Apr 30, 2011

What May Happen

When the time comes to transfer
the funds from the less stable what-ma-thingy
to the more stable whipper will, please bring your
paper towels and the bleach. Also, it might be nice
to have those surgical gloves. The interesting thing
about gloves is how they provide a layer, a boundary,
a fence (if you will) between the weird yard of your
skin and the weird yard of the thing you're touching.
Often, on lab days, when no one's around and
the secretaries are at lunch, I will open the scroll
that reads, like, like a menu of torture methods. I always
stop about mid-way through, fatigue mounting
me into a prison bitch. Lazing on the sofa,
dreaming of the time change, dreaming of the Jedi,
dreaming of the weird dreams of sleepwalk. Still,
to relieve the pressure, I'm going to have to
move quicker than I am accustomed to. I am used
to being very slow and snail-ish. I'm usually
proud of my sloth, but these days, with the economy
how it is and with all the regular bullshit
of regular living, I find my normally stable brain
is teetering and then, like a tiny bird egg, I'm somehow
lost in the grass and the perfect vegetable for a snake.

Apr 29, 2011

Having Real Ideas

No one cares if this is written or if I say
something or nothing. No one cares if, for once,
something happens or doesn't. I know people
who have strong feelings, but very few
of them know my initials. I have parents but
they have no bullhorns or cheer routines. No
one cares if I move on to something else, or if I stick
to something for a long, long, lengthy time.
Time gets very stretchy, like warmish taffy.
Time possess a similarity in sweetness and plasticity.
Also, there are wars and rumors of wars.
Also, for god so loved his something.
Also, there are different allusions that could be created
and many of them could be biblical in nature.
For instance, well, I think this has been covered.
For instance, fear not, for thou are with me, be
very afraid because I'm not easy to find but
I'm watching from a vase of fake flowers!

Apr 28, 2011

Nothing to Do

Gotta do this fucking poem!
Gotta do this fucking poem!
Gotta do this fucking poem!
Gotta do this fucking poem!
Gotta do this fucking poem!

Apr 27, 2011


The big danger here
is lying
and not much to
say about it, but that
that danger is real
and, dude,
I could lie
or not lie
but the danger
is real.
So, when
you can,
and, well,
if you can't
don't but

Apr 24, 2011

Car Ride

I ain't
a dad
I try
hard on
it cause

Apr 23, 2011


I don't believe in ghosts. Meaning,
I don't believe that spirits live on or something
and then kinda float around knocking things over
and causing water pipes to make extra nosies
and/or maybe making semi-scary moaning
sounds and/or appearing as bright orbs or
something in the background or foreground
of photographs. I know people say they've
seen ghosts and heard ghosts and felt
ghostly presences and all of that, but I don't
buy it. I think all of those people are in some way
mistaken. I don't think they're lying, I just think
they're confused about what happened. Have you
been confused before? It's an unpleasant sensation.
To remedy this sensation, human beings come
up with explanations. These explanations vary
in their degree of believability. I myself have
believed stuff before. That sensation is much
more enjoyable than the sensation of confusion.
Confusion feels funny in your bones. It might
shift around a little and make you feel as if you're
on a boat. That boat may be in a storm. That
storm may be causing giant waves to crash on
the deck. That deck needed to be cleaned anyway.
The death of the sailors is like the death of all
ghosts, sinking to the floor of the ocean and waiting
there, patiently, for something to make them realer.

Apr 22, 2011

The Rescue Operation

I told the girl I would try one of her
funky poems and I will, but not now, because
funky poems are hard poems and this
kind of poetry here is easier and more likely
to cause my mind to wander. I keep thinking
of the beasts in the field and the soil in
the earth. I also think of the yolk in the egg
and the egg in the belly of the alligator. I can
imagine the air lifting the leaves and the
trees teeming with certain grubs. I keep
thinking of the shellfish in the sea
and the water that it takes to move
a large, large ship through the ocean. I am
barely thinking of the girl now. Barely
imagining how she forms words with her
mouth and with the words she forms
whole rotations and spins. Sometime,
in the dark volcano of clocks, something will
rise up and up and, like a bird or a
paper airplane, sail out of this joint, into
the box where the rest of us are waiting
with our tied, tiny hands and our gags.

Apr 21, 2011

Big Auto

I've got this thing to do, see,
this thing to do, see,
see, I got this thing to do.
You know man, I've got
activities, man. Really,
you should pay attention.
Really, seriously,
I've got this thing to do so
I do it. Or it's midnight
and the largest car
on earth is just starting.

Apr 20, 2011

New PPP! Review in H_ngm_n!

"Peter Davis is able to say so much without saying, essentially, anything."

Bird Hopes

This is the sort of joke
that doesn't have a punch line
so I only mention it to make
some point I'm unaware of.
Shanna was talking about
training parrots and I'm down
with that and I'm sure others
are too. We all want to rule
parrots and make them
do our bidding. Ruling parrots
is the essence of humanity.
Also, I want to ride a jaguar
to work and, on arrival,
I want to enter my
office on the back
of a turtle and use some
sort of dinosaur blood to
endorse my paycheck,

Apr 19, 2011

The Spirit World

I'm searching for the answers
and they ain't appearing no where
and so every redneck
with a guitar will do just fine
by me, seeing as how I've got
nothing to feel good or bad
about and not even a chance
or hope for salvation, just more
dead rabbits and unmended fences
and bridges that can't be built
without the help of seasoned,
alien workers, and scabs and scabs
and scabs on all of them and on
me and on you, I'm guessing. What
else is there in this universe but
a disco ball of doom and a DJ
who won't play the song you
want, but won't quit playing
all the other songs? That DJ is
and he can rock your shit for
a while, but, eventually, he's
going to leave you and you're
not going to get a chance to
say goodbye and, when you
get home, that night, you're gonna
cry cry cry because you're
his silly little bitch.

Apr 18, 2011

Facts, Tina

I don't want to do this and that's
pretty obvious. You and your thick
bones, your poof-y hair
and your insistence.
I hear you,
I'm just bitter about it.
I know exactly what you're saying,
but I think you're wrong.
I hear exactly where you're coming from,
I just think you're ridiculous.
You can stop now, or, if you want,
you can go on and on and on to
no one listening.

Apr 17, 2011

A Sonnet for Tina

Well I wonder how it happens that the weather
where you are isn't exactly the same as the weather
where I am. I'm no meteorologist, but it just seems logical
that the weather would be exactly the same everywhere
and yet, here we are: you in a very warm
climate, me where it is brisker. I also find it interesting
that not every single human being agrees completely
with all other human beings. In short, people have
slight variations, which seems unlikely, to say the least,
and yet, again, we find ourselves surrounded with
certain evidence. I don't know about you, but I used
to enjoy crime dramas. Also, I've played Frisbee and
rode a go-cart a little as a child. It's starting to
come together I think. This mystery about the weather.

Apr 16, 2011

B-Boy Ideas

You should accompany yourself with a radio
so as fill your brain with stuff so as to travel
more distractedly and thus more easily like a
quiet child, putting things away in an efficient
manner. You should bring extra radios
in case you must present one to a stranger
or leave one in the blank hands of an Amish boy.
If you are a person who enjoys horses,
then bring a horse or two. Or if you enjoy
baking, bring yourself baking supplies
and a decent sized portable oven. I can't know
all of your interests and beliefs, but use these
examples as examples of the kind of material
that is permissible, even encouraged in
small pockets of the population. Still I'm sure
the most important items are not transportable
and can't be folded into sections or unassembled
and really, besides, mostly we don't want
that shit, which would ultimately bog us down
into those muddy swamps we've been trying
to evolve from for, like, at least 15 minutes.
Seriously, it may have as much as 20 or 25
minutes. I'm old school. I think like that.

Apr 15, 2011


And I'll miss Friday too if I don't do something quick.

Missing Thursday

I missed a poem yesterday and
I feel really bad about that
because I know you, my dear, sweet reader
really missed the poem I missed yesterday.
But I swear to you and I mean this sincerely:
You missed nothing. My head was full of
baguettes and my soul was stuffed with olives.
My legs and toes were crammed with that
pink insulation stuff and my chest was
heaving drastic teardrops that fell as far
as a hundred feet or more before
dissolving into a pool of all the
teardrops that have already dropped.
Seriously salty up in this mutha.

Apr 13, 2011


One drives a car because the car is a set of functions
that requires a person to activate it. So you
activate that shit and you pull out of your driveway
and you follow various signs and you direct
your face and auto toward something that isn't
immediately available. That is called the future.
The future, as I understand it, is a concept meant to
indicate something that may or may not happen
in an hour that is to come. All of the hours that come
seem similar to the hours that have passed, except
for when they deviate wildly, causing very strange
sensations that cause readjustments in the attitude
or outlook of your mind-eye. Jesus, Tina,
seriously, you should get this. All of your time
studying various philosophy and yet you still look at
me all gape-mouthed? It's simple: certain concepts
instruct you pretty much so just by thinking them.

Apr 12, 2011

Tuesday Evening

It's not that I don't know what to say
it's just that there are too many options and too many
rules and a truckload of misaligned shit that has to saddle
up with it and keep it all together while moving it
forward in such a direction that is progress, if not entirely linear.
Most of my life I've been very confused. The amount of time that
I've spent confused is equal to the cold strangeness of hunting
very small animals. I know most of us know what I mean. We
know the feeling of stalking through a field
in an olive green hunting cap, with rust-colored boots, and
flannel trim on our gloves. We all know the buttery rush of memory
and the half second of Death springing into the wounded torso
of some furry little situation of small animalness.
Who has not yelled to the gods? Who hasn't screamed to a million
unseen fences and tossed rings over hundreds of human heads?
Everyone has these same messy nightmares, except
some people don't know it. I'm of the type who is confused and messy
myself. All some small animal situation myself. You know how
this goes back. Before long, you're consulting your mother
about your uncle who is a tall gentleman with a wide, brown mustache.
It gets gone almost before you even get there. It's like you
wouldn't notice but you do. In that position, you wake, put on your
clothes and reach into open air. By constantly changing the
empty space around you, you feel like a rich man for micro seconds,
and that's good enough, or, say, sorta.

Apr 11, 2011

A Letter from the Past

It is not good news to get bad news, especially
involving words like "degenerative" and "chronic"
and "analogy." You have to adjust your ears in such
a situation, so as to loosen the vibrations a bit,
and allow them to trickle toward your innards. My
innards are powerful lonely and my teardrops
contain a little jewel of the past. To imagine
the decisions of childhood matter! That there
was never any house money! O, honey, I wish
I was a new culprit of dawn! I wish I could dredge
the dregs from this soupy mess. As a kid, you have
eyes which you use to imagine and as an adult
you have eyes which you use to re-imagine. The
pattern isn't perfect, but it's close enough to
remind you of home. And where is a home for
someone from the future? In your bones, idiot.
In the way they hold themselves in your body.

Apr 10, 2011

One Problem with Children

The only known solution to a lost child is to
find the child and return the child to wherever
the child is from. There's a girl lost in the neighborhood.
There are children all over the world who disappear.
There are children everywhere that are being mistreated
badly. So much so that nobody understands the
nature of, say, even a basketball game. We look like
very stupid faces when we get on TV and try to
predict the course of the future. O, the future! That
vibrant little package of hope! We are unwrapping
it even now. Even now we are unwrapping it more.
It keeps unwrapping and we keep speaking about
our faces and how stupid they are. Even very stupid
writing poetry! I mean, of course, poetry. The parts
you don't count on are what sticks from the past,
that vibrant mercurial beast of Cling Town. From those
cages whole hosts are unleashed and breathe forth
with biblical happiness. Which is hardly happy but
at least able to set fire to cities and kill, say, everything.

Apr 9, 2011

My Brother

My brother rode whole teams of cougars through
the mall, screaming, his long blond hair ribboning out
behind him, his legs hairy and ribs hard
as asphalt. When he drank, he held jugs of water
before himself and let himself pour the water
into himself before himself would devour loaves
of bread and so many biscuits that the bakery
held 4o0 X 4 bakers, there were two dozen workers involved
in the washing of bakers' hats alone, there was a break room
filled with message therapists. There were days no one
slept more than a couple of hours at a time. My
brother would eat for weeks, but when it was time for
a battle he'd eat less. He'd still eat, but they'd close
the third shift. Some people missed the overtime
but most were just glad to work a regular ten hour day,
have a couple of drinks and play with their kids. By
the time I reached junior high he walked as if on a
trampoline. Springing up over the shoulders of the largest
men on earth. He was tattooed from the tips of his digits
through the vast ocean of his back and the wild
plains of his abdomen. These were brutal times in a way,
the way cavemen were evolving and beating each other to death
with big rocks. The tribesmen sucking on the marrow
of a bone, etc. a whole course of sagging evolution happening.
My brother's ear lobes were giant horse shoes and his
pelvis held a mint of silver. He boots were made of
leopard fur and leopard leather and laced
together with the intestines of a giant. He was a site in the
supermarket, eating a bag of onions while whiling his
way through the produce. His autograph was the size of
a guitar and his eyelids were like peach-halves.
But that's all done with now, anyway. Long live the Captain
Spider of Love! Long live the Beloved Blow Torch of Coma!
Happy life to the Supreme Star Super Power of Odessa
and the Earth! All hail Lord Owns It Suburbia!

New Review of PPP!

We who are about to die

Apr 8, 2011

Real Stanzas

You can't become a monkey just because you want to.
You've got to earn your way to monkeydom. Likewise,
You can't become a person just because you want to.
You've got to earn your way to persondom.

You can't adjust the valves of your toilet without
certain kinds of tools and your own opposable thumbs.
You can't sleep soundly and warmly in a bed made
of discarded slaughterhouse animal products.

One needs a warm blanket and a pillow, or two
warm blankets and two pillows.
Some people may end up with four or more of each
and maybe even earplugs, a cat and long underwear.

One can't just wish themselves to have a certain color hair.
One can't just make sense of the universe with a book.
One can't climb into a basket and expect to be picked up
and delivered to the correct address.

These expectations lead to lots of disappointments.
These disappointments rise up with greenish teeth.
One can not just make monsters out of an empty heart,
the monster has to be real enough to smell monster-y.

Apr 7, 2011

The Thursday

For this poem, I shall release the hounds!
What the hounds are likely to do is any body's guess.
Sometimes they attack the attacker, sometimes they
nap on the porch, often you can find them upon
their paws, watching a fly or something and occasionally
tilting their heads. This poem is so much more than
they can imagine and so much less.
At the same time, this poem is frightened and full
of fatigue and emptiness. The type of fullness
that is wasted in echoes struggling to conquer the universe.
All day, a chipmunk of doom crossed over my insides,
gnawing like a word you consistently spell wrong. I
have known tiny, teardrop-shaped caves and have slept
in the bad bed, bunches. Even now a tiny galloping is
happening across my insides and a field of animals are
stamping and glowering and pacing. In my life, I've never
hunted wild game. In my life, I've never set foot in Africa
or seen a lion maul a member of my family. I'm ignorant of tons!
I have seen animals on TV doing lots of stuff, however. I have
also been an animal my whole life. So what I'm saying is this:
I believe that some of my thoughts are valid. I think
sometimes my perceptions jive with reality. And, in that case,
I'm at a strange loss and also itchy. You know,

Apr 6, 2011

Old Problems

My wife calls on the phone and I answer it. Have you
received phone calls before, Tina? Do you know what
this is like? Well, then why don't you keep your
mouth shut for a change and let me explain. The phone
is this device that allows one human (or a group of humans)
to communicate with another human (or a group of humans).
You hold it against the side of your head. Imagine
that it's a banana and you put one end near your mouth
and the other end near your ear. When you speak, the other
person (who could be as close, say, as a near neighbor, or
as far away, say, as all the way around the earth), who is
also holding a "phone," can hear what you say and when
that person speaks you can hear it on your "end of the line,"
on your "phone." My wife calls and she's lonely so she's
calling me to say so. I respond to her with some sort of
reassuring statement, like, glad you called. This kind
of banter continues for a few minutes and then it's
over with, I'm back to being off the phone and back to
helping you with all your dumbfuck ideas. So cool it!
Just take a step back, relax and put the ABBA record down.

Apr 5, 2011


I never know if the mail I receive is really for me. Sure, some of it is signed,
"love, Mom" and some of it personally addresses me with salutations like "Hey Pete"
or "Dear Peter" or, even, "For my beloved, Peter" but mostly it's all
pretty ambiguous. The mail carrier won't look me in the face and when
I call out to her, in a good natured way, like, say, "Excuse me, Ms. I think you
dropped an envelope," she never responds with anything but a purple glare.
I should say too that that shade of purple is not meant for a face. What
confuses me most are the addresses which rarely actually indicate the street I live on.
I live on Grant Street, but most of my mail says stuff like "Grum Street" and
"Grime Stipe" and "Gutter Humper." The area code is rarely correct and many
of the actual packages I receive are clearly meant for others because they'll say things
like "Dear Margery" and "Hello Sven" and "Good Evening Mrs Turnbuckle."
Still, this stuff winds up in my hands and I'm left to consider the possibility that
these are for me, that I might be Sven and live on Grum Street. But, here's the thing,
I know I'm not Mrs. Turnbuckle and, even if I was, I'd hate myself big time. So, all day,
everyday, all I do is think about my options.

Apr 4, 2011

The Alsoness of Living

One good thing on the television is chef Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares program
in which he rehabs bad restaurants. First he breaks the will of the owner/chef/whoever
of a bad restaurant by belittling them and the operation for a while. Then
he watches them work and tells them what a fucked up job they're doing.
And finally he changes the menu, redecorates, re-trains the staff, oversees
a successful dinner service and, poof, he disappears into the back of my television. This show is so, so good because the way all of the stuff that happens
in it happens is always really entertaining and thus fun and real good, you know?
Other interesting things include certain branches of science and different pastry shops.
I also am a fan of zero calorie flavored waters that usually come in plastic bottles.
Some people really like saunas. The world can be like that. I've noticed that some
men enjoy wearing gold, silver, or platinum bracelets! It takes time to notice, but as
the weather changes during the course of a day, the temperature may vary slightly, or
drastically. This type of circumstance can be appreciated for what it is. I enjoy wearing
shoes, but some people don't like them. Once, it occurred to me that
people have various thoughts regarding sex and that one person may personally really enjoy
a certain sexual idea that another person may enjoy too, but to a lesser degree. I
find the whole event of being a person is a tad bizarre. Just today, returning from
an errand in my car, I noticed there were other people out there and that, by and
large, they look different from one another! Everywhere I seemed to look, there was
a person and that person was different in appearance from the previous person! Wild!
Coming into my house I noticed the evidence of animals, perhaps birds or chipmunks.
I thought, there are bats hiding in dark places right now. As I understand it, other people
have thoughts as well. Some may have seen the evidence of animals too!

Apr 3, 2011

Saying Something

Along with my Bloofmates from Bloof books, I am writing a poem a day during the month of April for what is commonly known as NaPoWriMo. Just thought I'd say something. That's what's going to be going on around here.

Death Urge!

People get upset about PC language because they've had it
their way for so long and got to determine the good and
bad for so long that they feel something's been taken away from them
when someone else says, hey, I think I'm going to assert myself
into the language too. It's just these tadpole ideas that grow into real frogs leaping
with slippery death legs, an egyptian plague that was promised and
now there are piles of frogs everywhere and everywhere one steps one
steps on an alive frog or a dead frog. All this stuff in the universe, including the
young couples that stroll through neighborhoods, the joggers, the various
killers of humans, the etc, like, say, the extra movements of the trees, the rustling-dealeo
we usually mention when we mention the wind causing these extra, twitchy movements
in the trees. All of this stuff is like something taken away from someone else.
All of this stuff is like something awarded to a pumpkin. Every sin I am in love
with is in love with me too and we get together and get some real love on!

Apr 2, 2011


One has a future or, perhaps, only a minute
or two to go, but in either case
a person has an idea which is pretty much the same thing.
What are you possibly thinking, that I wouldn't
be bogged down with the weight of weightiness? Unbelievable!
Just now the sun bellyaches its way into the room
and the folding chairs at the stadiums begin to swarm
with insects both alive and dead. And in countries that I've
never been to and don't know what, say, the name of their money is,
or anything of substance except that I'm pretty dumb, in those
countries people are really getting fucking bombed. So good morning,
new day of future ideas and stupid poems! O stupid poem, you
lovely little darling! You cute little jump suit! You often
admired chunk of happy! I salute your weird beard and the
coffin you happen to ride in! I salute your curly-q desire for
lunch! I am proud to have galloped at your side in the
whiskery dawn of impromptu suffering! I am neither sad about,
nor unimpressed, with your emptiness! I care not about
your terrible results! You furry rodent of doom! What up, G?!
Who's in the mutha fuckin house?!

Apr 1, 2011

Like, Something

I find the rain like a reminder of something, like,
I don't know, Holy Crap! It's Friday and in one room a child
is flushing a toilet and singing and in another room a
another is making lots of whooshing, zapping noises
and my dog is under my legs and my legs are up on the table
and someone says I'm looking down at the ceiling
and down there is danger that has the face of a, like,
deep down clown in a distance. Following the sound
of distances, yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck!
Yuck yuck yuck yuck I say to my head because my head
needed a talking to. So I talked indeed as I was cozying
up with a blanket, a beanbag, and another blanket.
For some reason I get extra cold sometimes. Have you
experienced the sensation of being chilled? It's not like
you're freezing to death, but something unpleasant is happening.
I know long ago in different scenarios I imagined new ways
to cope with various sensations, but each time I have to
pull out the blanket I seem to lose a bit of my life.
It's hard to describe in detail, especially since you can
be such a little bitch, Tina! I'm trying to say something new
about the universe and all you fucking care about is
padding your sense of security. You can be so petty.