The name of this poem is: I did not know grief would enter my body like a cold piece of gravel and make a home there all sharp and grainy and dry rattling around my body making it difficult to breathe with the moon beaming through the slats.
Starting this year, you will be able to reverse any mistakes you make
by simply shouting, “NO, NO, NO.”
You will learn how to survive a 15 minute tiger attack.
You will learn how to get people to ask you (in your mind)
to remove a bear from a tree in your yard.
All the bullshit always and everywhere.
I’m going out on a limb here: Blood on the toilet paper,
pencil on the rib, chalk on the bed, tonearm on vinyl.
No one has ever named their child “Todd” in my honor.
Abandoned Chateaus, H.R. Puffnstuf, and warm pink noise.
The oceans are cranking out storms.
Pugs are wolves designed to look like human babies.
Dear Friends, for the next decade
I shall only be addressing all of you
with heavily distorted vocal effects.
You shall maintain a safe distance between knowledge and truth.
You shall listen to glitchy techno blues while sulking in bed.
You shall recognize a substance called QUANTUM FOAM.
You shall teach the robins in your neighborhood how to shout one swear word.
I have not found that any of this is getting easier.
Does anyone have any use for these words?
A strategist called to tell me we can’t be cured by love,
but pop tarts can take the edge from a bleak morning.
I am somewhat overwhelmed by the realization
that the casing around my body is super-duper permeable.
“I can’t do shit,” I thought to myself.
Earthy. Anxious. Tired. Winter. Now.
Your mom caught you masturbating over the holidays,
go back 3 spaces and roll again.
During a walk, I felt the urge to turn around and saw a ghost
on the road pass through a car. Neighbor wants to know
where I found ghost to follow me. Won’t stop asking now everyday.
The hum of years.
The startling discovery of time having passed
while being unaware of it passing by.
A chalky sunset now speaks volumes.
When you encounter a stressful situation in real life
there is no denying it: You are in a stressful situation in real life,
that’s why my motto is any sustained shrieking sound.
Actually, the name of this poem is:
After I gave him the finger things got really out of control.
I can’t stay suspended in the air with a sustained flapping motion, sucks!
I don’t even wonder what Jim Morrison would think of our modern era because
I have seen the future and it is full of awkward feelings.
And I still would not like to come hear you DJ.
Enter the Vaselines
It could have been a month, a week,
a year, but it was all of the above.
Here’s my proof of extraterrestrials.
OMFG! Do you want to know who
enjoys form, color, and various
line formations? Me. The backbone
of the night has been shattered. A
numb hold on the crest and the music
of gorgeous triumph. I’ve mastered the
momentum of clouds, I can now tackle
them on Jay Street. Her great arm
in the minerals, soaking in the sunny
broth. Sleep with the rage dogs,
propped up to decline. Smoldering
fragment – a looming sense of ecstasy.
Any day will do you well to
know the truth. A cloud in ropes,
he pulls them with hope.
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in
crowds while sleeping.
I’ve stopped asking for permission.
Where are we? Do you have a sense
of place? We don’t know and it’s a fact.
If we knew, we’d do something
differently. Some people make a habit of only
entertaining their second or third
thoughts. A quantum existence is a real hassle.
Here’s take one from the Kansas City
sessions. Have you seen my parrot?
I’m looking for it. My own relationship,
my reality strip.
Eleventy-Three
If I were writing copy for a sleep app
is there anything you’d like me to
include? A trident gum stick, a dollop ,
of peanut butter, a bran
muffin, and superstition in every room.
Any chance we could chat about
positive and negative space? In
particular, I’d like to hear your thoughts
on the use of silver and orange on pants.
It is the desire to be whole that
pollutes the time space wing
we’re in now. Not that I’m
counting, but do you have a slight
case of sadism? Older versions
of my friends appear all the time.
A sunset the same color as ghee butter.
It was my turn to do lake patrol
so I guided myself by the moon.
Little did I know I’d become a
vandal to these thick corporate
sets. Once you lose a connection
to power, people stop wanting
to destroy you with things. A wordless gesture
like giving finger or shaving a
star onto the crown of your head.
The system of being alive means
you’re in a system. Thrust
through the universe and then curtains.
Lucite sunrise while thinking about
Lucretius. People are weirdos. Start
something new on an old office chair.
Country Caffeine
There is joy and despair in being
alive. My in-depth study of what
happens when we die came up with
nothing, zilch, nada. A painting isn’t one thing
or another. Casting about for an
off-ramp. Friday, warm to middling.
A cement truck idles out front.
Ambient color fields, and then
I listen to the glisten of all the things
that never happened the most. I’m like, what
is it? Repurposed decay. The
fairness question is complicated just
like love and understanding what I
intend to do and what happens next.
God tiger needs chemical works.
The pair are pictured sitting down
having some chill time with wine.
This is the end of all beginnings.
Let me get them for you. They are,
you know, dangerously longing.
A large boulder the size of a small
boulder. A sea snail made its
way into my knee overnight.
All it takes is a glimpse backed
with light to know they are here,
with us, now. I accidentally ate
my enemy’s lunch today.
