August 2011
150 posts
5 tags
You Stay Dry
summer is a wimp even when it rains. we are used to it but get wet.
when we are walking and angels make horseshoes in heaven
that thunder is a callous echo; a crying bride is a brighter bomb
and so we soak in it.
/
to remember all that wetness, to consolidate the rivers of summer rain is
impossible, it seems; but i have, i confess, in a vague dream
where i counted every drip, quantified the...
4 tags
Via Such
hair is mouth sometimes. i suspect it is
hard to beautiful look at via such adapted to
tying knots i suspect these observations: hair
is drain. hair is lampshade. hair is couch. hair is
floor. pardon these observations via such hair
makes smile as well as via such: lascivious makes
mentalling i suspect via such all together hair
makes beautiful hard to look moreorless abrupt
5 tags
What We Just Did
sex, but not sex, exactly
your young body relieving
everything, and through no
fault of my own— lest you
blame my humanness— i lose my bones,
severed from structure and
context i can’t
burden myself with
what is actually happening— so i
concentrate on being willing to give
and answer and be glib—
hush. i can see you mouthing now, see
you explaining you...
3 tags
The Real Hot Blond
I hold the
lighter away from
the phone because you have
cancer and i am distracted by
figuring out which blond is which. which
is the real hot blond? i think i figure it out
and then it changes. on channel 474. you don’t
have cable. i don’t want cable. above the tv is
grandmother’s painting of a barn with a stone silo. the
barn door is open and there is no back wall....
5 tags
Go Get Your Geek
If you ever
/
wish you were alone
/
well, i’ll tell you when it’s okay to be beside yourself.
/
& i’ll admit it. i’ll pronounce it.
/
i’ve been out all night.
/
and i’ve been right.
/
but now i’m home.
/
& if you ever
/
want to go out
/
i’m going to say when it’s okay to be outside yourself.
/
but you have no hold on...
July 2011
117 posts
The Theory of Gravity: SOPHIA →
thetheoryofgravitynovel:
She was standing by the wrong arrival gate, leaning against a wall with one foot on the ground and the other tucked under her ass. Her head was ducked as she read a thick magazine, her long red hair falling down over her face like she was trying to hide inside of it. Her skin was pale like…
4 tags
Dying Noises of Bar Talk
If in some languages
killing is change and water is time then
today is eventfully always if only
for the dying noises of bar talk and whistles
of melting snow underneath us (and i
never knew a pisces girl before) but
mentioning none of those things i said
now it’s 2, then tomorrow it’s hullo,
hullo twinkling in your sorry neck, hullo again
allowing for for an unchanging...
iwillbethedeathofme asked: was there a black ribbon inside?
6 tags
Blue Skirt
i say this because it
is the blue skirt. i have been
meaning to recall it. i remember wrists
without which no one can forcibly write. i have sayings.
in these turns of phrase i confess. no
one can write without them. people say goodnight. so
i shut my eyes and i confess your
tongue says prettiness and i think
postman please don’t let this
envelope get wet; it is an uncommon sense...
3 tags
Jacket
i
done
seen
you
/
pretty
wisp of
white
and
black. avoiding actual
belt sander races. your shruggy pounce
between bridge overpasses when
trains come running between
cars and trucks.
you yipped once in a tree
for a my jacket
3 tags
Pretty Lost
walking a foot apart
when you found your car
we were pretty lost
4 tags
What Is It What Isn't
the dick says
what the noggin ain’t, and low,
that is what heads are for
knockin round and bumpin shit,
just ask the dick
/
true enough, and feet are for
kicking i’m sure but walkin
is first but the dick says feet are for
kickin
etc but i’m sure the dick is for
something
/
what is it? forgive me,
god i forgot
your insides,
which is why-
unduly don’t mind me...
3 tags
16th and Division
on the walk to the bar
the middle aged man
with a beard was yelling
into his mobile fuck you.
you slept naked with him and
i don’t care you don’t
understand fuck you
and you’re still going camping with him
you don’t understand at 16th and
division on the way home i heard you
fucking loudly, but it seemed like everywhere
4 tags
Leapers
remember that time i spray painted a word
on my leather jacket? where were we?
we should have been in the city the whole time. we should’ve,
right? we should have been born there. any city. any block.
soccer was a society thing. a cultural absurdity at the
time. for us. it still is. ball is personal. we take it that
way. we didn’t start playing until we were 15.
it came easy....
5 tags
3 tags
I Am So
When I watch- You stretch- Out in the snow-
Angel in frozen cartwheels baby still-
By bootprints- I don’t wonder why you’re- Thinking- This little more than a long- Moan- I am so sorry- To go- I’m so- Sorry to leave you alone-
The 29 seconds- A decapitated head lives and- The gush of life- And the pretty shadow that- Bites back the cold til it is gone- Stretched out on- The sand baby still- By...
5 tags
Numismatic
saying anything to permanence isn’t
playing and the reverse is also true for
worth. so i therefor am speculating.
rare coins? it is important to note
the glint of its face in the light of
day. its value in luck. its maker. its
flash in a pool of a million stupid
wishes- to be a prettydead girl- oh to kiss katie- oh
to be a shiny coin. i saw you this
way at the getty- a confident,...
2 tags
Burbank Girl
i wouldn’t
make you
famous if
i coulda, i couldn’t
make you
pretty if
i shoulda
4 tags
Why
that is why. why
being made of
wheat, tufts of grass and
a
rustling
stretch of sun wind and similar stuff tells on permanence. of worth.
and why does it blow? you keep asking
why, love, why
what it is worth?
why does it
do
anything? for the devil of questions let nothing
more be asked except, of course,
why i love you
more than
any
answer
2 tags
“i don’t have much faith in words; people buy them and print them for no...”
– Hunter S. Thompson
6 tags
4 tags
Everything, Reverentially
In the ground is the devil of dirt rock bones coal and grandma black space and gravity burned into a flowing time of hot hot heaven; the groove of time in a slow bounce in every inch of every tick unbelievable steam trapped in gorges of granite quartz and limestone and liquid. They are called plates and upon their gold we smack our starry gavels and, if I can remember correctly, from grandma’s old...
5 tags
Songs Are For Birds
(oh!
i just kissed
you on the lips! and yes
songs are for birds and they sing things like
please stay! please stay!
the jay sings those shameless tunes over sidewalks for anyone every day,
and for whoever comes by the grackle always chimes
don’t go away! don’t go away!
and their tunes never change, ah so they say—- but, oh! so well did we do! our first night on stage!
...
5 tags
Parade Day In Glendale, CA
large building- no shade- wide
sidewalks- no one on them-
blue sky- nowhere to sit. no trash.
and no. it is strange- de rigueur-
all your palm trees face away from the mountain-
it is hipstamtic all off-green- more grey- grey small
houses- houses you cannot afford- you can’t
afford to leave. you cannot
afford to stay. blue sky. no trash. thrift store-
old men’s clothes- none...
6 tags
Etiquette of Amun-Ra & Amunet
i couldn’t
delicately mention
to the prettiest lebanese waitress i’ve ever,
ever seen in glendale (eye makeup like
amun-ra does it every time)
that this
pregnant girl
is my sister. and,
the baby
isn’t mine, but doopityboopity tootsietoo you
really oughta be. quit right now. the plane
leaves tomorrow at
five and sure, yeah, you
move like amunet
-so I’m buying
5 tags
3 tags
Jacob Hates Hastin
-carved into a
desk-
in wet sidewalk cement-
-a tree- in school, at home-
you’re first taught to love,
and then you learn to hate,
but judy
loves jacob and that’ll
never change- in a
verse- written in sticks
on the beach-
tattooed on a chest- at home, at school-
first we learn to touch,
away we learn to taste,
so judy
fucked hastin at the
graveyard
in his jeep
3 tags
Inhaling Foam
we is swimming fish wasting dying energy covered in snot and grease and rolling in bones which, being stronger than our weak cartilage keep accurate history of those dead and greater, and the smell of them is rich
/
to breathe is like inhaling foam. we swim past discarded boots that once graced a hermits giant feet, spinning together, pockets of women’s leg hair, sausage fat, globes,...
2 tags
Luna Moth →
i found one of these last year… i hadn’t even known they existed until i caught one of these giants. they have no mouth.
Los Angeles
going for the weekend. that’ll mix up my style a bit… hard to avoid in that dirty freakshow of a city… it’ll be… fun? sure.
3 tags
Wind In Your Veins
happy california fox oh ghost you go
forest frost footprint and squealing
vole and you a comet burning
holes in the whole of ole californee
through cold water
in a crick you splash mad as a fish
running through the
fleets of fat grackles
in the mist (morning sun is
coming sure as the spicy
smell of honey puts a
grumbly in the sleepy dreaming
bear’s bumbly) happy little fox oh...
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This is the anonymous revolution! If you want to take part just send this message to the blogs you love. It's just a little thing that will brighten their day, and hopefully make up for all the anon hate that is everywhere on tumblr. If you love someone's blog, spread the word. One message at a time...
4 tags
4 tags
Pemmican
ah, poor pemmican,
all that is left
of you is rotted cock.
busted all along, now
permanently outed. all that makes you up and wakes you
is fecund and perfectly, to wit, auspiciously suited,
finest old pemmican and
ah, be
lucky i don’t write about
drugs anymore, soiled
bowling shirts or medieval mouths, sweet
pemmican for their foulness, but this
is fairness, glad pemmican, this...
1 tag
indirectly speaking, my delight
noxalio:
courage is reflection of valor unconcerned with mirror.
1 tag
“Je suis comme ça. Ou j’oublie tout de suite ou je n’oublie jamais.”
– samuel beckett
4 tags
Vegas Gullah
Odd is night on windowless door, orange particle board, hinged grey-black irons, red neon screaming xxx nude dancers. Swinging wide the door lighter than it seems the room is glowing, men in jeans and trench coat khakis olive drab hats and mustaches resume their digging as track lights settle on the bright cassette boxes and ten inch dongs, whips, latex and machetes gleam in their glasses, the...
2 tags
I discovered a treasure trove of old work......
it’s scary. i found it on an old cd-r… it’s good work, but it’s old junk punk poetry i used to write, starkly different from what i write now. let me know if you’d like to see it. i’ll post it tagged #bored of love. the last three things i posted were from it, including Canary, but that isn’t representative. they’re mostly about drugs, breaking pool...
8 tags
Slight Wall of Text Next
with art. it’s old but rather sweet, i’m told.
4 tags
Reminds the Boys of Money
wince oooo it’s summer there’s nothing like city life it’s summer put on a brave face and tickle the breeze your stunning skin is loose under thin dresses and tattoos are fading under tans, and, you’re so pretty the way you stand he’s in a trance his body stopped feeling the air as you put your arm around to get the beer and your perfume absolutely smacked him wince...
5 tags
Keratin
we always talk about the birds in the storm on the line.
when their feathers stand up the opposite way from the wind.
a little bulge on the cord, beaks
of the same keratin that builds the rhinos horn and
almost as impossibly.
4 tags
Elementary
the
chicks in
the incubator
don’t like
to teach.
/
what
it’s like
to be
small and yellow.
3 tags
Akin
she told me it is the
breath, the last
one at the end,
the untrue exhale
when she found
him dead, belt
around his neck
like a gentle crypt draft
quite opposite
the discourteous
fractured mewl of a
lost and motherfucking tom
but akin
3 tags
The World Is My Muskrat
the world is my muskrat
and still unsatisfying but i’m gloriously tempted
by this rattish oily murk of a
muse, it’s unchangeable monotony of monogamy between
me and you and you and you, but
is it really? is that the way in the ocean
lakes and bays i can’t see? at least
there are no sharks in my pond,
just you and me and me and me
3 tags
You Say Yes
i don’t know what to type because my hands are not being told what to do,
or rather, they are being told only to strike keys and make words in a line
in some semblance of order. do you understand?
/
increasingly it has become more and more difficult to force fingers to keyboard
and make rational sense with these nouns adjectives and verbs, however, inso
doing this, i hope to increase...
3 tags
The Snail Painter
my back yard is small and full of snails. and angry hummingbirds. there is a family of sparrows, too. i usually type/write out here. the children in an adjacent yard chant creepy songs between asking their parents if they want lemonade even when it’s raining, which it very often is. the parents are always chopping things— marionberry briars and roses, things with thorns and fruit and...
6 tags
Check Out Lines
all i talk about
is love and sex.
what else is there?
triumph?
conquest? honor? collectibles?
etcetera, i say. god
bless
the species, god bless
the available girl
in the
line
at
the
store
i’m in love again
with them
3 tags
Buzzing Inside the Bed
even now, since it’s
been such a satisfying
sting, even now it is with such
solemn imagination i build
this buzz which
pricks with no itching poison but
patient soothing breaths, waves
of slow heartbeats thump
realistically and a serene glowing
wash of wellness, even now, i’m getting
wet while putting these papers
in order, clearing the calendar and
buzzing inside the bed