The bus stop was a small muddybrown thing, etched with indecipherable gang hieroglyphics, erected on the topside of an overpass by the college. Waiting there any day one could see sparrows giddily hop from concrete perches and glide into the tunnel. They had no doubts about it. They, being so natural with weight-free bones and well adorned with specked feathers, made mockery of suicidal heights....
OUTSIDE/INSIDE Outside there was: the warbling, hyperactive viola of a siren which paused the traffic that normally ran unconscious through grid-streets, leaving behind it only the sound of sliced air the pumping of ten thousand hearts each at slightly different rhythms that— given a decade— would at one point all resound at the same instant without a single participant in the...
Flies are just flies. I wasn’t like this.
scene in a grey desert/pulling this thing over
We reached the point where the trail branched and, virulently, spread Do the hundred capillaries carry? Nebuchadnezzar said, “This looks quite like the End”
Speak strict stream slip wires under matter fire
There is a man who keeps filthy strips of denim, neon cereal-box watches, and knife scars in an infinite pattern striping both of his arms His brow is thick His eyes are pink and sore—caked with gold dust unstirred His lips bleed He is convinced utterly that he & we posses no past and that the past is entirely a conspiratorial construction of some sort of implanted mind-probe—though by...
The last of the plain-speak poems; a returnal on...
There is a machine in my home that hums like a military jet and spews plaguish dust and sickness, nightly: It is my wall-mounted AC unit Tonight, if it stirs me, I will throw small things at it EnerGel pens probably.
Der Erlkönig Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind? Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind; Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm, Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm. “Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?” – “Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht? Den Erlenkönig mit Kron und Schweif?” – “Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.” “Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir! Gar schöne Spiele spiel’ ich mit...
Twitch-dancing across the desert. TAKYON
En Garde Dickhead!
Drudgery! I’ll have at you with sharpened graphite bits, with metal bedpost shivs, with battered thuggish fists, Prepare for me!
I made a movie of your funeral I hope you don't...
I watched over 200 films in order to disprove the cliché, “you look so beautiful when you cry” With enough rouge, plaster, and forced sobbing the loss was painted pretty, but the crying… I have determined that nobody looks anything but wrinkled, dripping, red, and swollen when they cry So when your grandfather died, grey, your red face was distorted and ugly: I wanted to run...
rotund little savior.
I thought I was out of Klonopin. I scavenge my drawer of empty bottles, they are naked and orange and glowing, with the tags stripped off and stuck to my guitar— they say: MAY CAUSE DIZZINESS, TAKE WITH FOOD, DO NOT CONSUME WITH ALCOHOL— I pick each one up and shake it hoping for a maraca but getting white powder, yellow powder, and pink powder Until, yes, this is the sound...