Tuesday, January 10, 2017

jim leftwich, poems, 01.10.2017

intimate fort of raccoons
coat of collaged mutations. bustles and lulls the ambient portent. ambiguity rattles the exits. depends on constraints, guerrilla vacations, cultural vaccinations. the play of reverie in the gut of disorder.
jim leftwich
01.10.2017


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grapple the salient energies
the sequel is settled in primary pasts. vivid and fair, ensemble directed rice, for the naturally deviant traditions. science is serried and vacillates, banned from its own limits. we go to school to talk with our comrades. our bones are reflexive and persistent. the fumes of the robin, spent choices levitate the liquid creed: mathematical elevators, poems extinct in the details of the veil.
jim leftwich
01.10.2017


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respectable gestures devastate the mountains
environmental consciousness surveys the carpet. clean air is naturally rampant in the trailer parks explicit injustice. we arrive on our feet, just in time. plastic materiality facilitates our entrance into a change. sort the creative projects by types of occupation and prettiness. to sever the meanings from their initial elevations, we serrate our collective observations, arbitrary individuals transmuted by assignment.
jim leftwich
01.10.2017


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lure and don't
a tolerant social soup combs the dominant ecology. batten the spoons! bait lunar parking now! they are the envy of their own messages.
jim leftwich
01.10.2017


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a gaggle of doors
paved and bitten coats, coils bloom, the kittens loom and blur. dance like it pays to be as high as a mode of China. fate is local and it leaks from the chin. pour the sauce precisely, from its finite center. so soon the air we studied, overtly slants and glancing.
jim leftwich
01.10.2017


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skate-agents quandary
diploma oblique vitamin? out in the rented quad they are dancing in their bones. tunnel eyes throat-kitchen, exists without the sensations of livestock, haunted by poison, porch, obelisk, giraffe, table-saw, leveraged personae, solvent, termites, suspension of disbelief, the view from under a boot beside the bridge. "i know it's the same village. we were just here yesterday." permission to sort quotidian lumps.
jim leftwich
01.10.2017


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the pasts aslant
the long soul televised trout-dance, mold, turns and pours the scent into the lamp. the doors are torn, the lions are loose in the lean salon.
jim leftwich
01.10.2017


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lunar in cameo peril
with an estranged cannibal up his sleeve. hope is ecstatic, persuaded by rust, spare parts, protection-rackets, the lost sun of the quiet peninsula. context is especially tired of the demands of conventional realism. accuracy fumes. corruption is the negative principle of absurdity and anxiety. balanced, usurps, excursus, finagle variable, Upanishad muttering "Yankees in seven". escape-fetish embezzled the segue. most of their goals are logical and securely abandoned.
jim leftwich
01.10.2017

Monday, January 09, 2017

jim leftwich, 6 poems

the shaman rides the cloak

don't talk about the moonpoem, brittle drinking with conceptual animals, little dreams renewed in the seventies and displaced by the slogans of hell. in steed tuna learn, in harp vest beach, in writer enjoy. drive your art and your plover over the horses of the head. their bones are an emptiness dancing to the left of the skin. no no, no no, no. the world is fueled by incarnate rainbows, various and appropriated, adorned with footsteps and early sleep. the ferocity of the fire is shiny in its shrine. the smooth skeletons ice cream riot / shivering spinal rot cracking spins / demons askance / it was raining words / even though our shared experience was so far from the English language. resonance is written as it feels. comb the sounds to mirror the minds. they were staying in the dark hotel, The Hotel Baudelaire, archaic wisdom collectively... the road of excess leads to dear prudence who is desired by the cut-up worm in delirium. / dip them in the book / whose face gives no haecceity / like the busy bee for hours / no clock who has eaten / the whole flowing net of birds.

jim leftwich
01.05.2017


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the night lion knows the layers of instruction

do neglected minds introduce us to the fevers of poetic negativity? pistons are built with stamens of lawn, brokens with firm lyrics of religion. the bride of the peacock is the story of god. fabulous beings expand and fill the skin with tainted dance. why are you standing beside that bodhi tree? when you could be sitting beneath the baobab? waiting for bat-pollinated lightning fungus.
 
hollow warthogs eat the mottled spinetails. John Giorno: "I’ve let content arise as it will, with one lifelong rule not to use Buddhist words, because that closes the door on the audience." the makeshift marmalade of sparrows  / sloughs the racing of the loins / upon stormy portions of the condensare / to propagate pious ears asleep. / it is not necessary beyond the flow of three minds / to transmit the erotic and indescribable / directly or indirectly into / the emptiness of practical collaboration.

jim leftwich
01.05.2016


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wander suffused the cook

eggs on a southern priest / lay an eraser / on the forest jaw.  therefore, to bring the absolute into the poem, elsewhere research metalwork laboratories, gratefully the 5 machine-fantasies (thinking of oceans suffused with alienation, a sociocultural embodiment of the experiential crossroads) (the shoes of sweat delight can never be refilled), compelling underground wonders and unwritten memoirs, wasted implementing seasonal emergency, destroy the fried eggs behavioral sweatsuit pavilion, macrocosmic plasma entity, role spot one property objects, nearly stories, cooking novel cartoons neglected, cooling hovel commas expected, eggs therefore metalwork, thinking of embodied delight destroyed the macrocosmic stories. jaw-dropping research-fantasies undo sociocultural sweat. underground shoes wander around the seasonal pavilion. eraser absolute laboratories suffused experiential fever memoirs. waste the eggs and spoil the cook. improvement makes stark roads, but the crooked roads without imps roving mint are the roads of genus and genies.

jim leftwich
01.05.2017


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supermarket radiates crooked rituals

...or turn yourself into a natural family weekend. horizontal battles are ungovernable, they enact multiple responses in daily forms of invitation. we are an unauthorized history flowing kaleidoscopic through the flowers and scrawls of our agitated zenith. saddle the tombs, dipped in lidded hues! infrequent episodes of insurmountable electricity, vitrines across the coffins in the corner of rose hiatus. baubles dust mercury / knots jettison untitled Wednesday / the city is humble, musty with negligence / trash especially institutional / red limbs and letters / marking the orbital punishments.
thing-piece feelings through metrical (petrified?) comprehension. sympathy in tall forks. caul and capacity repeats the rapid drain. intention is its own virtue. our intentions are invitational. we are the scrawls and hues of our mercurial intentions. musty intentions, read through family responses, flow in the saddle of the insurmountable rose.

jim leftwich
01.06.2017


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on the the dump

where was it one first heard of the truth? fragmented stellar dark horse hinge, reinvention has embarked upon the medium tradition hub, the toes emit resurgent notches, stagnant prayers on the finger of a private agenda. "there is only one important relationship with your goat in hell," said Sartre, "to share your curious answers as appreciation of experience." the day can feel this. time is even worse than itself. struggles in the schools are scrambled and continuous. hunting undersea / durational variety / coin ranging castle wastes / who derive their skills / publicly deboned support for reinstated stepladders / are fed the worst jobs in the country / caves baking soda electric dirt / the medium defiance critiques poems into embroidery. "Adults and children sometimes have boards in their bedrooms or living-rooms on which they pin pieces of paper: letters, snapshots, reproductions of paintings, newspaper cuttings, original drawings, postcards. On each board all the images belong to the same language and all are more or less equal within it, because they have been chosen in a highly personal way to match and express the experience of the room’s inhabitant. Logically, these boards should replace museums," -- John Berger, Ways of Seeing (1972). intent envisions eventual textile design. utopian gaps reconstruct the defamiliarized impossible. one rejects the trash. the real is the defamiliarized impossible. modular, sanctioned. an interaction of binaries examines nomadic meanings. meanderings. sources scour the servings. water starved by gasoline. clandestine abstractions are forbidden as propaganda. processual collaboration / stitched memories / utopic identities / sewing machines / disaster cartography / displacement / displace meant / enough fire and knotted beans must-paragraph quasi-calligraphic drawing proposals since they are considered too-heavy shoes, rarely useless.

jim leftwich
01.06.2017


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padlock nodding doors

the curved hand, cotton hairs from year to ear, poached in turn the cumulative participations. by which route elitist interpretations of atrium glimpses vector: opens floods with no bridges to consist. with no mesh balconies, baroque cubic grids and horses, perfected or posed, limbs insufficient for the capacity of reason. arctic, a crucial condition in contemporary cultivation, speaking social species should segment sequential sparks, the day the sun places our images of bouquets on the moon, every cat is a tiger, daffodils disgust the dump. sleep like a snake in snow. climbs like a bird and breathes the fiddle in the barn. eyes knocking around the quilt like Detroit in Vermont. fish-legs padlock, raining against the flowers. the birdbath tastes of garage and nodding catfish. a blizzard of chairs / moonmedicine / useless doors. the curved route with no mesh of reason. every cat should segment the fiddle against the chair. from ear to atrium, cubic crucial sparks, the dump knocking around the birdbath, poached horses in contemporary bouquets snake like garbage to mesh the floods.

jim leftwich
01.07.2017