Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Jim Meirose - Ending the Nine Month Long Important as Hell Corporate Conference Call

What? sniped the earpiece, rash rough crushing thrusting at Jamed’s ear, saying, What?
No? Why now what do you mean no hey what wait a minute Jeff cut the line yeah Jeff like I said
cut the audio! Right! So Jeff obeyed generating shuffling plastic on metal clashing while
electronically slowing down, pausing silently, stopping, so, yes; go; cut, thus boiling up silence
hard sharp and brittle, which packed hard filling Jamed’s ear canal, just like it had more than ten
times earlier in the God-damned conference call, with a kind of switch-click then a deeper
hollow nothing that all screamed all crazy, the show’s shut off the plug is pulled there will be no
more go on and hang up sounds like it might be like it might be it all the way, eh, yes—at the
emergence of this hollow nothing meaning everything gone empty noise, Jamed gave up and
pulled the phone from his burning with pain ear, the lobe of which was beet-red from having
tight pressure applied day after day of this months-long round table dissertation, which might be
over now yes or no but it seems the answer is yes because the pulled-down earpiece hissed with
sudden sound easily heard that said in every decibel of its elemental incoherence, OK listen now
we’re close to the end thank God we’re close to coming so wake up; this pistoned out hard from

the hot sweaty earpiece, and plunged further on grinding crushing harder yet against Jamed’s raw
red earlobe, pumping in more pain, that grew intense as that experienced when both ears are
being slowly slashed off by unwashed men using old kitchen knives for some silly but very evil
reason, only bearable in that this version though just as intense, is only momentary and words
once more flowed in against Jamed’s tissue thin pink eardrum, smoothly anesthetizing the
wounds where the ears feel like they’ve been forcibly removed, and calming him all the way in
through all past the drum and on across the hammer anvil and stirrup and on down spiraling into
the centrifugal cochlea, down and down straining for the finish line crowd all cheering, being,
gone, all hung up, and slammed down, but the phone can’t break no, it’s plastic. And, thank God,
thank God, thank God, now he can run and go pee.
What time is it anyway?

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Glenn Bach - Five Poems

corollas blossom as hops
a cup with a flaring mouth     a hollow sphere
     to sound when moved
                                coral of a flower
the capital of a column
              between the abacus and neck
        the naked core of cylindrical shapes
                 within the leafage     time     or the time

of deer in rutting time     alone and insulated
     when of great size     a line of wall
as flanker     as curtain
     overtop (a borrowing)     the leading
sheep of a flock     ringing
                                    changes struck or rung slowly

the old belief that noise frightens hawks
sound with single strokes
     bank the hearths and prepare
for sleep (free to move)

conflagration from untended fires
a tacit conviction of the learned
the desert and the town     apparatus
                  for musical notes signaling ships
(implied in touching)    ocean edge
                                                against land’s end

     —a hard sell and a whim,
rapid tide to turn an auger.

Vex to pester form by means
(befool). Gun barrel (a passage)
by laborious effort through
a crowd.

Circular holes by the rotary motion
for water or oil. To sink a well,
a tree of insects. As it turns,
this timber.

Drilling a succession of blows,
several species known by shell.

Sandy stratum to sow as seeds
dribbling along a furrow or row,
a trickling allure. To slip
or waste.

Seed sometimes so formed that seeds
drop into the hole made deeper
or channel to funnel water
to a row of seed sown in a furrow.

Know that autumn
is a good time
of darkness,
downtown laurel.

Time to deadhead,
what bodes well
unseen in heavy
cover, of foliage
purple with black
bloom on old wood.

Dixieland's rust,
gundog thugs fear
over rise of first,
a rush of wind blows
open, some sand
or fighting cloth.

Rocks may stretch,
of kings how high
in moon.

Twist a simple idea,
unique array of light,
of lashes.

When the material of the foundation is secured as an image in our minds.

When the floors are sealed before the coming of fire season.

When the arrangement of rooms is anticipated for those with an interest in boundaries.

When the size of the windows is spoken in knowing tones to those citizens of the morning.

When the modules of spring settle in place.

When the diagnosis of elements installed.

When the stability of structures appears to be complete.

When the paper chase of framing still bitter about that month. 

hammer nor a sledge

dust instantly

        ends of wood
                     with beeswax
 heavy soled boots
                                            of blowforce


            xxx~xx__ (see sheetrock)

                      wide blade

                                 stiff bristle

             mason (twine)

                       of the black diamond
                                                            a distance

          in increments
is this true?

                    how are they used today?

     —blade marked
to scale, studs
          on center marked in red,
marked in black trusses
     or floor joists
that last bit of accuracy
          in the readings.

Remember the width
                                 when that spot

     is far away
                   one thumb     with serious
                        crease sooner       narrow


     —in dust or
when working alone,
hot in the sunshine,
lighter still for someone
               with small hands

                            due to the curvature

                                   and just

what thin circumferences
of mystery?

Wednesday, July 4, 2018


Cleansing Vegel's mercery has been followed,
Answering the henchmen with the monty-horse,
Rebellion comes of empty screen
Irrrespective of this fragile point of view,
The width of water running in cybernetic smoke
Bustles a narrow and notorious kallikak,
A brutal deck decorated with swollen heads
Or, sewing with sullen otters' eyes
Inbetween the tired Atlantic's thighs

My 5 milky on fractal suspence,
Defrocks rote syringes,
The celebration of a terrible birthday!

Greetings withstand,
Saved urine
In ceilinged hells

I really musn't go,
But why?