May 29, 2011


I've got no real power
but I'm working on that
shit cause, like, man,
that shit is on fire in me.
And I've never meant
to hurt a single one
of you, though
I've done it I know
and I know
that I've done it. Just,
listen, man, forget it
and let me know later
or not, no matter
just whatever because
well, jesus, doesn't really
matter anyway, anyway.

May 25, 2011

How Something Isn't New

I'm trying to grow into something
bloom-y and pretty to the naked eye.
I want to be a bigger engine and to hum
louder than a novelist or a baker. I have daydreams
about what could happen, what might
manifest. In my chilled night hours, alone like
a wasp at a window, I buzz strongly and feel
likely to move into a new dormitory, where lunch
and dinner are served with dark bloody gravy. But
when nothing happens, I think of my children,
learning to be themselves and falling in love
with everything new. They are smart,
good kids. They make these high-pitched tiny
sounds with their mouths and laugh in bubbles.
They don't know the gravity that falls on the earth
or the lungs that power the body or the brains
which scramble the too much info. They are
just blind moles of love who shuffle quietly around.
I think of birds sometimes.
Other times, without thinking it through, I notice
my surrounding and the terrible colors.
I feel spooky, Tina.
I feel deadly and flat.

May 24, 2011

So Long

This nonsense about the applesauce
and all that horseshit about the petitions
and all that crap about the articles
in the brochure and then there was all that talk
about the birthday, and how what's-his-face
screwed you over when it came to the bake sale,
and, in all seriousness, I hardly know
what to say. Tina, you're a terrible person.
I've spent years justifying your insecurities
and your violent displays of power, but, listen, I've
grown up, man, I'm not that kid I used to be. There's
no way I'm going to change the program at this point.
I know it's killing you, but I'm not changing the
backdrop or the postcards. You can have the stuff
in the fridge and you're welcome to remove all
of the samples you provided, but, beyond that,
it's over. No more late nights at the lake, no more
Sunday gifts and calls from the highway. I'm not going
to remove the tags anymore or spray the apartment.
As far as I know, everyone else feels
the same way. You can ask, but I don't know.
Whatever. Whatever. You say you have my best interests
in heart, but the a evidence is a touch bleaker
than that. I don't know. I don't know anymore. It's just
lonely now is all I'm saying. Jesus, Tina, try to step
outside of yourself for a moment or two! You've
got to make changes! You've got to give up the Nazi shit.
You've got to change your hairstyle. You've got to move
on Tina. You dragging us down like a dead clown! It's
time to let childish things go! Grow a fucking pair!

May 23, 2011

May 22, 2011

The People that Exist

A person has a car, they use it to drive
A person has a voice and so they use it, they
sing or talk or grunt in funny little ways.
People use their mouths to maul
their food, or to kiss a loved one.
People have friends. They call friends and say words.
They exchange glances and noises.
One person buys another person dinner.
One person has an idea and they ask another person
for an opinion.
Life is always moving into a new event.
Have you witnessed the nature of popular movies
and the always changing into something that is the sameness
of pop music? You are probably aware of the passage
of time and the little anomalies.
That's not the sort of thing I'm thinking about in
this particular event. Here, I'm addressing
something both more primitive and
stranger. To me, there is such a thing as a swimming pool
that swims in you.
Imagine the way neighbors have to negotiate the fence
between their properties? Do you see where I'm going?
In spite of everything, it's tiring using
language to get to something.
Certain people have certain strengths and certain weaknesses.
All of this stuff comes to light sometime.
Or it doesn't. Who knows?
People know about mysteries or they don't.
People understand mysteries or they don't.
A person can look at a cloud and see a shape
or they can't.

May 20, 2011

Egg Boy

My god, time passes!
It looks out the window,
yawning very strangely.
Hitler and Himmler
and other H's drift
past and yet the wind
also blows by,
yipping and yapping
and removing
the finish from the
furniture. O, it's so bare!
My seats, empty of
their patina! Shit!
Love, I want
you to sit with me
awhile, not unlike
the egg a baby chick
kicks at!

May 4, 2011

In the Future

I get super nervous. Like nervous in
a spectacular fashion. Such that my battered
brains get so bubbly that I just can't
help but take it out a little on the world.
So in this way, I am flawed.
It's like that Space Shuttle that blew up.
It was flawed, too.
But humans get these softer flaws, these
fleshy little plump flaws, that one could
almost suck on like a woman's nipple.
But it's not nipple at all. It's not even a
human. When the years
begin to choke the squirrels from my throat
I believe I shall be moved to the window
where I will open it and say something
absolutely very important.