September 30, 2004
this is the perfect spot to rhyme the word "yearn"
What's the point when everything's dull?
Why go to sleep when the night is null?
A swimming chance to see the moon?
A fleeting glance at something soon?
I don't know.
I mustn't know.
If I knew, then i wouldn't be writing this.
If I knew, then i would hardwire bliss.
If I knew, then I wouldn't chance to miss
everything anything and the in-between.
So I surf. and sometimes i don't.
but everyday i am less green.
and everyday i know more of what i mean.
and everyday i learn more i need to learn.
this is the perfect spot to rhyme the word "yearn".
Posted by Joe Sepi at 03:31 PM | Comments (0)
September 27, 2004
Got Up in the Tub
Gamora emerges
I say hello
I ride his glide
To every side
Ump yells safe
From the shoreline
Hear his call
Mount a wet ball
Try to stall a squall
Turn a toe
Toward the monster
It emerges
I say hello
Go parallel
With the slide
Posted by Jon Olmsted at 09:43 PM | Comments (0)
M.I.A.
This is the word missing
Like lost action gone
This is the world fishing
Taking vacations on.
Listening to glistening
Pure blank this thing in
A sparse hole empty and alone.
Gone is the thoughts like hair through a comb
Thinning and grey today and tomorrow.
Yesterday's canned food borrowed.
To be eaten but not savored.
Lost but not gone.
i hope.
Posted by Joe Sepi at 11:01 AM | Comments (0)
September 23, 2004
mathmagicians vs. mathletes
nothing > us
noone = you
us / anything = zero
but zero can = alot
many * something > everything
if you can't have it all.
sum thing will do.
creation.
one.
all.
u & i...
Posted by Joe Sepi at 12:22 PM | Comments (0)
September 21, 2004
Sea of Pearls
Shine Sheen or Gleam
say something that you mean
Do little more than nothing
Than keep your body clean.
Great Show Shark
on the edge of dark
Keep a little something
Flourish from the stark.
Posted by Joe Sepi at 01:39 PM | Comments (0)
September 20, 2004
Let the Blank Face's Smile Be Your Mirror
"Assign a blank face to every goal, and aim to make it smile. And then let the blank face's smile be your mirror." -Blank Face
Posted by Jon Olmsted at 08:54 AM | Comments (0)
September 19, 2004
apparently soon
luck eludes misfortune
my toes are happy in the sand
whistling a little show tune
with an itch in both hands
Posted by Joe Sepi at 04:23 PM | Comments (0)
The Weathermen
Giant high pressure, there is one on its way,
Fetch and retreat, as water sets weigh.
Push the tub clean on one side for a night,
Then blow hardy, blow, straight backwards with might.
Don't crash, just advance, between you, lay glass,
A monk's pipe is anothers, behold for alas.
Soft and inviting her speed caught with ease,
The higher the floating, the cure of disease.
So, watch, check and then, watch, check and then, watch for a day,
A day for the memories, a forecast for play.
And, fuck an owl.
Posted by Chris D'Alessio at 03:02 PM | Comments (1)
September 18, 2004
Waveland
Waves that move me
In and out.
Time of blue
and metal too.
Crashing currently smooth.
Get underneath feeling.
This is my morning.
This is my wake.
This is the way
to breath, to float, to guess, to know.
Posted by Joe Sepi at 06:56 PM | Comments (0)
Wiff
Here it comes, here it comes, gone, then 3 of them.
Up and over, operate, pinch the log while it's not paying its heed.
Lead, when a leader is folding in your toes.
Blast, when a memory is brewing two cups for Mundelein.
Fold, never, ride.
Posted by Chris D'Alessio at 09:18 AM | Comments (1)
Welded
I will rust in the pounding surf of the Hurons
Robotic driftwood
Emerging from sullen waters
Art has escaped from the nearest museum
9-1-1 for cameras
No time to pause for fevers
The constant noise of misbehaving nature
A Hercules at the shoreline
Pondering overpopulated turf
Sinking into the blue and orange
Twenty feet out
Staring back at the math
That could never be written
Posted by Jon Olmsted at 06:49 AM | Comments (0)
September 17, 2004
Born Home
Rifles toward the sky to shoot soaring songs up high.
Take them down one by one to be hung ...on my wall.
Significant mothers of our bornhole ...on call, waiting to be unheard, let go and listening to leaving.
To trees who are always leaving, we say hello to their good byes. Good try's.
Thanks for effort, for without it all there would be nothing.
click track packages on their way home.
Find a hole and be born.
Born Home.
Posted by Joe Sepi at 10:57 AM | Comments (0)