the tree of alphabets

you where there at the first kiss
you

who does not dare to write in color
true beginnings

or truth as it were-or can be
without a holdings holding

you who can build beginnings that can send
the elephants trembling back to their

stars and prayers
their pillars

and branches of dowser
dosing remainders

to outdated to remain

sending them back to their snakes of misread meanings
misreading minds in sacrifice

to gain a plastic polar bear

you where there when the limb of coordinate
carrels sang from the tree of alphabets

singing words that can be translated into booyah

because the time has ripened
and by ripened i mean ready to stead

it is not Them

but Us
who will take It from them

Two for Tuesday

in the beginning was the word
and the word was

good
in the beginning

words like predestinate
percolated between centric
circumstance

and the ability to read between the lines
and when you needed warmth

you chopped a tree
down

from the center
and they tell us any point can be one

universal centricity simplified
into bite size

edibles for those of us that...

                                               well you know

because we are all so hungry
for more

watch the anima evade pruning


consummation is useful
depending on the paycheck

And So its Two for Tuesday

so lets text
appropriately 

screen side up

the linemen climbs a ladder
mending power line cables

soldering saviors attache
voltage to attics

and attics to edicts
attaching

precept to preposition
screen side up

the line man climbs a letter
mending powdered lines

sniffing sisters attache
voltage to attics

and attics to edicts
attaching

precept to preposition
screen side up

this is for the party members of freedom

splitting alphabets
splitting fowl movements
                    
                                      spitting Anchorage

and the tennis courts will split
weeded in semantics

and vodka

and the alcohol will not last...

                                                when their are no free hands to make it.

after watching the news for 5 seconds

a ratio of self worth peeks
a caterpillars catch incased in assumption
a fork can be eaten in threes

a senators selection of words
a selection of words selected for him
a second to decide

a preparation in jest
a preparation is just
a preparation in juxtaposition

a pre-saunter
a pre-selection of selective savories
a post speculative salamander afraid of change

a bon fire blazing altruism
a bridge
abridged

a polite postman pedaling backwards ashamed of the news

and we can do better than this. we did once. but i won't go into it
it would just make thins poem weird

the american dream

in a feulsaloudge the gut is made iron
casted steal upon steal

painted barriers
black

gas is made
to divert inward

movements

didactic
but clean

like a stories telling in whisper

the story is not heard in the back
and miss read in the front

causing chain reaction
leaving altitudes

unreachable

signs selling signs
stand unmeasured

in a pirated coterie
of clown and cuff

and the unseen wound festers
in collaborative

mail rooms gaining weight


receptions closed
nervousness

directional indecision

and the stories told
accord are morned

then deified

then sold

for returning the book

i saw the book left on the table. forgetting i let you borrow it a year ago, it was strange to see it. it looked skinny-unread. but maybe that was just the feeling in the room, the corners where cornered, bent, just how fingers like to do it-so it could have been the room. also, the book reminded me of this movie i saw a few months ago. the placement of the book reminded me of how ambiguous the movie was. there was a man. a teacher, of sorts. he taut people how to bake bread in an hour; and in a day, find god. he preached of patience in a robe, thumbing a mini-staff, and talking over heads-and they went there just to not understand. to understand just enough. the current mystery assistant assisting current mysteries for them. under his breath and underneath their robes, when the cameras are turned off. and no one could remember if there was salt in the dough, when i noticed his miser curls. his marine tongue giving over to the forged, nonpareil sickness boiled in his gut; thickened with greed. his scolds, lost in the ears of the half listening daydreamers giving themselves to him. but i liked the book, and the movie too; but separately. and i wanted to say, "thank you," for returning the book.