July Poem 30: In the Student’s Poetry

But you feel the loop. The pain. The pain is

Back. Afford insurance. The pain is back.

Angry mother. The pain is back. Holding.

The pain is back. Here. To create texture.

You can no longer better the bet

But its indigestion. But you feel so.

Advance and rise up. Hands apart. Saying,

I’m going to change the symbolism.

In the story. In the marijuana.

In the San Francisco sex on the beach.

Beaumont lives in the student’s poetry.

Melancholy as a fake dick standing.

Melancholy dick above a hundred.

Melancholy. Melancholy as fuck.

July Poem 29: Simpleminded Barnes

The tightness people believe out of hand.

That got out of hand. The new learner to

The soul to complain. The rose’s other.

Talk to the doc. Never think. You complain

Of fields through to the better complex of

The poet on the teacher. Camelot,

The supreme trickery. Her job over,

Evaluate the dramatized items

Of sure comprehension. Revolver knocked,

Crowded the specific backed down alley

To fool side of my people. I web you

As able. You can’t bring yourself to go.

Luxury slice. I need to believe that

Pined simpleminded Barnes. He only be.

July Poem 25: No, it Wasn’t the Charger, Dickenson

Confusion comes from the difficulty

In bananas. Danny Dickenson’s poems

Are the peels we had to get. I ate as

Many as my moms had flagrant toothpaste.

Framed by the use of a knife to cut them

The words like a cigarette. Cut the words

Into lean smoking story. Her poems make

Rehab came back out lit. The innocence.

They looked like a canned smoke rose. Her poems had

The lady in back with resurrection.

Had just blown the end off Danny. We sent

The money. Had always gambled wrongly.

Could use some innocence even loss of.

July Poem 24

Destruction’s creation into motion.

The world’s first begins for posterity.

At the distant edges, the thing moves fast—

Faster as it converges. I am the

Center. A universal spiral. All

Matter historian, void. Moving to

Coalesce, spin in a vortex, to gain

Because I recognize even them. It


Spins in reds, oranges, and whites. Once down

My face, there is a tension. My chest. Lost.

I can feel the tears streaming, only this

Tightness of sorrow. I am lying face

On my center. I remember the old

Arthritic knuckles and the wrinkles and


The wrinkled hands. My wrinkled hands. My hands.

Covered. In red all— The friends dead. Write down

The results. Preserve the universe. This

Moment is the event that causes me.



July Poem 22: Dirty Dotted Chunks of Information

It was too harsh. Books banished, weeded, and

Smoke escaped one’s free words. Sad strands of smoke

Rose from the diffuse cherry. And the smoke sucked

Fields of weeds. A big bunch of these bad boys

Swept their own ink. They had smoked it like weed

Out the end of bad taste. The color of

Your teeth after you smoke twelve packs of Cools.

He was sure the weeds had needed a cut.

From early wood fire, and plants. Wet clay hills were

Suspended. The peels were hard to keep lit

When they held planes as fat as forest fires.

Gang violence replaced mineralized Mitch

For us. The bright color of fire ants tell

Dirty dotted chunks of information.

July Poem 20

Is the governess a prologue?

James’s discursive field of letter.

The governess said after and then repeated governess.

This phrase could be sign that he had himself.

The reappearance of a story to tell his story

Creates an area of discourse.

I saw he was not hand.


James following this, I took for an argument.

Yes, the competition, the went.

This nothing two more times,

James Douglas.


Elsewhere, Francesco and Miles

Repeat the word. Up until page 6.

Before Miles admits to having

Opened the story to the group.


Before the fact, the manuscript arrives.

And how the author’s hand postpones his telling

Should be referred to as the hand of agree.