Thursday, September 20, 2007

jukka-pekka kervinen & jim leftwich

ounce 16

wrecks rites limn ribbon cobble
nabob abut uterus former disarm
swarming forms utter buttered blob
globe sob bottle cot note
coats knot beetle sub lube

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

a sentence usually is often about someone else

he is risen
he wears light on his face
my face is his
he is the moonlight
he faces my face
I am moonlit
he is mind
the night exclaims
whose bed is he
tonight am sleepin in a risen
his face is soft
his face is angles
when am I an angel
he faces my face
sun already seting he is risen
often is my face a sentence
usually his light

jukka-pekka kervinen & jim leftwich

ounce 15

lungs blur arbor garbled note
text extant sextet excise citrus
circus exits textures exile test
presto rabies alibi scribe script
scribble crib align riots press

Sunday, September 16, 2007


she was here beside my heart
and then the sun dipped down.
now an atmosphere less vivid
does not sting. I breathe all
by myself. sky happens in a line.
the snow will come. I picture quiet
as the house where we inhabited routine.
I feel the snap of a routine that lasted
days before we left. we walked
against the thin shade of white trees.
we sat in stuffed chairs belonging to a couple
who did not value order,
maybe thought it incompatible with happiness.
we found our pleasure there with tea.
found it in shared solitude. we worked a little
and discussed what we had done. and overnight
something was different in a life
I am an adult who has been young a long time.
I learn to have absorbed this, and I carry
what I have, occasionally putting it down.