February 2012
1 post
December 2011
1 post
Yours-ish
wow, well the first thing I just gotta say is—
I know you think it’s slick, claiming this thing
to be yours. you’re half-hard though.
you aren’t even here, you’re projecting again,
you’re holding your own gut in your hands.
hi again, from down here.
Open the light, a cloud cover parting over
A canyon, red hard. Opening of the light,
The quick breathing in noise you do when you think
You might...
November 2011
2 posts
at six flags great America i drank two
whole water bottles full of vodka
it was the best summer of my life
i spent six handfuls of sand
slipping through my fingers
and i drank a sweaty cool cup of diet pepsi
with my eyes crossed
the sun hunkered down to gnaw the
greasy fat of America’s ass
and i was on a roller coaster soaking it all in
while the wind
touched my face in a weird new way
that only...
Me And Tv
my heart hurts for the girl on
America’s Funniest Home Videos.
here’s me holding my breath.
i feel so
soapy. i feel so dumb,
like a cartoon.
maybe the girl on the screen
watches superhero cartoons
when she’s sick.
when the only thing that tastes good
is Ritz Crackers.
i’m a cut up hot dog for her,
her grimace is so cute
and she blinks against
the spray of her...
July 2011
3 posts
i swallowed it thinking about something else,
it being a cool glass of milk.
the something else was bigger than the milk.
the something else wasn’t that big though.
it was a long coiled thing and
it didn’t fit inside the milk glass.
i think i can see it now,
it was like clear plexiglass and i knew that
if my palms slid along it they would squeal
against its cleanness.
the something else was...
the haunted bag of dank pt. 1
I am always left here
licking my lips, all awash
and aglow in an insect buzzzzzz
and a rush of wet air pushes through
the ripped seam in my shorts
Where are we now? Another abandoned building, is this a house or maybe it’s too big to be a house it must have been a factory. I think I hear something that might be music from deeper inside. I’m probably imagining it. It’s spooky already...
tearing itup i am, tripping over myself again iam...
thinks- this is savage/i enjoy this saw that waiter, thought- “he is all the sugar packets that i dump out today” he walks past and i lean into the breeze, think- “if there ever were a fountain of youth it’d reek of ammonia and just the sort of piss i’d expect Maria’s faggot uncle to get off on” walked out without paying, that waiter yelled “hold...
in case you were wondering the slick crease that runs between yr arched shoulders hurt to feel
and
in your bookshelf, how to’s on some sorts of kites and maybe candles, it was cute you used two clean, greased ashtrays as bookends
and
in case you were wondering my “real self” is still alrite it is aluminum wrapped it is noisy; it asserts its presence
and
my “real...
unfinished
The next time you see me i will be hugging my knees, a firm grasp things will be real then and Off-white, grey film skimmed off non fat milk and sticky
January 2010
5 posts
pixels
i felt like something was flowering up and up and through my throat and OUT and i was there i was right where i was supposed to be the whole time but couldn’t ever make it till then and i was trembling against my colors. my arms were shook against their own trembling and my veins were blue-green flowers shook against their own transport and everything had my colors. and my dimension my...
old suicide note
years and years have passed and, oh well, i feel the same. i guess, in the grand scheme of things, it really hasn’t been that long but perspective is a funny thing. all i’ve known, for so long, is this same feeling, complete and total emptiness, absent is the euphoria that opiate fiends reach for, but that weighty, wonderful apathy has accompanied me through every memory i have. told me...
in spring
back in early spring, the brick walls of our caverned church still stinging at my fingertips, we used to wake early and slip quick into breezy shirts and run outside, faces drenched in near-white morning sun as we took to the waxy woods. i blinked long and watched, eyes closed, the tiny veins that lined my hard shut lids as they trafficked pulsing red in frenzied bursts. fingering a chip...
day
some mornings i would- make strong coffee and tremble quiet against my swishing almost spilled mug. and on my drive to school, try hard to steady my hands enough to light my cigarettes. and at school, grit teeth against the clamoring shakes as i leaned in slow to take your light and breathe deep. and after school, floundering moron that i am, sip water from our yellowed bathroom sink...
a crush
i was sittin rigid, just the same as i’d been standin rigid, and my fingers looped around themselves, squealing slick against clammed palms. you- hooded, slim necked onus, walk the courtyard cool and flat. got time to spare lately, to spend on making you, hard stubble lined jaw yelping at puberty’s end, the fingers of my hands, roaming flicker quick along my sodden grasp. each...
December 2009
28 posts
O CHRISTMAS TREE
our dull christmas lights flickered on and my ears were ringing with yr crooked smile so i sat. the tree loomed above and in its furred tangle of bending needles hung my ornament; chipped and harried. closing my eyes real slow like, shoulder tilted just so, head hung back against the stiff hinge of my neck, i dreamt i think, for maybe just a second. flurried snow flicked the windows and...
PISSBOTTLE
fingering the sleep from my eyes i- half roll off my bedframe, yawn wide, scratch myself. shivering semi-conscious and hard against the floor my hands grope quick, wrap quivered round yr empty bottle. grabbing my dick i- pissed eternity, fell asleep.
sunstroked at zoo
apoplectic in dust swirled, downy sun’s heated curls, collapsing head to chest and descending, fretted and ruinous, sweat forged stairwell, your mouth gulped deep against its tendered youth. pulled tight with sheets to lie in practiced coffin pose, heaved with hurried disinterest against white spacked walls, your arms snatched air and breathed hard breaths toward fawn scritched rotwood. oh...
ghost ship
curdled against dry heat, sunken and i feel scared sometimes like maybe at the bottom of the ocean with all those twisting caves, there isn’t anything at all. i tried to follow, tried real hard and stumbling rough against the last piece of concrete on a dead end street, sun baked tar filled cracks and that look the neighbor gives me when i walk outside, all feel like when fuzzed bees come too...
for maya
well that blue-green gloam takin eyes and pushin back against thick smoke and that little spot where bamboo grew in your grandma’s yard, it does something. it takes something and it moves quick from real to gone and swift against our legs it pulls hard in that room. well i looked over at the wall and laid my head back; dust and sheets and cloudsoft comfort and red eyes movin slow against...
for marianne
did we maybe just look real close at things together? i mean, one day i’d like to just skitter quick and under everything and feel good (good!) press all that you ever had against me and I will maybe even press back. twice i clung to the curve of the earth trying real real hard to watch the sun and never let it get away and the first time, i fell hard. but then, just then watching all the...
for george
dark dark and sometimes when our fingers tangled up it was heavy and the air moved quick around my head. sorry that sometimes i just don’t know too much and hard paved roads make me nervous. i used to lay in bed and close my eyes real tight and a snap and hermetic flush of blue green gloam would float through and touch my eyes real soft and then i’d call your phone as quick as i could.
DEEPWOODS MAKEOUT
you have my light, twistered tree limbs scramble the space above my head. ralphing hock flicks hurried hard, wet ‘gainst your cheek, holding my own. an earnest shivering of birds, -o listen and, stirred empty, we sit, flirt retinal failure - broke flow of time.
at bookcase
in wet piles i hold my dogged collection. books brimmed with words my childhood held close. upon whose covers keen shine curtails glittered buff. and hard faced do-wells freeze quick, wide eyed yelps toward harried, clawed half-beast. and the plots, ghost grey against a starker imprint; ingrained, a smell and shiver of maybe dinner on the make, my word strewn biding of time. as it is,...
tear-drinker
looking into the kitchen because i couldn’t sleep my mother bent over her drink her sobs muffled by her thick hair falling in front of her face i thought i was a monster but these sorts of things happen to everyone
feeling
my left shoulder hurts, i think i may have pinched a nerve. harried as i feel, the tweezing squeeze widens my eyes and draws my breath in, sharp.
untitled
when i don’t sleep, instead working long on gilding the rumpled creases of my moleskine, i’m fine. when i don’t gild, i will page through feathered books, and know every word. and then, i’m fine. when i don’t fit, i do not fold in neat quarters, i crumble, dust spills and flakes from me.
TWO PARTER
HEAVEN- tarnished brightwave in a splintered whining boat pushing grayed water with our flaring rows, a harped breeze wrinkled the front of my shirt. “vine scored tree ahead, you duck when i duck” and “curdled rank, i’ll toss the thing” rifle-shot clank of glass on wood then rusted quiet. “you really shouldn’t” soft, scolding with cockeyed smirk. then, quiet’s jerked return as a harped...
the whole of things still loose
half heard, stuttering fucker. you should be tied with ropes and splayed in harsh sun; a retching public omen. i will burn the shivering tips of your fingers. i will dishevel your wiry hair and tear your cashmere sweater thread from thread. with you, stars rest gentle, lining the smooth rub of your pocket. your stomach swishes round a slippered school of sleeping fish whose eyes catch...
MY FAMILY
my family is the great mystery. the secret to happiness. the oedipal stomach churn ferried up quick through the gnashed mouth of a resting beast, the pungent starched belch that hangs low to the ground, sinking down through the small pores that litter the leafy forest floor.
slick, that (at boxcar races)
i think i maybe always knew what you were thinking and i maybe still do. nerved, but you know. your hands glide light, confident, sure. maybe once i glimpsed a fleeting hawked flat tone rake through your sunkered words. maybe once i, thin wrists hid by your passed down sweater, felt you skitter back, pull hot air close. we stood, vacuum stuck, elbows rested easy on scratched linoleum.
...
upon late night entrance (derailer)
at shiftering, rattled footpads pressed ‘gainst warped wood floor, i inward jump, heart knocking dry throat. in your flannel soft nightwear, creeping slow to knock my door, you- just needed to use the bathroom and, why is your light still on? breathy sigh caught half hard on my front teeth, i, mumbler for you, grit hard. my jaw is tired. when you skinny your eyes so quick i heave...
“the best thing about owning anything is to break...
yr feathered arms, while no certainty can be held, must wave in quick clips against the stilted wreathed torso. IT CAN ONLY BE SO hands held tight and voice that lends its soporific, slurped reverie against inked waves and sweat blessed harmine causticisms. THESE CAN ONLY BE SO paging scrapped against hard books and pulsed against the black-white, yr fingers retch and bow toward...
we ate mushrooms
craning necks and, yow, two, two! against a gust of stones and slippery wet grass, driving forward. we, as this began, write, speak, move silent swift but no sight of drooling animal in wooded calm. only oil slick spectrum burst of color and i always feel lost in familiar places! wet worms between our teeth but nothing sates us. inside, eggshell pale tiles moving, dancing! all in unison! it’s...
in yr closet, it was dark
a bump in the night and soaking dread claws a maggot’s wet home. i walked home quick, choking on that blown out candle smell. cement turned water beneath me twists hard and violent against itself. throat dry, i tried i tried i tried, oh, swore even that i would never tire but, throat dry and tongue swelled, i fell.
best friend, best friend
we lay for two hours, half smiles hidden underneath a few light blankets holding flashlights to our faces. i felt like maybe i should have brought comic books. startlingly bright against the muted dark around us, i’m glad you remembered flashlights. they were the salty glare my snail eyes had always yearned for. did you laugh when i told those stupid jokes? because i wasn’t paying...
my grandpa died a while ago
[climb quick this holy vine and rest long when mountain cool is reached] the dirty chime against my window lay full and girthed against my struggled sleep while my grandfather, donned and decked in hot stepped dancing shoes and ian curtis black haired slow-breath pulled back the curtain to the bath and fell one last time.
love poem #3
steppin them hot coal steps again, kicking hard against my brain. when i felt bad, real bad, i ended up on a gurney and two young men pushed hard and didn’t look in my eyes and tried to think about what they wanted for dinner instead. next morning and silence and breakfast and a thick book with too many words to occupy my time until commotion. i noticed arms first, your arms. they shook. then...
stare deeply, flourished wood invites
in schoolyard grey wind blew quick and all the kids asked are you crying? but sensitive eyes do things that yours do not and bleeding quiet is real tough too when sensitive hearts pump hard and fast. in heatwave rainfall, borrowed time against the old brick house i lived near, we used to stand close and breathe the steam that rose from its thick pores. in warm lit room real real soft against...
GROW UP, TEENAGER
i hope you’re warm, most of the time. because when you plunged deep* and telegraphed scritching paper rips i figured it was cause you were cold. not down* treasure and hold close this endless jerk off, i feel like a chump most of the time. all the kids i used to know grew up and out and the sticky warm night-dew licking at my legs is comforting when i think about them. i know you didn’t ask...
digital shame portends masturbatory sweat
in glitched-out bliss and taking in all the digital scenery i hardly had time to notice you’d shaved a little bit but do not think i didn’t notice once your gun rubbed raw against my pixelated hips i: (quick breath, inching close) groped hard the knobbed bones of your knees making sure to remember every inch.
to a childhood friend (our wooded memories)
standing close, but i don’t know, rumbling saturday and a silent critique of the tender chirp of aluminum against concrete, and over tar-grey branches when winter turns hard against our bare arms i thought maybe you knew. smooth stone held close we, gravestone blue against grey ranch homes, quick step against a yowling wind and three cats hid against a lattice porch. when preening birch...
furnished; a humbler
verminized harp, decked white ‘gainst white. feral slurry. wiry geriatric. held semi-close, a rarity, lay lopped, radiant. squirmed and glistening against yellow light. valerian hush flakes big white; tire-tread swings and gobs. hold close this shelled thing bright hot terror- ringing ears then sleep.