Wednesday, September 30, 2009


Rounding a sloppy corner,
approaching the column of ass,
bored out of time, tooting shitkickers
for the cowboys, nearer and nearer
a recommendation of whatever,
obviously the one cutie that sits
further away than usual with his
ball of blood and wire: some frenemy’s
dumb blog with pitiful dumplings
wondering if I would go this far.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009


Gonna Totally Do Something F7un

I can relate very quickly the matter with the
information, then act according to my own
judgment to solve the problem very self-
confidently.   Nimble, am not naturally
artificial, and have a strong display
ability.   And you sit there with your
racist tongue twisters.

Haha.   So cool.   I know I’m bogus
but who’s boguser, I dunno.   Maybe
by the end of this particular notebook
I’ll be able to speak in an entirely
new language.

Therapy is draining.   Everyone is at the
beach today.   I’ll be here with this latté,
then walking to the new gym at The Biltmore.

Friday, September 25, 2009


I write this with the frog that couldn’t be
seen in Hong Kong and the old man
who tried to sing along with the birds I’ve
only heard here.   The warmth that comes

isn’t from too much sun in the distance,
but the waves that get up and do their jobs,
the laws of physics crashing and burning
as life does, as something roasted arrives

to smash our tongues.   He’s turned me on
since 1990 and now, lying next to me
on a bird-strewn beach he does it again,
sound asleep with his tattoo on a

towel.   The birds fly off like a parade
featuring Elvis.   The Kowloon sand
busies the risky wind.   I wrote this
hard-on for the frog.   Grab the moon’s

dogs, you lecher, and tease them out of
our impossible freedom.

Thursday, September 24, 2009


Here’s your special nudge.   Something
satisfying in going to bed at 2am, getting up
at 5am, drinking a glass of orange juice.
These brush-offs come in waves, but
they’re just a pair of mawkish 20-year olds
pounding.   Horny Polynesians.   Excess
beverages with 40-something hard-ons
and orange juice for blood pressure and
allergies.   Stop nudging (lying on my
stomach as I write this).   Destroy my
line of view instead.   Find a remote
control and ask it where you belong.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009


Another Arm-ache from Too Much Cyber-fisting

I’m a late bloomer.
These waves come in waves –
all at me like a portrait –
waving me down the street,
up a staircase.   Lie down flat,
Late Bloomer Up a Staircase.
Or the concrete’s too freakin’
cold but we do it anyway,
buds in winter.   Next week
it’ll be my one and only
bathroom stall.   And hot,
like it was just this evening,
skin from 25 years ago.
I would say I remember,
and I do, but how deep do I
have to go?   Just to conjure
Blondie (all mine and
ohso mortally male).
How fast did we type?
What mode of communication?
Something along the lines of a
sink leak.   Codes banged on
walls.   “M-Y.   R-O-O-M-I-E-S.
G-O-N-E.”   Over and out,
I’m over!   Plunging into
that pool so dark it
could be blood.
Warm Central.
Until security
wakes us up,
wipes us clean
like a bad disc,
something viral.
Let’s last a whole
year without a clue.
And we do.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009



Pause to realize the value of our friendship.
He’s the most important longshot.

And now,
next month,
turn over and eat the pillow.

Pity is,
penetrating an angel is
a bit like sinking in quicksand.

Stings like a hornet
or a Google alert at 3am:
Mountain Sunk; Must Plunder Other.

Meaningless upon hopelessness,
waking up with Edna St. Vincent Millay
(and a sore throat!).

It burns.   But in a way that
melts your pants.

“Say whatever you want,
he doesn’t understand a
lick of English.”

“If that’s what you value in language.”

Angels and angels.
The tall ones.
Robust and ripe,
like big 80’s hair.

Thank God it’s gone.   Most of it.

But.   But.
Now look at me,
curled up from non-existence.
Thick.   Ready for dinner.

Reach me through Google.
(another arm-ache from too much cyber-fisting)

Monday, September 21, 2009


I Should Like to Take a Letter

Dear Sir,

Myself regarding myself.
I find writing this.

Fuck.   And so on.   A little
expletive at myself
regarding myself.

But yet.   Business and all.
Tonight making dinner someplace.

The guy I met this weekend,
a “hook up” – says
he’d love to get to know me,
go on an “actual date” –

which is why I never
categorize.   A date’s
a date’s a date.

Or whatever.   And
furthermore.   Etc.

At some point, Google & Amazon
become my diary.

Check out June 26.

But he’s going abroad to his parents’
all summer.   What about his
new job?

Institute weekly movie night
starting tonight with
W.C. Fields in
The Bank Dick.

Friday, September 18, 2009


“Insert Quote about Love”

So off we went to an ice rink
in the middle of a fake summer.

“Did the students enjoy it?”

“How should I know?”

Too wrapped up in a
sunlamp to notice.

“But I did it for us.....

(and for my infatuation
with your friend).”

“Do retell.”

General horniness & grins.

So off we went to Walgreen’s
for cough drops and

“Off we went to the
handkerchief party.”

Just to fuck you up.
Off we went,

two damp theologians,
hand-in-hand to
Sin Agog.

Thursday, September 17, 2009


From the looks of these pages
I’d say you’re lost.   I promised my
self I’d wait a week and this time
it looks like I might just make it.
The right lip of your penis is
waving at me.   Thanks.   I wave back,
happy to be acknowledged.   Do you
think I’ll remember my locker
combination after three months?

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


I’m reading the new gay bible with my
first official doctor since Doc Roberts.
And I’m not social with any of my
classmates, which is a shame, since
there are nearly 40 of us.   Am I
that much better when nobody
gives me a second look?   As a
result, I am now truly alone
on Singapore Airlines,
flying over the Pacific.
I am Big Silence.   Irretrievable
dreams floating out of the darkest window
and landing like fish food on the tender blue
lips of your chocolate ears.   Happy Easter, War is Rover.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


Nobody is necessary after you have built your ark.
                                                                    —Jack Spicer

Excellent cholesterol.   Over 50% of all gay men
have it.   Rough trade at the Rite-Aid, brisk walk to
Polk for cat food & various.   Two weeks no Netflix
turnover since one I was in Hong Kong and the other
in mergers & acquisitions.   Take a moment to feel joy
at having such a big teevee.   A pang of something;
community, or queerness.   Drink four bottles of Coke
in class (drunk on a new alphabet).   The window is
water, and behind it my mother applauds Facebook
comments.   She won’t join, but totally loves the
idea of lurking.   Today.   The 9th of something.
Stretched out in remembrance of somebody
who’s name I’ve already forgotten.

Monday, September 14, 2009


There’s an angel in my bed
ten years before I’m born.   It’s
burning for something I’ll do
fifty years hence.   Later that night,
we meet at a telephone pole.
Angels slip in and out of their
skin, melt-like, leaving your pants
oozing down the storm drain,
headlamps coming at you
from the wrong side of the road.

Friday, September 11, 2009


I feel like I’m hurting my body really hard.

That’s your saving grace.   No need to be offset
by it.   Say a short prayer for your salad, walk
with me every morning to the gym, watch
Hulk, stretch, find someone online, 3am
(here at 4:10).   Today, sunny, nice, with
a toothache, yes, you’re a surgery bleeder,
hehe, rapt attention.   Split your asses,
morbid family, and marijuana.   Try
to hear something that is just there,
almost there, an omnipresent echo
beating your boobs until you
wake up in the morning
with a mouth-ache.   Work it out
with conversation and tongue depressers,
trade places, stick the depresser on somebody
else’s tongue, get inside of him, look around a little
til the Prozac kicks in.

Thursday, September 10, 2009


Therapy and Theory Are Nothing Alike

I am tired of eating salad at Tempura House
on Powell Street.   See the soy sauce smears?
I’m a little bit annoyed.   Why is it such a
bother that I am optimistic?   Past tense.

Some Latin guy tells me he enjoys my butt,
watches it all the time, little uncut hardon
in front of me.   Sometimes these things
just work out.   OK, OK, I touched it,

grabbed it, I couldn’t help it, and I mean
why not?   But briefly.   I saw Humberto
at Badlands talking with some big blond
and I also saw the little guy who gave me
a hickey a few months ago.   Too much

money for this.   Sumo wrestling, not pick-
ing up any of the right words around me.

Wednesday, September 09, 2009


Passing Theories

Do you need a theory?   First,
you must care enough to record
events, establish a score for memory.
Trouble the rubble (so to speak).

Dispense with faith (in the sexual sense).
Awaiting bailout, several big banks
halt foreclosures.   Some shitty
communication skills workshop
all morning long.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009



I’ve seen that done, I think.   Or
maybe I’m thinking of singing
“Row, Row, Row Your Boat”
in 1st grade; I get confused
sometimes.   As if to say
“this is how dull my worklife
is.”   Which for sure conceals
the a-bombs and f-bombs
that turn the cowgirl pin-ups
into a blight of barnacles
on the once-bright walls.
Origami the sirens into
comfort before bed.
Crippled Monday
mornings.   Generic,
perhaps, but they
both seem nice

Monday, September 07, 2009


Yes. Coat. Something.

Forgotten password.   A
tablespoon fool.   Please
let me know.   There’s
a tranny coming.   To
rewire.   About sex.
Stop thinking of
yesterday in
the sunshine
with birdshit at
Whale something.
Benches dried.
Table full.
Singing.   Single.
Studying Hiragana
on Cocteau’s birth
day.   Exhausting
bathrooms.   Birds
bundt caked.   Please
let me know there’s
a tranny coming
to rewire new
cowboy motif.
Beauty’s beast
singed over text
sex.   Bridled
pigeon siren

Friday, September 04, 2009


All our products will be safely delivered to your door
with full pharmacy.   These MILFS want you, etc., etc.
I’m lonely, come chat with me.   We can make your
meat tree mighty and strong.   Think Paris is too flat?
Check it out closer.   Nicole Kidman is all the red-
headed girls that go crazy in bed.   Britney Spears
gained some extra weight so she needs some good
meatspace to get thinner.   Unbelievable savings.
Johnny Carson anti-depressants, DaVinci, more or
less without a boyfriend, choked gagged throat, you
have registered to receive special offers by email.
Orangina, pesto mayo, watch some hot and slutty
bikini-clad camel toes storming the beaches nation-
wide, and meeting babes on the beach.   Do you
think I’m pretty?   Don’t be perplexed.   It’s all about
soliciting your attention to transfer the sum-total of
£82,000,000 from a bank here in London to the
personal account of the deceased.   Follow these
instructions for successful in this business of
learning foreign languages just to understand my
culture.   Stupidly and drunkenly go back to the
Castro for a make-up artist who does strippers
before they go on stage, watch Power Puff Girls
(the movie) and wank off, that’s it.   Blowout
savings awake outdoor scenery, person rickety
tropics lid.   Wow your pics made me horny.

Thursday, September 03, 2009


Feel the juice flow and grow bigger than ever

Get something real to divert or warp your
attention for a while.   Three girls at one night?
Really awesome power between your legs?
Will it constantly remind me of yesterday?
Why can’t a breakup be a done deal?

Wednesday, September 02, 2009


Steaming hottie ready to explode.   Threatens.

Keeping your man’s hose steel
is not a problem when you’re
dancing with us!   Kill the
competition with these
growth pills.   Get yours
before stocks run out.
Disconnect 4-wheeler
collar politicians.   Large &
wide pole available for
immediate gratification.
Shocking increase in size.
Forget you love him just
DO something.   Fuck up
any quiz on Hiragana
characters this evening.
For a very limited time
get your free bottles.
Magic blue pill with
experienced but shy
ladies.   If you cannot
see this page please
refresh here.

Tuesday, September 01, 2009


Forget delays and costly doctor visits,
biting lips not to scream from pleasure
for weeks.   The Arizona stalls that temper
the mid-September heat with mild
glory holes.   WHAT A GREAT IDEA
just leave your NAME & PHONE No.!
Let’s move back to Japan, learn Japanese,
never sleep, no need to buy a degree,
get our free bottles of the ultimate
enlargement supplement, briefly
wait for him after class, split again,
fucking shame, HATE THAT.
There is such power against me
and my replica rolex models,
most exclusive, 1000 pieces