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-- word biscuit --
-- all word edition --
09-20-97 -- ray heinrich
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(a smart-ass comment of some sort)
-ray
< word meat >
the shape of the word
lets us forget
what is inside
but inside the word
its shape dissolves
eating the meat of words
letting their sweet blood
flow from our mouths
our teeth deep
inside the words
our shape becomes
the shape of words
- - -
< real words >
the real words
seem to be stocked in piles
in this shed or that
smelling of pine in the sun
just waiting for young faces
to peek
out of the current dream
or old faces
in this mirror
when i turn my head
- - -
< a few more words >
i gotta stop off
at the seven-eleven
for a few more words
i'm just staring
just looking around
with my mouth open
but nothing comes out
i need a re-fill
one of those two-liter bottles
even diet would do
just so it's big
and i can gulp it
let it slop out my mouth
until it runs down my neck
and soaks my shirt
with meaning
- - -
< these songs >
in these songs
words
carry the tune
- - -
< on getting rid of little words >
those little words may be like dirt
and crawling everywhere like ants
but they can lift ten times their weight
while other words are elephants
and getting rid of little words
is getting rid of breath and air
if you get rid of little words
the bigger ones grow hair
- - -
< gray >
the world outside is real
and can be described
in those terms
but
we live in here
inside
in the landscape
of where
our life is a story
where magic is real
and
available
and a single word
can make
you
or you can vanish
a key
pressed
in the late afternoon
can leave you
gone
painted out like white on white
or
like gray
(if you prefer it that way)
on gray
- - -
< in the moment before the pictures took over >
we enjoyed the dark with only our words
- - -
< how email works >
these words you see
are from excited electrons
excited by other electrons
into making photons
and throwing them your way
when i write to you
i feel like a child prodigy
playing these plastic keys
making music with these words
music to send to you
and this trust i have
trust that you are there
trust that you are reading this
right now
comes from my firm knowledge
that the same electrons that
make steel hard
and stars shine
are responsible for getting
you this message
the entire universe
is on our side
- - -
< words as rocks >
my children
turn against me
in dreams
i see them come
with words as rocks
punishing a difference
that fades as i wake
but with sleep
again
becomes my children
- - -
< kiss >
the conversation
of your mouth on mine
our best words
traveling straight
from heart to heart
- - -
< they're turning poetry into cheeseburgers >
or actually
i am
i know it looks like ronald reagan on the outside
but on the inside
it's me
working the meat grinder
while nancy feeds the stuff in
she starts with words
but it always ends up being my dick
- - -
< all i can give you >
The rats of a good purpose,
run away. I enter this in the
logbook, and i know you will
be checking on me. But i know
a lot. More than you think.
Maybe enough. I enter this in
the logbook too. And then, i
give up, and change the logbook
into this poem. Knowing you
will check it too. And here
you are, reading this. So see,
i was right. Now maybe i asked
you to read this; and maybe i
didn't. Maybe, i want to invite
you in. Here, have this food
and drink made into words.
You see, no matter how much i
might love you, all i can give
you are these words.
- - -
< rat brains >
- for kim
when things aren't going so well
and you can't eat words
and the wolves
have eaten everything else
even the rats
well
not ALL of the rats
so
you turn to what's left
but why
is it always
the brains?
- - -
< my ego wrote everything i have >
when my head writes something
it's disgusted
throws it away
thinks it's
just shit
but when my ego writes
it loves it
and though it won't admit it
it gets a little help
my subconscious
sends it tiny notes
about fathers and mothers
that are really hard to read
my libido
(when i can find it)
provides the juicy details
my tongue
loves the words
my hands dance to them
but my stomach
is not much help
always wants
to be doing something else
oh
and i almost forgot my toes
they wiggle
as my ego writes
and loves it
best stuff in years
wonderful
damn you're good
gotta keep that
so it just turns out
my ego
wrote everything i have
- - -
< your words >
your words
pour
your words
rain
your words
wash over me
rivers of your words
and lakes of them
and always
they end up in my sea
- - -
< words mean too much >
but good writers
can often
correct this
- - -
< interior decorating >
this poem is a lonely room
a bare room
these words
are it's only furniture
this poem is an empty room
i'm trying to fill
with the furniture
of these words
this poem is an empty room
i'm trying to furnish
with these words
well...
no matter how i move them around
it needs you
coming in the door
- - -
< fuel >
poetry is fuel
not brick
each word a little stick
that snaps
and burns
- - -
< in my head >
written
in my head
it's there
what my eyes
won't read
what i
cannot share
kept
in my head
twisted-down
real tight
a prisoner
of words
i cannot write
- - -
< the words i want >
sometimes
you have something in your head
sometimes
you don't
but most times
(and this is one of them)
it's in-between
there are all
these words to choose from
there are all
these people i could say them to
there is all this time
that must be accounted for
so here i am
far from you
far from the last hints
to the life i should have lived
here i am
far from the words
i want you
to say to me
tell me you are like this too
or
tell me that you're not
but how
with just a little movement
left or right
the world would change
those are the words i want
- - -
_______________________________________________________________
all registered subscribers to 'word biscuit', have my
permission to publish any individual poem or poems
contained within it (or the whole dang thing if you
feel like it) so long as you obtain no commercial or
barter considerations in exchange for such copies, it's
not part of any pro-republican campaign literature, and
you do it within two years of its publication date.
anything else requires my permission which may be obtained
by writing to me at: ray@scribbledyne.com
if you're not a registered subscriber and would like to
receive 'word biscuit' irregularly (of course it's free),
just send an email saying something like yes to:
ray@scribbledyne.com
back issues can be found at: http://wordbiscuit.com/
all this is copyright 1997 by ray heinrich and the free
state of dogs. comments are VERY welcome, send to:
ray@scribbledyne.com and i'm not wearing any pants though
the shirt i have on has a quote on it from noam chomsky
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end
well, almost...
stock bio:
ray heinrich is an ex-texas technofreak and hippie-socialist
wannabe who writes poems for thrills and attention. over the
years his work has appeared in many small, insignificant
publications. in real life he repairs computers, has always
been married, loves dogs, and owns a blue fish.
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