"Words are alive, cut them and they bleed"

Junk Yard Quotes

Down to such a fine art
the gently-er of the open road
wash behind your ears twice a day
simply lack
pursuits we're looking for
I wanted something gummy and fruity. All they had were the stupid gummy worms. It was miserable I had to chop the worms.
To another building
lock the door, start shooting
you'll change the way you do something to save your life
the behavior of those young people
reach and audience that doesn't listen
wake and sensible after tragedy
before a dark cloud
you can't be tired when you're dealing with someone else life
you can't embarrass me but I can embarrass you
shot gun above the car- you don't listen to her but me
an apology alone is painful
The how and the why
The essence of writing is re-writing
wordy dude
you realize some words are not necessary
The filthy words that are always filthy we've lost so many freedoms in the last few years. it's bogus.
humanity allows people to say good bye before we die
you can't say that what's happening to free speech
different strokes for different folk
everyone knows everything. I know everything.
why spend mine when I can spend yours
While we spoke of many things
Hulett and abandon bulding
You ruined the tip of her banana
I am tired of color
no adventure stopping

Seduction by conveying a message
CLAIM of social responsibility
achieve a "good will"
No smoky mirror; work in good faith to benefit
Just fell up a flight of stairs, gravity be damned!
I really owe all of my ninja training to these guys. and Oprah.
Then I get back to my car and realized I leafy my keys in the door
I guess I'm just a one women kind-of guy
That's a deep drive for some undies
Make sure they are thong style my fav
Cozumel, Mexico
I can put 16oz into my boot
2 speaker cords, extension cord, tape, scissors, zip ties
That broad looks tough...she looks like you could take her on a boat. she looks like she could lift some nets of fish.
My uncle with a pacemaker heart: I just tell everyone that I am a white boy with no rhythm so they game me some. (I love his positive outlook on life and his funny face gestures)
I blame Hooked on Phonics for drug dependency in America's youth... it's a gateway addiction.
Playing corn hole is waaaay harder than it looks... It's a game of great dignity... and respect!
He looks like a playboy? What? Like a good looking guy that plays girls... Oh haha <-just a conversation for myself to remember
Eye broccoli

Holds her notes from good five bars, musically that is pretty lazy
in the dark between them
festers and ferments
cats bring them out teethed
barely holding
they even work through your pockets
better than normal
even in your imagined problems
were filming a reality show
it's like a tickle party

Fact: The inside of a butterfly is orange.

PLEASE COMMENT!! For every 1 load of laundry how many dryer sheets are you supposed to put into that load?

*sigh* Just realized Florida looks like a penis. I'm living in the Penis State.

Blood work and doctors visits will soon be the death of me..I think doctors are secretly in a league of blooding sucking vampires!
I’m not explaining things to people anyway

I drunk half of it black because I’m an Adult

I miss my dirty rice
Food for the poor

We're all insane the same people
everyday we're dying and I am dying to die
saw a boa kill a rabbit on discovery earlier today. It must suck living in nature.
Somewhere between Miami and Cozumel is not a bad choice

IMPROVS

My Last Duchess—Robert Browning

Improv 1

Together with point

A long, narrow mark or band:

“I can’t draw a straight line,”

his absent hands remind me

the corresponding approach to life

rings, ties knot, not around recycled

print “let’s take care of it as a team,”

because that’s what we are until

carefree, arizona; happy, texas; nirvana,michigan

the back of a card he found

where old English ideals survived

but in truth triumph is not guaranteed,

100% un-finished business guarantees

stand or be positioned to wash behind

your ears twice a day, down to a fine art

of liaison; pursuits we’re looking for

the gen’teelly of the open road

interlacing two turns of wrist busy

burying the fingers’ end,

shelve it in a closet

boot gathered dirt

malicious adoration

--“to live in hearts we

leave behind is not to die,” I said

adieu adieu makes logic.

When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer—Walt Whitman

Improv 2

Typhoons Pour Over Poor Manila, August 8 2012

When I heard nothing from the baby clung

to her mother’s lungs, the striking support

of the railing no longer permit off-limit guard

to protect her family’s greatest asset – time

kept quite in her infant eyes that no longer haze

light golden brown but instead spindle and swell

into water fractals, dirty cultivated rice, and the sick trend

of PARENTHOOD : the reply of a sixteen year old girl

to force extended arms around the shoulder of a boy

who could not provide symmetrical support but grant

debts that can’t be ready: “prepared for a hurricane.”

Crossing Brooklyn—Walt Whitman

Improv 3

“The tide that left and never came back”

“And Hansel said to Gretel,” Fact:

the inside of a butterfly is orange,

it quirts the shape of the coastline

controlling the directions needed to find

home, never satisfying the almost equal,

the gravitational force of other needs,

itemized purchase of powdered milk ,

shoes, and tile from hours to years

crumble the way home.

The sea it twists into accurate accounts

boating the English, Dutch, and the African

pygmy hedgehog — forced to believe their wild

or put into a state of responsible breeders

and propelling handlers of “FREEDOM”

a fear to question predators — especially

the “regime type,” the composed bodies

of opinion leaders, the ones who Jaw

When things are as dirty as the stripper scandal.

Because I Could Not Stop for Death—Emily Dikinson

Improv 4

Pregame Procedures

(when the well-ordered meet for war)

They meet in Mexico

the city of yachts, rapid growth,

and world-class agave tequila.

The girls, they mirror mascara

and the boys, they con-troll

step-by-step the bomber

claim exclusive international right

larger in size and honey the nose

two-sided, masks real relation-

ships “forward” grid tally

and equipment limitations.

I Heard a Fly Buzz—When I Died —Emily Dikinson

Improv 5

Note to self:

Improv writing like Emily

Dickinson I heard is

A proven difficult task, yes

It is quite difficult to do.

I am sitting here, library

Frustrated cream cheese chives

Feed my belly, yummy

I think to myself this is end.

(Ohps I did this Poem twice…)

I heard a Fly buzz- when I died-

The Stillness in the Room

I felt the air freeze- in my throat-

and lung a penny tomb.

The retina fail- and then the rest

a casket soon consume

the news is truth- a child

having not yet touch- the gas stove.

The beans are tall-but not enough-

to rise up out the soot

so the baby learns nothingness

while flagged- sat by the tomb

Hap—Thomas Hardy

Improv 6

If, for some reason, I were to live
from a fractal of time, wandering talks of lace satin,
know it be a nightmare-- the un-learned
that existed but, never truly jump the plane.
Then forgive my predetermined vagina
steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased by the perks of floral decent.
Had the "why" been answered
but instead X scar me pretty
And curse the man who wish to kiss.
-- Crass my sympathy, my hand over the sick baby's forehead
And leave me in the South American jungle
bliss-es sung softly in Spanish lullabies.

(Ohps I did it again [not a reference to Brittney Spears] Poem twice…)

[I Just changed some of words from Thomas’s piece, a less inspiring night]

IF but some browsing poorman would call to me
From in these tough times, a disease: "Thou suffering thing,
there is no known that sorrow his ecstasy,
That he love's loss is my hate's profiting!"

Then would he rattle, and venom sting, and die,
wither by the sense of break unmerited;
Half-eased, too, that a Black Face of War
Had tipped and coined his tears he shed.

But not so. How leaves like the autumn,
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
--Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,
And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan....
These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown
Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain

The Convergence of the Twain—Thomas Hardy

Improv 7

Yellow Dresser in my Room

----I

--What sits in front of me

--a box to which no key

my favorite compostable sock, to plea.

----II

--Amarillo pretty I stare

--the pull draws my iris fare

it’s a vintage demeanor plains prayer.

----III

--Rigid above compartments

--it deserts shadow line fence

And I won’t know what I’m talking about.

----IV

--It is not long before

--the stare is broken from core

my eyes are lazy falling fast poor

----V

--Three cells to the right

--three cells going night

There are nine sliding boxes to kite

----VI

--Victorian inspired handles

--look nothing like the candles

the lit paint it settles placid brand-les

----V

--My head is tilt right

--concentrate down sight

The foot curls by the toe quiet and tight.

----VI

--Second down and second right

--pulls the handle, now a freight

Inside the door something is stocking tight.

----VII

--Elenore Rigsby meets the eye

--If only I knew what she look like

Always wearing her invisible crown.

----VII

--I can’t even pretend

--I’ve lost move bar tend

Pied Beauty—Gerard Manley Hopkins

Improv 8

The Difference

Glory be to the woman in the crypt SUV--
who wait on my rhythm for my return, which
was never mine. A gesture greater than clasp
hands waiting on something to happen.

Adam’s Curse—William Butler Yeats

Improv 9

My Curse

I bring back to life.
those that have died in moments.
I magnetize needs, while
trying to satisfy my own
and I'll feel complete, yet
dissatisfied all the same.

I think about ways to disappear
in curiosity of losing electricity.
Can electricity be forgotten?
I think about these things.

It's easy to talk to strangers,
make friends, but when you talk
too long, it is easy for friends
to become strangers.

Could you walk the earth
and never recognize a face?

The Circus Animals’ Desertion—William Butler Yeats

Improv 10

There she is in the air again,
twisting her ankle in ribbon,
Cater-pilling up the satin material
she dances on.

Once again, she's caught my eye
elastic bending her torso as
her hair spirals carmine red, dangle
and she floats with her hands
bough like the willow's wisdom.

Susie Asado—Gertrude Stein

Improv 11

The "sweet" repeats and my head nods
to Susie Asado.

The "sweet" repeats and my head nods
to Susie Asado.

My head rhythms left and right sweet tea.
Sweet tea in the south pocket knives,
it diabetesize the healthy, un-healthy.
Sweet tea in the south drowns not in water
but crystal sugar from a flour bag.
The shifting layers of leaves, leave
out the Southern Belle's manner.

After Apple-Picking—Robert Frost

Improv 12

Wood Chuck

I
The bar it fills with girls and boys
fresh to the open road, identified
with plastic. Their masked ID's,
allow them to no always merge
in pairs through open doors.
Sometimes the zodiac question
spoils their stomach, before
they have the chance to purchase
a Manhattan straight, the "adult"
beverage of class.

II
That little label on the glass
slightly off center, displays
a land-beaver.
It burrows me to think about
rodents representing
drunkards.

Aquainted with the Night—Robert Frost

Improv 13

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have seen the sad streets of Angeles City.
I have listen to the un-known child save a life,
"It's written in a book somewhere."

I have followed a hand to paint the stars
that opened my thought and taught me
to stitch steel to the sunflowers petal
so that rain could gather and slide down
the stem, into roots and muscle.

The dirt, the children to play in poverty
will then stand a chance to slice bread
rather than break.

Design—Robert Frost

Improv 14

What Humans are Designed for

Survival of the fit, the fittest, and the pretty,
The un-sourced mouth to say.

The non-webbed hands and toes help
humans drown because some can't swim
in the storm of needle pricked words.
The stubbled legs drive away the tension
of males' and females' breathing hard.

Humans are layered, starting with bones
strengthened by the breast of a mother.
Progress by phases start at the first
bike wreck that scabbed the gut suit.

The gut protecting suit so far advanced
in technology it heals in time, and
recycles skin into dust.

Chicago—Carl Sandburg

Improv 15

I watched a girl sneeze into a panic once,

her head fell forward before it whip back

from gusting winds of pollen, pollution,

and pale finger tips.

From a city chilled by the

she was a city girl, tempered

by movement of crowds,

she inspired.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird—Wallace Stevens

Improv 16

Three ways to Draw Obesity

Mcdonalds

I’m loving it

Ninety-nine cent meals.

Honey Boo Boo

III

The man with an over active

thyroid creasing

the sides of his eyes

trying to shut the floods

of September when his daughter

lived to see him die.

The Man on the Dump—Wallace Stevens

Improv 17

She’s calling again, opening color

her eyes with tactic

fooling me to believe

that girls mind.

When I came home, exhausted

my body found my bed

the pillow soft, crescent

against my cheek.

Ease into an air-state-of-mind

as my eyes heavy in focus

of nothing,

then I drift into natural sleep.

Dancing in the waterfront,

Naples, the air troughs

low, unit, a world force

of criticism creating insecurity

moving “Forward” the man

with the terrifying hand.

The Snow Man—Wallace Stevens

Improv 18

Winter In North Carolina

In bed I lie beside my mother

hearing her voice breathe as she dream

cold.

She unwillingly whispers truths

with her body, she drifts in

between the Egyptian threads

that never fully bleached

in the Magat River.

She refuses to share with me

the logic of her decisions,

but instead, tells me to pray.

So I listen

not to her

bt the skin

of the water.

The Emperor of Ice Cream—Wallace Stevens

Improv 19

Mosquitos

The sweet of the south, the Southern Belles

with their maple scent and fringed Barcelona

cotton waist. Their exposed thighs,

no man can resist the swat

of their Palimino tail.

To Elise—William Carolos Williams

Improv 20

Razor Burns

I traced his jaw, followed the curve

behind his ears, admiring the marble

skin and never losing focus.

Our eyes door shut slowly

as our face closer, blurring

the vision of the comic dots.

The Widows’ Lament in Springtime—William Carolos Williams

Improv 21

In February the fire sleeps

the embers chill and lovers lose.

The flames dance too controlled

instead of burning, burning.

Spring and All—William Carolos Williams

Improv 22

Some nights the words crowd

impolitely disorganized.

Some nights the starts make sense,

in that they move accordingly,

falling unexpectedly, placing before me

the end to conversations.

Those nights I breathe, I breathe

in Spanish lullabies. The R’s roll

rhythm and spice the words

of his grandmothers Cheyene peppers.

Portrait of a Lady—William Carolos Williams

Improv 23

A man of a man, a manly man

does not take pictures,

he lives in moments.

He does not care to share

the territories of his ideas.

He does not prove, unless

on charts or graphs,

but, instead lips passionately

against the ears soft curve

of a woman. He proves

that decisions are swayed,

bough over the river

that many have passed,

failed or kayaked.

The Young Housewife—William Carolos Williams

Improv 24

Jackson

He sits on the stoop across from Ray’s house

until about the time shadows disappear.

In his moment in the sun,

he does not share the color of his skin,

but instead,

borrows the scare crow’s jacket

and straw hat.

He does not humidify

in the South America’s thirst,

he skin salts and defines in wrinkles.

His memoir is difficult to disprove fiction.

This is Just to Say—William Carolos Williams

Improv 25

I have filtered

your eaten

your tounge

still plum

but sweeter

you were probably

surprised

by lunch.

My hands

tight around your tie

softly tugging

the Eskimo face.

The Red Wheelbarrow—William Carolos Williams

Improv 26

Journalist

in a crowd of

twisting tongues

and flying pigs

I created the

sound—silence.

If you get it

right

it’s the best

thing

ever,

get it wrong

and it will taste

like a pecan

shell.

Snake—D.H. Lawrence

Improv 27

Garden Spider

She’s all yellow

sitting by the window pane

threading silk photos,

as if a poor spy

needling the truth

catching the dew

the escaping.

She whispers in your head

the forgotten.

So wise, quite

by the window

patient to move

against the strike

of the wind.

The River Merchant’s Wife: A Letter—Ezra Pound

Improv 28

The flower of home

In the morning

When the sun peaks

Just above the old barn.

It annoys my eyes,

Until I blanket my face

And cave under squares

Of downy.

I warm under my mother

And when the sun reaches

The arch of the spinning

Roosters talon, He gives up

And re-coups.

Then I escape the Easter

Greens and yellow

Pastels, inhale the crisp

Cool scent of apple fritters.

I am home, returned home

To what’s real, Cinnamon.

In Station of the Metro—Ezra Pound

Improv 29

Pepper

The segregated south on the television screen,

nosed in irritation.

From the Cantos—Ezra Pound

Improv 30

Across from me, a wooden structure

it displays eleven— captured marks

on a time line. My favorite, a woman

in black and white, in a delicate frame,

captured in her time before wrinkles.

She is looking at something I can not see

My guess is she was looking at the people.

The people scattered across the court yard,

slowly pushing into shoulders, being

screamed out and heard towards the rails,

allowed to bring nothing for the place they’re going.

The place where screams dry into toxins.

People become polluted air in the “Forward” movement.

People rely less on each other and more on machines,

Machines that can not feel their own destruction,

Machines that mix in the air with the dusty

Toxins of brittle hair, unpolished fingers.

The vote is for change and change is happening.

Oread—H.D.

Improv 31

Mcintosh

Placid and untouched

In the morning tears

Stuck to the prickles

The pines of blade

That itch my ankle.

Helen—H.D.

Improv 32

In the summer

When it’s hot

We ride to mountains

Between the blue lines

And the pine

Until we reach

The water

Wrapping and rafting

With neon textured

Donuts, chasing

The little girl

With the silver ribbon

In her frail complexion.

She is crying

Or laughing,

We cannot see

Until the scars

Peel off her face.

The Rear-Guard—Suegfrued Sassoon

Improv 33

The walls are mud, cracking dust

And he can only hear milky static.

His back is arching, preparing to shell

Prepared for walls to collapse and take way.

The recycled air, his lungs prepare

To collapse, shelled under the dirt

Where the dead carcus rest, hidden

From the surface so that no one

View his missing eye.

Hurt Hawks—Robinson Jeffers

Improv 34

He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, in capacity is worse.

The curs of the day come and torment him.

At the distance is a house he does not look at,

He instead observes its surroundings,

The blockage of the bush, the hiding

Behind the avocado green trash bin.

He has focus on everything but the house,

The home he finds comfort in

The place of family. He is broken,

Shards of tank metals in his wrists

Remind him of the day, the day

He fell off the bomb.

The Purse-Seine—Robinson Jeffers

Improv 35

Vanilla Rooibos

I cannot tell you how beautiful the scene is,

And a little terrible, then, when the crowded

Leaves net the wood chip vanilla waste

Because they do not care about our planet

The eighty fives, post consumed in fiber

Bars, cupping and sleeving the thirty fours

To help single the less than original papers

Of subtitles, careful to enjoy extremely hot

Weathers of a breath. Made with only ten

Roasting cups. Ten roasting cups of carasins,

The hybrids the elder go crazy for and

The thirty fours pend to roast.

I cannot tell you how beautiful the scene is,

And a little terrible, then, when the crowded

Silver fish gut innocently across her chest

As she colors like the crayons, unable to trace

The lines. She giggles as the legs stipple across

Her belly in painful laughter.

I cannot tell you how beautiful the scene is,

And a little terrible, then when the crowded

Mouth gaps between the front, a travelers

Lid.

The Fish— Marianne Moore

Improv 36

Don’t say you weren’t warned.

The frog breaks its own legs to grow

to claw boiling fish evolved to defend

the learned, the strange animal to explode

it’s really true.

Malaysian ants combust

threat (they wait until their enemies are close

before detonating).

Soldier poison inside their bodies.

When they sense a threat,

they contract their abs,

and spray poison.

Poetry— Marianne Moore

Improv 37

I tickle inside to know

Fifty years ago you too, joy

In the hula-hoop of words

Dictate the control but, wander

In the imaginings.

I admire you, you and your swift

Subtle charm and humor.

I wish to mimic you

But you dress as a thrift store

Seeker, seeking Rayon felt jacket

To complement the trinket belt.

So I admire to inspire.

A Grave— Marianne Moore

Improv 38

I am brushing my teeth

Looking into the sea,

Taking view of Marianne Moore

Thinking to myself

How the hell do I do that?

I am digging my grave

In stress of this test

Wishing my computer had not died

Laughing at the situation.

I’d like to blade

The stress away but

Do not wish to be

Un-productive.

Instead I protest

I collect the views of others

And water

The breathless, listen to the gargles

And turkey-foot, the noise.

I fight the dirt collecting my the nose

My eyes and swim through.

The love song of J. Alfred Prufrock— T.S. Eliot

Improv 39

Repeat and recycle

Repeat and recyle

Until you get it right.

Listen to the rhythm

Dance with the words

Swim in the Ocean

And follow the light.

Hatch with the turtles

Swim through sand

Avoid screaming beaks

And just keep swimming.

Away from the bars

And the illegal sea grass

Swim until the plankton.

Plank the taste of salty rainbows

Avoid the water smash, until

You find home with the seal

Pitching at decibels

Soothing enough to rock

Sleep.

The Hollow Men— T.S. Eliot

Improv 40

I’m reading into you

Finishing our conversation

Hearing my imagination

And wish I were with you.

Until I remember that I am female

Fate for a life of polished fairytales

Against the printed research, professors,

Prestige with certifications, theories.

I learn for myself.

I believe against odds.

I push through the bruises

And wait for the brass

Painted china to wind, ornate.

I rust on the mantled promises,

Wall-hang in their quality, and

You still refuse to meet

In this valley of dying stars

You avoid speech so the hour

It trembles like my innards chest

And I kiss a good.

Tetelestai— T.S. Eliot

Improv 41

Once again the man in dust

Answers my questions. He knows you

Better than I. My eye is it finally sees

You’re gone.

The Harlem Dancer— Claude Mckay

Improv 42

I do not understand

Decision.

I do not understand

Women v.s. pole.

Why mothers let babies

Dance stripped

With smiles

Like the symbol

Chime monkey.

The Tropics in New York— Claude Mckay

Improv 43

Remind me of smoothies.

My body nourishes in the memories

Of bananas ripe and green, ginger-root

To the china town hidden behind sprawl lane

Where the kittens rest on single pattern chairs

Through the saliva.

Dulce et Decorum Est— Wilfred Owen

Improv 44

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face

At the sight of father skinning mother

In sweat and nakedness.

He could no longer be the same,

All went lame; all blind;

He drunk, with fatigue

Thoughts traveling through his limped

On, blood-shod of dreams that

Could no longer pace, so he

Vile cancer bitter until it cud

To children.

Ars Poetica— Archibald MacLeish

Improv 45

Always about the sea

I can not see.

I am tired of these poems

This poetry, not because

I do not enjoy it

But because my brain hurts

It is tired. My classes

Are tired of teaching me

Nothing I did not know,

Everything I did not know.

I just want to sleep

But instead I write.

[the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls]— E.E. Cummings

Improv 46

What is going on?

What is the structure?

“the” keeps being lowered to the next line

into unbeautiful and comfortable minds

of daughters of Christ and dead.

My fingers are knitting, delighted

Lavenders and cornerless rattles.

I am done.

[i sing of Olaf glad and big]— E.E. Cummings

Improv 47

i write in small to warm the big

with contradictions of icy waters

and intellect allegiance

i make no sense. a corpse

will not kiss a yearning

nations but carelessly repeat

repeat repeat in my head

turn in my stomach and wickedly

tease my silver bird of which blond

dress his head, and bead

blue with emerald .

“somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond]— E.E. Cummings

Improv 48

i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all the roses

you walked in observance by, all the roses you

refused to buy me. I do not know what it is about

you that closes me into this box of a room

left to this paper, my hand imaginings. I do not know

what puppets me like a puppy, what weakens

me to the coffee. My knees fold under the pressure

of the travelers lid.

Reapers— Jean Toomer

Improv 49

A long sessile reap and sow

The yellow bean that sprouts

And stalks the dirt, the deer

Hooves that take the fawn

Home. Stalked by the owl

Of hip-pockets and face time

The girls are stylish, trend

To the waves of typing injuries

And cover with a bandaid.

Georgia Dusk— Jean Toomer

Improv 50

I awoke on last time to my mother’s tears

Lazily disdaining to pursue, the setting

The darken sun. She nose the chalice

Sweet, the last drop of honey sticking

The knoll and hill of the neck

Noosed.

Tres Work Shop Drafts from Class

First practice: Books

“Put your confidence at my”

Foul, let it fail to not eat

Christianity, but foregrounds

The practical aspects of farming.

Do not quarrel and fertilize

As an outsider from the West Midlands

Where old Englilsh ideals has survived

Most strongly,

Spent a life poverty in London

As a glint goldfish, a shiver of sharks.

Stay for me.

Argue in numbers, eighteenth-centurty

Remedies that victor triumph and guarantee

Distance, feet, weight that ecstatic in festive

Being.

Coffee

An outsider from the West Midlands

Argument numerous eighteenth-century

Remedies where old English ideals spent

A life in poverty in London.

That of a victor whose final

Triumph is guaranteed; have four well-developed

Toes supporting the weight you did not

Quarrel, the practical aspects of farming.

The ecstatic release of “festive being,”

Snow as fertilizer, a giant of goldfish

Put your confidence at my shiver.

Stay for me.

Porch Band Loop, Columbus

Gilmore was and outsider from the West Midlands

Where fierce dust laze and delight into curls during day

And flesh at night. He didn’t disapprove or try to proceed

The sun, never argued remedies for life poverty in London

Triumph guaranteed four well-developed toes

Supporting weight that did not quarrel the practical

Aspects of farming. That of a victor whose final triumph

Survived most strongly against French, leopard flats

Put your confidence at my beloved bare cheek bone

and not quarrel shiver of sharks but the ecstatic “festive being,”

a glint that reflects my opinions of universal truth.

Second Practice: Fish

Don’t say you weren’t Warned

The frog breaks its own legs to grow

to claw boiling fish

evolved to defend

the learned,

the strange animal to explode

it’s really true.

Malaysian ants combust

threat (they wait until their enemies are close

before detonating).

Soldier poison inside their bodies.

When they sense a threat,

they contract their abs,

and spray poison.

Don’t say you weren’t Warned

(they wait until their enemies are close

before detonating).

the frogs, they break their own,

they crawl until claws extend, evolve

until learned in Malysia,

it animals the strange

it’s really true.

ants combust

threat and soldier poison

inside their bodies.

they contract their abs,

and spray poison.

Third Practice : Smells

Smelly boy from class

it’s the late arrival of a boy, reasons un-known

that slaps your face with an odor of

damp socks spoiled in the sun

the choke fish

the skin release of moist trash bag

that gap-tooth the unbearable

un-recycled

the crevice of your third toe clogged.

Smelly boy from class

The ache for home

The horde, the rolling eye

Invent visiting rules

To un-earth against something

So festered it decibel

Not in tone but nose.

"Words are alive, cut them and they bleed"

Sunday, October 7, 2012

August 20 - September 17 ENGL 4210 Chicken Scratch

Saturday, September 15, 2012

4210 Improv 18

4210 Improv 16

Design

4210 Improv 15

Acquainted with the Night

by Robert Frost

4210 Improv 14

4210 Improv 13

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