Friday, October 30, 2009

mlv

Dancing on love really stomping it into the
ground.   It’s not another lazy dance.   Din of
the bathroom stall, fiercely and for all history
overwhelms its magic mirror twenty years ago,
some kind of crazy heaven in my ears.   For
better or worse, I’ll throw it away before therapy
(like eggtoss & tug of war).   Having a senseless
crush on him for years, this isn’t going to be a
minor disturbance.   It was even better than
anything that’s crept into my prolific
fantasies and wallops my first attempt
at power-dating into insignificance.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

mliv

A Huge Clam Tree (And Inevitably, An Ocean)
(Chiefly Non-Satyrs)


Build one eponymously.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

mliii

You’re such a nimrod Mr. Verbs-Aren’t-
Usually-Funny!   (Especially when they’re
semi-contractions.)   Humor never had it
so good (without words).

Take that, Arm & Hammer!

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

mlii

“My finger keeps wanting to go inside of my
nose what should I do?”   “You’re making fun
of my poetry by mocking me showing me
how I never say anything at all aren’t you?”

“You didn’t use Google at all for this one
did you?”   Clarity is the archnemesis
of Triumph.

Monday, October 26, 2009

mli

“Jack of All Bats, are you tired
of being tired?”   An accomplished
sense of humor and pilgrimages
to Fallingwater.   Therapy Session
Number Four.   He just turned 19.
The jasmine tea is good, but a
bit too hot, and my appointment
is in 18 minutes.   “Are you sure
it’s not a grasshopper with a
little piece of dandelion fluff
stuck in its eye?”   Lonely
is relative.

Friday, October 23, 2009

ml

To sponge is to bludge.   In which
OMG has no oomph, becomes
flat like West Texas.   In bed
with a coin, the thunderstorm
makes air out of air and we
breathe sex into sleep faster.
Bludgeon the coins spun
from sponges.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

mxlix

the enormous sauce of deep emotion

Indistinguishable noise.   Critical reception
was mediocre and verged on political even
though he was not trying to be political.
Fuck work all hail poetry, etc.

Right now achy, stuffy, coughy, sore
throaty, sitting at Peet’s in Laurel
Heights thinking about last night’s
thunderstorms around 4am I think.

In bed with transition.   Something
squeezable yet reduced to a pulp,
great fun, hugs, I should have
loved you more.   How come

when history begins it’s
just not clear?   Kick yourself.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

mxlviii

I get so many submissions I simply
cannot keep up.   Sometimes I wonder
exactly what I am doing on Facebook.
After baking salmon and making a
light salad his presence really fucked
me over and he was following me
around trying to get my attention.   OK.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

mxlvii

Like a Fanatic Reading Merrill

Should my lips shout revolution
my mask would be complete.   “And
what a waste,” you’d say, if only for
the birds flying around like cows
stressing everybody out.   Do you
want to take a quick look at
the week’s squabble, Donald?
The cukes are gassy.

Monday, October 19, 2009

mxlvi

Yellow blobs appear on each page,
smudges that float up and down
over the words, the words which,
when read, are the sparrows
singing, the sparrows, tucked in
the lethargic eucalypts.   I spend
so many hours trying to crack
the secret code.   What is it on
my desk that sounds like eggs
hard-boiling?   What is the cat
after?   Not the words or the
birds (this time) but something
utterly engaging like a drycleaning
stub or a piece of kitty litter.   More
to the point, what am I after?   A
more slaphappy morass?   Perhaps.
An albeit familiar goal, a place
I’m good at getting.
So here we are.
A full moon passes
over Geneva and I’m caught
in the gunk of the moment.
Darker gunk than I’m used to,
though.   Gunk that could use
a little bit of your moon
which, while often swollen
and always inviting, is
dim enough to avoid
any collusion.

Friday, October 16, 2009

mxlv

I Have Warely Witten Inebriated

Thursday, October 15, 2009

mxliv

Toulouse Gardens and Scenic Railways

Hangs a little to the right
without trying to bombard
your senses.   Feels a bit like
fish and chips, inspiration for
an Elephant and Castle poem
with its hair on fire.   Something
on cherrywood with MasterCard,
disrupting the world as we know it.
Rain after years without it.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

mxliii

Holy secular scumbag.
            —Anselm Berrigan

The idea that we’re communicating
is a joke.   You okay with unorthodox
humor?   I dream warm with addiction,
how it creeps into dreams keeping things
substandard.   Like your bank allotment.

I’ve no idea, hot dudes.   But literally,
advertising NEW LASER and MORE
RESTROOMS is totally insane and
sexy.   He’s got nice hands, very at ease
and comfy to be around.   Now it’s

Monday, that’s the round-up, sending
off heartfelt notes to yesterday.
Back in Quito.   Bye for now.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Monday, October 12, 2009

mxli

I’ve been smiling a lot lately.   You’re not bothered by this?
“This monastery is one of several perched on towering
monoliths of solid rock.”   Attend a benefit for security bars
(for their windows?) then wander around the Castro with
someone who graduated in math (“I like art I don’t have to
THINK about.”) – turns into a 24 hour date.   Where have
you been, lately?   He’s got nice hands, mildly corporate,
snuggly, and comfortable to be around.   Oops, someone’s
having size problems.   Maybe it’s Enrique Iglesias.   I’ll
forget him in another week, perhaps at Sunday’s
Australian barbecue.

Friday, October 09, 2009

mxl

Through the Ghetto Darkly

Do you have the gut to take me home?
You don’t really think that, do you?
G-U-T gut.   Don’t swing your teeth
at me like that you might cause a
hurricane.

Thursday, October 08, 2009

mxxxix

Backstabbing Classified

No I am not bilingual.
Get out of my
contraband.   Got a
minute let me show you.

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

mxxxviii

Welcome to the North Texas Church of
Freethought where we’re overwhelmed and
underwhelmed.   Or did I just overthink it?
Was it a mistake, my everything up until
now?   A too sparse on the details mistake,
yes.

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

mxxxvii

a sort of patch put on a leaky fire

The mercury of universal flesh
drips eloquently down the side
of a mirror.   You are somewhere
in the midst of ultimate comfort
when you notice it.   You report
it as spam.   At first.   But it keeps
dripping, reappears, moves you
to new dimensions, seizes the
day, takes you on a picnic
and buries the evidence.
Everything’s useless,
even if we catch some
body parts.   And I
don’t like my new
friends.   We’re too
ashamed to show them
off.   Is it our inability
to fall?   Way down in my
gut I think about yesterday
and that’s when it always happens.
Not simply the airplane back to nowhere.
Just overwhelmed with complicated
and glistening matter.

Monday, October 05, 2009

mxxxvi

Casual Catfish

I’ve a pain in my elbow joint
like I did in Hong Kong only
this time it’s the other elbow.
Or walking the streets of Paris
after one a.m. looking for an
open pharmacy (to no avail).
Something was open, the word
kept arriving, but it couldn’t be
found.   Creativity obdures, it
cannot be helped.   Old remedies
become sterile.   Exactly.
Dip dry fingers into warm wax
and apply each pink feather
and quick.   No one knows
why we come back to
evasion.   At some point it
becomes the weekend but
who has the chops for it?
Happy Independence Day
I’m not ready to talk about it
but I might be dancing
in Ecuador come autumn.

Friday, October 02, 2009

mxxxv

Who are we to become more and more
about less and less?   July 1.   Twice
daily or weekly to be more substantive?
Fuck energy.   Art is held high by the
word and only the word.   We see it
when we look out the window at
the horny dove or the black rooftops;
a barbecue in Oakland; a row of
friends at the table who will remain
friends for many years to come
(who knew?).   Substantive?   I
need a date.   Take me to the
Pink Party, take half a hit,
wander around with Joe
who eats firewood,
meet [list of names],
go to [name] where
[name] is and also [name]
was there.   WILD.   Dance
most of the night waiting
for the substitute.

Thursday, October 01, 2009

mxxxiv

I can kind of feel my brain coming back
like at the end of a _________, the fog
dissipating, four lines to a swipe.
Separately, I don’t really feel
comfortable downplaying a
financially shitty existence.   And by
ass I mean wide motherfuckin’ ass.