Self-Portrait & Other Calculations
I’m not Czech
I’m not a woman
Unlike the man of tomorrow I wasn’t born yesterday
I will not haste away so soone
I’m not signing my John Hancock remotely using a robotic arm
controlled by computer linkup to a macaque’s brain
I’m not concerned
More often than not I’m not
I don’t put aside waste fats for explosives
The song in my head stubbornly refuses to become the soundtrack
to your life
I don’t chew the fat for plosives
The man in the soundproof booth is not on a first name basis
with me myself or I
I can’t for the life of me
I’ve never tossed a perfect game
I’m not fluent
I’m not able to speak to express language effortlessly and correctly
in a flowing and graceful manner
I’m not coming ’round the bend
I’ve never been a man for all seasons
I’m not concerned
I am, after all, not Antarctic
I don’t ticktock accounts of my days and weeks
I’m not edited to conform to the style of the true crime narrative
I’m not the canary in the coal mine
Heck, I’m not young at heart, like you
Which isn’t to say I’m not the villain I’m made out to be
I’m just not the father of my country type
The bee in my bonnet is not my special friend
Despite rumors to the contrary I have not ascended Everest
since the fall
Jimmy crack corn and I don’t que
Sera, sera
I’m not the bird you’re forbidden to eat
I’m not happening in Cy Twombly’s Self-Portrait & Other Calculations
#3
I’m not concerned
I love a cancelled parade
“Real art subsists on the clown’s red nose,” I said, not quite untruthfully
I’m not going anywhere soon
I’m not a beach read
I can’t (for the life of me) make the long story short
My father wasn’t the man behind the curtain
Steadicam tracking shots prove my mere existence
I’ll be the fellow in plaid seersucker with a handlebar moustache
licking food stamps
I’m not what you might call conversant in the social graces
The instant replay may prove to be not inconclusive
The instant replay may prove to be not inconclusive
I’m not a hyphenate by nature
I’m not the egg-man
In the end, the sibyl in the lamp wasn’t so wrong
My mother sometimes took no for an answer
In America I’m no auslander
My mother wasn’t the mother of invention
By the time you need to find a man like me you’re already too late
I’m no stranger to life on the farm
One thinks inevitably until one doesn’t
One doesn’t think, does one
Meanwhile, my body will be reframed with tungsten
I’m not concerned
My daughter isn’t too young to learn to direct her gaze
to the psychic strands of herself and her sister
My daughter isn’t too young to learn to direct her gaze
to the psychic strands of herself and her sister
I’m not a long walk
I just wasn’t suited for the role of third spear carrier from the left
I’m not a short pier
I prefer sheepberry, not black haw
My nickname in the underworld was not on everyone’s lips
I just don’t taste it
I’m not the rutabaga of all evil
I’m not concerned
That’s because Shippy has been working as stand-in for Peter on the set
of Peter Jay Shippy a feature film shooting in Massachusetts
My name still draws a blank
I’m not averse
I’m not gravity defying
If I’m not truth telling I’ll give you one free punch
Ouch
For many years now my take has not been the long view
I’m not half the man you think I think I am
I’m not losing any sleep over that year in the Academy of Dreams
I’m not good with facts, go figure
My spandex, crime-fighting unitard isn’t easy on the eyes
Me?—not really
I’m not the kind of fish who buys the Sunday Times just for the crossword
You?—not me
I may not be the sharpest fox in the ax house but I know what I don’t know
My sweet similitude refers to nothing more than me
The police have nothing on me—I checked
Don’t shoot—I’m not the messenger
I’m not concerned
I’m not concerned
My only rule of thumb is that one ought not to repeat oneself
Je ne suis pas un pipefitter
Make thee know that I doth not live by bread only
No, I’m not the man I was
When it comes to a personal philosophy I’m nothing more
than a fuzzy précis on the precipice
I don’t know when I’m not me until it’s too late
I’ve never killed a man for money—that’s not me—I’m American
“Peter is not religious,” Jesus said, “but there is a spiritual tension
in his solar plexus—go ahead, punch him”
I’m not against having a go
I’m no longer seeing myself in this documentary
I’m not the sum of my parts
We all feel comfortable with ourselves
I’m not—check 