum remains
a laying-on of wee surprises       use no orioles
there are other-colored collars       statistical fillings
moldings of the Gold Octet      those boys
occupational blizzards at cop-out speed       were you
a Nazarene?       a localizer   bittersweet       fat port
the fog is a washout       come home
no matter the obstacle falls       come


Anyone interested in art is welcome to shoot up the place
auto mechanics washing down church sides
an iron clock interrupts the grammar lesson
thumbtacks in the coffee you better listen
a split second blink could do it       kill some
too few downturns in your m's       pouting over
a box loading operation   some temper with your tunes?
reflections in the snow?       nobody'll ever
you mean it?       lot of stone too much telephone
yellowjackets as a coat       nightmare as a lock
then only a peck of lemons       nobody cares where you are
the eve of optics       Orlando Cepeda knows
The Shadow stirs       losses all around
the creek turns into a reservoir and explodes


You don't understand       from now on
we'll have grey fun       lodged in the skull
it seemed a mind or violin frog?
real striper teacher       a car cheat
the clearance to admire sheer doors
the rest suspended by naked strands
couldn't make up their minds       was it
a home or a gallery they lived in?
a most tiring mist had come over them
so they attended bed       turned off all that stuff
had been speaking the wrong language all their lives
please sharpen those       the basement is full of Serbs
I'm positive       as wrong as I've been
the field is full of notes not dates

Fence Books, 2012