Friday, January 29, 2010


Getting overly emotional about
an hour and a half lunch.   Smoke
rising erections.   That’s why you
need a dog on the bed at all times.

Was hot you?   I married a colorist.
                                      (Bill Berkson)

I waited to take my walk, what
talk would you like to talk?

Screw US Airways.

Thursday, January 28, 2010


We Love You Internet Get Up

This is not my Bette Davis poem.
It’s about the barefoot baby that got
ousted from Burger King.   And Toby,
who wishes the rain would fuck off its
taking the piss now hehe.   You might ask

if this breaks my commitment to, what
is it they’re calling the jaded generation
these days?   What a dump!   But I’ll keep
that meter running and let you know if
anything changes.   Where was I?   Oh.

Any of you all about the beach day after
tomorrow, please turn now to the fellow
on your left and give him a good pat on
the back of his ass.   Patters and pattees,
please take immediate note of your re-

action (yours and his) and express it in
four to eight lines, pronto.   For all you
losers who left without them today,
our deacons are in the aisles now
passing out notepads and pens,

along with some coffee and hot love.
Go gentle, dear folk.   They’re sick of
paperwork are they’re going to devour
each of you in two weeks flat.   Which
just goes to show you should never

underestimate porn freeze.   Let this be a
lesson to all of you on how much hell it takes
to dodge hired goons and lonely process servers.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010


Dark Angel vs. The Flyswatter
(aka The Casket Myth)

After all, I am The Responsible One, but
biding time for brain readjustment can be
a bitch!   For example, the world is now my
oyster (or spreadsheet).   So I put on a suit
and tie, go to bed at a reasonable hour, lie
there 15 minutes and WHOO I’m ex-
periencing something even better than
most dancefloors.   Welcome back to
Oz!   So I strip out of pinstripe and
power red (stop your niggling it’s
decade appropriate – I don’t

piss on fashion).   It’s one hour since
Sunday and I’ve taken a nip,
just the weensiest sip.
It’s a magical elixir that
modestly improves my skills at
Vampire Loving Cheesecake, the
latest version of which now calls me
Daddy (and sometimes Big Daddy).

Long story short, this most culpable of
pariahs, this natty bozo, his nagging fangs
sated, now wows his fellow online crusaders
with kowtows and bow wows.   Suddenly,
sunrise and all that, WHOO I’m experiencing
four times the value.   And I’m two hours late.

Hot holy Garlic!   I set about power-pacing
the apartment, which is some sort of disco
with nothing but nipples and feather boas
flitting about through a smoky haze.   OK,
maybe it isn’t Michael Jackson in the
Burger King line, but it’s undeniable.
It’s valid!   And I, Responsible One,
all groggy from fleeing deadly flying
monkeys; urgent calls from London,
Delhi, and Boston; trying like mad to
get made standing up; I, dear, have had a

fabulous week so far.   And how the heck are you?

Tuesday, January 26, 2010


Back to the Middle and Around Again

The codeword
is clamshell.


Baby hollers in a field of Ritz.
                        (Bill Berkson)

Are you conscious or cous-cous,
waiting so long for easy to come?

“I come from working out.”
            “Nice to meet you.”
“My brain is low.”
            “No problem, let me adjust mine a little.”

Sorry about the vegetable oil,
you’re supposed to be attractive.

Monday, January 25, 2010


How much longer is it going to take you to find yourself?

I’ve never thought non-sequiturs sad, but after reading this
EVERY SINGLE NON-SEQUITUR brings a tear to my eye.

I kid you not!

But what are we doing here?   Philosophically, I mean?
I mean life.   Like let’s talk whenever we get back to it.

Friday, January 22, 2010


Please wait for me to arrive it might take a while.

Please fake it for days.   Pleasant thought some
insect’s having.   Kinda like how Lyn’s Lola
really fucks with your head as you’re reading it
out loud at three in the morning.   Suddenly,
it all makes sense.   Just as suddenly, no
sense whatsoever.   Then out of nowhere,
so intensely un-means and you.....

Woke up this morning and wrote down
the word catharsis.   The simple life.

But wait, don’t call it a night just yet.
And pay no heed to those who whine
about the death of the attention span.

Brevity is everything.

Thursday, January 21, 2010


Before our arrival at the
painted monasteries of Mol-
davia, confess me a secret:
What’s wrong with happy?

And what’s your area of ex-
pertise, anyway?   Wheatgrass?
While we’re waiting for your
answer, please perform the

following statement:
The flies like the coriander
at the Kiehl’s.

You are the epitome of creepy chic.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010


The cubicle is always rising

My friend describes me
better than I can.   Everyone’s
either working out or complaining
how Kentucky smells like Taco Bell.
I like visiting Hell.   It gives me red satin
wings so that I can fly into and out of it.
Tuesday is the new Sunday, after all.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010


Yo, Dark Planet, ride me some waves!

Don’t let me frighten you.
I’m riding this train just a
little too low, I know, but
I only like this with extra
steam.   Why’d you want a
naked pic, anyway, just to
fondle my delusion or
cuz you had a pep?
(in your step?)

Very Gemini 100%.

Oh, you’re unable to
chat now?   Fine.

Monday, January 18, 2010


What does it mean, Dear?

The thing is we should
just pop a pill and go
to bed like right now.
I feel your presents,
know you in the al-
ready, but I’ll be
buried in Arkansas
just to belabor your
glorious point?   By
and large.   And grin
and bear it.   Striding
your cock-certain wall-
eyed grandeur or not.
You’ve thrown block-
parties to taunt lesser
prognostications.   Egg-
shells!   I wanna write
poetry and my brain is
gone but you don’t
see me limiting my
self to one dead body.
Go ahead and tell me
that’s not your aiming.
My uncle’s carbuncle’s
a better sell than that
(and you’ve got the
pudding now that
you’ve friended him).
You excel in creepy
chic.   I say own it
big and bonafide.
Own anything hot-
dog enough and
it swaggers with
savoir-faire.   I’d
buy it a dollar
on the dime, too,
if I weren’t so damn
busy over here trying to
make my own breaks.

Friday, January 15, 2010


Why getting words when
words was where I got
wrong.   Was starting in
the middle, OK.   OK
Bright Young Thing if
Toilet gets empty please
replace um!   Walking
better cuz walking
causes bruises and act-
ually starts to make the
wigga wigga sense.   Like
house sense.   Like I like
exposing and some say
who didn’t.   I like for ex-
ample how she exposes her
moves, two for what they are,
and blows um into a couple
of prick-teasing billboards
humping over a field of
burning toast.   They twitch
in unison to a pre-recorded
thunderstorm.   I’m good
at all the wrong things
stop it all a you!   Stop it
all you garbled cat who’s
wet with the intrigue(uh).
Whose wet with the
trigga, the-soul-the-
mighty-trigga, who’s
blessed with the trickle
of a stinky white phlox.

Thursday, January 14, 2010


the best peace

It’s nice to watch paint
fall off the ceiling while
taking a shower on a
Sunday morning.
Maybe it was the
half cup of coffee
at The Grove.
Who wants to
clean their hands
with yogurt?   Or
what the last few
empty pages of a
good book might
mean to you.   The
arguments against
objectifying are
entirely too loud.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010


At this time, the computer
ONLY HAS a computer.
Dancing like a slut;
the moron is the miracle.
Multi-tasked items
chemically fuse with
one another.   I
never wore those
socks.   Those were
always your socks.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010


I Speak Eyelash

Look, it’s a floppy dead fish
in a jar!   It’s Roger Ebert’s
glib but positive review!
I’m so happy not to turn
the channel.   Love is
Netflix, after all,
and the title on
this business card
is Pizza Nutritionist.
That’s right, baby!
Mock me and I’ll
send you to a
concert without
a date!

Monday, January 11, 2010


The Tonal Vote

“You got the safety
on?”   “Loaded poet
joke, I’ll swan!”
It’s part of want-
ing to be freaked
out, sure, yet I
went home with
him, where he
continued to
(gasp!) talk to
me!   What I
always want-
ed, bar talk in
bed.   So we
made it, I’m
letting it hap-
pen.   His words,
his face, the sin-
cerity, the kisses.
Me sober, but
so damn tired.
“Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“I’ve got a
bruise on
my shin.”

Friday, January 08, 2010


an already-sucked leg

You’ve got to digest.
It’s the usual for long
life.   What the hell’s
going on with us?
Okay, fine, typical.
Just racist, awkward
choreography and
our legendary wool-
iness – yet so oddly
comfortable –
like when you dance
propped up on me
some thirty minutes
getting ridiculous.

Thursday, January 07, 2010


Nearly sunset in coconut milk.
                        —Jack Kimball

Working as a trailor, name-
dropping all day.   That’s
tattoo-design, for you.
My seed is such, with
its tiny cult to protect.

And thanks for Los
Angeles, Kevin,
your airport full of
superheroes and tyr-
anny.   Why not
spend $5 for a
good mood?

Rest in peace
Michael & Farrah.

Wednesday, January 06, 2010



In the dream
I’m writing
a poem
about a
dream I
didn’t have,
writing the
using it to
make a
good point
about turn-
ing dreams
into poems.

Tuesday, January 05, 2010


Sunlight Nipples

Feathery nuns
blow secretive
kisses into the
aromatic wind.

Monday, January 04, 2010


Witch Dial

Home is where
the hunk is.
You run into
a dream on

Church St.
Back when
the earth was
.   I don’t

get it, being
I’m a serious
work of

literature and
don’t need a
musuem to
prove it.

Friday, January 01, 2010


In Defense of Bears

That I could be reduced to a Woof!
scares the bejesus out of me.   I just
ordered a smoothie with unsweetened
soy sauce!   Link fires.   Yellow-Yellow
unscrewing a BearVault 500 in the
Adirondacks.   Finishing a book about
I don’t really know anything.   A
vacation of needing to pee.   To
mark one’s place (for posterity.