pigeons of npydyuan
- an underwater pigeon is a dream —
- what else is he gonna say —
- back at school or work or wherever it is we belong —
- the 10 virtues needed for living a poetic lifestyle —
- shoulder to shoulder like little cat soldiers —
- a field of unbroken amber text —
- floating like a dream ghost through the shop behind the stage —
- I didn’t know you were the shit police —
- The street, the leaves, the river, hesitation —
- a brief hiatus —
- sweet, with just a hint of cayenne —
- here and there a voice emanates from a shady porch —
- a couple dozen good-humored cosmic badgers —
- a little bit of danger in the middle of nowhere —
- kids in water that’s almost but not quite too deep —
- almost awake and starting to forget my dreams —
- something catastrophic will immediately happen —
- thus we can all agree on what time of day it is —
- dead letters from dinosaur days —
- a big problem with wrinkles in my socks —
- looking forward to getting skyclad —
- trembling in the limestone dark —
- two car doors slammed in the alpine quiet —
- not much to listen to besides a robotic Romeo —
- the first-magnitude karst spring of her neverending energy —
- any doubt in the minds of future spelunkers —
- you sing with the building and the building sings with you —
- the fresh atmosphere against our bare asses —
- the entire textual content of the universe —
- a spate of pantsings going around —
- out of my kitchen into the warm summer night —
- slightly burned, slightly pink in the middle —
- homemade sound effects and occasionally music —
- Yes, I am wrong. Right? —
- the small decaying body of a wood thrush —
- the word CHEESE came around exactly at the right moment —
- the kind of thing you don’t even notice is a thing —
- billions of seconds remaining on the clock —
- a replica pirate ship inside a museum at night —
- proto-militaristic subtextually homoerotic chimp show —
- Proust or Joyce or Aristotle or some shit —
- pons, gyri, lobules, and gravy —
- how then should we mourn our severed selves —
- sloppin’ on the reconstituted beans —
- a ferris wheel of brobdingnagian proportions —
- the lit-up dollhouse windows of whoever’s house that was —
- jonquil festival —
- the chill behind the gold that makes the shadows long —
- hazy with the smell of rubber and diesel —
- going a lot faster, suddenly —
- there’s a reason you’ve carried this little stone all these years —
- how to not take certain things too damned seriously —
- my most preciously guarded secret —
- the yellow legal-pad paper in my mind —
- redemption’s nearest neighbor —
- sublime nonsense —
- dove seek riddle anguish —
- being cool and aloof makes you lonely —
- my infinitely smart children of the future —
- glistening with sequins and danger —
- gasps and giggles and admonishmnents —
- all gawk-eyed at perversion on display —
- the thing that’s out there is still out there —
- hugging a three-gallon tub of cheez balls —
- you love things and know what fresh air tastes like —
- one night one grain of sand —
- all poets of one kind or another —
- I want the person that my cat becomes to like me —
- dancing around my room like a joyful idiot —
- the crippled rhythm of the morning’s traffic —
- use your hands to make a noise —
- on your way home or on some hopeful bus —
- I dreamed you were enormous —
- graceful, elegant, kind of bug-eyed —
- smacking face first into invisible trees —
- set a nice table for the monkey —
- a shoe full of dollar bills —