mmdxxxiv

The boss would like to see us not in person
                                            —Victoria Chang

Dear Slippery Spike,

Well, firstly, are you still sleeping? And it be-
ing the Month without Mouths, are you here?
Right? Morning is here, that’s for sure. Morn-
ing-Morning (or more like Afternoon, but I’m
with Los Angeles, which is Here, too, so I can

call it morning if I prefer to do so, can I not?)
Oh, and Slightly Overcast and Overclassed,
meet your freshman year. Its man, Under
the Carcasses (of course), and I swing in the
Caucasus (politically) while sifting for hang-

overs with First of Kin, Fist of Kiln, and poor,
dear Terror Water. I mostly note that Dinner
was sainted with Fuchsia Glove (I’ve Steven
of the Heart, you see), and Herbal (or, maybe it’s,
Hair-Gel?) Web Syndrome. Are you still sleeping,

Simpering Mike? Please, can you take some
cabbage to the garbage, Drink, Drank and Drunk.
I’ve been Meaning (we switch roles occasionally),
and we’ve been meaning to tell you, too, Tycoon
Lynched Berg, that nobody (Nobody) stops with his

head just barely up and into the gouge, right Gage?
(Whom I love all the livelongday, and wouldn’t you?)
Please, oh, please, Funky Dragon Leg, please (!) dance
the Dance of the Purple Light with me tonight?
The one you were invited to invent

a little over a month ago, before passing the
distinct privilege of its initiation along to me.
Ah, to be in such pleasure, at such a place, along-
side yr grace, thinks the lovely and talented inventor/
choreographer! And don’t you dare make me enter

Mr. Mercury, especially while stargazing or simply
staring down Mezzanine Mouth (and the mezzanine
mouth of Odd Johnny). Of I Can’t Remember....?
Please, oh, please, send me one single word from
Affirmation so that I may put Heart back into it.

Yours, As Ever, 

Too Truly

mmdxxxiii

...my own/Shattered aspect...
                       —Rob Halpern

shattered aspect.  that
is so geminian times
three.  we do want
justice, do we not?
we want it (w)hole.
in its entirety it
is just a thing;
but is it the
thing?  things
grow, evolve, 

and god-bless.

but.  then.  things
divide.  and con-
quer the godless.
how holy i must
be at this very
moment, lying
in bed listening
to the leaky toi-
let and for the
footsteps of yr
unmistakable
swagger.  one
day is one day.
all is well.  min-
utes later no-
thing adds
up.  this goes
on forever

unless
we relearn
how to lie.

to lie still.

mmdxxxii

With no future yr floating lines make me
Really hot like direct address...
         —Rob Halpern

if. only
this mo-

ment w/
o evasion.

if. if
repeti-

tion
makes

for clar-
ity, then

if,
if;

if, if.

mmdxxxi

                                 when I
Am feeling anything at all...
                     —Rob Halpern

Is not something
I am aware of.

The eyes have it.
I’m told I’m too much

Of a Yes Man.  This
Country is not aware

Of what I am thinking
As I walk up Powell

Street or down Pine
Street.  You take an

Iffy block of time
And you either

Pretty it up or you 

Eradicate it completely.

mmdxxx

Sitting Poolside at The Grafton on Sunset

Today is mine, warm, sunny
Los Angeles!  It is meant to be
and I am drowsy with it.  Late
afternoon punctuated with
absolute boredom might be
absolutely boring.  However,
today, I am barely even moved.
Rather, I walk Santa Monica
Boulevard to the nearest juice
joint.  Back at the hotel (The
Grafton on Sunset, that is), I
take a nap.  I grab a bite, room
service, so I’m already here,
already sated, already lying
under this big, white umbrella.
It’s so pleasant being an adult,
driving down the Pacific Coast
Highway, slowly (even through
Malibu!), just because you have
the time to be pleasant and do it.

mmdxxix

The world is more vast than we realized, and
many people have died.
                                          —Aaron Simon

I didn’t want to get up
this morning. I meant
to say that I’m staying
in bed all day today
(if wishes were some-
thing-or-other; do-
nuts, maybe?). I
dreamt I dove up-
hill with X’s and
O’s. Several flights.
I wonder what state
I entered before I lost
consciousness (losing
consciousness helps
maintain confidence,
I’ve found—and keeps
me with a pretty sturdy
grip on my conscience, 

it seems to me...). I had 

one once, but I lost it. 

What I founded remains
uneven, tinted, and has
no concept of closure.
All kidding aside, I
just now sealed an
envelope into which
I had placed an email
which scaled my full
disclosure. I added
some interest, I like
to believe. If only
it were just the fax,
however. You may
laugh now, but just
you wait until you
find me; that is, if
and when you find
yourself opening 

this overly-in-

flated letter.

mmdxxviii

Oops, I Ate the Blue Flesh!

The trumpeter visits.
You get to start over
is what it is. Enough

of that for now. Time
to pet a cat. Time to
pick at the underneath.

At or inside mouth. Be-
tween two teeth, silly!
Where we are is starting,

give or take a month.
Forget the month and just
give or take. Which is to

forget and which is forgive
is useless at this point. It’s
all honkytonk, anyway.

So we find a place at seven
on the seventh (wasn’t it on
7th Street?). After which

all birthdays stunk, one
right after the other. I
forget who climbed what

in order to ascertain that.
But I know I played the
get-up song at the funeral:

Reveille (in the morning).
Which pays enough for a
vocation at a rather large

National Park while an
excellent typist plays 

tribute to Taps all night.

mmdxxvii

I’m Almost Not Even Here.  But, Anyway...

Turning a lot of pages,
I rotate on an
absolute nothing existence,

which might be better than
absolute nothingness (?).
Only joking (?), or all kidding aside (?),

I drink my soup, a tall glass
of cold water. The glass is rather
inexpensive (but great for the heart!) be-

cause it was formerly an expensive
Pom™ juice container. Somebody
I initially thought was very sweet had

made me the chicken noodle soup because
he’d noticed that I’d been coughing incessantly.
Ah, springtime in the winter! Anyway,

a warm mug of tea is now very sweet.
It sits on the green marble table that used to be
my working desk (pretty at which to look, but

lousy at which to work) that sits in the living room
that is mine (and mine alone). Atop the table
are strewn a bunch of books and magazines: e.g.,

Rob’s Rumored Place, Norma’s Moira, Mirage #3/
Period(ical) no. 133, Judith Butler’s Precarious Lives, 

and this year’s September issue of Vanity Fair.

mmdxxvi

The Gym

“Very mellow
and nice,” I
tried.  But

it was still
just a gym- 

nauseam.

mmdxxv

Feels like Satan’s having a divorce in my ass.
                                                 —Kevin Killian

“No, no-
thing as
serious
as that,”
I pret- 

end.

mmdxxiv

Pick Your Moaning

This place is a catastrophe!
What ... a ... dump!

This is what I think
as I spend all day

trapping boobies.
Look, I trapped five

at home just last night!
That’s a direction, not a

representation. My
glasses are lying

to you from the top
of my journal. I’m

sending this (w/apol-
ogies) to you from a

place where all the
Aztecs have laptops,

while I’m finishing
up a gorgonzola salad.

See the butter knife next
to the red notebook just

over there [I’m pointing,
look at me, Dumdum]?

It means I feel like such a
prick every time I accident-

ally pick up one of your
notebooks (the ones w/

illustrations + text in
which toothpicks hold

yr place). As proof, I cry
and jot down a few notes

about the experience... for
one of my own silly notebooks.

mmdxxiii

All beauty must die...
       —Kevin Killian

Notice how life is a bit
droll without Stephanie?

Thanks again, gov’t!
Had lunch with Kim at

Polk Street Station, then
we went to Elmer’s

to pick up a cellphone
that someone forgot (I

can’t remember which
of us forgot it, which

is probably a clue),
after which we hung

with Yong for a couple
of hours at the Cinch.

Otto is depressed. He
eats a strawberry while

I search for my lost
Blackberry. “This

place is a bomb-trap,”
I’m thinking, but what

could I possibly mean?
Perhaps “booby trap?”

Either way, aloha from
the non-natives. We’re

always sorry that way.

mmdxxii

        ...don’t step in the blogshit...
                                    —Franz Wright

Lately, doing so much
radio (skipped Sunday
since my foot is old and
bad), I’m out for drinks,
cleaning my apartment,
feeling overly-laundered.
Gave Sepia a Macbeth w/
her medicine, expressed
more episodes at episodic
poem-swap featuring Tay-
lor, Kate, and Susanne. And
myself, of course, always the
loudmouth holding his breath
to the end of the page. Hard-
core rain, endured a couple
of breakups, meandered
to the gym, where I don’t
think I actually listened
to the radio, but what
is it that they call it
these days....??

mmdxxi

Trilogy of Me



     Most of each thing
     is whole but contingent
     on something about
     the nearest one to it 
             —Fanny Howe




You must learn to be okay with being alone,
but it is also good to know how to befriend
pretty much anybody, and fast.
                     —Franz Wright




                              I met myself and left
           with me & she came back home forever changed.
                                —Claudia Keelan

mmdxx

General Confusion

This casualty of war is
no space cadet. I’m more
of a hokey-pokey kind of
guy. The man who teaches
Macbeth to cats. And not

just the cool cats. How does
one teach Macbeth to a cat,
you might ask. To which
he shrugs and says that
Shakespeare’s work teaches
itself. The weekend is

over. I did various. The
same could be said of
ten years from now.
But, as I look back on it
all, I wonder ... was it
really such a wonderful

workout after all?

mmdxix

So many nation-states in a name!
                       —Claudia Keelan

I need to empty the recycle bin.
Have you ever noticed how
Don Henley and Ric Ocasek
sound pretty much the same?

I have. However, all is not well
with my household. As I suggest-
ed to you three weeks after my
birthday, I feel old. Shirley

Temple, on the other hand,
shot into superstardom at an
incredibly young age. Oh, the 

despondency of redundancy.

mmdxviii

Stoned Roses

I love the sound
your pornography
makes in the morning.
It is very unsettling and
more than a little self-
aware.  Honey, can you
come here and tell me
how self-aware I look 

right now?  Gotcha!