Wednesday, June 30, 2010


Look, our teeth are glowing!   Or is this an
autobiography of a headache?   Speaking of
carrots, you’d better get up or my mojo won’t.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010


That’s all yours.   Be sure to eat every one of them.
Are you doing good?   I’m doing good.   I’m sad
to think of the whole thing because I’m too taken.
Worked all day with a racquetball, then beat normal
at home all night straightening up disasters.   In a
coma?   I’m not.   But my tongue sure hurts.   Happens
every time I sleep on talking.   Soak the whole week
after the collapse of the closet rod.   “Closets collapse,
rods do not,” he says.   Take it to the joke bank and
don’t forget to redeem your accretions.   Chicken
in the morning.   Be up before the duck falls.

Sunday, June 27, 2010


Dear White Member,

You always tip nice.   But sometimes you’re just a
one-joke gag.   Not always.   Now I understand why
you asked me to define cheap.   Surprisingly,
however, you still seem interesting.   What’s
your stance on addiction?   You’re plenty
tall enough but I can’t hear the danger
sound.   Would it be okay if I just
call you “The Lawyer” from
here on out?   Let’s try that
naked new year thing
we talked about at the
fascism rally.   I lost
about 26 pounds
last week so
please don’t
unfriend me
just yet.

Lots of Mustard,
Circling a Diet 7-Up

Friday, June 25, 2010


Green leaves.   Waiting for Stephanie 3:15.
Walking tentatively in fact.   No phone calls
but on the brink of some serious sewage.
I’m so funny I lost myself on enough of an
edge.   The singles assail, each of whom
slighly unavailable.   I go to Hong Kong
and Vietnam at midnight, say, for example,
Saturday night.   But I learned how to walk
in Oz.   Now we’re at the zoo.   After that,
it was a nice party til I leapt at the L-Train.
Next up: pine needles and racist fashion.

Thursday, June 24, 2010


Tyler’s just a blur on the screen in his white lab-coat,
redder-than-real lips accumulating all over the smudgy
3 x 3 window, tongue flickering this way and that.   I’m
a little chilly in my Christmas cardigan, getting a grand
tour of Singapore’s hallways.   Are those solar panels
above your head?   It’s a bit laggy, but tons of fun.
Simon sex with Garwin theme, something he calls
Master & Commando.   Then a whore and a slut
hit me real hard and the connection was lost,
no more tomorrow.   Same as yesterday,
of course.   Leaves me a note, a
massage at an auto body shop.
Bowls seriously except when
hopping on the lift.   Try again
December.   Here’s to hoping,
dear Blurs & Smudges.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010


Male Grooming Habits

I’ve had all my WeightWatchers points for the day.
He’s the Norman Bates of poetry.   In Idaho.

Last night after Master & Commando (as he calls it)
we went to Neverland where Ted called me a slut

and David hit me really hard and said when I leave a
message I should include my telephone number.

I think I actually love the fact that he’s a sports fanatic.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


Sitting in the Sun

Where I am instead is a cold slab of
concrete with a bunch of cars and an
interstate.   It’s not the sandwich I

Tim, if you’ll check my back pocket,
you’ll find the bread products.   Sorry,
they’re half-squeezed into a can of

To anyone who wants to throw me
a surprise birthday party, I like lemon
cake.   And please bring Otto because
I hate surprises.

How much for that left-handed cell-
phone?   He didn’t show up at Chevy’s.
We must have gotten our wires crossed
or something.

Am I not patient enough?   I think I
must’ve forgot.   You’ve got half a
talent to show off.   Don’t spend it
all at once.

Monday, June 21, 2010


The time for flying slippers is past.
                              —Michael Gizzi

Can I have this for my wallpaper?
We’re quite attracted to each other.
Maybe it’s your necklace made of
zippers.   I got that from K-Pop.

We’re both a little under the weather
but I hope to see you tomorrow.   It
almost makes me freakin’ nervous
to wonder about what the sex will be like.

Maybe this is actually Berkeley
or even Rockridge.   “Be silent
for a moment.”   “I can’t, it’s a
narrative with lots of shouting.”

The plants sneak out like boobs,
pick up the stakes while the dogs
bark. Even a slumlord knows it’s
lonely in the slum.

Sunday, June 20, 2010


Half-ass never looked so good.

That’ll teach you.   You’re cute.
Don’t worry, I’m not embarrassed.

Is that you blowing a teddy bear?
Something you might not be able

to erase?   Stop formalizing and
turn out the lights.   Today he

discovered that I Yahoo for
nearly an hour before lunch.

Don’t be a Death Star.
I mean obviously.

Saturday, June 19, 2010


Big News for Addicts

No need to remind me how to poke.
I make it clear without saying so that
I’m seeing someone try to puke up
something new.   Don’t press the
issues you do not want to get
serious with anything.

Then the fish arrived.
He seems to almost know this.

Come to me closer.   Now that the
grapes morph into dewberries.
See the dawn break like
Don Corleone.

Whisper me, Sun, into winter’s
Indian Summer.
   Big V was
prone to avant-poetry.   I
holler him up, ask him
how he’s doing.

It’s been a few years.

Thursday, June 17, 2010


Celebrate each day by waking up.

I just lost my grooming habits but I’m
finally well-written.   The weather conditions
are always surprising and the clouds are
grape-colored with slits of lost memory
that remind me of the dead guy with his
brains splattered in Saw who turns out
not so dead.   Spoiler alert.   I’m slow at
everything today.   It was the first lengthy
conversation we’ve had on the telephone.
Slow at work?   I have a very mild cold.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010


Colonel Speedy

It just dawned on me
with big breathy onions.
The clouds put up classifieds
via iPhone seeking rough trade.
It’s the economy, stupid.   I get
a big smile.   Simon leaves me
these long cute voice mails
in the middle of the night.
It was the Ice Age.
Back when there
was no more

Tuesday, June 15, 2010


Do something blasphemous to get my attention
because God is everywhere.   Button your lip,
I dunno what to do.   Stop thinking about dating.

Chatting a little.   That burning empty feeling
in my Blackberry.   A sunburned American
flag.   Four swipes across the chest and more

burning.   An unusual wit like a sunset.   Del,
you’re hopeless!   Put on a 26 year old pirate
who’s hospitalized after suffering ‘little’

heart attacks.   And certainly no smoking.

Friday, June 11, 2010


He’s funny but he’s moving to New Jersey.
Based on a conversation about my aversion
to horrors.   Our difference between ‘pluck’
and ‘puke’.   All kidding aside, where was I?
Where am I?   Simon, for whatever reason.

To bed at 9pm.   Did not go to End-up for
whatever reason.   Stayed there til 2am or so
then headed to our place with the whole
gang.   It was an orange blur.   Already life
before that seems so long ago.   I’ve been

calling him Damian.   I can’t make up my
mind whether I’m hot or cold.   Pull up the
blinds to see the city and the clouds that
keep hypnotizing me.   My neck hurts but
I feel better than most.   Don’t blame me.

Thursday, June 10, 2010


My body is 100% unpierced
and untattooed and I’m finally
growing up.   But I’m still usually
incapable of finding a means to
get intererested in anyone I
don’t want to sleep with.

Wednesday, June 09, 2010


Get out of my substandard.

                So, you go out and meet someone.
                                    —Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge

I’m in love with my family, I really am.

It has – well – we have a 2d date tonight.
Theoretically.   He instisted.

A bet.   Something involving a whole
’nother story.

Today’s a chicken sandwich.   Lovely
and lovely.   On the Sunday night
of my first turkey in 6 years.

I don’t understand why I’m so
defensive lately.   Well,
I do understand
but I’m trying not to.

Last night was well-wrought.

Tuesday, June 08, 2010


Something of a False Genius

                  I got that Tammy Faye milk money butterscotch
                  I got that Mama Cass you know I got that Peter Tosh

                                                                          —Simian Mobile Disco

What happened?   I’m working on my Columbus Day
poem, but first I go on a diet, lose a lot of weight.
For example, today I had a smashed heifer for lunch.
After all, a diva is a female version of a hustler.

It doesn’t seem to be doing any good.   Until you
press your ear onto the glacier and listen to the
sea lions.   Sue techno for plagiarism.   You
realize this immediately.   I swear he said

over his ice water while we were eating
crab sandwiches something like “Man,
you are really turning me on!”   Then the
softest theoretical kisses.   I’ve either

flipped my noodle or punctured a lung.
I balance my checkbook and realize
it’s impossible.   Last night I had a
pornographic dream but I can’t

remember it.   I must need a new
prescription.   Would you be my vassal?
Each student is a Rorschach inkblot.
Which makes it impossible to lose weight.

There’s a spy in my soup.   I go to the
bathroom to drain it.   At the urinal next to
me is the man of my dreams.   He has a big black
eraser in his hand and he’s a lot heavier than I expected.

Monday, June 07, 2010


Pornographic Dream

They’re clunky, but it’s
working out okay.   Check out
the new black Barbie.   I’m
something of a false genius.
It eases my mind.

Love is a UFO.   “Sure,”
he says.   I’m feeling
drowsy now.   Request
tomorrow’s agenda items.
That will feel good.

People who always seem
to be saying “I’m sooo
sophisticated” will
love this.   That
ages me.

Is it really that confusing?
LOL.   I still wish we were
more than just friends.
Hurt me.   I’m not
sure he’s OK.

Is that you dancing?
I kept an action figure
under my pillow.   It
was not a doll, it was
Mr. Spock.

Friday, June 04, 2010



I wasn’t born in jail.   We spend
two hours talking about Bolivia
and three hours about how

gold is processed.   Clunk.   The
numbers are numbing.   Dimpled
waiter come on over.   That’s

my law of global downturn.
Big storm coming like a
silent film.   Greek radishes.

I’ve got the capacity for this.
What’s real is it was my
favorite before I even saw it.

I could use another page. Waiter,
there’s a pageboy in my bellhop.
Distill this!

Print your own itinerary.
I keep missing cinematic
opportunities.   I didn’t

mean it before but I mean it
this time.   Try to rise above it all
with these cool tips.

Thursday, June 03, 2010


This Is It

I don’t understand dark chocolate.
Which is pomp, and which is
circumstance?   Die happy
debating whether Leno’s
move helps NBC.

At Starbucks, a genial gentleman
asks me if I was in the army.
I don’t know what it means
to open my mouth.

I literally cried myself to sleep.
Or couldn’t shed many tears,
just a few, drowsy as I was
after I finished The
Safety of Objects

Show me how to write like
Simian Mobile Disco lyrics.
I was planning on going
home for lunch

Wednesday, June 02, 2010


That’s My Superpower

It’s raining, and I think you just
gave me a hangover.   Am I pathetic?
It’s all too likely.   Was it something
I said?   Was I out of my mind?

To understand the couch, one must
agree on the importance of friendship.
Today you turn me off.   Why?
Easy.   So many letters.

What’s most precious, a week and a half
in Seattle or a symbiotic relationship
with a bipolar pair of dance pants?
Easy.   I was too tired.   Clunk.

A bag of groceries on the couch, looking a
lion in the mouth.   We’ve got sense that
keeps opening.   A still life with blinding
rays that penetrate an arterial landscape.

I just realized today would be my parents’
anniversary.   41 or perhaps 42?   I spilt
hot tea and I’m in much better condition.
Move with the word.   It’s precious.


Gone after gone,
this cursed birth-
day’s, the name
of he who thinks
it’s likely love
is never forever.
Into this unmiti-
gated thirst more
out of hand than
a glass of gravel,
curse only love
and its glasses
(the shame of it
all), our tragic
hero, who thinks
in such belated
terms.   Onward
yet, mastermind!
Pursue the razing
of its name from
its very tongue.
Bleep the muscled
one-night stand
what scrambled
its pitiful brain
in an impressive
first round.
Pity it’s so
still, and
all in such
a swoop, nay,
verily, that it
was too tired
for dim sum.
And therefore
more than this
it’ll never see.