October 2005


The Adjacent Stairwell 7

Thinking not of the stairs but of this:

“then sadness following the World Series
if it weren’t for the order of words
we would be barbarians”

–Michael Davidson

Country milk still in the blood & a tepid attempt at redress, not to sleep.

October had been very green, one mingled cascade in the still life pursuing the sentiment out to the edge of the frame
& there, arm & arm, they became–

Spectacle:spectator:friends in name only.

I would go the game. In my mind though, & not in your Volvo.

Another fucking Heather.

Trying to stay extremely tall & violent on the mound. Perhaps it went out by mistake & I’m sorry.

All occult phonemes abandon their friends. Symbonese liberation imposters that gather in wet reedy depths of the park. But not for a book club, not from some training in weapons use. Not for cognition is anything. It was called Eden.

Madame Bovary’s Diary

The Adjacent Stairwell 6

The Adjacent Stairwell 5

The Adjacent Stairwell 4

Own Face