MURMUR
for the life of me
i cannot remember
something like
haha i wish
here
where the tech bros
drink IPAs
where there is a murmur
among the yellow machinery
& the sexcapades
of a young poet
the air
is tragically
nothing
& yet
one restaurant
describes their
casual, farm driven menu
as “Stoner International”
because they
take influence
from,
umm,
all over the world
i get it
the world
today
the gesture
of the sky
blown wide
with remember when
those variations
at the edge
where pleasure
serves
blank
indication
reminder
that in reverence
the signal boosted
& the arriving
frequency
are not the same–
for Nietzche,
guilt &
debt & suffering
are genuinely
satisfying
to a creditor
the pleasure of
inflicting suffering
on the indebted
described as
a “genuine festival”
then again
Doritos
once broadcast
an ad
into the stars
targeted at
extraterrestrial life–
but i love advertising
& i believe
in things
i can’t afford
in this way entertainment
lacks concept
to address
the chance dimension
of each day
so living
might be
a suspension
of premise
rather than
aggregating
discontinuous
sentiments
where objects
appear
the acceptance
of a condition
suggesting
likes
from an illegible
domain
then you are seen
in pictures
of yourself
wanting
truth
to call
from the air
which is
a dumb way of saying
i would spread
the cloths of heaven
under your feet
& there you have it
poetry
loves misery
misery
loves poetry
perversion
loves company
the life
is the work
the dull
impossible
light
APOLOGY
In my small hours
I have kept secret
The affairs
Which have comforted
The life
This life
Composed of ghastly detail
Nights I have removed
A slim volume
From the shelf
Indulged
The lush strawberry
Of solitude
Solitude
That fruit
I have found
It is good
To be pleased
With things
Like strawberries
& solitude
& the pliant nature
Of the flesh
It can be pleasant
Good, even,
Lolling
Through
The ticker
Or to just
Wallow for a spell
It can be
A thing of beauty
To draw a line
Through the rest,
And to bequeath–
That is the leniency
The flesh knows
I know
But hear me out
I shouldn’t
But I will
Include for you
A memento
To carry
Through times
Of affliction
Here it is
A candle
A green candle
Say it:
Regret
There.
It will stay here
Even when
The night
Overtakes.
In the end
Well,
See above.
Truth, beauty
Beauty, truth
I have tasted the stars
IN MEDIA RES
You threw the roses
in the snow,
all because
you wanted to.
For The Row
the concept
was to design
the perfect t-shirt,
to perfect
how fabric
falls
on the body.
When I think
about mastery,
I could do
with beholding
only a boot,
completely die
at the hint
of more,
out there
in the midst of things.
Oh the temptation!
like the serpent,
for every head
chopped off,
2 new flowers.
This is what happens
if you let me
get my way.
I think hydra
means 6
in Greek or something?
Or maybe
it’s “many heads?”
Leonard Cohen
lived on
the Isle of Hydra,
eating acid
in some
expat clique.
In ancient times
the island
was known
as Hydrea,
derived from
the Greek word
for water.
The Scots,
through some
heathen
wonder,
twisted
the etymology of
‘water of life’
to mean
Scotch.
Yup.
Spirits have
always served
medicinal purpose.
I’d like to
get somewhat better
at pronouncing Greek.
Just a little
is known
of Sappho’s life.
According to Reddit,
Sappho never wrote
“what cannot be said
will be wept.”
Still though…
I’m a deep well
of like
random bullshit.
The words
“fuck”
&
“poem”
share synonymous
Latin roots,
facere
and
poesis,
as in
to do
or make.
Tonight
the full moon
in Virgo.
Again my thoughts
come to
the superlative
power
of a garment.
Jasmine
pearls
saltwater.
I am pleased
when things
arouse.
By the jeweled
manner
of a stocking.
Paradise
is an enclosure.
The heart,
old news.
Drip.
Drop.
The lake
is there.
The green world
cropped
to just a
satin fringe.
Is it
so bad
To enact
your obsessions
like that?
To fawn beneath
the moon,
the moon!
In the original
Flammarion engraving,
a traveler puts his head
under the edge
of the firmament—
that i have tried
it too,
let cats
lick my palm,
is besides the point.
