EPC Collaborative Poem #8

i don't know what to say
so i'll keep quiet
(GB)

i used to do poetry
then i got used to it
(rmn)

those inheir//
places in be tween

already there are noises.something to be
come.desire.IRChat

the fantasy is rEAlIFE. timeSetting

another dayz beneath this screen
. mirror to rl
(bilb)

fresh ferns fiddling around in the ground around the sound of an old oak
(cxd)

This breaks the \
dialogue there is life only after
this comma

To walk an edge
is to cut one's feet
continuously

I am in another other's foot
condemned to translate steps to posture
the translations that exist contorted in equal portions
under the city's snow, as

yesterday's transmission
of grace and revolution

cycles spin out
to control a yarn

The boundaries
of mind this week are defined
by the Olympics via satellite: sing
weeping
of candle
shaped color
nearness are
dust kissing
grass eyes
scream tender
expectation
cold word lips
approach let
ter dance touch
ghost melody
meander cheeks
wave through
radiant blame

Maybe the world will stop working
between passes of the torch, while
we here of the couch (ed diagram)
will experience the nostalgia of
Coca-Cola preempting the continual
flow of Kodak's true colors the pace will reach
anthology and shed
its purpose, leaving
trails in the anxious
backyard where implements
are retooled or implied
go away, calls back
(Barc/Crab)

zen
zen evil
lust lust lust lust lust
beauty

a fine piece of art
you are

GIRL....
(ckb)

"Seven garbage cans in January."
These were the words of a psychotic cocaine addict.
(JW)

writing something new through the air electric
to a destination of comrades
this is a first, a bold step
at capturing a wanted few
(ph)

type your poetic contribution below
ron silliman runs roughshod
is not a proper phrase
might go something like (Use [Enter] for linebreaks
. . . . If [Enter] does not work,
try breaking the paradigm.
good luck sailor. red sky at night.
(cks)

fourteen terminals in the middle of the room
swordlike, peoples heads reflecting the light from above
piercing at the new visitor,
entering the New York Public library
enlightening ?
surely a double edged sword
double edged
(cz)

Through the moist, melting snow I see tiny petals of pink
reaching up to greet the sun, and me.
An old friend has sent it's child forth one more time
and in that moment I am free.
(r.k.)

break the burning tides of an empty world to taste the sweet juices of the
broken pleaser. i give MYSELF to her
only to hear myself die with the turning of the
TIMES.
(gmc)

all work
can be eaten

if not by us

by the computers
(mg)

skinny skinny people
assaulting me with
poverty
I saw
the bested minds of my
generative
aphasia
destoried by
madeness skinny
skinny poems
assaulting me with
silence
(Anon.)

the rue way eye for light introduction to the ebb now search for rupture defiant the one responsible looks to you for relief re-live enough the border-crossing of night into day is abstract in this night catapulted as it is into your hand like a pen
(D.C.)

Through the firey doors of reality
I fall into a feeling of ongoin finality
I feel swaet on my face and a rip in my soul
...
(RP)

pale waves drift down the sun dried hill
waving reality as we weave and wave back
(wd)

Coming toward me, hand outstretched
quivering in the July hot sun
"Gimme a light" she says.
I stare at her faded pink unsteadiness.
I have no light, nothing to give.
What I see my end in sight.
(MM)

old cars
are like
old dogs
they both
smell bad
and make
weird sounds
(JPS)

we are night like the black-
board, nestled in a mustard cloud
our hands like whittled finches
cleaning
(vz)

reluctantly pursuing the demise of a commercial enterprise
which fails to honor basic codes of decency I am here
suddenly speaking without voice to who knows a string of
words that means nothing
dare I elaborate
we are arrayed in clear plexiglass
many of us in suits
my spring off is with me
he is bored
outside the pink tea roses are
cheerful.
yet appears to be full of meaning
(SD)

all eyes are up-on the hurting sight
with no-thing to be turned on
aging gas and breaking sticks
we forget to leave on the light
...boy she sure is pissed off
How many times must i scream at you kids?
...strange she sure is pissed off
one block knocked off of you
(je)

masses move through life's long halls
in zombie states and draw no breath
while those who live grow ever small
dying for fear of death.
(jp)

I laughingly ask the stars in the early morning light
if I may borrow some of their sparkle to wear in my eyes.
Then I wait, almost with breath held, as the sky begins to lighten,
and I watch with the wonder of a child as the Artist in the sky
enthusiastically brushes vivid colors across the horizon.
(sunrise)

God, a poem, a blank piece of paper staring~
me in the face~but how could a piece of paper due that in dulcet~
tones as ginger rogers forgetting her slippers~
and dancing with gene kelly cross forgotten~hallways saying god I was there~
and we knew her to but weren't educated~enough to make fools of fools~no rather letting the words drip off the paper~never drying~
hoofs twisting~moments misting in the memories~
of islands drifting by blue cysts on the sea~
does he remember me... I remember not~
Just foolish children forget me not~
mountain meadows in time with melodies of rhyme~
and scholars search obscurities~
incoherant reveries~
Artists painting somulent divinities~
in fresco on plaster~
dreams of alabaster cantons frozen in time~
Cathay in transparent rhyme~
Futures of market and despair~
she said they'd never believe
we'd be there~
but we walked the sculptured steps~
whe Coer de Lion met his death
and realized
that in itself
poetry comes without
the hindrence of the hand of long forgotten command
or calipso her hand might settle
on my hand.
(MS)

again they return, colorless and mute,
albino wings beating no music
(ccb)

the light of your eyes in the shadow of the moon
still holds me breathless
days after you held me
i can still remember the look on your face
i can still remember the way that you kissed me
i can still remember how much i loved you
with the pale glow from a million stars filtering
down over our naked bodies
you whispered such beautiful words to me that night
as i remember what you said,
i can't help but think,
did you really mean them?
yes, i know you say you do,
but then you go off with her..
that woman
did you say the same things to her?
how can i believe you anymore?
my breathlessness disappears as i think of you and her...
together...
did you hold her the same way you held me?
did you whisper the same words?
did she love you too?
bullshit, that's all it is.
you always do this
you use the darkness as a manipulator
you use the light of your eyes in the shadows
to control women
and i'm not going to take it anymore
so you can just get out
go and fuck that woman some more
leave me alone
so kiss her the way you kissed me
look at her the way you looked at me
just don't come crawling back
when she discovers what you do
because i'm not going to take you again
even though the very thought of you
leaves me breathless
but i still love the glow of a million stars filtering down
around me
but i will enjoy it
alone.
(ana)

Only under this night
the moon rivers run down
the branches of the silvered tree
making him tall, cold
metallic,
and unaware of the dead leaves below
(mrl)

Y quise escribirle al amor en esta noche
mas no pude,
fuë el amor el que vino a mì
y me hizo escribir
tan slo
tu nombre.
(CEU)

Garageland
I can see miles and miles of suburbia
in whose garages
beers are stolen from fathers' fridges
and flow into hospitals
in the newly-pumped stomachs
of six-year-olds.....
...I found a man in my garage today
he was rifling through my tools
looking for a wire or rope or piece of nylon
with which to hang himself.
I shot him.
(hel)

whenever failing,
whichever falling whatever way
electronic verse does
tangibly display
(Huh)

Just heard[enter]
by e-mail[enter]
you're dead. Didn't[enter]
doubt it. Don't let it[enter]
hold you back...
(B.C.)

I'm not embarrassed, I'm just too tired to create.
(MA)

ich bin
without a staple to lie my head in
(eml)

halo vista triple!
"There is no vanda, mimosa!"
cried the mousetrap eyesore qulted
in a bundle
trstrsitititibabagga
what
(LF)

Empty rattle in wiring together the mountain, I've slipped and let you know: What good is my airbag NOW?
(CL)

What little time-to succeed.
How small the chance-that ones dreams will come true.
How quiet is the sound slumber-When no dream will enter.
What a sad day-when no child will let out a shout of joy.
What discontentment-when one is lonely.
What love is lost-when pride is strong.
(mar)

He has a greasy
paint spattered
friction taped
soul
and views the world
with only one eye.
"But," he says
"what difference
does it make?
It all works"
(glb)

Fate, my friend, has whispered
arousing my suspicion of our
fictitious God.
(L.A.)

whisper beneath languid beauty
i fall,
seduced in your hypnotising stare
sing to me
hold me softly as i cry
the water is a lullaby
put me to sleep with your
sweet caress
and i now know i love you
(anastasia)

YOUR SOFT HAND, AKES A HARD FIST.YOU GIVE E ABUCE, I TAKE IT.YOU LAUGH I
YOU LAUGH, I CRY. YOU DRINK, I RUN.
(UNTITLED)

You can't turn off the loss.
It's like having your radio
go to static at high volume
in heavy traffic...
(rrb)

I said to him: hey, why me?
He said: why not?
(LINT)

A wretched creak of tape stuck on a parcel,
(TW)

If only
The speed of the hand
outwitted the speed of the mind
and we could live in small spaces.

I would be grateful.
(pdb)

Laslo comes on to a cosmic cutie
at the Alpha Centauri rest stop,
and he seems to be getting somewhere
when suddenly, his ear lobes explode.
(booboo)

Pacific clouds overhead
July grasses wave cyberly
To virtual visitors.
(rwm)

Pacific clouds overhead
July grasses wave cyberly
To virtual visitors.
( rwm )
(rwm)

We travel the wings of the Wind and soar with the birds. Flying high and enjoying the freedom that we have earned. We travel across the best nation and hear everyones words. A nation is mourning the loss of 200 people that were burned. Some people are asking why can't the government protect the good. The criminal seems to have all the rights. Serving the complete sentence, a criminal should. The authorities are not sure if it is a crime, as a nation watches the search lights. People that were on the plane, were striving for a life long dream. Among the victims were students from a Pennsylvania School. The nation knows now that their dream is lost, while we watch the search team. The World crys, as across the nation, there are tears that could fill a Pool. Early in the night people saw a flash of light and a sound of an explosion. From 13,000 feet in the air, the plane burst into a fireball, and fell to the ocean. A young man was going to ask a woman for her hand, when he made a return trip.
The Woman lost her future husband, and the nation just about flipped. Many other people were on the plane, and their dream may never be known. Flight 800, their families now know, should have never been flown. No matter what the cause of the accident, the people are gone. They left for Paris, and soared into the sky. Families now sit, and watch television, as they mourn. The World learns that all 200 People did die. The Authorities confirm that if this was a crime. All involved will do a lot of time.
Written July 20, 1996 Title "Destination Heaven"
(CC)

jiffy jiffy
jig to the bum bum dickwag
nines peacefully
sneedy I feel like onions.
(sb)

it to be
physician's
neither it two sides
yes two above
two below to now
(br)

monotone, mantovani, manhattan... MAN!
(Bo.N.Go)

Helicopters circle the orange night,
bright bright bright night night night,
and I click on and off, click on and off,
and I think....think....think....and I think.
(AYE)

no bombs this morning, only fragments of a happier time
who will die today
what madness born
this day will rise tomorrow
(nn)

late 20th decline in -ism presents
itself in impossible collaboration projects
admirable defeats
tounge in groove--
but you're still one
million miles away;
let's keep it that way;
no -ism's, no -ist's
etc,
(rr)

sent tablets, received package marked
"mirrors" full of fingernails, full of
dry rot window frames, the rest to come

given most of what remained
on the table, gavel, no r
nothing hummed in the ear
at night at never at no one's
business but my own

game, a leg, a given
a fair sky descending
agape, kind of kind or skin

given most, most, wanted
(ro)

I have an idea
that ink bleeds through the page
earlier chapters renounce
one would say God as objects
not listening to us who use them
function solely on what
should be called Design or The Dream
indenting thumbprint
where warring factions would
follow politics
(tb)

Something
Sometime. Some sum. Time
Later than never than later than never at all.

She wouldn't tell us what the communist
student wrote her. "Top Secret Stuff!"
she said.

"Never dream, never fly, never do anything other than those things which you might have already contemplated doing and have resolved any unforseen circumstances in anticipation of the circumlocutory, hydrangeal zeal.
(dcgp)

it's hideous the way
i pretend
that you are not disappearing
leaving forever
but you've left
no shadow
no outline
no buzz
on my walls
i have to dream
to be sure
you're still alive
(gf)

he is bored with Vhristmas in England andhas begun to wish himself away; if only he had the money, or had had the sense to havekept the money, to fly to Stockholm
(wm)

Darwin speaks little grunts
over and over, his little grunts
and, after a moment, he is no more
(gct)

Death is a country where people wonder and worry
what it's like to live.
The sullen wish to live
and live soon
to be done with death
and the happy want to stay dead
forever
wondering
will it hurt to live
and is there death after death.
(D.G.)

razorshreds of ratpuke tornasunder by turtle thoughts
(e.e.k.)

a swift goodbye
just so deep
that I know it still
speaks.
(AM)

this weapon, evening
is cuts and then it sheaths
itself in dawn does it?
well well,
I take that to be a yes
as the rat says yes
to the waterway
and the bird says yes
to the violent sky
(WW)

axisaxisaxis as is
astor astory goes
the poets construct
this space the poets construct
as isaxisixa si sa
(tpm)

Her shadow
Studying what hasn't
What will
She
Do
When leaves begin to dance...
When the wind sings
To
Her
On the wings of whisper
The lullaby of
Not
Yet...
Unborn...unheard...
Waiting its turn to dance?
(REW)

yeah
okay
but...
if i invent my own language...
who can I talk to?
(jam)

i hear him and he doesnt stop but what will the fucker do if he doesnt
i have to make him quiet amidst the zydecko and drums
the beat changes for an instant he's quiet NO charlie no quiet
and the night bugs zwill and trill it in their way that they tell it and
i hear it all of it all the time and the night beats us
and some singer keeps tellin me i got him hypnotized and he needs to quiet im tellin you city boy--you cant bark here theyll hunt you down take yr voice
(mdl)

The moon genuflects,
The sun announces you,
The stars revolve
in a dance of celebration:
They trace their routes
by bearings drawn
directly from your eyes.
(ADM)

her face growing
younger
though she had yet
to smile
(FJB)

a ways from decency the migrations of innocents thru the hall of
jewels woke the mind for the play of the hearts & it invocation
amid the chiming the noise of those designs we've inherited
(D)

the house of jewels and words took flight in shapes of jadeflowers, nontheless instantaneously
dreaming into entire villages of gold into straw
(e)

it was a dark and stormy nitelite in the land of soporificville,
and all the friggles were sleeping in their cages of nought
(ex)

silly is a man
who with a noose in his hand
searches for an executioner
(CLMAC)

Dont feel me cross
Dont look at this strange
They are all in the moss
That makes me look deranged
(Ej)

trouble is is
is is trouble
is not is not, is is not
remember: oranges are blue
(wb)

It smells like fall out
The air is just a bit cleaner
and you can almost hear
the leaves changing color
(BOS)

When you
Are oral erotic,
You'll ask a lady to eat;
And when
You're anal erotic,
You'll give the lady your seat.
When you Are phallic
Erotic,
You'll fit: like hand in glove
But
When urethral erotic, Yoooo
Will know that urine
Love.
(PMG)

Propped motionless in the slo-mo
evening
as if a distant erosion
beheld my name or what I stand for or against
(PLA)

nothing is more poetic than excremental nonsense
(moinous)