Updated daily, -almost.


or die with
the dogs
-a story.
as in ‘to die like a dog’
insufferable to all but the vain
let the dogs have their bits,
this smog is burning my eyes!
on the road to eternity
a great hope is fastened
on the tip of a spear
the hope festering en route
bad UPS©, the one last, great hope
crushing us with blunder
our misfortune to imagine more
than we often stop to admire
-a quake
at the turn of a page,
a swipe to
the indignities
of old age
and same ol'

Magpies Flying

in a money bog
another missing person
digits, if any, remain
a spirit
a good spirit
a bank account
to prove their caring
digits, some, they roll
fed unto the centipede
head to anus
pure and prideful,
ongoing hope for all
that stays the same
-no discomfort in the face
in 'the hereafter',
take me to freedom
and I will show you
MGM Studios
-magpies flying


the voracity of life
to reach across
solid yearns
to live forever
in free fall
-through solid ground
spirit worlds among
spirit worlds among us
and now wire, mirrored
data, feeds the need
of unquenchable
-mountain dews
voracity of life tenacious
swims the waves to
live forever again
in perpetual care
'always have been'
dataset, eroding
digitally, ramparts,
known origins,
all feed in tributary
the pointed way home
arriving in minutia
the particles, them
those, whom, ours,
into the energetic

Ghost Beach, Tx.

Adrift an ancient sea
everything dead or dying
though Waikīkī in passing
caught in the literal throws
across the sky time like
golden belt orion
no hercules, no gate
-the minerals grow
Dan Aykroyd fades
by petrified umbrella,
ghost warships on the horizon
ICE well above the borderline
this american beach party
-all skeleton hands
Warmonger, USA
Ghost Beach, Tx.
raw petroleum
first removed
it's cousin death
a form-fit
life in recourse
takes the river
and it in turn
becomes the ark
-see you in the future
top 10 animals that humans
have hunted into extinction
-further, furthest from
all the tomes defeated
by time and poor weather
hiding in the shallows.
compression in the strata
from ill executed patriotism
a generation of empaths
gone fully microbial
delicate structures
absorbed by time
leave behind their
doe and deer hearts
to catch sunsets
on a hill, beneath
the hell fire pride
and desert storms.

Starved of
by textbook
-these days
everything is
born into a room
at first belittled
in awe by light
then a sacred space
filled with arguing
burning muscle
the who gets what
and what for
even that serene
sunset of old age
may be blocked
by a dumbass,
node of numbness
consuming the joy
in free miracles

Yeah, I'm American

i live like preparing
yeah like provisional
first generation and
I turn your garbage
into opportunity
you forget things
gleam and I sell
you gleam again
like it were new to you
my emergency ration
of kindness of others
a trip to the supermarket
of the oppressed and
on the street I make
spirit mounds
hard working
while you shuffle
between work and play
I am a soul encased
in masticating utterance
I am a soul alive
in the USA
from Banality
to Fatality
wrestling lactic acid
towards a dream as if I
don't fully know
this is Casper's
reach around
and finally
a ghosting
yeah I'm American

here i am
by grace of god,
skin of teeth,
by goddess graces
-a habitable zone
my fiber
carbon dated
tumbling stone
gathers no moss
only scrapes,
bruises, accruals,
isms, jokes I have
egg white tendrils
in a water glass
building monuments
of my dis-

Et cetera

Every day I look into
this pane of glass
-nothing changed
more non-listening
faux for hires
fuel for brushfire
fast talking,
drowning in
the shady logic,
begging to be
Excuse me
-I will not point
blankly, nor
will I be
in an address
of the nation
in tone or
for you are
no ones
brother, father,
mother, keeper
et cetera
you are a picture
on a pane of glass
preceding the notion
of glass that follows
-fragility, a great echo,
a shattering.


these quips
about misguided

-a new meme,
heavy instant antiquation
kamikaze of self regulation
the glory of light, intrepid,
benefitting hearts flowing
down a channel

-funny tools of hegemony
creating blockages
and friendly fire
in the humorous

(bits of bone in
the collective

-I have a funny one
about a tool
not knowing
its a tool

-starved for a nail,
like everyone else

Future on mute

Humanity hi-jacked,
taught to buy wholesale
while wholly un-whole
un-sounds the human

-quiet gestures
at new and old services,
the miraculous gunshow

-displaced miracles
in the Anthropocene

with a deafening

Tweeky Algorithms
Fate under nonconsensual
Pride and prejudice
Purple mountain's
Dying on hamburger hills


i like moving slow
measured calculated
and deliberate
and the world
a gore in my
delivered by
golden eagle
with regal
cosmic urgency
urges me to
suffer in uncertainty
an exponential folklore
quietly seething
with fascism
perhaps life is in love
with evisceration
and the seeds
it germinates
in the cannibalized
remains of former
are positivity incarnate
the live end
on a battery

Machines continue churning

machines continue churning
-pictures of them wheeling
tchotchkes from infinity
fill the power lines
and almost in reverse
the human alka-seltzer
we evaporate
-reconstitute unto
a blogosphere
of many spheres
many hemispheres
spheres within spheres
spheres with googling

Who knows

The problem with
passing knowledge

Some of it described
in pockets. -Digested

Cut incisive cut and cut
into our world as jagged
as a windowsill
marked by a shape
exorcised unto our Ivy
our rectangle viewfinder
-construct of our hurting
each surge a new wave
of hurt and in response we twist
until the itch has moved across
into our backbone
where we see no markings
of a saint or saintly hands
or windows to a soul
all there is, is fur
very light albeit

-a pair
of fangs
beneath the gum

I could kill an animal
cut circles into its ankles
-forelegs and all
a stripe down to unzip
a still warm carhartt
-if I had to,

but might prefer
the raw bite of
a journeyed Salmon

-who knows.

The hour before using
my first smartphone
I took a hot shower
and felt like a roman
senator awaiting his

sweet man with job to do,
denied invitation
to enter vampirical,
the question,
'Are you a Cop?'

Warm, sweet days

-such a warm, sweet
and windy day
you'd never think
confused, aggressive
men tailor suit
conflagrant lies
to make themselves
a dough made
from as warm
and sweet a root,
a balsamic reduction
of rubber plant resin
given a petrol sheen
and worn in a form
typically suited
for power.

-All credit due them
they know to fit
leadership in pictures.

Out there they trample
everything in dying
to unknow themselves,
while the knowing
watch a fleet of
bound for oblivion
over and over
on warm sweet
days such
as this,
carrying hope
on Di Caprio bows

-twisted truths
smoldering in their
boiler rooms on warm,
sweet days, such as this.

out there
centaurs patrol
to fill their quotas
doling out fairness
in disproportionate
out there cyclops
sit in wait like tigers
in the grass for a chance
to gnaw an arbitrary point
on your mortal body
such is this
our greek myth
their right to fill
the coliseum
with fresh


Walk in designated guidelines
watch for bleeding into living
-what else can we expect
Discovery in playback
Our job is done here
-so they say
Your role to live and die
by planned communion
not to wonder why
or where the path
became a funneling
a too many sided die
-I get it
too many confuse
freedom with denial
of life and others
and so we sit in silt
buried in complacency
all too equally constrained
-unequally denied
can't all go having pie
unless we 3d print
a tasteless world
of Rhubarb,
to say we each
have had a slice.

Poetry in a bag

I don't know what to say
that isn't said daily
I write poetry to cope
I write poetry in an America
where poetry has gone hiding
I drink poetry out of a bag
and wait out my life until
my blood is incoming
drip by drip from a bag
constructed from various
barrels of crude oil
stretched thin across
a membrane
Tomi Lahren defends
the membrane
formed from the sadness
Tomi Lahren made her way
into my poem tonight
not for her pornographic
Tomi Lahren lives in Dallas
there they make things
from the crude
her blonde hair
tested in a wind tunnel
from reasoning to reasoning
somehow this country
is genocide's gift to her
despite all gifts sent
-stolen poetry
delivered in bags


brave explorer
of societal moons
how many looks
before a human
being will shave
their head unannounced,
how many symbolic friends
and foes before
something just
cracks in the
tribal panorama?

We'll come to
celebrate again,
I'm sure, your steps
onto the platform
-our altar delineated
in popular forms
of dried up blood
and all the scrutiny
of the stars.

In it's light
you are lit.

A sexy Neil
Armstrong ensemble
worn stoically
to your ritual

freedom bux
-on lockdown
much grieving, sweating
waiting for 'specialist'
-who never answers
96 degree heat
big security
kills so slow

Wild, wild, was

an old west
of the net
with quick draws
hidden in valleys
buttons chiseled
in stone, caressed
like curious new
appendages in
the flickering

-the dinner bell
its undoing
call in the herd
for steady commodification
-a surge of new services
secretly played by sheriff
a slap on the wrist for evolving
organically, too far into periphery,
cheating on the television.

-the only time any old man has gotten up
was to wonder from their tower:

Where is my revenue from
psychological warfare,
our proverbial golden corral,
my summary of life to digest?

-Fetch me my pen
as well as something
to write with, my starched
and pressed perspective
to whole-heartedly believe,
my goose and egg,
my youth.

who is that other
admiring my flowers
-have that edge hemmed in.

Apple Watch

my senses tingling
something different
about your arm
I detected
a foreign body
a darkened rectangle
absorbing bits
of relationship
and vision
now let's look
at it together
can it be rubbed
from your skin,
pulled away
by a low hanging
branch? Is it a bit
like a racist
finger trap,
-key being to
Should we cut
this conversation
short, forage food
on Lake Baikal,
make ourselves

Donald Trump

The sound of
Donald Trump
eating his own tail
writhing one
room over,
checked out
like a sea turtle
laying eggs,
the nouns
choking Trump,
the woodland
nymph, Trump
the vocalization
of selflessness
The poor mass
of cells can't
even buy

Ape disorder

Always bantering,
hooting and hollering,
tossing handfuls
-new age man
born of pride,
self awareness
like a tree that knows
it is bound to never
move an inch
and yet fully
lives inside of
each, a stretch
16 foot ball fields
at least
-a temperate forest
a great corridor
of Brookstones befitting
our migratory patterns
-the will of chaos reigns titanic
and peace, the wing of a dove
lightly dusts arm and hammer,
powdering before grip
or fatal blow, like the face
of a snarling lowland ape,
we are no match
for the jaws
of life.


a probe sent
out to the nether
as in neither you
nor out there

the here and now
of interrelationship
-a small blinking form
through the electro
magnetic storms

a probe sent
with maybe
a symbol

It wavers depending
on wave availability
to remain true

-we hope
and that seems
to have stayed
as much

as much
as it has
very little

it was as if
traveling back
in time with every
upward scroll

the trucks in texas
parked as if trying
to tell me something

R.I.P (rest in Prince)

hearing prince from the street
in the car holding the man
I assume is a fan, I will ignore
the possibility that they are
just listening to whatever

purple drink
on the lawn
to save pop

the crime is we don't all
get to paint the world
our favorite color

your lesson is simple
and that is stop wanting
to be what you love
and learn to love
what you are

may this season's rain
make purple velvet
from us all


I carry nuts and berries,
various plastics,
essence of aluminum
(the sound it makes
is copy-written, so
simply picture it)
-six would be gulps
bound as Incan mummy

My trek across
The Andes of the mind
-the highway, where
all thought stops
as often as it
brashly shoves.

-a golf course
I snake by painted chemtrail,
rove the central market range
in witness.

There they are exploring
all possible scenarios
of varied parking distance.
-I am thankful to have legs.

each day
a gold medal
toss into the dryer
and no horn

So and So

Who cares
what I like
learn to miss
my mannerisms
I'll observe how
some of yours
remind me
of so and so
and yet you
are entirely new
-To me at least
As old as
the world
so daily missed.


Look on Earth
the Elephants
forgotten in
that we are still
devising plans
to see them
but the word
so heavy
heavier than

The poetry in
Five less bombs
A year, a new
American diet.

In their rooms
they hide their biting,
turning from solid
to plasma and back.
(cacophony of horns,
bells, whistles softly
to crescendo,
pretzel of nascent
snakes learning
to devour.)
In their rooms,
a closeted murmur,
a sun risen
for the dead
with a curious
new gurgling,
into dreaming.


The storms that hover
magnetic storm elemental
chiseling of our softest
cornerstone, bit by bit
we say goodbye
unable to move
from our moment
in time
a page that folds
away and away
until tips that touch
are writing
whole new chapters
There are other storms
on the horizon,
as one passes
the gripping suspense
that keeps us guessing,
a broken freight train
made late delivering
plush toys and then
a thunderclap,
a suitcase packed
with a thud.

Towards nothing

time passes
get yoga massage
and therapy
to boost
non dadness

keep many stones
in one's chamber,
the magnanimous
godly paperweight
of substance

the stone quivers
in its own way,
as dimples in a mass
not so soft in dignity
so as to not
in some minute
fashion, claim
a short portion
of our language

to the blessed ripple
to its marbleesque
embodiment of
that one unforgivable
nack towards


In solitary confinement,
I have forgotten my daydreams.
My brother and I share
the duties of upkeep
in a gopher hole,
not much is needed
to keep the nest just that.
I strain and don't-
to become a tool of karma.
I saw you in theft
and did nothing,
and as I am, you too
in solitary.
The holidays come and go
as they do and this
December they go quick,
soon to find myself
among the stars
as allied bodies,
as unreachable.
My breath compared to none
exhibits persistence,
truest love.
I will touch my face
in faith, to know I am alive,
doodle for an hour,
touch - eat - lie down,
shake my own hand,
struggle to coax my
elusive self into a
makeout state of mind,
crack a few rocks,
Dorito snaps
in the desert night.
It will be of no use to wonder.
I didn't make a plan
save for the one
involving a fuck
with the dead of night,
to kiss fear of silence
on its demure mouth
and find my picket fence
rippling ribs beneath my skin,
my patch of lawn to water,
alive in a fervent mind,
a dog shaped heart,
two cars in arid homage,
a slinking cat made to howl,
a dog forgiven its meowing,
my first year as prospector
mining the night for the fool
in my heart,opening a new
line of credit, a vow to me,
a vow to those who see me.
I see you moon, you've
been the realest.

Hanging in there

A train
to haystacks

a great sock
to the stomach
like Ralph Lauren

A maladie
written about
in most songs

A ringing
in the ears
of frontal lobe

a willingness to

A dry lump
of hay
at the troat

I whispering
tongue to hide
clammy sad teeth

A walking talking
marketplace of souls
lost and found by

The corner thumbs
hunching in at
the corners
of the mouth
A walking talking
time capsule

Day dream after
Day dream inundating
the rooms of present bodies
in a sea faring
hanging in there

The man
with the
his Djembe
the street
One way,
then another.


why is my fate
written in the stars
seemingly born
magnetic from dust
of the womb
I once was a cell
from a land before time
a bet won by one
of indescribable novelty
a myth of disparate titling
tiling away at the dawn
ceasing as we look
and again reborn
look, look, look
oh shit, I missed it
or maybe not
here it comes again
well what is it
we are all stumped
deeply rooted
in the heaviness
of words and construct
wishing to be as
light and airy
as a fox's tail

angels must
need no food
too sweet to gorge
on a vulture's meal

reform it all
no more avatar

pictures of
avatar presidents
fill a back room

Shadowy figures
fill a back room
while an

crickets and frogs
make the same
ipod noise

Seagulls eat pizza
their horizon red
with pantone blues

iMac and I commune,
we are milking roadkill deer
forged from raw Aluminum,
big brother communes absolutely.

airplane, dimensions
post nine, eleven
haiku now watched

all Robin Williamses
in every dimension
someday die

The suburban
in Texas, made
of dark matter


Am I a drone
just calculating?
Is every gridded
sphere a heavy palm?
Do all rivers contain
god's predetermined number
of stones and Miller Lite bottles?
Do all rolling rocks
tumble down the mountain
ending empty Rolling Rocks?
Does all glass broken feel
for the hand that chucked?
Does glass becoming naked
feel more, the label peeled?
How long until my shoes
email my brain to sync
itself with socks
and there I go to make
a ruler's lunch?
I know, I am a light bulb.
ON / OFF, I add value
to financial decisions.
Cover me in brightly
colored rags and
I'll give my life
to your App.
When I see it for wool,
a picture of me obstinate
and self righteous
will appear for sale
on all new versions,
my questions raised
as pygmy rebel flags
in polyester.
I am droning
desire discontinued
in perpetuity.


Every heart is an IMAX
every hope a new IMAX
a haunted IMAX
fighting to push
a new stone
in its henge
fighting to build
a new stonehenge
a new IMAX -a food court
to wed our virgins
every person checking
their phone will be sacrificed
to local folklore,
pelted with ladybug


Dinner in park
Turkey burger lacking poetry
served in plastic -no greens
mosquitos eat me raw
flies scale my knees
and Steve Strohmeier
finishes another lap
one more bug bite into
this whole thing
I sat near Dan Higgs on banjo
but may have driven him
to change benches
He sat with prayers from banjo
Me with Clarence Major swatting
at mosquitos and a violin that
meows far off -somewhere to my right
Steve completes another lap.
Oh, there's the poetry gone missing,
In the falling leaf,
not green, but yellowing.

Teeny Murder

Ugh, what a teeny dilemma,
fly wing singed on dinner candle!
My smooth evening, it's unlucky end
goodbye sky, hello good crawl
of happenstance sugar!
You could backspin all day and night
or allow me the honor of rebirth
thru teeny murder.
No amount of cleaning
will clue you in as to why
the sky no longer yours!
Right wing a nub -shit happens
but you already knew.

My cactus

My cactus lives on ashes.
When I am lonely it lives
beyond the night, into
the yellow morning,
my window always open.
My cactus has sometimes
taken my saliva for
sustenance -my cactus lives.
It lives believing
brush fires light my bed
where it nearby dreams,
and that hares race between
folds to safety -my bed
a running stream of flames
or occasional flash flood,
though those have long
since stopped coming.
It don't need much,
not even me.
My cactus lives
like a stone,
content to live
in thorns, a nest
of match sticks spent
-circle of old flames
my cactus lives
and I let it.

Satellite Heart

Unbreak my heart,
the song
Unsend my mistake
the email
1,000 words that don't
concisely say enough
that don't lack enough
to be a tweet, a heart
tethered to every update
update -new update
readjust the interface
so that a beam of light resembling
an ear horn shoot from my chest
the place romantics go for proof.
Is proof proof enough
if proof unseen?
Bake my heart into a chip
on a Virgin mobile satellite
so my love burn a hole
in the ozone layer,
a hole be still unseen my heart,
but heated coils and heat sinks,
the need to keep cool,
float daintily along
close calls and all
of micro meteorite
Here I am.
Missing Missing
Missing until
Wham -a whopper of a .jpeg
or conversely a .jpeg
of a whopper transcends
my satellite heart.
I tear, I shred in tears,
I shrill and tenor,
bend and bead in ice,
cold virgin icicle
prepared by hands to bounce
light and wave:
'I only have eyes for you',
'Only You', 'I'm a Slave 4 U',
'I Would Die 4 U', these songs
compressed weaken the hearts
of communications satellites
the world over, tools with well
meaning, romantic associations,
like 'Enola Gay' on a cold aluminum
bow and arrow for piercing the heart
of the matter and upholding
the truest gods duality, contradiction.
Love as a trap,
Love as a gondola,
Love as a docking bay or .mp3
Love as 'bombs away'
Love in St. Tropez vs.
Love in Bombay or desert town
perused by drone.
Penetrate the blackness, god
and unwrap my present, the cosmos
and reveal to all the bow!
Let not my reflective mirror dampen,
darken, crack or sway off course.

Two Yellow Flowers

Time-worn heavy hearted progeny
to slave of zanzibar, 1890
left behind, as best they do,
culture glow all color lost,
these two shuffle on
down my street awash in sun
He, two bright yellow flowers,
extends his hand to hers,
held high for eternal seconds.
The crack in her brow revealed
to me a sliver of a tender heart
still left untouched by all
our collective bludgeoning,
I write their story
from my window,
doing my best to honor them,
knowing I fall madly short.

Depth reflected
in the glass,
Narcissus who
is born each day
to murder oneself
at sundown,
ringtone set
to vibrate,
forgets somewhere
an actual stream
goes unpondered

I pant
I pant
you are
a complete

I am here
watching stars
from the 80s
age sort of
on a blog
there is
no I

with raw

Sun Dial

A bird against
all the blue
there it is


What a
I could
say in
all basslines
sound flat
my ape's
my brain
in a lab
next door
it wears
a lab coat
and smiles
at the
of it all
his experiments
all failed
this afternoon
this could
be learning
it sucks

Willie (Nelson)

I want white angelic
wisps to wreathe as heavy whiskers
A beacon altimeter in the purple glow
of eternal ignorance -even mamas lie,
and all I and friends have been are
civil wars of do's and donts
and cancer friendly gloom over easy.
Every breakfast after rings of pain
but fear become a radiant circus,
history is made thru pain
and vaultless we fall tepid, empty,
a lump of reptoid plastic snuck into
our temples on pride alone.
Willie, take us with you
before your meme ring the end of
physical you and the beginning of
Roman god nostalgia, grey, chained
to a ball of yarn in the immaterial.
Our stay in Pompeii has always
been our story.
Willie, Buddha of Baptism
-The Temple of Jupiter with Vesuvius
in the distance.
We'll meet you
on the lawn.

Trader Joe's
choosing flowers


miso soup
and cold

french occult
rhythm section
of hurried blues

a note for note
disaster of
biblical proportion

a feast on a day
of reproachingly
tense misfortune

macabre wells of
data and ironic fury
pour forth your masticated
sludge for all your baby birds

I am your soup of ideals
Print me as multiple copies

oh Saddam, you rotting celebrity
kissing sweet the thighs of Marilyn

of this song a shaking timbre reigns
in Baltimore a wizard turns a rat
into a dying steer

and claims to know
no magic

in space a quiet willow weeps
failing all our imaginations
and shared timelines

a willow weeps for it is a word
a word that weeps that is willow weeping
a weep of worded order
born free a willow was not
and will always kiss your
mother's neck as she bequeath
her space to you and you too
become a crying, quiet pasture

my saddest emails born on tuesdays
the ones from friday crowding weekend
counting weekdays and finally a word is bond
and that word is _____________.


press a primrose,
a proper beetle,
golden scarab
daunted by the lord.
Make mud tires
and sapphires
and doilies for baby
and ipad for papa,
(a charge on platinum
for something unknown),
a plastic rack
from ikea.
Let the church
surround us in an
aura of wifi
and melanomas
-his diamonds of
being, reveling
in saintly melodrama.
Lemons, lemons, lemons.
Where is god
in a lemon?
where is god on google?
what if google were god?
what if you and I were god
and we invented us after watching
a youtube tutorial on the creation of life?
what if Dina were god?
what if Joshua was Michael?
what if I were named Richard
and everything happened
in a completely
different story
by Philip K. Dick


The children sing
'Ring around the Rosie',
grownups chatting about
skill-sets, retirement,
toughing it out 60 hours a week,
How to sleep at night
in continuous service.
They preface every other
sentence with



Let classical be my blank slate
and Pandora will spare my true love.
The old men are hungry for grammar
and will say anything for a
premium membership
I am a desperate POW
moistened with blood my own
Impress me with girlish,
pre-coming would be-s.
Oh and if I'd let it!
What a fuck of light
and pugnaciousness
would Swiss Alp me,
A mite at the Great Wall!
Pandora's Box is now
untimely dead before exiting
my once humbled mouth
I once was a mite at the Great Wall
and now I hope for a quiet
Concrete Cylinder
A breath removed from a narrated
dialogue about the cloud
and back to clair de lune


I cry for I do not
know the future.
Weep weep with triviality
boo hoo, big bamboozling.
Onward our best foot forward
-ever acting & over theater
on to new things brandishing
new you and forgetful ever
slightly so.
As daily new you, so tweets
become unending showers.
I sit at a stone in the pasture,
tied to the ground like a flock of
geometry towards a painted horizon
I give my life to gravity,
a cracked iphone.


In a dimension
half passed Pluto,
I am a prisoner
of fetishes.
My tongue rolls,
a mouthful of
chrome pellets,
sitting in a seat
by a window.
A dusty beam of light
from a fainter sun
reminds the walls
to forgive and forget.
I am countless forms,
I guess,
possible outcomes,
a box of varying
screw sizes,
in a restless,

For You

My poem
for you
sent telepathically

My poem for you
lit you in smiles
-the glow of your phone
gave me the pleasure

My poem for you
is baked into
a Triscuit

My poem for you
repeats like a dozen
plastic Beauty Marks

My poem for you
forgets about

My poem for you
skips, maybe
gets there

My poem for you
is cold & singing
for warmth

A clap in a one

Pour your insides
into a Mickey Sippy Cup
Listen to it tight(ly)
with cartilage folding
-The deafening silence

Pain is a sliver of oatmeal
-its radiance
is belly ache after Wendy's
My full thunderous sobs erupt
in Tidal Waves and prisoners
everywhere riot for fear
of sitting still just one more
A drone has targeted
my subtle sense of place
within my own body
left me conglomerated
even in poem
Sold Vacuum Sealed
and ready for the blinding
white heat of your
'Don't Give a Fuck'

My Bank

My bank
My bank
I put my bank
In a burlap
into a river
-my spinning grin
kicking up

O, what
precious days
to wonder WTF

My brain feels like cold noodles swimming in jolly-
A sun could be rising somewhere

Fonzie in a pick up truck
cold as bananas, sweating time like
milk in buckets,
twinkling together in bottles
His fate is sealed as text
to a virtual envelope -A tomb
His leather jacket baked
in brutal light, The third row,
8th spot at the Target Parking Lot
At the center of the acknowledged universe

Spiraling epic
corkscrew in
shrewd cannibalistic
a thousand
days in the
spent drenched
in soft roses

My usb flash drives
fell onto the rubber mat
like heavy bladerunner props

lords over the horizon
loud awakens all quiet sleeping dumdums
watch as weeping wifi comes alive!

Last meal on death row, tickle me pink
Ask the governor, mayor, and wardens to all
come down here and have some of this
200 lb. lobster! It was ordained minister of the sea
by all of heaven's printing presses!
One taste and they'll be out
figure drawing, breathing like breezes!
lightly toe tapping a lawless tune.
Their kisses goodnight
left with smiling wives
and tomorrow a fancy breakfast
will pardon all subpar coituses!
Destroyer, awaken your godhead
it is no cloud to mine for well-worn
wishes -tickle your own self
and laughing will come easy

PM to the Sun

The sun sets on your dashboard
a gaping wound festering with renewal
Your face so fired in white
lights thy way to Chik-fil-a
and all eventual rest areas
Plaguing our flesh with unravelling
your pledge is to never surrender
take a seat in the back
licking your nails in lines that trace
the crest of my neck in sizzling F sounds
you forever bright in my lifetime
visit my skull again
there is bedding there
it matches your evening wear
When I close my eyes I still
dream of you in dusty green
dreaming your own outlandish
dedication to casting a daily spell
children will wait for you, always
and wait for you to extinguish
so that their flesh gain its own color
and go find their chasms on rooftops
lit by private messages
that echo from your own
ginger beginnings


I awake-
the line
the line
the line
from my evening coffin a midnight vampire
hacking texts to pieces
dot dot dot
laugh out loud tomorrow!
and dream sweet memories
as veins of golden ore
peppered with lemongrass
oh wishing fortune, your fate is less ironic,
your prison break is broke forever as brawn to mule
soon the will of man pronounces
life on mars!
-followed by poetry,
and imminent death of even numbers turned dry bones
and words as bones, and word that would be 'Mars'
as bones, bones, bones, eternal bone of rock
bone of clouded instant in which god
became more than the mass of all the planets
and engulfed us as a god of war

My god
is a pyramid
of hot dogs

Ghost with piercings
ice in a pepsi cup

Skin Athletics

The dust cleared and twenty
met in a room to start a clap.
At first slowly, getting to know one another.
They were sure they had been somewhere prior
and so they sat and listened to stories
that each one wrote for the other.

Often their stories would be about clearing the womb.
Or Death having hidden it from the eyes of its children
with veil after veil of ashen'd abstraction.

After their friends had all fallen to bore-dumb
or unplanned family, their teachers succumbed to vice
-their brains simply refusing to accept the universe
as anything more than a few errands for the wandering
spirit, the last remaining men return to sperm
and woman to ovum.

For all, but not our few in a room, all would be born
anew; The tormenting lack or abundance of chocolate,
silk, feeling, all of the highest realms found there
in sometimes equilibrium.

Yet our few in a room remember a lack of arms,
legs, and red hot pokers, teeth to feel the peanuts
in a candy bar. Our few in a room met there having
forgotten of this meeting, to discuss the chance
that they might again meet, to wonder
if they had met elsewhere, and be content
in just being there.

Wild Berries

I know better than to check
and check on our tomato!
Let our love grow like
wild berries,
thick at the stalk to
a gorgeous handful!
and if old age bare
a white haired wisdom,
in flash of lightning,
may our bright mindedness
let live as kids love
-with might
in our own version
of forever

I am mirror
and I
am you

Bob Ross in my
death chamber
make his my
death mask

Morbid Belly-Aching

My honey pie
has lost its sweet
and now a baking pan

with crumbs.

Time sitting,
almost clamoring
its beardy gloating

tattered with loneliness.

Again and sweet and
on in singularity,
what thirst will show
my aching tongue
too fat a slug
drying in a slow,
morbid, belly-aching?

Hang ups-
my phone
dies selfishly

Even cement trucks
on this day,
Blue Summer's Day

Baltimore bound
broke as a bee
but just as lovely

The sleeping stranger
a mound of blankets
breathing faintly

People magazine-
color and cellulite
seen plainly

People magazine-
on sticky pages
things made
worth less

Smell of Olives
On the Bolt Bus
A baby sleeps,

Fictitious Road Trip

A zenful rest,
the crackhead leans
tipping towards gravity
some body is yelled at
and glass is shattering
the cool fog and mist
of orange and other
personal colors
stretching to form
a dream of a horizon,
an abstract over the city of Baltimore
if your nose is in the clouds
then your sense of smell
is swimming in a tasteful
indecency, your nose is felt
short and briefly
by a brushed upon hip
and that noise that is made
is breathing, the heat
and lack of breath
belonging to the street
wafts in in waves
through our open windows
and done in dew and salt
clinging to our necks
this is the farthest
region of our galaxy

Held together by out of breath
abstractions, this is a city
in the western world
like a 7-Eleven in the next town
that refuses annexation
to the void that lists NOT
a McDonald's at this exit..
I'm going to take you
and you'll curl
in the backseat
and the wind in hisses
-will whistle.

On/Off I flick the radio
mostly noise and chatter
Snow and 'What's the Matters?'
trucks peppering, pelting,
alka-seltzering the road
with their popping gravel
and tarps a-flapping

-your dream relinquished
you wake wanting coffee, hot
and something sweet,
a picture of us
by a sign at sunrise

1 Dozen

My ego
the animal
the dog
the mouth
the unresponsive eye
the twitching vessel
the primitive source
of plentitude
my awareness of
of all non rubber
my awareness of all else
that is a sparing
doo dad
my lonesome
moment in the sun
my wholesome lament
in former supermarket
now in passing
the wal-mart down
that wide double
wide high street
uncrossable and
it remains there
but got cancer
like the economy
of everything
shot down at
the height of
twitched there
a vessel for
no man,
or chinese
ha ha ha
ha ha ha
ha ha ha
ha's sold
in boxes
of 10
like 12
of broken

Thinking of you
freezing on this floor,
of sausage, pancakes,
my head on Jay-Z's body
will you be my Beyonce,
and give me reason
to feel warm?

It was as if fate
after much wondering
where the devil it was
came and snuck in by evening
taking my baby
and who knew
I left the
door open

I burn sage
maybe frighten
loans away

based on Either you are in the light or you are out, a poem by RM O'BRIEN (http://rmobrien.info/)

We will either sip from the light or go out
spellcheck is preventing my mistakes
so it seems to me that spellcheck is out

there are new tougher loves blessing me with pain
and yet I belly up feel like broken egg basket!
your old face doesn't match up with your identification

we'll have to really scrutinize these numbers and even yet
it is not guaranteed that you'll comprehend what it is they are doing

Hold on, I need to stop, ask for directions, and fill this poem with more sad
they're as acrid as petroleum and lusting after them can
make you just as sick

but c'est la vie like old people say
can't beat the father/motherhood of
earthbound beast
in space we are
the handicapped

everyone is presented with the
opportunity of one life time
If one starts early there's a chance
the deadline won't come with bitter bullshit
trained on your alertness, instead you'll
pass on a mountain peak leaping like
a mountain goat with scotch
in his beard

On earth you're height and fat content are numbers
far too small to be noticeable from the vacuum of space

You are either the thing that eats or is eaten by

Blessed is the fat content bestowed upon this other thing
Blessed is the television show that creeps into forgetting
THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN is closed for repairs

God is so depressed right now that he acts like 6 billion
people trapped on an unknown planet bitching

Real Genius is on Netflix

In infant America my friends would have to worry less
about parking, but more about being eaten by wilderness

Blessed are the porks and chickens that meet us halfway
Blessed are the brightly colored vessels that
adorning the future of archaeology
dazzle with their coke and pepsiness
Bless the sacred sludge that god has birthed
as blessings
Bless god the curse

into the sad hearted pod
out clawing with love at our teeth
our one claim is that we
know to love
or enough to love so that love
can create opportunities
for better food
or to love out of love's own
loving loveliness leaving
shortly or its now or neverness

bite down hard
and leave the marks
in a photo by your coffin
(even then a pile of molecules, who knows whats what)

If your question is does the universe love me?
the answer is Yes and No

shout both out as loud as you need to
and when you ask some other
thing to marry you,
be prepared to hear one, but in reality
it may in loving naturalism be also No
but now the question is
who am I?

Eat or eaten by

shout and throw rocks
at the lack of light!

ask it anything
loudly, abruptly,
personal questions
lead to personal

Brushing your Teeth

brushing your teeth
is life, the rest
is too beautiful
to notice for most
big booming business
throbbing in their concrete centers
the infinite dimension of things
meeting between them
brushing like virgins
Is the thing we want
'Happiness'? if so
let's just call it
a 'thing'.

Fluid Movement

The sound of things is fluid movement
The sound of things is fluid MOVEMENT
The sound of jealous love is a scaly
dragon's breath that makes fall
flat the hand that beckons!
my flesh mobile
ghost of a soul
you meat of the present
it macho ownership
of hot fantastic love
cast across other bones
this feeling or unfeeling
is or is it really
The sound of things as fluid movement
The sound of things is fluid MOVEMENT!
The sound of jealous love is rippling
the sacred bedding of the rich
and ultra lovely
but it also writhes in my least
wealthy heart as a mass of
television antennas
moving about
in fluid
The sound of things is fluid movement
The sound of things is fluid MOVEMENT
from the shoe horn to the shoe
the sumptuous tail
of desire that ties end to end
yet is perpetually undone
the untied shoe at a
busy intersection
the minor key
the bow undone
the sound of things is fluid movement
have a magnet made of this
the sound of things is fluid movement
get an airbrushed t-shirt of this
the sound of things is fluid movement
make this into a piss in the snow
the sound of things is fluid movement
cleverly hide this and find again later
the sound of things is fluid movement

Master P's

I give up control
and am given
a blossom

In our union

In our union
we join time and space
in our union
we elaborate on the eternal
in our union we exchange this experience
in our union we gain the trust
of that which exists beyond our reach
in our union we dream of existing forever
in our union we unite the book of heaven
with heaven in actuality
in our union
we are the mysterious
non ego that carries
in every cell of all that is living
and the infinitesimal vestiges left
in that of the nonliving
in our union
we are the power of the ever lasting
in our union
we cradle this fragile ephemera
in a bowing nest of emptiness
in our union
we transcend politics
in our union
we explain in futile mannerism
with words and poems and numbers
the truest form of life
in constant separation
in our union
we expand on closeness
in our union
we uphold nothing
while in balance
lies absolutely

The fear
of wind
that sings
like us






wish i had
then wish
to have time
to look at
and use
and in using
I stop looking
and start
which is
maybe not
so bad
but in feeling
I use my
time on
earth quickly
burn it up
from start
to finish

Remember my
feet on this rug
my new mantra

The sounds outside
Are they new
or just sound


the corners of the world
that are visions of all
the world's greatness
in peak to the one
those few men
that have seen from
to Mongolia
in a few
very few
have seen a whole
that whole
they could have
yelled every
and only
be heard sweetly
or not at all
man has no words
to tie together
this is out of every
sheriff's jurisdiction
this valley has no mountain
with no fire and pissing deer
no man drinking either
cooking corn
over spatial debris
these mountains
have no father
only caretakers
one is a basket
another is a casket
the sun in beams
over shenandoah
from day one
year of wonder,
awe and chemistry
who could even
come up with
such a crazy
thing to
see from

go in that room
freak out
eat a box of cereal
no milk
show me the old man in me
waiting to stay put
always touching the wrong
button- a demographic
no more slimer shit
to sell
the rubber band
is a universe
be here to catch
your favorite part
and wait
it's gone

you are dead
how many haircuts
did you get


Response to statue piece by RM O'BRIEN (http://rmobrien.info/)

sometimes pieces of the future look like statues
a person looking at a statue looks for something waiting for them
a statue is a word stacked on a word
stacked on a word stacked on a word
this is people
and from the moon you can clearly see earth
is a person with people-esque qualities
blue, cold, hot, aware, bland, tidal, inferential
Exercise is so difficult to keep up
and my bagel just isn't hot anymore
and jesus fucking christ
this is poppy seed
I said raisin fucking raisin
word stacked on a word stacked on a word
stacked on a word stacked on a word
A L L T H E O C E A N Sand
the countries are people who are statues
and everything moves around them
but the universe seems at its center
Now I see that the earth is not
a person any more than we
are a cell is an atom moving
in my left hand
stirring in my sleep
to reach for a bosom
The world is that person
you are that person
because it feels like everything


you're in
my gold ear
my good nature
honey in the pot

my blootooth
of who's who's

he who is the money
is always money
wearing white

was once an
honest endeavor
and now
big cylinders
with wings on
their wallets
can smooth over
a field
and slam
into birds

my hair moves
on it's own

and you're in my
hatchet hand

Goodbye to touch,
In lights and ribbon in.
Sour Grapes.




my egyptian cheese sandwich
my strange custom for future iterations
of lonely heartbreak
my future boyhood
teeth all fucked up
prisms for eyes
and lizard breath
space the gentle bowl
my bushy mane and
mushy brain
the winding roads
all led to sex
I'm a human


Winter and I

Of all flat prestige misgivings
given to rusted fixable earth
my dream is here with a slice
I sit provoking notes from my fingers
reading, skyping al dente
and everything always
sits in this blank
room with me
the space inside all
the O's i've ever written
a wave forming from o to o
oh atonement autmumn mint!
a brand new cape awaiting white
finally parting ways a wave
to wave two waves of grits
to some lower earth
and boom it is

Delicious Honesty

It's not easy
but what is easy
is easy
being is harder
I heard a child
call her grandmother
an "old-ass"

what delicioius honesty
would the devil
know he is the devil?
if he could change
would he still
be the devil?
I can change no
here from where
I'm standing
I can't cahnge nothing
I can make a sound
at night
when everyone
is asleep!
I could prod and poke
until the folds came unfoldeed

We have rockets that will destroy entire cities and they're like a button away to
the president and those rockets will blaze over and frame a body on a sidewalk
in living grease and this gigantic weapon is real and it is always ready to go and
destroy an entire country, isn't that fucking insane? Imagine a quiet forest in fog
before the invention of man!

planet earth
someone arrested
you screaming

My Race Poem

My race poem
They way you are
isn't american
they see it as a
grey brown friendship
with some exceptions
here and there like
could care less if you came here
on such and such day
to watch my white thing happen
that happens everyday
but all carelessness aside
Princesses and Lochness
monsters are white TOO
and I feel like
Apple Pie
so in a wy
they're is no

Lonesome drone
that left the nest
to die alone

A quiet dinner
for two

I will clean when there is
too much to clean
and I'll look and say this fucking
sucks and I'll wish I had gone
swimming to work my gills
and big tail

Oh Teeth,
that first tug
left my mouth dreaming
that you'd smile forever

Spilled beer
a great impression
is now ruined

paper fell on the floor
will write

get away with that hat
you thing with big blue

A web ad
for montana
with a moose
in a window

Imagine facing a cave man
that looks like you but
is as wild as an animal
and you are just your dad
quiet in the sun

Apple Brown

Had a feeling
I could sense
when all the little cells
in my apple were either
dead or alive
and the death
into a rubberyness
with the living
still having
a snap to them
I left my apple
out at around 11
by now it has
and it doesn't
taste the same

I listened to
Cypress Hill
very faintly
so that my

Crack & Eggs

How many things
can you crack like an egg
to reveal a mysterious
giggling concept
maybe presupposed but a
milky (godly) yellow
running hysteric?!
What's my magic
absent of cynicism?
let's suppose
that it is a cork
and that fire is perhaps
the only way in
then what a poor
human heart
jiggles in my
man tit
for an indeterminate
amount of thumps
my love is coco frio
what a cold difficult
coconut we drink from
I'm just made of the
same old boring
9 billion pennies
melting reaching
their useless
other form
some smart someone
should help me
put this in perspective
because I don't know anything
I don't pretend
to know everything
reader, come over
sometime for an
awkward silence

Pissing Mouse

Pissing mouse
is a drawing
on the internet

Beautiful pissing mouse
drawn live on
chatroulette by
'They' who said
it was so ugly
but beautiful drawing
of mouse done for me
Tuesday 9:43PM
you say it's like
a pissing mouse

Pissing mouse
is a drawing
on the internet

I saw a Terminator
face on my

Netflix loading icon
like a spaceship hovering
in the night
tiny dots of light
through dark cotton sheets
we watch the Office
in peace & naked serenity
almost sleeping

Men travel
to ancient 7-Eleven
burial ground

All day
chasing lights
on my glasses

A stereo plays
to the air
in a room


Trying not to romanticize
trying to remain anonymous
eat falafel outside
overhearing conversation
about battles
trying to zone out
trying to be a smart dumb
with aplomb
trying to ooze out
trying out new google thing
trying out cold hunger
Not swimming in winter
pick flowers from all my cracks
hokey silly partial births
in my insecurity
all of my belongings
beep and sing songs to me
Richard Brautigan in my
says 'just here to ruffle
your feathers, hombre'
hands me a baseball
and I shoot it clean up
into the sun's chest
I put on some shoes
and run for no reason
Try to make it home
I guess to my heart
How crazy to just
start living in
somebody else's shoes
Trying to draw
a snake in the snow
for fun


I've been lost in my head
for 6000 years
everything I know is gone
where is my pencil?
I am a bone tossed
in the ocean
though from what animal?
these big life questions
are big dead questions too!
there they are
filling up dirt
all the questions
& what happens when you live?
all those corpses afraid to answer
rattling, putting on hats
donating bones to science
saying hello
and getting drunk
dying in a snowstorm
reborn as videotape
and liquified leather
little seeds in their scrotums
could be planted
and get us all sick
with 6000 year old microbes

In a nineties movie
you are tying
a bow

In some old century
I can Imagine you
speaking near a candle

He Man blinks
and shoots
Darth Vader

Nobody said Snow
and all this snow
and music goes woosh
and baby birds blur together

I did the like pump
'Yes' thing like when
you celebrate-
like two times
before song actually
and I felt
very let down

why do capital letters
conspire against me?
oh my god how how hot
this hard drive is just scared me have to death
like exploding or something


I made up a dance where
like I'm pushing air
& in another I pull two giant tusks
and I become a ferris wheel
my arms swinging with
limp wrists at the ends
like ham bones making big circles
I stop to type wikipedia
in with my pinky
& thumb thru my music library
then I do a thing where I look
at products on my desk real
up close & can tell just how much
photoshop went into them
I stop to think and hear a pin drop
it is so so quiet between songs
so I sit wilting
my brain coming back to me
after long trip out to the county
thinking of big deals at Ikea
cups for a quarter WOW
the next few minutes are spent
in internal dialogue
discussing whether a beat
I made on my knuckles was
a hip hop beat
or what

My drawing sort of
looks like you

A woman speaks into her cellphone
at an angle looking as if
it is glued to her face

Cashier at Subway
drops my receipt
yells sorry real upset
don't worry
It's OK I said
I caught it

iPods must think me dead
with my finger cold

Its just a job
you feel like shit
you DO feel like shit

Get me a show on TV
for smashing my stuff

New Red Book

New red book
empty waiting for my ooze
my baby word fluid
I'll heave my bits
like trillion leaves
and lay them in bricks
on these silent lines
then make interesting smoothie
soft pretzel comparisons
like about christianity
& fear of a European dad
or sweet baby's breath
compounded life
into composted mud
& water and tea
and how sometimes I
wake up pissed off
and try to do something about it
like have fancy ceremony
fight the urge to scribble
on my wall & draw big dick joke
for all to see as old
and veiny as great wall

Basil Fly

Why my compulsion to save everything
tonight night of all nights
find dead fly next to pillow
where I place face
think I should throw it out
but then just save it
there now next to clock
reading eight forty four
this fly came here to die
on a friday night
fly cemetery this is not
go fly you, what's up?
you really dead or only little
missing leg and all
you move when I breathe out
maybe I should place you
as text to page
on piano middle C
or F for Fly
D for dead!
maybe you get played as a rest
with brief stopping grief
and tilt of the head in ceremony
your death is not an omen
it just happened on my bed
where you meant to clean
your teeny collywobbling
buzz face
you yourself knowing
your whole hairyness and
length of living
buzzing some other place
to suck an egg
is it so crazy
to put you in my basil?

Meteor Shower

Meteor Shower
like big ole grand bag of minnows
Me suddenly surfing the ribs of a fishy scaled earth
here i am shaking vigorously
at the thought of swimming out to the woods
or green bushy county in rural maryland
maybe see the feet of a loved one past
dangling swimming up to heaven
to see the whole sole wading in dewy charm
looking up like I looking down into me
and you look where you look
to see what's popping with big round surprise
it's the birthday of this space wave
come to meet our finger tips
was thinking I would bring food
and maybe some wine
big gorgeous grin too
leave my sagging heart
in a brown paper package
somewhere funny or ironic
tired of my black and white movie thing
I want to come to life!
I want to press my face in your chest night
Can I touch myself near you
as if you are an extension of my crotch
you meteor shower
you're like a fat full belly all glowing


As an adult, sometimes I think
my cellphone rings and I almost
picking it up everytime
Feel like real Dufus
I once found a pair
of Silver Oakleys at Disney World
Orlando -sometime before teens
& stuck them to my face
to feel America's little hands
clasp my hot and fresh eyeballs
I drew O's on them
Then I think went on a ride
or can't remember like 19th century headache
but I saw a family talk to another family
away by several meters
on a Television screen in booth like
a future bean dildo diving bell
I could have snorted
all that freedom.


Today I thought of a beginning to a movie
in which a woman dies ashes scattered
in Central Pacific
where they are eaten by whales and
all swimming things eating little dust
you find the secret of the Universe
is you end up in downer place if fed
to a whale or dark, foreboding ocean
and then damn, how do you get that news
down to the living
here thinking of pumpernickel?
Haven't come up with middle or end
but maybe give it a happy ending
to boost revenue
A Jonas brother could play a ghost
or spirit of black comedian
trapped in a dog body

I sat playing games
with my eye and pencil
and a truck gurgled
at the gutter

What's up with Glasses

Remembering new york
dark underbelly basement bar
wearing suit jacket feel like big stuff
me and Molly, Benny and Jessica
drinking -drunk already but going strong
Molly leaning in to say man staring
so I look and macho me asks
what problem he's having
and he say nothing, what's up with me?
molly telling me to shut up, I say only talking
not wanting to fight, just like wording
turns out he wondering whats up with glasses
then me remembering Benny and I
and Molly too all wearing thick rims
he clean and spikey haired new york boy
as of recently -wondering whats up with glasses
Benny explains it as a statement of individuality
conversation taking a turn from aggression
to him asking where my body
was born cause it looks dark
I say Cuba he yell and say he Spanish
and uncle lived in cuba for some time
we wiggle out some Spanish words a while
& end up talking more
and he actor in some play in NY
and was studying us like primates
for whatever role he thinking of at the moment
he explains no aggression intended
but just studying us
he bold and outgoing and shiney
like new york actor
but then while later
he seem sad and molly say
why don't you talk to him?
he look lonely here alone
I say stop making me sad
you're making me sad
he did look it, but I don't know
I cant do anything
from where I'm looking

Famous Ed's Toronto

Go to Toronto
Seeking place to shit
find famous Ed's
World Famous Bargain Centre
3 stories of wal-mart slime
sitting in bins of glass and mirrors
somehow find bathroom
was named washroom third floor
washroom feel like cramped shit farm
Sad sneezing people all mined
of their shit and wheezing
I bow my head rubbing temples
Hole in stall reveals
a man's hairy arm stuck out and washing
I finish up and leave and forget quickly
get lost in obnoxious fun house
headshots of actors ive never seen ever
plastered where I need to walk
and where unquestionably
my eyeballs seek nothing
I trapped in sad old hollywood almost snap
woman points some which way mumbling
I almost run where she points
with near baby fear
expelled into street
like a dreaming scrooge
naked christmas goose
bobbing in the cold
lit up in the dreary

Dance Party in Toronto

I spill my beer like Chevy Chase
I think someone stole my wallet
A friend looks like a hoodlum in the dark
I am sneering now I know
Mouth dont know smile but teeth do
I Promise
Everyone engorged red here
In the future parties will last
only fifteen minutes
Flash photography makes me nervous
A blonde girl kisses a black girl
-A man several moments later
I got tired
I left to sleep in white wall gallery
I piss and wash hands real zen like
bathroom with quiet night time mall
paranoid of blood
pouring from walls abruptly
I try sleep like boring alternative
Awake like hoot owl creeping sounds
still reeling from yesterday's fright
last night Sarah had night terror
and we all friends sleeping in same room
rose pounded in the heart
certain murder for sure
I sit in dark ex industrial building
with mind of flesh ripping demon
like maybe hell was real
and I found way there
I keep still and why dont we
figure it out in the morning
-we do and all have good laugh
at breakfast time we explain all
but glad to sleep
in underwear weather and white box
two big wooden beams cradling ceiling
I sleep by one
reaching like tree trunk to high place
happy at feet where maybe only
good things blooming slowly.
during dance party in Toronto
white blossom breaks open
concealed in mist
phallic man pushes further up a girl's dress
his burying hand in white snow tights
upper thigh center of her
she leaning back for hitting perfect middle place
I choose sleep like boring buddha
forgot to brush teeth
they will also

Bus to Toronto

What are viruses and
why do they seek
to destroy us?
this light of the moon
is perfect and all night
the only light I end up needing
but ipod backlight
is praying loudly too
glad to be spending
hours of my night
in cold night and blanket
cold bus to canada
to read and play
show doodles
walk away from my debt
for just few boastful days
see god's green breast
and make tasteless joke
and sexist crazy spittle
that I don't mean
try to dig knees
in green bus fatigue seating
like happy urine soaked kid
and dream of rainbows in the night
and wilting green spring
wilting to glorious billie holiday
winter when everything
tingles silver and sun
emerging from snow
with big fat white face
and suds in the tub
tickling your pinky toe
and gateways to your innards
The moon in the window waiting
for next spring to see
your bare behind in a wooded
wallop wading in a lake or hole
like a drunken sturgeon
a big eternal grin
Joyous night to sit quietly
in a schoolbus wrapped like
hindu mummy towel-man
quietly celebrating this
difficult road where
most trouble is external
always man-made
glad to love friends
and lovers
and old friends and lovers
and thought of loving
a man or woman or whatever
and warm armpit night
for all who share love
old dreams and new
bonding like sister ships
It must take an old crazy
to travel this cheaply
dressed as arctic retreat
with flashlight and book
hitched to back of moving
Richard Serra schoolbus
with burning fanbelt
scratching of noses
and smell of smoke
feeling fifteen
sinking in seat
Japanese landscape
swimming forward
all roadside ads become me
with light streaking words
into the vastness of space
and I'm here too!
though dimly lit
It's the glow of cities
dreaming underneath it
and tollbooths
with their shopping mall
parking lot looking loneliness
and mad angry
just sitting there like
ponytail hair clip
on highway haired suburbs
that turns this world into
the bust of a blonde blue eyed
girl in ponytail
frilly neck thing and hat
turning in a display case
at god's Nordstrom

Ponytail caught
in subway door
Jewish boy
w/ shark teeth
black woman
w/ butterfly eyes
New Yorking
like worms in a funnel
I huffing and puffing
Imagine grinning
from tree

Flow like donut hole
in Donut
and Planets

New style of
makes BIG splash

Succumbs to
Horrible Disease

Man uses
as bomb

Oh my darling hats
and dangling hearts
I thought my chair
was a mirror
but I was wrong
my desk
a spider web of wires

I went to Subway today
and noticed
that the black olives
and hots had switched

Stupid Shit in a Book

A pruney railroad train
cutting thru cold
glistening drippy winds
like fingers on a hand
in hard working charcoal
night rain
a drop
two then three
pulling into baltimore
slip goosenecking
water inching on the glass
reflecting two beers
and us
and stupid shit
in a book

River of Cloth

Want to write beautiful poem
and mail it to someone
but cant help but think
of knowing
too many specialized words
eventually find something
Someone poured my batter
in a mold with my form
some twenty six yrs ago
came out flat at first
but puffed up and
stayed for the pampering
the raining of jelly beans
I put my head thru
the neckhole but found
time stretching my shirt
apart in infinity
hard to tell if I am clothed
and have warm moments
of steady dress or flow
bare-chested a still
primal dream beast
living moment to horny moment
down a river of cloth

Rent Check Bounce Again

rent check bounce again
for second time only
contrary to what landlord think
walk to bank lady in the rain
to help me very nice pudgy
I widthdraw and ask
do you do money orders
she says five dollars
i say thats ok
will go across street and get it cheaper
she look at me like i discovered something
and say if anyone asks that i didnt hear it
from her as if third reich have knife to her
go to pharmacy to handle my money
in front of strangers
man asks teller from behind me
can you put battery
inside marvin the martian
watch with diamonds all over it?
teller say i'd have to see
man ask if i bring wit me
can you put the battery in?
teller says i could try but
i only pharmacy man
i get my money order and
again walk in the rain
looking at other banks
to see if they are
more advantageous to their customers
no sign of that from outside
finally reach old weatherd fancy building
where landman lives
speak to representative
oh i fforgot in between then I stop at library
for nova film on shapes
THEN go to landman pay my debt
on the way there homeless man stands
looking down
at what look like pretty crisp oxford shoes
the rest of him shrouded in hoodie and cloak
i wonder is this homeless man intelligent
well to do and only hiding?
he look my way and eye darts back to feet
on way out of fancy pants building
two maintenance men obviously on their payroll
eye me up and down
as if i am in the movie
they live
and i have misplaced my glasses
to again walk in the rain to warm room to watch
the beautiful shapes of the world get drowned out
by the most hideous shapes imaginable
feasibly the worst day in long while
but taking it well

Cat Breath

Behold my hands
and feet and frothing
animal teeth
all tides turning
and rolling repugnant
and beautiful
all the mad gassy fears
of man bouncing
in my slimy gut
as in your blooming
lily white snowed
bowl brains
In the park
a man is spilling
his whites onto
a really old tree
and I'd bet
somewhere a fat kid
has found the hair
in his eggs
All these things
temporary turning
always & murking
the buddha
It would be beautiful
to defecate on
the Bloomingdale's floor
to watch worms
composting this earth
and go on in OM OM OM
I couldve aged in Roanoke
but decided to keep moving
a dirty disgusting thing
passed on from hand
to hand and dropped
in a foggy hole
maybe make something
I am a suitcase
of mulch paper money
credit cards remove
shit and disease
and cocaine from
Diamond ring transaction
but all that is in bed
with love
how do you show
how hard you try now
if not die once in a while?
Diamond ring deep in shit
do prim package solve
fecal problem?
Crackheads seem to be lifted
like cat from neck skin
like they found way back
to mother's cat breath
they do so out of love
like I buy things
and some don't
You are unconventionally

One day we go
our underwear
lies flat


I was at the library today
and I turned around
and there was a baby
drooping on the arm of
some woman facing
away from me
I looked at it in weird way
and felt guilty
but then turned
and looked at it
weird again
because I knew
in that way
I could live maybe
a lifetime longer
as some weirdo
in his memory
Later I camped out
at modern japanese lit
and was alone and quiet
for a while
because everyone
was at work on a friday

Why stay up
Thinking of your balls
As an old man?

not peeing
good equally
we meet half way

Midday moon
half a sliver
Night shifter
making stubble

Take it easy
not a race
to write Haiku

Nice to meet you
why the interest-
are you a cop?

Bad back
Sandwiching me

Woke up
thought you were here
but you weren't

about good haiku
in Wayne's World

Head heavier
or teeth grinding
either way
Something's changed

Million years
like today
watching The Chimpsons

A ding
first bottle
A dong second
third more like tap

becomes aware
like first day

Wake up
One morning
One mighty Caesar

A ding!
A new email

Scenes from
a Hospital
Sad saxophone

I don't write
change me

Pencil lead
hair pick
my scalp
feels cold and good

"I have matches"
We'll use them!

Huge Artist
actual Bread-Basket

If leaves were my skin
my thing
would be green

So, man cars around
with sound
snarling dogs!

About perfect and blessed

Oh what spirited stamina!
No bronchital problems
as a child (I guess)
but that's ok
because missed chance
to be cured by voodoo
magic of beans and feathers
born thru unlikely pairing
of christian white
think-I-ams and down
low ear to the ground
It's the true people always
know about cockroaches
and black mold!
and rubble
and how things turn to ash
how dreams are lost!
and then won again!
then gone for good.
This is what the bones say!


Druid ghost
at my feet
Big Golden Trumpet
in my room
What a great glaring
why my fault you
Stout plasticky beast
nailbiting in my woods
You're too easy
meant to be amalgamy
passionless ball-play
taking my everywhere
all at once
I am trying to eat here
I'm sorry
But now is not the time
What else about you
Immaculate doorway
Who shat young moving you
and Mickey Mice
I slip on banana peels
during meditation
So do my eyes
So do my peers
Who's eyes peel
We'd all be somewhere
green covered in fog
briefly woven
were it not for
your snowy showiness

Baltimore Wind
Sound like Sirens

"A Fire Temple"
In the mind
of the shoe salesman

Important Peaople
Use Internet

talk crack
and pussy

Hoo Ha God gets fed

Two Pigeons fly
whirligig spinning
hoo ha rust cuts in
to pin the wind down
push mass of space
west of greece
a blow
traversing my Phaedra
and straight onto me
let's behave naturally
and speak in full words,
sentences and so on
for a while
quit pinning waisty words
to rail-thinity
not sure if thin
as in skinny-
can be made into this
but enjoy its
closeness to infinity
in fact, not only
am I OK with it,
I declare it a real word
NAY, I decree!
A fat blob
taught me that
I'll wake up with
horns for thorns
and same-old-song
crown of souls
wake up in X years
with weirdo literature
a Puss-y Sauerkraut
woven man below
the poverty line
What am I doing here?
or there?
It cannot end here.
A wild hooing begins
in the cradle
hoo ha be
your lasting breath
and exploding birth
have a good hot dog
once or twice
on some dirt
(see thru garden)
and sing about it
to the heavens
the way to god's heart
is thru the stomach

There it is
I burn (See The Craft)
and I'm in Heaven
faceful of Arctic Lilies

A tomb
rolling down
a river

With a weird sound
a wormhole
opens in space

City of Mud

Reaching the end of my stay now
in the warm wooden worm
crawling dormitory
Sky keeps the moon afloat tonight
Sending chills
down our moist hides
I know a good hiding place
tender afoot
but sturdy and willing
no funny bunions there
all smooth and loyalty
of seed and root
engrossing bosom
just one more block, look-
and both turn trailing
in the city of mud
with the live from
"You haven't lived"
and other uses meaning gusto
good strong grip
and gushing life
exploding marching band
& tinny silver sibilance
good night underground
where worms are mating
by the thousands
in muddy city windows
thin veil and shadow
like golden arches
lit by Cemetery

No Problems Tonight

Stretching to greet the ether
it handing me a beer
no problems tonight
lit from inside
I outshining my clothes
I call upon my million subsystems
What if I ate Goliath?
and told no one?
I alone with my gloating
powerful plum fatness
quiet and roaming
would know
sneak in thru a window
vertically blind for all the
heat and mischief
cool satisfaction
of untouched bedding
and toad slipping
from palm clutching
of bull headed boy
dumb barbell son of an ox
won't find toad deep
in slippery green
asleep on rocks
with all guts intact
no problems tonight
could learn to love
a dead man
coo-ing from his shoebox
body as love left him
I wouldn't mind

Yellow Rope of Light

I take the sleeper car's coat
to tan its mismatched passengers
there's no one here I like
No window room
for a while now
A lark would die here
In a movie
you get off in St. Louis
spend the rest of your life
in a cornfield
woo-hooing on principal
but a man is homeless
somewhere in the real heat I bet
and something is wet
because it rained
and now it smells good
like one clean hair
and somewhere
there's a girdle gurgling
in the tub
with more silly festive things
A good scrubbing
gets the wild world down
to the alabaster
Each night eats the last
and when you blink
and get a good feeling
the roads peel over again
beautifully imagined
covered in feathers
smelling like painted
hieroglyphics that sink
towards the aqueducts
with words that slip
from the tip top
tongues and lips
that there is someone to dangle
from the hip of the globe
paralyzed in fear
from top to stern bottom
and we mummify ourselves
to preserve our insides
even in conversation
and crawling love
crawling crawling
crawling from base to stem
and steep nape
fuzzy wizardry that bit me
in the brief that I was busy
looking away
combating attraction to
holy time-spanning attraction
crawling from beneath
the ancient egyptian me,
myself, and I
together again
winging it
for bogus dudes spilling in
from the silver christening
holy diamond
bashful faced god
that felt you feeling him
and covered the globe in a net
of criss crossing fibbers
from the bibble and beyond
to scrabble ably
about my reasoning brain
and its many indecent forms
skidding into my skull
in a song of water slaps
and the sound of table tennis
asking to be young again
to please you better
and please his ping-ponging eye
that slips into honduras
where it sleeps with the sun's eye
and sings in Zeeees inside himself
just pleasing Zeeees
that diminish in size
inside god's many heads
who ask to sleep in your bed
leaving great dander
in their wake morning
and a note that reads
"gone pushing bugles to the wind,
one more baby thru the aura.."
and in Baltimore
a crackley leaf of a man
sits in a prison cell
and I sit
third eye
pointed towards the all out
and everywhere
trying to catch
a yellow rope of light

I put my notebook
on the table
as a revolver

A bird
Pecking at the head
of Bart Simpson

One bedroom Apt.
In my beard
Starting August

Tonight I'll make
a sad frown
from my impressionable bed

A mole
not far
from heaven

there's a splinter
meant for my finger

Envision me in the wild
with a gun
made of bone

Wet Soccer Ball

Fruitybrained come ons
like sweet and mushy
red mush in a glass bowl
seen from beneath
in curious suspense
It Thundering
When you notice knees
as something beautiful
and you're no longer plain
Flush with tenderness you
curious onlooker onlooking
at you
but is you
looking like usual
frilly and confused
on the opposite side
of the road
from you reading this
You capture me yelling
like a wet
Soccer Ball

At the closing gate
with an indigenous whistle
a shell on a string that is
spun and noone notices
this is the sound of screeching

Chameleon shoes
for travelling
in secret
for Max Eisenberg


Land of German shepherds
herding man
I think the bird is calling me
Ewok dog in Hawaiian shirt