Saturday, April 30, 2011
More To Come (a brief history, glossed over)
when the truck ran him down he was holding his mother's hand. one minute he felt her warmth and the next minute he was flying in the air. he saw upside down mailboxes and surprised faces. he remembered the kitchen table and the colour of sunlight. he remembered his teacher's faces but not their names. there were glass bottles you could find in back lanes and trade for ice cream flavoured jaw breakers. white caps on the lake before the developers came. once he woke up on the back step in the middle of the night with the door locked and his pyjamas on. our kite got caught on the lightning rod of the water tower. it was made to look like a bat. if you swam out to the buoys there were barrels at the bottom wrapped in barbed wire and the fish flies made your brain crazy. they had to take us back to town. hiding on the floor mats in the dark flat night. pretended we were sleeping but they saw our eyes moving under our closed lids. watched the eleven o'clock news through the curtain. when I was small, AIDS hadn't come. I think we were still mildly frightened of the Russians when I was small. when I was small, we made pathways through the carragana and gorged ourselves on Saskatoons. it was before the internet.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Voice in the back of my head, sounds like wind in tall grass.
Keeps telling me crazy things.
Like run, and hang on, and don't look back and maybe jump.
The face in that still puddle gazes at me with disappointment and compassion.
Looking over its shoulder all the time.
And there's a tilting-over house on the edge of town with three or four bad guys living in it, and they come out at night and clip telephone wires.
Light from under the door, but only when I'm not looking.
I can convince you of everything.
. ...'t
Keeps telling me crazy things.
Like run, and hang on, and don't look back and maybe jump.
The face in that still puddle gazes at me with disappointment and compassion.
Looking over its shoulder all the time.
And there's a tilting-over house on the edge of town with three or four bad guys living in it, and they come out at night and clip telephone wires.
Light from under the door, but only when I'm not looking.
I can convince you of everything.
. ...'t
Monday, July 19, 2010
Working at the "Welfare" Office
the dopers.
the FAS kids.
the just plain muties.
deadbeats, lunatics and foreigners.
people that are thin in all the wrong places.
torn jackets, bad teeth and broken hearts.
children without parents.
parents without their children.
sadness attempting to cling to my eyes in a spotty film.
people carrying weird things.
a big old-fashioned table lamp.
a bag filled with smaller bags.
a couple just married.
I recognize the girl.
ten to one she makes him knock her around.
old and tired.
or pregnant and tired.
or just tired and beaten.
a man sweating out mouthwash chemicals.
seeing too many people I know.
want a drink.
hell of a time to quit.
everyone looks like they're looking for someone they can't find.
some you greet and they reply with a cough.
furrow their brows over forms they can't be expected to understand.
"My mom says you're my legal guardian now because she can't handle me anymore."
a drink.
a drink would be nice.
"Hurry up, fuck! You're so stupid and slow!"
says the mom.
the little girl looks at the bigger one for guidance,
calls her "Auntie".
the FAS kids.
the just plain muties.
deadbeats, lunatics and foreigners.
people that are thin in all the wrong places.
torn jackets, bad teeth and broken hearts.
children without parents.
parents without their children.
sadness attempting to cling to my eyes in a spotty film.
people carrying weird things.
a big old-fashioned table lamp.
a bag filled with smaller bags.
a couple just married.
I recognize the girl.
ten to one she makes him knock her around.
old and tired.
or pregnant and tired.
or just tired and beaten.
a man sweating out mouthwash chemicals.
seeing too many people I know.
want a drink.
hell of a time to quit.
everyone looks like they're looking for someone they can't find.
some you greet and they reply with a cough.
furrow their brows over forms they can't be expected to understand.
"My mom says you're my legal guardian now because she can't handle me anymore."
a drink.
a drink would be nice.
"Hurry up, fuck! You're so stupid and slow!"
says the mom.
the little girl looks at the bigger one for guidance,
calls her "Auntie".
Friday, June 11, 2010
Martin Goes Crazy
Martin finally snapped. Driven slowly but surely insane with boredom, he welcomed the breakdown with open arms. He overturned his desk, and tearing at his hair and clothing, sprinted for the elevator. A crooked grimace on his face, his eyes shone with joy. Long had he wondered when the slow descent into tedium induced madness would finally end. It seemed as though today was that day. He sang and danced as he rode the elevator car to the ground floor for the final time. The city exploded with colour and sound as he burst into the street and began running. He gesticulated wildly, shouting gibberish and biblical quotes of his own invention. Three blocks down the street he passed a hot dog vendor and without breaking stride, downed an entire bottle of spicy mustard. As he ran, he fashioned a special tricorne hat from bits of aluminum refuse he collected along the way. He masturbated into his special hat and placed it firmly on his head, at a rakish tilt. Deeply persuasive, imaginary, scent triggered memories flooded his mind. The car exhaust reminded him of his racing career in Milan, the smell of a passing woman's perfume brought back his torrid love affair with Jacqueline Kennedy. Onassis. He began to see clear, deliberate patterns in the ways people chose the colours of their socks. These patterns, he knew, were cleverly disguised non-verbal forms of communication between seemingly average pedestrians and their invisible alien masters.
Typically, these "conversations" were of the most mundane sort, but every so often complex sinister details were revealed to him. He defecated in a public telephone booth and collapsed in a small city park. Fascinated by the shifting, multi-hued auras emanating from the ducks and pigeons, he lost track of time. At nothing o'clock in the early evening or late afternoon, his new found super acute hearing detected the faint and beautiful singing of a group of what he believed at the time were women.
Typically, these "conversations" were of the most mundane sort, but every so often complex sinister details were revealed to him. He defecated in a public telephone booth and collapsed in a small city park. Fascinated by the shifting, multi-hued auras emanating from the ducks and pigeons, he lost track of time. At nothing o'clock in the early evening or late afternoon, his new found super acute hearing detected the faint and beautiful singing of a group of what he believed at the time were women.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
It started out with smell.
The smell of him,
and it happened so gradually
she didn't even realize how strange
it was.
The odour of him decreased slowly and steadily
until he didn't smell like anything at all.
His hair,
his sweat.
His dirty socks.
The last thing to go was his shit.
Even those big dumps on the weekends
left the bathroom smelling as neutral
as when he walked in.
As the weeks went by,
other smells began to become muted around him.
If he walked through the kitchen while she was cooking,
the smell of the food would fade in and out like
a radio signal in dense fog.
Within minutes of touching his skin,
his cologne basically vaporized.
One day she found a full bottle in the trash.
Busy with work and the kids and the house
and everything else,
there was little time to worry about something so absurd
as his first lacking any odour,
and then his seeming to negate any odour he came in contact with.
When she found him at his workbench in the garage,
burning swatches of his own hair at 3am,
all the other little pieces came together.
He was holding a clump of his own hair over
a propane torch with a pair of pliers
and deeply inhaling the fumes through his nose.
No coughing, no tearing up, nothing.
It looked like a bizarre magic trick.
"Honey? What are you doing? Is everything okay?"
"You tell me. Does it look like it's okay?
I can't smell a damn thing. At first I thought I had a cold.
But look at this!"
"Honey, it's not your nose. I think there might be
something wrong with you. You don't smell like anything at all."
"What!"
"I'm telling you, it's not your nose. I can't smell anything
around you either!"
"What's wrong with me?"
"I don't know, Honey. Maybe it'll go away."
It didn't go away.
The day she woke up and couldn't hear the alarm
clock until she was five paces away from the bed,
she decided to take take the children and go stay
with her mother.
He waved to them from the foot of the driveway
and she thought she could see the sunshine
through his hand.
He stopped going to work.
After a few weeks, he vanished entirely.
The paint brightened on the house
and the lawn darkened to a natural shade of green.
The smell of him,
and it happened so gradually
she didn't even realize how strange
it was.
The odour of him decreased slowly and steadily
until he didn't smell like anything at all.
His hair,
his sweat.
His dirty socks.
The last thing to go was his shit.
Even those big dumps on the weekends
left the bathroom smelling as neutral
as when he walked in.
As the weeks went by,
other smells began to become muted around him.
If he walked through the kitchen while she was cooking,
the smell of the food would fade in and out like
a radio signal in dense fog.
Within minutes of touching his skin,
his cologne basically vaporized.
One day she found a full bottle in the trash.
Busy with work and the kids and the house
and everything else,
there was little time to worry about something so absurd
as his first lacking any odour,
and then his seeming to negate any odour he came in contact with.
When she found him at his workbench in the garage,
burning swatches of his own hair at 3am,
all the other little pieces came together.
He was holding a clump of his own hair over
a propane torch with a pair of pliers
and deeply inhaling the fumes through his nose.
No coughing, no tearing up, nothing.
It looked like a bizarre magic trick.
"Honey? What are you doing? Is everything okay?"
"You tell me. Does it look like it's okay?
I can't smell a damn thing. At first I thought I had a cold.
But look at this!"
"Honey, it's not your nose. I think there might be
something wrong with you. You don't smell like anything at all."
"What!"
"I'm telling you, it's not your nose. I can't smell anything
around you either!"
"What's wrong with me?"
"I don't know, Honey. Maybe it'll go away."
It didn't go away.
The day she woke up and couldn't hear the alarm
clock until she was five paces away from the bed,
she decided to take take the children and go stay
with her mother.
He waved to them from the foot of the driveway
and she thought she could see the sunshine
through his hand.
He stopped going to work.
After a few weeks, he vanished entirely.
The paint brightened on the house
and the lawn darkened to a natural shade of green.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Tool Of The Trade (Corpse Of Commissionaire)
I don't work with you,
but I don't work for you, either.
I am not your friend.
I am a tool that you pay to use.
a useful, replaceable tool.
you never need deal with me directly,
and that seems to make me somehow less
than you.
you feel secure thinking that I am not as smart as you are.
feel like a security guard.
you can feel comfortable talking about me behind my back.
I have been doing this for five years now and
I am beginning to grow accustomed to it.
that being said, your kind offends me.
if I saw you in the street I wouldn't give you the time of day.
I don't think you'd be able to handle yourself in a bad situation.
you would try to get behind me.
and there are days when I think I wouldn't let you.
but I don't work for you, either.
I am not your friend.
I am a tool that you pay to use.
a useful, replaceable tool.
you never need deal with me directly,
and that seems to make me somehow less
than you.
you feel secure thinking that I am not as smart as you are.
feel like a security guard.
you can feel comfortable talking about me behind my back.
I have been doing this for five years now and
I am beginning to grow accustomed to it.
that being said, your kind offends me.
if I saw you in the street I wouldn't give you the time of day.
I don't think you'd be able to handle yourself in a bad situation.
you would try to get behind me.
and there are days when I think I wouldn't let you.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Wayne Isn't A Real Person
Wayne is a real man's man.
he has steak and whiskey for breakfast
every single day.
he can build houses and he can sail ships.
he can make a woman come three times
without breaking a sweat.
when Wayne talks, people listen.
he can lift a wheelbarrow full of bricks
over his head with one arm tied behind his back.
he speeds all the goddam time but he never gets tickets.
Wayne pours whiskey down the throats of
one-legged crippled Indians behind the liquor store.
he's an unstoppable killing machine,
but the government's too afraid of him to
send him to war.
Wayne doesn't think his shit smells better
than yours.
he knows that it is the worst smelling shit
that you've ever smelled, and he's proud of it.
he was doing this kind of shit when you were still
suckling at your mommy's teat, you tinhorn.
Wayne's probably in the mountains somewhere
right now, licking deer blood off his his chops
and howling at the moon.
the moon is fucking full every day for him,
he has friends who work that kind of thing out for him.
animals follow Wayne for miles and miles,
tracking the steaming streaming yellow scent of his urine.
when nunneries and orphanages catch fire,
who do you think they call?
Wayne's got a special phone for that kind of thing.
once?
he got in a fight with an offshore drilling rig.
beat the bejesus outta that there platform.
didn't like the way it was looking at him.
he's gay for poetry, too.
did I mention that?
they done sent him upriver,
trying to cure him of his lust for the word,
and he spent his time teaching men to read.
Wayne holds within himself the cures for
everything that ails you.
he only listens to music that you probably wouldn't like.
does it that way on purpose, in fact.
gets a report from the local constabulary
on what you're currently listening to.
he's that cool.
he's been fucking Michelle Obama's throat...
that's a lie.
but everything else I've told you about him is true.
his penis looks kind of like a fire hydrant.
he has a special tailor for his pants.
he can control the weather.
I've seen it with mine own eyes.
he made me promise not to tell,
but,
it's true.
watched him whirl all across those parking lots
in the east end...
made it rain. I shit you not, my friend.
you want to tell stories about my friend Wayne?
you'll actually have to pay a special tax.
provisions have been made.
the money from the taxes goes to top of the line
carbon credits.
as a matter of fact, Bill and Melinda Gates don't
enjoy such incentives.
if my good buddy Wayne told you such blatant,
unconscionable lies,
you'd believe him.
he has steak and whiskey for breakfast
every single day.
he can build houses and he can sail ships.
he can make a woman come three times
without breaking a sweat.
when Wayne talks, people listen.
he can lift a wheelbarrow full of bricks
over his head with one arm tied behind his back.
he speeds all the goddam time but he never gets tickets.
Wayne pours whiskey down the throats of
one-legged crippled Indians behind the liquor store.
he's an unstoppable killing machine,
but the government's too afraid of him to
send him to war.
Wayne doesn't think his shit smells better
than yours.
he knows that it is the worst smelling shit
that you've ever smelled, and he's proud of it.
he was doing this kind of shit when you were still
suckling at your mommy's teat, you tinhorn.
Wayne's probably in the mountains somewhere
right now, licking deer blood off his his chops
and howling at the moon.
the moon is fucking full every day for him,
he has friends who work that kind of thing out for him.
animals follow Wayne for miles and miles,
tracking the steaming streaming yellow scent of his urine.
when nunneries and orphanages catch fire,
who do you think they call?
Wayne's got a special phone for that kind of thing.
once?
he got in a fight with an offshore drilling rig.
beat the bejesus outta that there platform.
didn't like the way it was looking at him.
he's gay for poetry, too.
did I mention that?
they done sent him upriver,
trying to cure him of his lust for the word,
and he spent his time teaching men to read.
Wayne holds within himself the cures for
everything that ails you.
he only listens to music that you probably wouldn't like.
does it that way on purpose, in fact.
gets a report from the local constabulary
on what you're currently listening to.
he's that cool.
he's been fucking Michelle Obama's throat...
that's a lie.
but everything else I've told you about him is true.
his penis looks kind of like a fire hydrant.
he has a special tailor for his pants.
he can control the weather.
I've seen it with mine own eyes.
he made me promise not to tell,
but,
it's true.
watched him whirl all across those parking lots
in the east end...
made it rain. I shit you not, my friend.
you want to tell stories about my friend Wayne?
you'll actually have to pay a special tax.
provisions have been made.
the money from the taxes goes to top of the line
carbon credits.
as a matter of fact, Bill and Melinda Gates don't
enjoy such incentives.
if my good buddy Wayne told you such blatant,
unconscionable lies,
you'd believe him.
Friday, April 30, 2010
the struggling engine
Life is troublesome but I am untroubled.
maybe a little bit.
I take a bite out of my sandwich,
pastrami and sweet onion mustard
on whole wheat, mime shooting
my adversary through the wall.
When enough worries mount up all at once
they cancel each other out.
Grey day, shit day,
type of day you wouldn't care if
all the windows were boarded over.
I miss those dreams about running
on all fours.
Back before the writing fell out
like a bad tooth.
Still, there's a lot to be thankful for.
Food in the fridge.
Beer in the freezer.
All last night apparently.
Fuck.
But the weakened is here.
I love Fried egg.
Make hay while the sun is shining.
Roll in it when the sun goes down.
I need some distraction.
Some destruction.
Some simulated stimulation.
Tonight they're eating blue crab
and oysters
in a heavy crude oil.
Tomorrow I'll have Splattered eggs.
maybe a little bit.
I take a bite out of my sandwich,
pastrami and sweet onion mustard
on whole wheat, mime shooting
my adversary through the wall.
When enough worries mount up all at once
they cancel each other out.
Grey day, shit day,
type of day you wouldn't care if
all the windows were boarded over.
I miss those dreams about running
on all fours.
Back before the writing fell out
like a bad tooth.
Still, there's a lot to be thankful for.
Food in the fridge.
Beer in the freezer.
All last night apparently.
Fuck.
But the weakened is here.
I love Fried egg.
Make hay while the sun is shining.
Roll in it when the sun goes down.
I need some distraction.
Some destruction.
Some simulated stimulation.
Tonight they're eating blue crab
and oysters
in a heavy crude oil.
Tomorrow I'll have Splattered eggs.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Miranda Rights for Husbands and Long Term Boyfriends
You're right to remain silent.
Anything you've ever said or ever will say can and will be filed, catalogued and referenced for use against you in a future you're as yet unaware of.
You're right to worry.
If you can't afford to worry, worry will be provided for you at no extra cost.
Do you understand these writes as I've written them to you?
Book 'em, Danno.
Anything you've ever said or ever will say can and will be filed, catalogued and referenced for use against you in a future you're as yet unaware of.
You're right to worry.
If you can't afford to worry, worry will be provided for you at no extra cost.
Do you understand these writes as I've written them to you?
Book 'em, Danno.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
doldrums
it started to be hard, talking to the backs of people's heads
feeling compelled to repeat my lines
over and over
knowing full well
most of what I said
was being ignored
if it was being acknowledged at all
I began to take pleasure more often
in the mistakes and misfortunes of others
the clients,
their successes,
I wished for the opportunity to feel
more useful
to tackle a knife wielding client gone mad
saving clerks and the public
in the nick of time
getting heroically injured doing so
the monotony of it
the well meaning client who'd say
gee, you must have a really boring job!
I didn't need reminding
I repeated the same phrases
roughly 300 times a day
the contrails of a hundred perfumes
followed women past me
some smell very good
other people
some of them smell very bad
the scents of people are beginning to seem
more unique than the people themselves
the days are dragging more and more
but the weeks are whipping by
feeling compelled to repeat my lines
over and over
knowing full well
most of what I said
was being ignored
if it was being acknowledged at all
I began to take pleasure more often
in the mistakes and misfortunes of others
the clients,
their successes,
I wished for the opportunity to feel
more useful
to tackle a knife wielding client gone mad
saving clerks and the public
in the nick of time
getting heroically injured doing so
the monotony of it
the well meaning client who'd say
gee, you must have a really boring job!
I didn't need reminding
I repeated the same phrases
roughly 300 times a day
the contrails of a hundred perfumes
followed women past me
some smell very good
other people
some of them smell very bad
the scents of people are beginning to seem
more unique than the people themselves
the days are dragging more and more
but the weeks are whipping by
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Waitaminnit...
Maybe I shouldn't begin an adversarial relationship with my landlord.
Even though the toilet hasn't worked properly for two weeks.
Even though the toilet hasn't worked properly for two weeks.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Drink
first exploding fireball in my gut
spreading warmth up the back of my neck
the obscene species of joyful dread and anticipation
climbs up my calves
inflated sense of connection and viability
things're gonna seem pertinent and involved
time ain't gonna get on top of me
tit fucking Big Mama Thornton
all night long
spreading warmth up the back of my neck
the obscene species of joyful dread and anticipation
climbs up my calves
inflated sense of connection and viability
things're gonna seem pertinent and involved
time ain't gonna get on top of me
tit fucking Big Mama Thornton
all night long
Monday, June 22, 2009
Witching Me
Burn memory into mePress all the imageswhite hot against thehide of my mindSmell the sound ofcrackling smokeAs it rises off my headSoak this text and set itI will breathe the steamof herbs and tiny bonesTied up with your hairOils, pigment and silver flakeThrow skins over my backand dust into my eyesPaint me into a symbolon the chimney wallMake a necklace of my teethShake my body involuntaryUntil I evaporate, floatingout the window in the hoary airand live in the clock above the door
Last Big Storm
Naked trees like black veins under the purplish skin of tonightSlow drifting snow covering everything over under all of thisQuiet laden white spreading creeping full of mindless designLike watching moss grow in stop motion photographyHardly a car in the road all rivulets of silence
Drift
chimney smoke dragons rising slowinto hanging thermocline shelvesin the alley, ashes, cats and carsyoung people grown in all their dayscrashing through night like glass,like symbolsblack so deep to craze youagainst the burning white outsidemake your head whip back and forthand hanging in the recesses like batsso tangled inside sometimes, so cold
cc
Propel
You get older and the injuries start to pile upThat scar hangs aroundCough keeps coming backResidual layers and theadopted furniture from the year beforeTransmissions get slower in betweenTime speeds up and space gets smallerMost don't see it comingNeither did I
raspberry has very as prairie pies
called home to gloryshe didn't answerraspberry bush had been skeletonizedgone wheeling flockseverywhere feathersraspberries falling out of the skiesstole me a ticketafternoon trainraspberry juice on the railway tiesrode out of townunder the mountainraspberry bush grows wings and flies
react
That momentary sense of disorientationBefore you believe you're right on trackIndulgent and distantHieroglyphics floating in the airMen sorting mail in the ceilingand there's a black robe at the windowThe peculiarities mightn't even be originalIt's the recombination that's in the detailsOnly five true stories the worldThe rest is variationIt must be lonely, recreating yourself each dayor it must be lonely to have to watchNo steady timeBut there's holes you can jump intoLadders to climbWind whistling outside so you knowThe idea of springFolk almost never discern betweenhonesty and gloomor manners and weaknessCinders raining on my pantsBy the glow of porcelain angel night lightsWhile fumes pour out of openingsYou could live the most basic visceral lifeJust responding to synaptic gapsand reflexive inborn desireor[compartmentalize]Existing in the space betweenButane and ethyl are only objectsstrewn around you in semi-circlesExchanging gases and steadinessfor long time and shortAs if you had a clue what time wasor weatherFloor creaking like the ocean lineryou've been dreaming ofSpin the topoffRoll your headand realign
Randy In The Doorway
Met a bum name of Randy standing in a doorwayHe asked for CHANGETold him I had noneOffered him a drink from my flaskTo take the chill off, I said"Damn right it's cold," he said"Lose your job 'cause of a fuckin' cunt?""Well, that's what happened to me!"
Workaday Workaway Walkaway
Graveyard humour in the smokers cornerStaffroom sitcom coffee chatterSmoke my way through the dayand maybe I need to eat so damn muchbecause I hardly ever sleepSubtle jibes and polite fuck yousand no goddamn sugar for coffeeProtocol and decorum are for pansiesI won't deign to worry anymorebecause I hardly ever sleepLooped shop music, recycled airFlakey elitist bubble I bounce offI'm Bill Bixby's retarded janitor,in The Incredible Hulkbecause I hardly ever sleep
Fugue
The body has to know when to fast or when to exceed itWhat chance does it stand when it's reputation precedes itIf your genes won't fit and you just don't quit,keep a separate mind in a bowl.Overfeed it and it floats on it's side,leave it buried in a pile of coal.Watch me do Moriarty and Paradiseat the very same time.I'll write this shit while I'm doing itand it pr'olly won't even rhyme.Well, young man, is it for bestare you ever gonna learn?When you live each day like a vision quest,you're gonna get a chemical burnDon't drown in the stream...........(of consciousness)If life's but a dream............................(merrily)Full moon, paranthetical cloudsIt ain't so bad if you can beat the crowds
Late Alone Flow
Reverse electron spinNeurochemical happenstanceMistranslated syncopationCrashing gently alongStand barefoot in the snowDrinking greener pasturesVariable agents sleeping uprightWaystations at the crossroadsThese snarling spasmodic bifurcated clarinetsCarry the burden decrease the populationInundation thresholdA voiceWhirling stunned and readySoak these guitar strings in saltwaterRelease Fibonacci timebombs left as barbed jokesSimhavaktra's stomping dance has scarred my backBelt of heads disfigured by confusion and viceWe all need distractionPolyhedrous panopticonThese horizons stretched to a shining wireImponderable consequences like mortarWrap us up in thisUnfurling stream of consciousnessNever too tired to swim
Locust Man
Shamble along one arm shorter than the otherFall, get up again, fallStop short of the door, reelKeep going contorted visage ensures exclusionLook over that too high shoulderConfirming what's already knownWear enough coats to blend right on inBounce off the door, straightenCounting sidewalk cracksSpit black invective at your own reflectionMaking pops and clicks in the back of your throatThen start to runCrowds parting like MosesBroadcasting scrambled non-cogenciesWhoever you crash into will simply be absorbed
Unsinkable Mary
Comes in almost every dayI swear she's like, a hundred years oldShe says it's because they had to eat dandilion roots during the depressionCrawled on their hands and knees eating them right out of the groundSays she still does it every summer, that's why she lives so longWonder what her neighbours thinkDon't imagine she gives a damn what they thinkWe should all be so lucky
doldrum
drink until the bass feels like masturbationwatch tall women set down collapsing leather satchelsi'm going blindcount the money in your pocket while you have a conversationit's cold out you fuckers let's burn this place down
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Can Animals Understand Music
Piano concerto, ariaProcreate, forageBreakbeat, sirenCamouflage, predateGuitar solo, staffHibernate, parasitismA capella, stacattoPecking order, grooming
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:55 PM 0 comments
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Cover Of Darkness
Fighting off sleep like wolvesJust one more lineOne more stanzaLost control somehowNow the words are writing meSwept up and overUnder mountainous valleysThis comes shooting down my armsLike an injection in reverseCan't walk the streets withoutseeing my words go by orwatching things turn into poemsIt's easier at night, like writing issomething clandestine or dirtylike fucking, somehow, or stealingBut that's how I like it.Guiltily hammering away at the keysKeeping my mind well enough lubricatedThere's a balance. Fine line to straddleyou could keep it going for hoursif you can keep controlShameful to let something sweet like thatdegenerate into a conversation with myselfLike maybe this just has...
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:38 PM 1 comments
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Peripheral Visions
K-4 class touring at my workThe teachers, white women,have isolated a little black boyfrom one of three groupsNow it's him, eleven white girlsand two white womenHe looks fine to me, but hedoesn't want to pay attentionKeeps trying to walk backover to where the boys areThe women talk to himreally slow like he's dumbBut you can see he's notHe's crouching just on theperiphery when one teachersays to the other,"Do you want me to takehim for a walk?"The glare off of this kidcould've dropped an elephant
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:32 PM 2 comments
Cancer
The eye of this thing rolls toward meWith voracious unfocused intellectDriving inward like the biggest nailIt contracts and presses my chest to cavingWhen it gets in it will take somethingTime, maybe
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:27 PM 0 comments
Drift
chimney smoke dragons rising slowinto hanging thermocline shelvesin the alley, ashes, cats and carsyoung people grown in all their dayscrashing through night like glass,like symbolsblack so deep to craze youagainst the burning white outsidemake your head whip back and forthand hanging in the recesses like batsso tangled inside sometimes, so cold
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:18 AM 0 comments
Monday, February 12, 2007
Winter Owlies
and I's worried about folkfine folk who, like m'selfcouldn't jettison escape pods,fly to timeshares,or didn't enjoy cross country skiingnot enough light yetgotten a touch long fer my likingwhiskey bottle's gotten biggerwhole goddam provinceshould'a been a seasonal farmwhat kook decided this'd bewhere to stayand it were real cold back thenold timers say we've got 'er easyback then a horse drawn buggywith a wood burning stove in itglobal warming deal's not quick enoughfor me, two month nap I thinkis the proper way to go about all this
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 4:19 PM 1 comments
Propel
You get older and the injuries start to pile upThat scar hangs aroundCough keeps coming backResidual layers and theadopted furniture from the year beforeTransmissions get slower in betweenTime speeds up and space gets smallerMost don't see it comingNeither did I
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:08 AM 0 comments
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Throw The T.V. Out The Window
Timba's pimpin' little NellAnna Nicole dead in hotelAsronaut in diapers smellNew Islamoterror cellU.S. fighting drug cartelEnviroment has gone to hellAlas, poor Yorick. I knew him well
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:43 PM 0 comments
Great Grandma Houston
I remember yellow in a hue I haven't seen sinceThe drapes, the sun coming throughMotes of dust in the sunlightCandies in a glass dish on the tableI thought they were sun candiesSweet yellow discs and that's how the sun must tasteShe was so littleI remember
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 12:43 PM 1 comments
Friday, February 09, 2007
raspberry has very as prairie pies
called home to gloryshe didn't answerraspberry bush had been skeletonizedgone wheeling flockseverywhere feathersraspberries falling out of the skiesstole me a ticketafternoon trainraspberry juice on the railway tiesrode out of townunder the mountainraspberry bush grows wings and flies
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 5:32 PM 0 comments
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Headache/This Too Shall Pass
Starts behind my right earGoes arcing acrossthe side of my headStops like a sharp rockhitting me in the templeBrought me down onone knee at work onceBut I'm indestructibleSometimes four, fivetimes in a day it comesBlasting across the insideof my skull like tiny lightningI've had better, I've had worseDon't need a doctor or a nurse
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 5:52 PM 2 comments
Smoking In A Synthetic Living Room With The Smoke Detector Unplugged
Boiling water sets it offWaking up, start to coughFlashpoint, flareBurning hairFell asleepIn too deepSirens farFrom where you areCats are cringingCurtains singeingMolten plasticThis is drasticSprinkler system?Must'a missed 'emExtinguisher?I barely know 'erThick black smokeMake you chokeFlames so highBurn your eyeApartment infernoLiving room Sterno
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:22 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Savour
Let it build upBefore you let it outBeyond reproach...redemptionFuck all the facades 'n rusesBut hold it 'til you can'tBecause when you unload/upload it...
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:18 PM 0 comments
Monday, February 05, 2007
Limewire/I'm A Liar
Here we goHow would you feelLast three daysMy primitive ancestryComing down the mountainTruth comes backThought I heard a rumblingWhat did you do that forLike I told youThat is the questionMama was queen of the jungleYou're from Texas. That's beautiful.Time for us to bug outFishing off DervishBefore that sun goes downIt's just another day
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:45 AM 2 comments
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The Suitman
I was the fedoraThen there was a suitcase for awhileOnce I was the gleam in his left eyeNow I'm the bird on his shoulderTwelve years he's been drawnDrawn from what, I've no ideaOr even drawn to whereComes automaticSometimes wearing a watchA flower in his lapelWay too many fingersGaunt in the cheeksMaybe I'm the bird's song
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:24 AM 0 comments
Friday, February 02, 2007
Laze
My head is your lapHand on your hipLet's have a napWe'll take a tripFreezing outsideRelaxing in hereWeatherman liedLet's stay in, dearPopcorn, showTea and wineWind and snowFeeling fineSpring will comeI could waitKiss me someThis is great
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:24 PM 1 comments
Thursday, February 01, 2007
react
That momentary sense of disorientationBefore you believe you're right on trackIndulgent and distantHieroglyphics floating in the airMen sorting mail in the ceilingand there's a black robe at the windowThe peculiarities mightn't even be originalIt's the recombination that's in the detailsOnly five true stories the worldThe rest is variationIt must be lonely, recreating yourself each dayor it must be lonely to have to watchNo steady timeBut there's holes you can jump intoLadders to climbWind whistling outside so you knowThe idea of springFolk almost never discern betweenhonesty and gloomor manners and weaknessCinders raining on my pantsBy the glow of porcelain angel night lightsWhile fumes pour out of openingsYou could live the most basic visceral lifeJust responding to synaptic gapsand reflexive inborn desireor[compartmentalize]Existing in the space betweenButane and ethyl are only objectsstrewn around you in semi-circlesExchanging gases and steadinessfor long time and shortAs if you had a clue what time wasor weatherFloor creaking like the ocean lineryou've been dreaming ofSpin the topoffRoll your headand realign
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:07 AM 3 comments
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
On A Tear
Drunk construction workers in my parking spotLaughin' n' coughin' so hardI can hear them dyingNice enoughThe dude with the clearer eyes talks to meas the other one pisses on my buildingWednesday night"Yeah, Mark and I are on a tear in Regina!""We just had a big heart to heart and Idon't want anything lost between us.""Whooooo!! Whoooo hoooo!"Stumble, stumble, crash bang boom.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 8:07 PM 1 comments
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Fly In The Face
I want to write words that...Wrap around cornersCrack the pavementSnake through drainsCling to branchesFall down stairsShake off waterEat each otherthat...Hold out hopeClean the streetsMake you shiverCover a distanceTouch soft placesBroach all subjectsChange the weather
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:44 PM 1 comments
What's Wrong With That Boy?
He just can't get right.Up all night long.Tears around herelike a scalded rabbit.He might say anything!And the appetites.Shameless.He's got to get so far outof himself to come back around.And what's with all the books?Who does he think he is, anyway?Always with the jokes.He's a real character, all right.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:34 AM 0 comments
Monday, January 29, 2007
Open
Pour out and swirlBe a vesselNever emptyI will run overContain meRippleTrickleSplashTorrentRageBe placid
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 5:05 PM 0 comments
Friday, January 26, 2007
Wording
For the record, KennethYou found me on a street.Not in the street.I'll be on these streetslong after youRemember that youremembered meand that I don'tremember you
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 8:35 PM 3 comments
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Mauritius
High density housingFlight pathHeavy trafficIce fog rolls inSlows everything downI don't want to worryAbout workmoneyagingcancerprocreationor anythingI'm the sheriff for the kids at my jobThe glint of my badgeKeys jangling like spursCartoonish, maybeBut they remember my name when they come backAnd I don't have to do this foreverIt doesn't even have to feel like forever
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:51 PM 0 comments
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Restraint
Fuck you, spectatorsFuck you, instigatorsFuck you, thieving magpiesYour speculation,like something stuck in your teeth,shows when you smileConsiderable resources were expendedconstructing that smileMy face is on crooked and I've wasted more timeEyes practically glowing redFrom the incindiary rounds in my headThis feeling of being roastedI was dreadfully polite about it, thoughBe your television show and allYour flashing reflections in the morningOn windows, windshields, eyelidsAnd wheeling flocks backed by patina domesHalt the proceedingsThe processionAs my head fell in the basketPitchforks and torchlightBecause I never pay attention to anythingLeast of all,Some late night torso heap with bad musicDay to day must be boringOr else why would you...Have smelled it before I didRed in tooth and clawKeep your isotopes out of my teaI want to be like waterWater always follows itself
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:05 AM 0 comments
Friday, January 19, 2007
Writing On A Napkin
Expired pastrami sandwich.Is this a good idea?But I'm so hungry.Or bored.It's kind of sticky.Does it smell okay?Wait, what does bad pastrami smell like?Does it go around rolling other coldcuts for their condiments?I'll just put more pepper on it.If I was at home, I could see if the cats would eat some first.Ah, fuck it.Worst that'll probably happen is a day off work.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 4:01 PM 1 comments
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Quadrapedia
I want a guttural understanding of the way life soundsIf that can be said to be a goalTo inhale it through both open mouth and flaring nostrilAs though I had a Jacobson's OrganRoll in itRut in itLope through itTear off great chunks and gulp them downRock on my haunches with life dribbling off my chin
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:40 PM 1 comments
Buoyancy/Boy And Sea
This meant more than oxygen.I was Muad'Dib in a stillsuit,inheriting knowledge.And flying under waterwith my father.Could've stayed downthere forever.No walls in the ocean.When you realize youcan still breathe, thereis a kind of freedomthat doesn't come in tanks.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 10:14 AM 1 comments
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Randy In The Doorway
Met a bum name of Randy standing in a doorwayHe asked for CHANGETold him I had noneOffered him a drink from my flaskTo take the chill off, I said"Damn right it's cold," he said"Lose your job 'cause of a fuckin' cunt?""Well, that's what happened to me!"
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:14 PM 1 comments
Workaday Workaway Walkaway
Graveyard humour in the smokers cornerStaffroom sitcom coffee chatterSmoke my way through the dayand maybe I need to eat so damn muchbecause I hardly ever sleepSubtle jibes and polite fuck yousand no goddamn sugar for coffeeProtocol and decorum are for pansiesI won't deign to worry anymorebecause I hardly ever sleepLooped shop music, recycled airFlakey elitist bubble I bounce offI'm Bill Bixby's retarded janitor,in The Incredible Hulkbecause I hardly ever sleep
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 12:36 PM 0 comments
Uniform Pants
Change me from tall to squat and navy blueMake my ass all sweaty and the wind blows right through themThe seam of which is a polyester saw so my guts will fall outThe fly never stays up and the cuffs swish like a gangly sailor,attracting static pubic carpet fibresOne day I will melt these uninformed pants down into a cube of plasticAnd I will use the cube as a paperweight in my office
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 12:31 PM 0 comments
Rhyme For Reason
All of humanity'smoral insanityrooted in vanityall over the planet, see?See the smouldereye of the beholderover your shoulderjust get wiser, never older
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:14 AM 0 comments
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Constancy
I can taste the venom in her voiceCarry this bottle like an infantThe sun explodedThere was a moment you could see it comingOrange shockwaveRippling out like stones on waterI've a simian footHairier than the other and prehensileSo rollick. Cavort.Each man shall eat, drink and work for all of his daysI'll secrete if you absorbPocky cabdriver told me a joke about rottweilers and vaginasI told him I'd even eat the bones and he suddenly dropped me off
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:09 AM 2 comments
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Fugue
The body has to know when to fast or when to exceed itWhat chance does it stand when it's reputation precedes itIf your genes won't fit and you just don't quit,keep a separate mind in a bowl.Overfeed it and it floats on it's side,leave it buried in a pile of coal.Watch me do Moriarty and Paradiseat the very same time.I'll write this shit while I'm doing itand it pr'olly won't even rhyme.Well, young man, is it for bestare you ever gonna learn?When you live each day like a vision quest,you're gonna get a chemical burnDon't drown in the stream...........(of consciousness)If life's but a dream............................(merrily)Full moon, paranthetical cloudsIt ain't so bad if you can beat the crowds
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:12 PM 0 comments
Monday, January 01, 2007
In The Wind
There's werewolves.They'll turn and jump on ya like nuthin'.That moon waxes and the tides shift.Is it gonna be any easier for our kids?Ought seven.How 'bout that?Why, I oughta...Will they excavate this basement a thousand years from now,and invent elaborate scenarios to explain all of this?Gerald and Saddam at once.Oh,and James Brown.Let's have noisemakers and parartroopers and watchthe ball drop over Times Square.Where's the Deus Ex Machina when you need it?And the economy failed.Struggled along taxing carbon,They found new life on jungle plateaus.And Hawking's wrong about colonisation.Feat on the ground.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:16 AM 1 comments
Friday, December 29, 2006
Plains Chases
I never understood human behaviourThis breeding ball like snakes at the barThis shop till you drop and ignore the warI want to get there, and fastWhat we do after that is up to youIf you come early I'll come soberDon't you cry when they swing us by the tailCausing a ruckus in the railroad stationLaying eyes down from these twisting treesPut my mad hat on and CHANGE PLACES
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:58 PM 0 comments
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Thank You
That's how I knew I was back on trackWhen old Tommy started singing from Charles and JackAnd the world began to shine againMy hand was working to break my penThe snow come thick and I didn't careSaw connections shone everywhereWere signposts, warnings and good adviceAll visible through the dark and the iceTake another trip out and back some dayBut right now here's where I'm gonna stayIt's a fine little thing that I did seeThe world didn't move on without meThere's folk that'll probably never knowHell above and Heaven belowWhen your block is broken and your fear is goneAnd you're pretty damn sure that your lines are drawnWe're riding this rock for another yearThis stumbling, crumbling blue green sphere
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:04 PM 1 comments
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Poem With A Title That Doesn't Begin With L
i am herewith everyone and nottherei was thereso were youi saw you theresomething bit mein the crook of my armspot no bigger than a dimethousands of dollars poured into that holegot sickso pale folks looked right through mecouldn't hear the music anymoreat ease at lastthat hardscrabble shuffle of my mortal coilhung uplaid downwhat's the name of this song?
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 8:25 PM 0 comments
Monday, December 18, 2006
Let's Go Round The Bend
Bury me in a cornfieldNo tiny funeral sandwichesOr pulpit sales pitchesCome pour whiskey on me once a yearHave a wakeMe on the tableLay out the good silverCelebrate until I get ripePut me in a wheelbarrowOn the back porchLet me fall up into the skyAnimals will spread my partsWear that skirt I likedWaste no time getting on with things
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 12:52 AM 1 comments
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Looking At You When You're Not Looking
Shake me looseFree me upOpen all these doorsTaller because of youI'd ride out your stormBring me withCould be of useLet me outHold me downTake what you needStay aroundUnless you won'tI can float
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:40 PM 0 comments
Friday, December 08, 2006
Late Alone Flow
Reverse electron spinNeurochemical happenstanceMistranslated syncopationCrashing gently alongStand barefoot in the snowDrinking greener pasturesVariable agents sleeping uprightWaystations at the crossroadsThese snarling spasmodic bifurcated clarinetsCarry the burden decrease the populationInundation thresholdA voiceWhirling stunned and readySoak these guitar strings in saltwaterRelease Fibonacci timebombs left as barbed jokesSimhavaktra's stomping dance has scarred my backBelt of heads disfigured by confusion and viceWe all need distractionPolyhedrous panopticonThese horizons stretched to a shining wireImponderable consequences like mortarWrap us up in thisUnfurling stream of consciousnessNever too tired to swim
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 4:38 PM 0 comments
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Mother Nature's been runnin' since the seventiesShe won't get away that easyWe have ways of making her talkGot to lay the blame somewhereIt's always the parentsWe'll fix thisMoney solves everythingAin't nothin' free anymore
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:25 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
WWIII
Is already happeningDesensitizeIt's okayWe're winningI think.There's been no great reaction against it so someone must beHere, look at sports and celebritiesMaybe a car chase on the newsHave some drinksEarn, spend, consumeIgnore that voice in the back of your headTrust us.There's no reason to be alarmedyet
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:33 AM 1 comments
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Twelve Hours, Eight Minutes
Cloud cover so low you can taste itIce hanging in the airNasty nasty weatherWeather or notOver this the sky's so orangeBundle trundle stumble bumbleBeCold. Sumbitchin' cold
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:32 PM 0 comments
Friday, December 01, 2006
Question
Am I really saving my ass, doing this?Is it just bandaids on a crumbling dam?Or putting it out there consequences be damned.I'll keep writing. I just don't give a fuck, I'm crazy like that.But does anyone wonder if it means anything?Nanosecond before I hit the Publish button, I wonder.Filling up the internets with foolishness.What the hell else would I do?If I shout these things on a crowded street corner,am I still a poet?I don't care if I ever was.Got to do this now, or expect a rupture.You can laugh. Go ahead.I'll write a poem about you laughing at my poem.Some kind of Moebius thing like a house of mirrors where it turns out you're just laughing at yourself inside my poem.Yeah.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:15 PM 1 comments
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Locust Man
Shamble along one arm shorter than the otherFall, get up again, fallStop short of the door, reelKeep going contorted visage ensures exclusionLook over that too high shoulderConfirming what's already knownWear enough coats to blend right on inBounce off the door, straightenCounting sidewalk cracksSpit black invective at your own reflectionMaking pops and clicks in the back of your throatThen start to runCrowds parting like MosesBroadcasting scrambled non-cogenciesWhoever you crash into will simply be absorbed
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:03 PM 0 comments
Monday, November 27, 2006
Arbeitrary
The idea that I could be doing something elseis a stone, sharpening itself in my shoeWhat's this money worth again, as you sellyour life walking around in circlesWas a time you couldn't hold me downI was indestructible and the women all loved meI walked from one end of the highway to the otherBut it was in a straight line going somewhereThe money's alright but I could sleep all dayOr maybe just pick up and run for monthsDidn't care what I ate so happy for anythingEvery couch and floor was the same homeCan't seem to learn that bullshit way of talkingthat gets most anyone through their daysMaybe never gonna run again, stay put behaveWon't stop thinking about it, though
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:36 PM 2 comments
Pony Up
I was a shetland ponyNone too long agoWorking in a coalminePulling skids to and froAfter work, at the pony barI drank my barley popWashed black dust off my muzzleAnd shined my riding cropI went to pony churchI paid my pony duesI rarely ever whickeredAs I sat in pony pewsWhen my pony life was overI had not one complaintIn heaven they had cloverFor the pony patron saint
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 10:33 AM 1 comments
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Unsinkable Mary
Comes in almost every dayI swear she's like, a hundred years oldShe says it's because they had to eat dandilion roots during the depressionCrawled on their hands and knees eating them right out of the groundSays she still does it every summer, that's why she lives so longWonder what her neighbours thinkDon't imagine she gives a damn what they thinkWe should all be so lucky
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:44 PM 1 comments
Verbal Domination
cessationnegationsalvationtemptationsensationvibrationlubricationlibationinebriationdehydrationimitationmutationdestinationdesperationmoderationliberationlevitationcodificationhallucinationresusitationmisinterpretationsurface assimiliation
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:24 PM 0 comments
5 am Truth
And it'll just pour out suddenOne minute small talk, the next hugeWeighted things people drag aroundSolve a whole hell of alot with honesty like that at 5 pm
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:15 PM 0 comments
PAIN
Is a state of mindIs a state of mineIs not a statement of mineState your mind
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:50 AM 0 comments
Jimmy Crack Corn
Got the fixTook my licksHad some kicks that don't existSat in the backOf the bayou shackSlicked my hair back with carrion shellacSaw white rabbitsShake their habitsIf you see something good grab itI'm not crazyYou're just lazyHere's the part where shit gets hazyAnd these mothahfuckin' boots are for stompin', not dancingSequin girls, I'm not sure about thatAlcohol's no excuse for disrespectEveryone is their own doppelganger
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:16 AM 1 comments
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Maybe This Is Not A Poem
The multifaithful going by wearing expressions of suretyMy brain is itchy and I'm already sick of holiday muzakLoving the green of cooked garlic after a couple daysThinking of those great hordes of Cabbage Moths from fallThe snow came and turned the evening black and whiteTrouble sleeping again, I want Modafinil so I won't need toJohn Henry Fine Day is gone from here. I just spoke to himI'm feeling tired and brittle lately, my fingertips are soreCarrots do not belong cake, nor pumpkins in pie, zuchinni?
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:48 PM 1 comments
Writing
Tool/Toy?Vent-BottleNon Lethal Energy WeaponMakeAmuse your friends and relatives!Encode your madness in easy to swallow capsulesKill time before it kills youCause people to guessVacate your vowelsSpill. The beans, the milk, your guts and paint with them
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:14 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Apex
Tear the membranePass through to where everything is exactly not the sameEven geometry won't quite holdCould you look back through?It's cloudy, I knowYou might not want toNo one can stay here for very longDie of astonishmentSo far from where this startedGo ahead. Don't understandIf it was important they'd teach it in school
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:44 PM 0 comments
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Bag Lady
Arms raisedThe light trickled off herLooking up to where clouds made a chapel ceilingPurely roaring silencePalms openThe grass all bent in her directionAnd everything held tight onto its breathWaiting to seeFeet plantedSwirling fumes merged with her hairGround heaved up pushing out stonesAir was thrummingPushed her shopping cart out of the alley,heading for the soup kitchen.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:48 PM 0 comments
Friday, November 17, 2006
Dear Throat Infection,
Back so soon?Gee, I must have a really comfortable throat.There's plenty of room in my lungs if you'd like to invite your in-laws.Did you bring me anything?A manly sounding voice, you say.Oh I love what you've done with the place.The grid of raised texture really pulls it all together.Can I get you anything?I know you didn't like the erythromicin.Maybe I'll shop around a bit.Bleach.Napalm! You'd like napalm, wouldn't you?We'll be having Brillo pads for lunch, and then I'll sing you a little song!
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:50 AM 2 comments
doldrum
drink until the bass feels like masturbationwatch tall women set down collapsing leather satchelsi'm going blindcount the money in your pocket while you have a conversationit's cold out you fuckers let's burn this place down
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 10:19 AM 0 comments
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Series #2
PolyesterMonitorCoffeeRadioClockKeysDesk
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 8:17 PM 0 comments
Scorched Paw
Up howling in a shower of sparksTore back into the woodsJaw jutted and grindingAs little mothers shuddered in bedPulling down the stars as it wentGleaming fur stood like broken glassBrooked a stream and drank without stoppingLips curled back at old gods
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:39 PM 0 comments
Highku
then I saw one goosein the flock of so manybreak off and go back
Siento
My body was absurdly modified by the time they let me goswivel headsprung legssnap handsone eye smashed inthe other had seen too muchAnd I take nothing for granted, which is a giftthey encased my mind in lucite for meit will always be the samemy love of humanity and its various preoccupationsI always know exactly where I amwhere I'm goingnot everyone can laugh the way I doknowing where I was
I'll Drink To That
Let's get hopped up and make bad decisionsPlay on each other's insecurities till someone breaks a stringHave conversations so heated they should be held away from solventsI'll drink Bukowski under the table, but there's things chittering away in the dark down there
Crescendo
Frost flew off me like exploding plasterA steady rising hum blocked out everythingCleared my throat and a tree cracked in halfMy reflection on fire, I fought for balanceI could hear conversations two towns overFeel the power lines with my hairTried not to point myself at anything fragileMy heart distant cannon fireA swarm of iron filings chased me from the railyardI caused lenticular clouds to formSpent and heaving I fell asleep in a culvertWoke up with a full beard laughing
Discontent
borderlandsover the plainsice chasing themspreading so fastthe road disappearedwood too cold to burneyes began to crystallizeseamless ground and skywinds enough to rend formpeople dreamt in blue and greenthe horses died and just stood therefrozen machinery discarded in their waketime meaningless in the long white countrythe lead group fell and was eaten by those behindshouts fell from throats and shattered on the ground
Not At All Nautical
He was a writerA lover, no fighterWho married a sea captain's daughterWent down offshoreHis books were no moreThey all got soaked in saltwaterThe words ran togetherIn the maritime weatherThe story slid off of the pagesBut rather than sinkIn an ocean of inkHe decided to drink it in stagesHe drank chapter oneBy the time he was doneHe was green around the gillsThen came chapter twoAnd before he was throughCame a shuddering bout of the chillsNo chapter threeBy this time you seeHe'd lost his taste for the oceanHis sea legs were goneLike the boat he'd been onFrom drinking this saline ink potionThe sea gave a bellowDisgorged our poor fellowOnto a soft spit of sandSo now I am thinkingThat instead of sinkingI'll stick to writing on land
No-Face Rears His Nondescript Head
No-Face dissolved back into the crowdHaving just had enough of the matterThe matter was hard to define and loudAnd was mostly the same idle chatterNo-Face appeared at the back of the roomIt's lonely, dissolved and not anywherePut on a long coat, shuffled out of the gloomBack because there weren't really any thereNo-Face got hungry, once in a whileSo he went out to eat conversationsGarnished with frowns, the occasional smileAnd tentative, sweet hesitationsNo-Face got cold or the stories got oldSo he took off the coat and he vanishedBack into nowhere with the tales they toldTo save for when he was famishedNo-Face's coat was ratty and wornThe pockets all eaten by fliesThe cuffs and the collar were old and tornBut it still made a handy disguiseNo-Face can only be seen in the coatThe rest of the time he's transparentTake it off him and away he would floatOnce the misdirection became apparentNo-Face lurks in crowded barsAnd busy meeting placesAlways searching wide and farFor people with real faces
Tomfoolery
Ran my watch through the washing machineTrying to tell time by the stains on my jeansHead works too hard, I'm always tiredDaydreaming at work, I might get firedUncertain times are a-changin', I hearFill me with smoke then douse me in beerSummer is gone but our love will remainOkay I stole that one from Tom Waits' brainSituation normal, all status quoBatten down hatches, prepare for snowPardon, I'm rambling and not making senseThe grass isn't greener when you straddle the fenceYou just get an ass full of splinters and paintI write what I feel like. Chaucer I ain't.
Why, yes sir. Right this way."
Walk stilted on juddery automatic legsHear a creak as your face smilesDon't come unhinged and fly open exposedHope the momentum carries you throughTry to resist shaking loose of this tediumNot falling off but outright leapingAnd say to yourself: "Well, at least..."
And We Ran
All the way to the horizonLeaving trouble behind us like cast off garments and shed skinsPinetrees reflected on still lakes like soundwavesas we crashed through the undergrowthWe slept in clearings and drank cold skiesText fell away, then speechWolves could not keep up, even if they'd wantedWe grew lean and slick and we cut the airSpoke in images, scentsand blessed the prey we ran downForgot work, moneyRemebered the roaring silence from beforeFollowing magnetic pathsRan until we understoodEyes flashing, breathing steamOur feet barely touched the earthThen I woke up sweating
Carapace
fissures open, hairlinehundred faces spill outwith gossamer wingsbreaking for daylightindigent city plannersmake their homes insidewhat's left, thorax, shellcarrying their belongingsrush in on sectioned legsbuild unsound structuresgeodesic faceted roomsand pheromonal fountainssteady paced expansionto crackling overflowinclement weatherforestalls reinforcementskittery outbuildingssway within their linesmigrants drawn fromimpossible distanceshore up the numberscollapse
Up The Shattered Hills
carry this with you to keep you safewear this to keep you warmeat this to keep you goingkeep your head downyour powder dryavert your eyesflatten outjump and runavoid falling overkeep moving don't stoptry to keep up with the restkeep your head above the watermay the good lord bless and keep you
Moral Vacation
Steak and whiskey, big cigarsWhores and coke in stolen carsPills and porn and cockfightsBeer and guns with bad sightsDark alleyways and backdoorsWaking up on bathroom floorsGamble, cheat and smuggle dopeThirteen knots in good strong rope
All Fall Down
Sleepy with filtered light and positive ionsFoggy drizzle making diamonds on spiderwebsSummer's lilting echoKids in slickers collecting stonesYou smell the trees like nobody's business when it's damp like thisI stopped working for a minute and the day was so beautiful it affected my motor functions
Kwaidan
Angelic and deadlyGrinning child slung low on her hipLong hair sweeping the graves of her ancestorsTears of liquid flame on alabaster cheekContrapuntal jangling chimes drift behind herTouch the ground with my forehead three timesSerene wailing ghost in the corner of my eye
Stone Baby Notices Time Speeding Up
Lithopaedian heir to a corrosive dynastyNacre concretion in the belly of timeRose marble eyes watch the processaccelerating with glazed disinterestEndless recombining of letters, colours, numbersNo more plateaus, only spikesJolting duality goes unnoticed amidst the crowdBehind the leering camouflage of idiocyForget. Let it slip away, never in life.
Sheen
Head down this road, figures on either sideSky's never big enough, hardpan crumblingSilhouetted wingspan, wide as I am tallAmbient vibrating noise of machinery in the distanceDusk's long fingers playing up the day's backA mile wide bowl in the earth, where the flowersall grow backwards and at an alarming rateDimly lit hospices where the residentshave never met, but are familiarOne's disposition and comportment ward offthe randomized interlopers and kombinatorsHuge reciprocating insects whose intentsare always grainy and sepia tonedThe trees will go on breathing,despite evidence to the contrary
Dissolve
I want to break down.Be with everything all at once.Seep into the groundwater, hang in the air.Slide off my tired bones and float downstream.I will foam at the river's edge.A fine spray at the shoreline.I'll be inert, benign particulate.You'll inhale me without knowing it.But I will catch in the lungs of indecent men.Motes of me will spell out poetry in the sunlight.Spread out into undetectable levels of concentration.Go sub-atomic and prevent unwanted explosions.
Magnetic Poetry, Slow Days at Work#9
slow moon and soft clouds in the red sky aboverun blind drunk in a dirt circlebeer, these dusty boots and I
Fluoride
My legs are growing so fast it hurtsNow I'm too big for all my shirtsI've never had a cavityJust early onset pubertyTopical usage, do not ingestWhy is there so much hair on my chestShouldn't be shaving, just a kidLook what fucking fluoride didIn the morning I pop and creakMy teeth are strong, my joints are weakNow I'll get old really quickFluoride was a dirty trickRapid aging state I'm inBut my corpse will have a toothy grin
Rome(ferocious america is blind and decaying)
Rome is upon us, just south of hereCaesar awaiting the fallToday on their T.V. they pitted man against beastAll box seats at the colliseum, call 'em as we see 'emFight for fossil fuel in the holy landSlightly built Asian manEats hotdogs against a grizzly bearForty dwarves pull a D.C.10 against an elephantElephant wins, little people cheerDown in Rome, just south of hereEating, breeding, without fearDown in Rome, just south of here
Love
Love is a copper-jacketed hunting shellIt enters your chest, begins to swellHappens so sudden it's hard to tellIf you were hit before you fellOne thing I can do withoutThe bigger hole on the way outMy baby was a damn good shotBut the exit wound is all I've gotCentre mass, knocked me downToo many guns in this here town
Gone Away
Don't worry 'bout me, family and friendsGonna see the world before it endsLaying of hands, speaking in tonguesEvolutionary ladder full of broken rungsDrinkin' in the desert, starvin' on the farmGot a public record longer than your armAngel on my left, devil on my rightSomewhere in the middle I stumble through the nightA gentleman, a scholar, poor impulse controlUse a hollowed out skull for a cereal bowlEvery time they think they got me I go and disappearI'm just a sign of the times as the end draws near
February
dirty rusted lines of traincars snaking out across the frozen prairiesthe returned man goes out walking, shirtless in the freezing foghalo of condensed breath, feet hanging in the airbare footprints in the snow without touching downPetrolia Road, Kaliumtaste potash in the back of the throatcoyotes howling in the wind, sleeping under dirty white blanketsarms dangling at my sides, never could sleep long enough
Rebecca
The wind blowing to beat the devilPoor John Hardy looked dishevelledFool me twice, shame on meHe'll push off, drift out to seaThe rail he rode right out of townHappiness, no money downMultiply bird by window paneDivide, subtract, begin againIsaiah 53:7Monkeys don't get into heavenPull the thorn out of his pawJump into his gaping mawYou'll taste so much better rawForget everything you sawI live outside your bedroom doorCurled up on the hardwood floorYou'll think we might have met beforeI can't see you anymore
Dammit, I think I'm a bachelor again
Made the switch back from pink soap to whiteGot the whole bed to myself every nightBut I'm cold when I sleep and there's nobody thereNo sweet smelling skin, no soft fall of hairBut I'll do the dishes when I damn well decide!Want time to myself? I don't have to hideBut the house is so empty, the house is so bigShe was probably right. I'm a self absorbed pig.
Your point being?
Got a headfull of dirt and bugsShifting patterns like persian rugsMissed the punchline of the cosmic jokeNaked in the laundromat flat brokeI think maybe we drove too farScraping angel feathers off the tires of the carLow cabin pressure, metal fatigueGive up lad, you're out of your leagueTime for a change, gonna wash my shirtGot a headfull of bugs and dirt
Burn memory into mePress all the imageswhite hot against thehide of my mindSmell the sound ofcrackling smokeAs it rises off my headSoak this text and set itI will breathe the steamof herbs and tiny bonesTied up with your hairOils, pigment and silver flakeThrow skins over my backand dust into my eyesPaint me into a symbolon the chimney wallMake a necklace of my teethShake my body involuntaryUntil I evaporate, floatingout the window in the hoary airand live in the clock above the door
Last Big Storm
Naked trees like black veins under the purplish skin of tonightSlow drifting snow covering everything over under all of thisQuiet laden white spreading creeping full of mindless designLike watching moss grow in stop motion photographyHardly a car in the road all rivulets of silence
Drift
chimney smoke dragons rising slowinto hanging thermocline shelvesin the alley, ashes, cats and carsyoung people grown in all their dayscrashing through night like glass,like symbolsblack so deep to craze youagainst the burning white outsidemake your head whip back and forthand hanging in the recesses like batsso tangled inside sometimes, so cold
cc
Propel
You get older and the injuries start to pile upThat scar hangs aroundCough keeps coming backResidual layers and theadopted furniture from the year beforeTransmissions get slower in betweenTime speeds up and space gets smallerMost don't see it comingNeither did I
raspberry has very as prairie pies
called home to gloryshe didn't answerraspberry bush had been skeletonizedgone wheeling flockseverywhere feathersraspberries falling out of the skiesstole me a ticketafternoon trainraspberry juice on the railway tiesrode out of townunder the mountainraspberry bush grows wings and flies
react
That momentary sense of disorientationBefore you believe you're right on trackIndulgent and distantHieroglyphics floating in the airMen sorting mail in the ceilingand there's a black robe at the windowThe peculiarities mightn't even be originalIt's the recombination that's in the detailsOnly five true stories the worldThe rest is variationIt must be lonely, recreating yourself each dayor it must be lonely to have to watchNo steady timeBut there's holes you can jump intoLadders to climbWind whistling outside so you knowThe idea of springFolk almost never discern betweenhonesty and gloomor manners and weaknessCinders raining on my pantsBy the glow of porcelain angel night lightsWhile fumes pour out of openingsYou could live the most basic visceral lifeJust responding to synaptic gapsand reflexive inborn desireor[compartmentalize]Existing in the space betweenButane and ethyl are only objectsstrewn around you in semi-circlesExchanging gases and steadinessfor long time and shortAs if you had a clue what time wasor weatherFloor creaking like the ocean lineryou've been dreaming ofSpin the topoffRoll your headand realign
Randy In The Doorway
Met a bum name of Randy standing in a doorwayHe asked for CHANGETold him I had noneOffered him a drink from my flaskTo take the chill off, I said"Damn right it's cold," he said"Lose your job 'cause of a fuckin' cunt?""Well, that's what happened to me!"
Workaday Workaway Walkaway
Graveyard humour in the smokers cornerStaffroom sitcom coffee chatterSmoke my way through the dayand maybe I need to eat so damn muchbecause I hardly ever sleepSubtle jibes and polite fuck yousand no goddamn sugar for coffeeProtocol and decorum are for pansiesI won't deign to worry anymorebecause I hardly ever sleepLooped shop music, recycled airFlakey elitist bubble I bounce offI'm Bill Bixby's retarded janitor,in The Incredible Hulkbecause I hardly ever sleep
Fugue
The body has to know when to fast or when to exceed itWhat chance does it stand when it's reputation precedes itIf your genes won't fit and you just don't quit,keep a separate mind in a bowl.Overfeed it and it floats on it's side,leave it buried in a pile of coal.Watch me do Moriarty and Paradiseat the very same time.I'll write this shit while I'm doing itand it pr'olly won't even rhyme.Well, young man, is it for bestare you ever gonna learn?When you live each day like a vision quest,you're gonna get a chemical burnDon't drown in the stream...........(of consciousness)If life's but a dream............................(merrily)Full moon, paranthetical cloudsIt ain't so bad if you can beat the crowds
Late Alone Flow
Reverse electron spinNeurochemical happenstanceMistranslated syncopationCrashing gently alongStand barefoot in the snowDrinking greener pasturesVariable agents sleeping uprightWaystations at the crossroadsThese snarling spasmodic bifurcated clarinetsCarry the burden decrease the populationInundation thresholdA voiceWhirling stunned and readySoak these guitar strings in saltwaterRelease Fibonacci timebombs left as barbed jokesSimhavaktra's stomping dance has scarred my backBelt of heads disfigured by confusion and viceWe all need distractionPolyhedrous panopticonThese horizons stretched to a shining wireImponderable consequences like mortarWrap us up in thisUnfurling stream of consciousnessNever too tired to swim
Locust Man
Shamble along one arm shorter than the otherFall, get up again, fallStop short of the door, reelKeep going contorted visage ensures exclusionLook over that too high shoulderConfirming what's already knownWear enough coats to blend right on inBounce off the door, straightenCounting sidewalk cracksSpit black invective at your own reflectionMaking pops and clicks in the back of your throatThen start to runCrowds parting like MosesBroadcasting scrambled non-cogenciesWhoever you crash into will simply be absorbed
Unsinkable Mary
Comes in almost every dayI swear she's like, a hundred years oldShe says it's because they had to eat dandilion roots during the depressionCrawled on their hands and knees eating them right out of the groundSays she still does it every summer, that's why she lives so longWonder what her neighbours thinkDon't imagine she gives a damn what they thinkWe should all be so lucky
doldrum
drink until the bass feels like masturbationwatch tall women set down collapsing leather satchelsi'm going blindcount the money in your pocket while you have a conversationit's cold out you fuckers let's burn this place down
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Can Animals Understand Music
Piano concerto, ariaProcreate, forageBreakbeat, sirenCamouflage, predateGuitar solo, staffHibernate, parasitismA capella, stacattoPecking order, grooming
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:55 PM 0 comments
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Cover Of Darkness
Fighting off sleep like wolvesJust one more lineOne more stanzaLost control somehowNow the words are writing meSwept up and overUnder mountainous valleysThis comes shooting down my armsLike an injection in reverseCan't walk the streets withoutseeing my words go by orwatching things turn into poemsIt's easier at night, like writing issomething clandestine or dirtylike fucking, somehow, or stealingBut that's how I like it.Guiltily hammering away at the keysKeeping my mind well enough lubricatedThere's a balance. Fine line to straddleyou could keep it going for hoursif you can keep controlShameful to let something sweet like thatdegenerate into a conversation with myselfLike maybe this just has...
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:38 PM 1 comments
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Peripheral Visions
K-4 class touring at my workThe teachers, white women,have isolated a little black boyfrom one of three groupsNow it's him, eleven white girlsand two white womenHe looks fine to me, but hedoesn't want to pay attentionKeeps trying to walk backover to where the boys areThe women talk to himreally slow like he's dumbBut you can see he's notHe's crouching just on theperiphery when one teachersays to the other,"Do you want me to takehim for a walk?"The glare off of this kidcould've dropped an elephant
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:32 PM 2 comments
Cancer
The eye of this thing rolls toward meWith voracious unfocused intellectDriving inward like the biggest nailIt contracts and presses my chest to cavingWhen it gets in it will take somethingTime, maybe
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:27 PM 0 comments
Drift
chimney smoke dragons rising slowinto hanging thermocline shelvesin the alley, ashes, cats and carsyoung people grown in all their dayscrashing through night like glass,like symbolsblack so deep to craze youagainst the burning white outsidemake your head whip back and forthand hanging in the recesses like batsso tangled inside sometimes, so cold
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:18 AM 0 comments
Monday, February 12, 2007
Winter Owlies
and I's worried about folkfine folk who, like m'selfcouldn't jettison escape pods,fly to timeshares,or didn't enjoy cross country skiingnot enough light yetgotten a touch long fer my likingwhiskey bottle's gotten biggerwhole goddam provinceshould'a been a seasonal farmwhat kook decided this'd bewhere to stayand it were real cold back thenold timers say we've got 'er easyback then a horse drawn buggywith a wood burning stove in itglobal warming deal's not quick enoughfor me, two month nap I thinkis the proper way to go about all this
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 4:19 PM 1 comments
Propel
You get older and the injuries start to pile upThat scar hangs aroundCough keeps coming backResidual layers and theadopted furniture from the year beforeTransmissions get slower in betweenTime speeds up and space gets smallerMost don't see it comingNeither did I
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:08 AM 0 comments
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Throw The T.V. Out The Window
Timba's pimpin' little NellAnna Nicole dead in hotelAsronaut in diapers smellNew Islamoterror cellU.S. fighting drug cartelEnviroment has gone to hellAlas, poor Yorick. I knew him well
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:43 PM 0 comments
Great Grandma Houston
I remember yellow in a hue I haven't seen sinceThe drapes, the sun coming throughMotes of dust in the sunlightCandies in a glass dish on the tableI thought they were sun candiesSweet yellow discs and that's how the sun must tasteShe was so littleI remember
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 12:43 PM 1 comments
Friday, February 09, 2007
raspberry has very as prairie pies
called home to gloryshe didn't answerraspberry bush had been skeletonizedgone wheeling flockseverywhere feathersraspberries falling out of the skiesstole me a ticketafternoon trainraspberry juice on the railway tiesrode out of townunder the mountainraspberry bush grows wings and flies
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 5:32 PM 0 comments
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Headache/This Too Shall Pass
Starts behind my right earGoes arcing acrossthe side of my headStops like a sharp rockhitting me in the templeBrought me down onone knee at work onceBut I'm indestructibleSometimes four, fivetimes in a day it comesBlasting across the insideof my skull like tiny lightningI've had better, I've had worseDon't need a doctor or a nurse
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 5:52 PM 2 comments
Smoking In A Synthetic Living Room With The Smoke Detector Unplugged
Boiling water sets it offWaking up, start to coughFlashpoint, flareBurning hairFell asleepIn too deepSirens farFrom where you areCats are cringingCurtains singeingMolten plasticThis is drasticSprinkler system?Must'a missed 'emExtinguisher?I barely know 'erThick black smokeMake you chokeFlames so highBurn your eyeApartment infernoLiving room Sterno
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:22 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Savour
Let it build upBefore you let it outBeyond reproach...redemptionFuck all the facades 'n rusesBut hold it 'til you can'tBecause when you unload/upload it...
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:18 PM 0 comments
Monday, February 05, 2007
Limewire/I'm A Liar
Here we goHow would you feelLast three daysMy primitive ancestryComing down the mountainTruth comes backThought I heard a rumblingWhat did you do that forLike I told youThat is the questionMama was queen of the jungleYou're from Texas. That's beautiful.Time for us to bug outFishing off DervishBefore that sun goes downIt's just another day
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:45 AM 2 comments
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The Suitman
I was the fedoraThen there was a suitcase for awhileOnce I was the gleam in his left eyeNow I'm the bird on his shoulderTwelve years he's been drawnDrawn from what, I've no ideaOr even drawn to whereComes automaticSometimes wearing a watchA flower in his lapelWay too many fingersGaunt in the cheeksMaybe I'm the bird's song
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:24 AM 0 comments
Friday, February 02, 2007
Laze
My head is your lapHand on your hipLet's have a napWe'll take a tripFreezing outsideRelaxing in hereWeatherman liedLet's stay in, dearPopcorn, showTea and wineWind and snowFeeling fineSpring will comeI could waitKiss me someThis is great
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:24 PM 1 comments
Thursday, February 01, 2007
react
That momentary sense of disorientationBefore you believe you're right on trackIndulgent and distantHieroglyphics floating in the airMen sorting mail in the ceilingand there's a black robe at the windowThe peculiarities mightn't even be originalIt's the recombination that's in the detailsOnly five true stories the worldThe rest is variationIt must be lonely, recreating yourself each dayor it must be lonely to have to watchNo steady timeBut there's holes you can jump intoLadders to climbWind whistling outside so you knowThe idea of springFolk almost never discern betweenhonesty and gloomor manners and weaknessCinders raining on my pantsBy the glow of porcelain angel night lightsWhile fumes pour out of openingsYou could live the most basic visceral lifeJust responding to synaptic gapsand reflexive inborn desireor[compartmentalize]Existing in the space betweenButane and ethyl are only objectsstrewn around you in semi-circlesExchanging gases and steadinessfor long time and shortAs if you had a clue what time wasor weatherFloor creaking like the ocean lineryou've been dreaming ofSpin the topoffRoll your headand realign
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:07 AM 3 comments
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
On A Tear
Drunk construction workers in my parking spotLaughin' n' coughin' so hardI can hear them dyingNice enoughThe dude with the clearer eyes talks to meas the other one pisses on my buildingWednesday night"Yeah, Mark and I are on a tear in Regina!""We just had a big heart to heart and Idon't want anything lost between us.""Whooooo!! Whoooo hoooo!"Stumble, stumble, crash bang boom.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 8:07 PM 1 comments
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Fly In The Face
I want to write words that...Wrap around cornersCrack the pavementSnake through drainsCling to branchesFall down stairsShake off waterEat each otherthat...Hold out hopeClean the streetsMake you shiverCover a distanceTouch soft placesBroach all subjectsChange the weather
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:44 PM 1 comments
What's Wrong With That Boy?
He just can't get right.Up all night long.Tears around herelike a scalded rabbit.He might say anything!And the appetites.Shameless.He's got to get so far outof himself to come back around.And what's with all the books?Who does he think he is, anyway?Always with the jokes.He's a real character, all right.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:34 AM 0 comments
Monday, January 29, 2007
Open
Pour out and swirlBe a vesselNever emptyI will run overContain meRippleTrickleSplashTorrentRageBe placid
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 5:05 PM 0 comments
Friday, January 26, 2007
Wording
For the record, KennethYou found me on a street.Not in the street.I'll be on these streetslong after youRemember that youremembered meand that I don'tremember you
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 8:35 PM 3 comments
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Mauritius
High density housingFlight pathHeavy trafficIce fog rolls inSlows everything downI don't want to worryAbout workmoneyagingcancerprocreationor anythingI'm the sheriff for the kids at my jobThe glint of my badgeKeys jangling like spursCartoonish, maybeBut they remember my name when they come backAnd I don't have to do this foreverIt doesn't even have to feel like forever
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:51 PM 0 comments
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Restraint
Fuck you, spectatorsFuck you, instigatorsFuck you, thieving magpiesYour speculation,like something stuck in your teeth,shows when you smileConsiderable resources were expendedconstructing that smileMy face is on crooked and I've wasted more timeEyes practically glowing redFrom the incindiary rounds in my headThis feeling of being roastedI was dreadfully polite about it, thoughBe your television show and allYour flashing reflections in the morningOn windows, windshields, eyelidsAnd wheeling flocks backed by patina domesHalt the proceedingsThe processionAs my head fell in the basketPitchforks and torchlightBecause I never pay attention to anythingLeast of all,Some late night torso heap with bad musicDay to day must be boringOr else why would you...Have smelled it before I didRed in tooth and clawKeep your isotopes out of my teaI want to be like waterWater always follows itself
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:05 AM 0 comments
Friday, January 19, 2007
Writing On A Napkin
Expired pastrami sandwich.Is this a good idea?But I'm so hungry.Or bored.It's kind of sticky.Does it smell okay?Wait, what does bad pastrami smell like?Does it go around rolling other coldcuts for their condiments?I'll just put more pepper on it.If I was at home, I could see if the cats would eat some first.Ah, fuck it.Worst that'll probably happen is a day off work.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 4:01 PM 1 comments
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Quadrapedia
I want a guttural understanding of the way life soundsIf that can be said to be a goalTo inhale it through both open mouth and flaring nostrilAs though I had a Jacobson's OrganRoll in itRut in itLope through itTear off great chunks and gulp them downRock on my haunches with life dribbling off my chin
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:40 PM 1 comments
Buoyancy/Boy And Sea
This meant more than oxygen.I was Muad'Dib in a stillsuit,inheriting knowledge.And flying under waterwith my father.Could've stayed downthere forever.No walls in the ocean.When you realize youcan still breathe, thereis a kind of freedomthat doesn't come in tanks.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 10:14 AM 1 comments
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Randy In The Doorway
Met a bum name of Randy standing in a doorwayHe asked for CHANGETold him I had noneOffered him a drink from my flaskTo take the chill off, I said"Damn right it's cold," he said"Lose your job 'cause of a fuckin' cunt?""Well, that's what happened to me!"
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:14 PM 1 comments
Workaday Workaway Walkaway
Graveyard humour in the smokers cornerStaffroom sitcom coffee chatterSmoke my way through the dayand maybe I need to eat so damn muchbecause I hardly ever sleepSubtle jibes and polite fuck yousand no goddamn sugar for coffeeProtocol and decorum are for pansiesI won't deign to worry anymorebecause I hardly ever sleepLooped shop music, recycled airFlakey elitist bubble I bounce offI'm Bill Bixby's retarded janitor,in The Incredible Hulkbecause I hardly ever sleep
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 12:36 PM 0 comments
Uniform Pants
Change me from tall to squat and navy blueMake my ass all sweaty and the wind blows right through themThe seam of which is a polyester saw so my guts will fall outThe fly never stays up and the cuffs swish like a gangly sailor,attracting static pubic carpet fibresOne day I will melt these uninformed pants down into a cube of plasticAnd I will use the cube as a paperweight in my office
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 12:31 PM 0 comments
Rhyme For Reason
All of humanity'smoral insanityrooted in vanityall over the planet, see?See the smouldereye of the beholderover your shoulderjust get wiser, never older
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:14 AM 0 comments
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Constancy
I can taste the venom in her voiceCarry this bottle like an infantThe sun explodedThere was a moment you could see it comingOrange shockwaveRippling out like stones on waterI've a simian footHairier than the other and prehensileSo rollick. Cavort.Each man shall eat, drink and work for all of his daysI'll secrete if you absorbPocky cabdriver told me a joke about rottweilers and vaginasI told him I'd even eat the bones and he suddenly dropped me off
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:09 AM 2 comments
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Fugue
The body has to know when to fast or when to exceed itWhat chance does it stand when it's reputation precedes itIf your genes won't fit and you just don't quit,keep a separate mind in a bowl.Overfeed it and it floats on it's side,leave it buried in a pile of coal.Watch me do Moriarty and Paradiseat the very same time.I'll write this shit while I'm doing itand it pr'olly won't even rhyme.Well, young man, is it for bestare you ever gonna learn?When you live each day like a vision quest,you're gonna get a chemical burnDon't drown in the stream...........(of consciousness)If life's but a dream............................(merrily)Full moon, paranthetical cloudsIt ain't so bad if you can beat the crowds
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:12 PM 0 comments
Monday, January 01, 2007
In The Wind
There's werewolves.They'll turn and jump on ya like nuthin'.That moon waxes and the tides shift.Is it gonna be any easier for our kids?Ought seven.How 'bout that?Why, I oughta...Will they excavate this basement a thousand years from now,and invent elaborate scenarios to explain all of this?Gerald and Saddam at once.Oh,and James Brown.Let's have noisemakers and parartroopers and watchthe ball drop over Times Square.Where's the Deus Ex Machina when you need it?And the economy failed.Struggled along taxing carbon,They found new life on jungle plateaus.And Hawking's wrong about colonisation.Feat on the ground.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:16 AM 1 comments
Friday, December 29, 2006
Plains Chases
I never understood human behaviourThis breeding ball like snakes at the barThis shop till you drop and ignore the warI want to get there, and fastWhat we do after that is up to youIf you come early I'll come soberDon't you cry when they swing us by the tailCausing a ruckus in the railroad stationLaying eyes down from these twisting treesPut my mad hat on and CHANGE PLACES
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:58 PM 0 comments
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Thank You
That's how I knew I was back on trackWhen old Tommy started singing from Charles and JackAnd the world began to shine againMy hand was working to break my penThe snow come thick and I didn't careSaw connections shone everywhereWere signposts, warnings and good adviceAll visible through the dark and the iceTake another trip out and back some dayBut right now here's where I'm gonna stayIt's a fine little thing that I did seeThe world didn't move on without meThere's folk that'll probably never knowHell above and Heaven belowWhen your block is broken and your fear is goneAnd you're pretty damn sure that your lines are drawnWe're riding this rock for another yearThis stumbling, crumbling blue green sphere
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:04 PM 1 comments
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Poem With A Title That Doesn't Begin With L
i am herewith everyone and nottherei was thereso were youi saw you theresomething bit mein the crook of my armspot no bigger than a dimethousands of dollars poured into that holegot sickso pale folks looked right through mecouldn't hear the music anymoreat ease at lastthat hardscrabble shuffle of my mortal coilhung uplaid downwhat's the name of this song?
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 8:25 PM 0 comments
Monday, December 18, 2006
Let's Go Round The Bend
Bury me in a cornfieldNo tiny funeral sandwichesOr pulpit sales pitchesCome pour whiskey on me once a yearHave a wakeMe on the tableLay out the good silverCelebrate until I get ripePut me in a wheelbarrowOn the back porchLet me fall up into the skyAnimals will spread my partsWear that skirt I likedWaste no time getting on with things
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 12:52 AM 1 comments
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Looking At You When You're Not Looking
Shake me looseFree me upOpen all these doorsTaller because of youI'd ride out your stormBring me withCould be of useLet me outHold me downTake what you needStay aroundUnless you won'tI can float
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:40 PM 0 comments
Friday, December 08, 2006
Late Alone Flow
Reverse electron spinNeurochemical happenstanceMistranslated syncopationCrashing gently alongStand barefoot in the snowDrinking greener pasturesVariable agents sleeping uprightWaystations at the crossroadsThese snarling spasmodic bifurcated clarinetsCarry the burden decrease the populationInundation thresholdA voiceWhirling stunned and readySoak these guitar strings in saltwaterRelease Fibonacci timebombs left as barbed jokesSimhavaktra's stomping dance has scarred my backBelt of heads disfigured by confusion and viceWe all need distractionPolyhedrous panopticonThese horizons stretched to a shining wireImponderable consequences like mortarWrap us up in thisUnfurling stream of consciousnessNever too tired to swim
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 4:38 PM 0 comments
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Mother Nature's been runnin' since the seventiesShe won't get away that easyWe have ways of making her talkGot to lay the blame somewhereIt's always the parentsWe'll fix thisMoney solves everythingAin't nothin' free anymore
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:25 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
WWIII
Is already happeningDesensitizeIt's okayWe're winningI think.There's been no great reaction against it so someone must beHere, look at sports and celebritiesMaybe a car chase on the newsHave some drinksEarn, spend, consumeIgnore that voice in the back of your headTrust us.There's no reason to be alarmedyet
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:33 AM 1 comments
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Twelve Hours, Eight Minutes
Cloud cover so low you can taste itIce hanging in the airNasty nasty weatherWeather or notOver this the sky's so orangeBundle trundle stumble bumbleBeCold. Sumbitchin' cold
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:32 PM 0 comments
Friday, December 01, 2006
Question
Am I really saving my ass, doing this?Is it just bandaids on a crumbling dam?Or putting it out there consequences be damned.I'll keep writing. I just don't give a fuck, I'm crazy like that.But does anyone wonder if it means anything?Nanosecond before I hit the Publish button, I wonder.Filling up the internets with foolishness.What the hell else would I do?If I shout these things on a crowded street corner,am I still a poet?I don't care if I ever was.Got to do this now, or expect a rupture.You can laugh. Go ahead.I'll write a poem about you laughing at my poem.Some kind of Moebius thing like a house of mirrors where it turns out you're just laughing at yourself inside my poem.Yeah.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:15 PM 1 comments
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Locust Man
Shamble along one arm shorter than the otherFall, get up again, fallStop short of the door, reelKeep going contorted visage ensures exclusionLook over that too high shoulderConfirming what's already knownWear enough coats to blend right on inBounce off the door, straightenCounting sidewalk cracksSpit black invective at your own reflectionMaking pops and clicks in the back of your throatThen start to runCrowds parting like MosesBroadcasting scrambled non-cogenciesWhoever you crash into will simply be absorbed
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:03 PM 0 comments
Monday, November 27, 2006
Arbeitrary
The idea that I could be doing something elseis a stone, sharpening itself in my shoeWhat's this money worth again, as you sellyour life walking around in circlesWas a time you couldn't hold me downI was indestructible and the women all loved meI walked from one end of the highway to the otherBut it was in a straight line going somewhereThe money's alright but I could sleep all dayOr maybe just pick up and run for monthsDidn't care what I ate so happy for anythingEvery couch and floor was the same homeCan't seem to learn that bullshit way of talkingthat gets most anyone through their daysMaybe never gonna run again, stay put behaveWon't stop thinking about it, though
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:36 PM 2 comments
Pony Up
I was a shetland ponyNone too long agoWorking in a coalminePulling skids to and froAfter work, at the pony barI drank my barley popWashed black dust off my muzzleAnd shined my riding cropI went to pony churchI paid my pony duesI rarely ever whickeredAs I sat in pony pewsWhen my pony life was overI had not one complaintIn heaven they had cloverFor the pony patron saint
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 10:33 AM 1 comments
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Unsinkable Mary
Comes in almost every dayI swear she's like, a hundred years oldShe says it's because they had to eat dandilion roots during the depressionCrawled on their hands and knees eating them right out of the groundSays she still does it every summer, that's why she lives so longWonder what her neighbours thinkDon't imagine she gives a damn what they thinkWe should all be so lucky
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:44 PM 1 comments
Verbal Domination
cessationnegationsalvationtemptationsensationvibrationlubricationlibationinebriationdehydrationimitationmutationdestinationdesperationmoderationliberationlevitationcodificationhallucinationresusitationmisinterpretationsurface assimiliation
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:24 PM 0 comments
5 am Truth
And it'll just pour out suddenOne minute small talk, the next hugeWeighted things people drag aroundSolve a whole hell of alot with honesty like that at 5 pm
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:15 PM 0 comments
PAIN
Is a state of mindIs a state of mineIs not a statement of mineState your mind
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:50 AM 0 comments
Jimmy Crack Corn
Got the fixTook my licksHad some kicks that don't existSat in the backOf the bayou shackSlicked my hair back with carrion shellacSaw white rabbitsShake their habitsIf you see something good grab itI'm not crazyYou're just lazyHere's the part where shit gets hazyAnd these mothahfuckin' boots are for stompin', not dancingSequin girls, I'm not sure about thatAlcohol's no excuse for disrespectEveryone is their own doppelganger
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 3:16 AM 1 comments
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Maybe This Is Not A Poem
The multifaithful going by wearing expressions of suretyMy brain is itchy and I'm already sick of holiday muzakLoving the green of cooked garlic after a couple daysThinking of those great hordes of Cabbage Moths from fallThe snow came and turned the evening black and whiteTrouble sleeping again, I want Modafinil so I won't need toJohn Henry Fine Day is gone from here. I just spoke to himI'm feeling tired and brittle lately, my fingertips are soreCarrots do not belong cake, nor pumpkins in pie, zuchinni?
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 7:48 PM 1 comments
Writing
Tool/Toy?Vent-BottleNon Lethal Energy WeaponMakeAmuse your friends and relatives!Encode your madness in easy to swallow capsulesKill time before it kills youCause people to guessVacate your vowelsSpill. The beans, the milk, your guts and paint with them
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:14 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Apex
Tear the membranePass through to where everything is exactly not the sameEven geometry won't quite holdCould you look back through?It's cloudy, I knowYou might not want toNo one can stay here for very longDie of astonishmentSo far from where this startedGo ahead. Don't understandIf it was important they'd teach it in school
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 2:44 PM 0 comments
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Bag Lady
Arms raisedThe light trickled off herLooking up to where clouds made a chapel ceilingPurely roaring silencePalms openThe grass all bent in her directionAnd everything held tight onto its breathWaiting to seeFeet plantedSwirling fumes merged with her hairGround heaved up pushing out stonesAir was thrummingPushed her shopping cart out of the alley,heading for the soup kitchen.
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 1:48 PM 0 comments
Friday, November 17, 2006
Dear Throat Infection,
Back so soon?Gee, I must have a really comfortable throat.There's plenty of room in my lungs if you'd like to invite your in-laws.Did you bring me anything?A manly sounding voice, you say.Oh I love what you've done with the place.The grid of raised texture really pulls it all together.Can I get you anything?I know you didn't like the erythromicin.Maybe I'll shop around a bit.Bleach.Napalm! You'd like napalm, wouldn't you?We'll be having Brillo pads for lunch, and then I'll sing you a little song!
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 11:50 AM 2 comments
doldrum
drink until the bass feels like masturbationwatch tall women set down collapsing leather satchelsi'm going blindcount the money in your pocket while you have a conversationit's cold out you fuckers let's burn this place down
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 10:19 AM 0 comments
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Series #2
PolyesterMonitorCoffeeRadioClockKeysDesk
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 8:17 PM 0 comments
Scorched Paw
Up howling in a shower of sparksTore back into the woodsJaw jutted and grindingAs little mothers shuddered in bedPulling down the stars as it wentGleaming fur stood like broken glassBrooked a stream and drank without stoppingLips curled back at old gods
posted by My Head Is Too Big at 6:39 PM 0 comments
Highku
then I saw one goosein the flock of so manybreak off and go back
Siento
My body was absurdly modified by the time they let me goswivel headsprung legssnap handsone eye smashed inthe other had seen too muchAnd I take nothing for granted, which is a giftthey encased my mind in lucite for meit will always be the samemy love of humanity and its various preoccupationsI always know exactly where I amwhere I'm goingnot everyone can laugh the way I doknowing where I was
I'll Drink To That
Let's get hopped up and make bad decisionsPlay on each other's insecurities till someone breaks a stringHave conversations so heated they should be held away from solventsI'll drink Bukowski under the table, but there's things chittering away in the dark down there
Crescendo
Frost flew off me like exploding plasterA steady rising hum blocked out everythingCleared my throat and a tree cracked in halfMy reflection on fire, I fought for balanceI could hear conversations two towns overFeel the power lines with my hairTried not to point myself at anything fragileMy heart distant cannon fireA swarm of iron filings chased me from the railyardI caused lenticular clouds to formSpent and heaving I fell asleep in a culvertWoke up with a full beard laughing
Discontent
borderlandsover the plainsice chasing themspreading so fastthe road disappearedwood too cold to burneyes began to crystallizeseamless ground and skywinds enough to rend formpeople dreamt in blue and greenthe horses died and just stood therefrozen machinery discarded in their waketime meaningless in the long white countrythe lead group fell and was eaten by those behindshouts fell from throats and shattered on the ground
Not At All Nautical
He was a writerA lover, no fighterWho married a sea captain's daughterWent down offshoreHis books were no moreThey all got soaked in saltwaterThe words ran togetherIn the maritime weatherThe story slid off of the pagesBut rather than sinkIn an ocean of inkHe decided to drink it in stagesHe drank chapter oneBy the time he was doneHe was green around the gillsThen came chapter twoAnd before he was throughCame a shuddering bout of the chillsNo chapter threeBy this time you seeHe'd lost his taste for the oceanHis sea legs were goneLike the boat he'd been onFrom drinking this saline ink potionThe sea gave a bellowDisgorged our poor fellowOnto a soft spit of sandSo now I am thinkingThat instead of sinkingI'll stick to writing on land
No-Face Rears His Nondescript Head
No-Face dissolved back into the crowdHaving just had enough of the matterThe matter was hard to define and loudAnd was mostly the same idle chatterNo-Face appeared at the back of the roomIt's lonely, dissolved and not anywherePut on a long coat, shuffled out of the gloomBack because there weren't really any thereNo-Face got hungry, once in a whileSo he went out to eat conversationsGarnished with frowns, the occasional smileAnd tentative, sweet hesitationsNo-Face got cold or the stories got oldSo he took off the coat and he vanishedBack into nowhere with the tales they toldTo save for when he was famishedNo-Face's coat was ratty and wornThe pockets all eaten by fliesThe cuffs and the collar were old and tornBut it still made a handy disguiseNo-Face can only be seen in the coatThe rest of the time he's transparentTake it off him and away he would floatOnce the misdirection became apparentNo-Face lurks in crowded barsAnd busy meeting placesAlways searching wide and farFor people with real faces
Tomfoolery
Ran my watch through the washing machineTrying to tell time by the stains on my jeansHead works too hard, I'm always tiredDaydreaming at work, I might get firedUncertain times are a-changin', I hearFill me with smoke then douse me in beerSummer is gone but our love will remainOkay I stole that one from Tom Waits' brainSituation normal, all status quoBatten down hatches, prepare for snowPardon, I'm rambling and not making senseThe grass isn't greener when you straddle the fenceYou just get an ass full of splinters and paintI write what I feel like. Chaucer I ain't.
Why, yes sir. Right this way."
Walk stilted on juddery automatic legsHear a creak as your face smilesDon't come unhinged and fly open exposedHope the momentum carries you throughTry to resist shaking loose of this tediumNot falling off but outright leapingAnd say to yourself: "Well, at least..."
And We Ran
All the way to the horizonLeaving trouble behind us like cast off garments and shed skinsPinetrees reflected on still lakes like soundwavesas we crashed through the undergrowthWe slept in clearings and drank cold skiesText fell away, then speechWolves could not keep up, even if they'd wantedWe grew lean and slick and we cut the airSpoke in images, scentsand blessed the prey we ran downForgot work, moneyRemebered the roaring silence from beforeFollowing magnetic pathsRan until we understoodEyes flashing, breathing steamOur feet barely touched the earthThen I woke up sweating
Carapace
fissures open, hairlinehundred faces spill outwith gossamer wingsbreaking for daylightindigent city plannersmake their homes insidewhat's left, thorax, shellcarrying their belongingsrush in on sectioned legsbuild unsound structuresgeodesic faceted roomsand pheromonal fountainssteady paced expansionto crackling overflowinclement weatherforestalls reinforcementskittery outbuildingssway within their linesmigrants drawn fromimpossible distanceshore up the numberscollapse
Up The Shattered Hills
carry this with you to keep you safewear this to keep you warmeat this to keep you goingkeep your head downyour powder dryavert your eyesflatten outjump and runavoid falling overkeep moving don't stoptry to keep up with the restkeep your head above the watermay the good lord bless and keep you
Moral Vacation
Steak and whiskey, big cigarsWhores and coke in stolen carsPills and porn and cockfightsBeer and guns with bad sightsDark alleyways and backdoorsWaking up on bathroom floorsGamble, cheat and smuggle dopeThirteen knots in good strong rope
All Fall Down
Sleepy with filtered light and positive ionsFoggy drizzle making diamonds on spiderwebsSummer's lilting echoKids in slickers collecting stonesYou smell the trees like nobody's business when it's damp like thisI stopped working for a minute and the day was so beautiful it affected my motor functions
Kwaidan
Angelic and deadlyGrinning child slung low on her hipLong hair sweeping the graves of her ancestorsTears of liquid flame on alabaster cheekContrapuntal jangling chimes drift behind herTouch the ground with my forehead three timesSerene wailing ghost in the corner of my eye
Stone Baby Notices Time Speeding Up
Lithopaedian heir to a corrosive dynastyNacre concretion in the belly of timeRose marble eyes watch the processaccelerating with glazed disinterestEndless recombining of letters, colours, numbersNo more plateaus, only spikesJolting duality goes unnoticed amidst the crowdBehind the leering camouflage of idiocyForget. Let it slip away, never in life.
Sheen
Head down this road, figures on either sideSky's never big enough, hardpan crumblingSilhouetted wingspan, wide as I am tallAmbient vibrating noise of machinery in the distanceDusk's long fingers playing up the day's backA mile wide bowl in the earth, where the flowersall grow backwards and at an alarming rateDimly lit hospices where the residentshave never met, but are familiarOne's disposition and comportment ward offthe randomized interlopers and kombinatorsHuge reciprocating insects whose intentsare always grainy and sepia tonedThe trees will go on breathing,despite evidence to the contrary
Dissolve
I want to break down.Be with everything all at once.Seep into the groundwater, hang in the air.Slide off my tired bones and float downstream.I will foam at the river's edge.A fine spray at the shoreline.I'll be inert, benign particulate.You'll inhale me without knowing it.But I will catch in the lungs of indecent men.Motes of me will spell out poetry in the sunlight.Spread out into undetectable levels of concentration.Go sub-atomic and prevent unwanted explosions.
Magnetic Poetry, Slow Days at Work#9
slow moon and soft clouds in the red sky aboverun blind drunk in a dirt circlebeer, these dusty boots and I
Fluoride
My legs are growing so fast it hurtsNow I'm too big for all my shirtsI've never had a cavityJust early onset pubertyTopical usage, do not ingestWhy is there so much hair on my chestShouldn't be shaving, just a kidLook what fucking fluoride didIn the morning I pop and creakMy teeth are strong, my joints are weakNow I'll get old really quickFluoride was a dirty trickRapid aging state I'm inBut my corpse will have a toothy grin
Rome(ferocious america is blind and decaying)
Rome is upon us, just south of hereCaesar awaiting the fallToday on their T.V. they pitted man against beastAll box seats at the colliseum, call 'em as we see 'emFight for fossil fuel in the holy landSlightly built Asian manEats hotdogs against a grizzly bearForty dwarves pull a D.C.10 against an elephantElephant wins, little people cheerDown in Rome, just south of hereEating, breeding, without fearDown in Rome, just south of here
Love
Love is a copper-jacketed hunting shellIt enters your chest, begins to swellHappens so sudden it's hard to tellIf you were hit before you fellOne thing I can do withoutThe bigger hole on the way outMy baby was a damn good shotBut the exit wound is all I've gotCentre mass, knocked me downToo many guns in this here town
Gone Away
Don't worry 'bout me, family and friendsGonna see the world before it endsLaying of hands, speaking in tonguesEvolutionary ladder full of broken rungsDrinkin' in the desert, starvin' on the farmGot a public record longer than your armAngel on my left, devil on my rightSomewhere in the middle I stumble through the nightA gentleman, a scholar, poor impulse controlUse a hollowed out skull for a cereal bowlEvery time they think they got me I go and disappearI'm just a sign of the times as the end draws near
February
dirty rusted lines of traincars snaking out across the frozen prairiesthe returned man goes out walking, shirtless in the freezing foghalo of condensed breath, feet hanging in the airbare footprints in the snow without touching downPetrolia Road, Kaliumtaste potash in the back of the throatcoyotes howling in the wind, sleeping under dirty white blanketsarms dangling at my sides, never could sleep long enough
Rebecca
The wind blowing to beat the devilPoor John Hardy looked dishevelledFool me twice, shame on meHe'll push off, drift out to seaThe rail he rode right out of townHappiness, no money downMultiply bird by window paneDivide, subtract, begin againIsaiah 53:7Monkeys don't get into heavenPull the thorn out of his pawJump into his gaping mawYou'll taste so much better rawForget everything you sawI live outside your bedroom doorCurled up on the hardwood floorYou'll think we might have met beforeI can't see you anymore
Dammit, I think I'm a bachelor again
Made the switch back from pink soap to whiteGot the whole bed to myself every nightBut I'm cold when I sleep and there's nobody thereNo sweet smelling skin, no soft fall of hairBut I'll do the dishes when I damn well decide!Want time to myself? I don't have to hideBut the house is so empty, the house is so bigShe was probably right. I'm a self absorbed pig.
Your point being?
Got a headfull of dirt and bugsShifting patterns like persian rugsMissed the punchline of the cosmic jokeNaked in the laundromat flat brokeI think maybe we drove too farScraping angel feathers off the tires of the carLow cabin pressure, metal fatigueGive up lad, you're out of your leagueTime for a change, gonna wash my shirtGot a headfull of bugs and dirt
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
come thursday
and I began to realize what I could be in for if they actually came home.
I might be even more alone with them than I had been without them.
I'd be living with a son who could be taken away at the drop of a hat,
and with a woman I might never be able to share even the most inconsequential information with for fear she find some way to use it against me.
the original abuses would seem like a vacation compared to how it could be when they came back.
as I became more and more cognizant of these new possibilities, and more convinced that it was all my doing, I grew to hate myself more than I realized possible.
and seeing as I couldn't pinpoint when the trouble really started, I became unable to remember not hating myself.
I was still able to compartmentalize this enough to go to work, but everything I saw reminded me of it somehow.
everything I thought I believed was fading and stuttering like a bad radio signal.
if I was being destroyed, was I being destroyed in order to be remade, or just to be left that way forever?
I felt constantly on the verge of smashing everything within arm's reach but too tired to actually do it.
there's a thrumming numbness in my arms and legs and a hungry fullness in my abdomen.
the only time I feel physically close to normal is when I'm lying very still and holding my breath.
my lips and eyes seem to be vibrating but when I see my reflection, they're still.
it's paralyzing to wish you never met the only woman you ever really loved, indescribable to be nostalgic for the time before your child was born.
I can't trust my own mind anymore than I can trust her.
so, I wait.
wouldn't you?
I might be even more alone with them than I had been without them.
I'd be living with a son who could be taken away at the drop of a hat,
and with a woman I might never be able to share even the most inconsequential information with for fear she find some way to use it against me.
the original abuses would seem like a vacation compared to how it could be when they came back.
as I became more and more cognizant of these new possibilities, and more convinced that it was all my doing, I grew to hate myself more than I realized possible.
and seeing as I couldn't pinpoint when the trouble really started, I became unable to remember not hating myself.
I was still able to compartmentalize this enough to go to work, but everything I saw reminded me of it somehow.
everything I thought I believed was fading and stuttering like a bad radio signal.
if I was being destroyed, was I being destroyed in order to be remade, or just to be left that way forever?
I felt constantly on the verge of smashing everything within arm's reach but too tired to actually do it.
there's a thrumming numbness in my arms and legs and a hungry fullness in my abdomen.
the only time I feel physically close to normal is when I'm lying very still and holding my breath.
my lips and eyes seem to be vibrating but when I see my reflection, they're still.
it's paralyzing to wish you never met the only woman you ever really loved, indescribable to be nostalgic for the time before your child was born.
I can't trust my own mind anymore than I can trust her.
so, I wait.
wouldn't you?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Superior Daze
clouds're like a chain of mountains
out there
s'trange, lovely morning
where ever' thing looks painted on
for once happy that time...
this mourning,
is this slow
that fog receding
buildings seem to melt
in and out of existence
that ice fog
does the trick of causing
the refinery to appear offline
how high would we need to be
for complete silence
from the audience
10 stories?
fifteen?
out there
s'trange, lovely morning
where ever' thing looks painted on
for once happy that time...
this mourning,
is this slow
that fog receding
buildings seem to melt
in and out of existence
that ice fog
does the trick of causing
the refinery to appear offline
how high would we need to be
for complete silence
from the audience
10 stories?
fifteen?
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Hope and Blame
he's fallen down a rabbit hole
his mother is looking at me
as though I should've known
cashing scripts from a croaker in Cowtown
his father looks like a movie star
all suffering in his housecoat
and accent
my friend
a man who remembers when I was his friend
before he apparently couldn't remember anything
anymore
is now a terror to his poor parents
I try to tell them what I think
but god knows I'm no help
and I start to wonder if I should just
turn away.
his mother is looking at me
as though I should've known
cashing scripts from a croaker in Cowtown
his father looks like a movie star
all suffering in his housecoat
and accent
my friend
a man who remembers when I was his friend
before he apparently couldn't remember anything
anymore
is now a terror to his poor parents
I try to tell them what I think
but god knows I'm no help
and I start to wonder if I should just
turn away.
Friday, February 27, 2009
old. (30)
it startled me.
those white hairs popping up on people I knew from grade school.
there were some in my beard.
we were getting heavier.
or thinner.
worst were the ones I saw seldom.
radical change, it seemed.
those white hairs popping up on people I knew from grade school.
there were some in my beard.
we were getting heavier.
or thinner.
worst were the ones I saw seldom.
radical change, it seemed.
their faces had changed so much
and sometimes it was hours later
I recognized their eyes.
this was all too soon, I thought.
and if I could see it happening to them,
it must be happening to me.
I tried looking in the mirror,
but I kept throwing out my chest,
standing up straighter,
turning to my better profile.
what if I really was looking older?
I thought I'd noticed a change
in the way young women
smiled at me.
dear god.
these kids with mohawks these days?
they're starting to look like idiots!
didn't I used to have a haircut like that?
and those lines on my face.
no matter how rested I was,
there they were.
often I felt creaky,
like a car with frozen springs.
so sudden, all of it.
you watch more carefully than I did,
my son.
try to see when this all starts
so you avoid it.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
buddha head says:
don't talk about what you don't know about.
go hungry, but don't stay that way if you can help it.
assume no one else thinks like you and act accordingly.
pleasure can be simulated, misery can not.
it doesn't cost anything to be polite.
get kicked in the balls at least once.
try and learn to use silence.
you can be robbed of your possessions, but never your experiences.
go crazy, but come back soon.
great sex is better than frequent sex.
recognize idiots and stand out of their way.
recognize fools and stay close enough to watch.
there is never enough time.
go hungry, but don't stay that way if you can help it.
assume no one else thinks like you and act accordingly.
pleasure can be simulated, misery can not.
it doesn't cost anything to be polite.
get kicked in the balls at least once.
try and learn to use silence.
you can be robbed of your possessions, but never your experiences.
go crazy, but come back soon.
great sex is better than frequent sex.
recognize idiots and stand out of their way.
recognize fools and stay close enough to watch.
there is never enough time.
Friday, February 20, 2009
broke
got coffee and a paper down to
$2.75
if I bring my own cup
lunch,
$1.75
skip the sandwich
first time I felt nervous like this
short month, anyway
hands spin on the clock
while
the days fall off the calendar
$2.75
if I bring my own cup
lunch,
$1.75
skip the sandwich
first time I felt nervous like this
short month, anyway
hands spin on the clock
while
the days fall off the calendar
Hoary Morning/Family Day
webs of frost all over
ghost town out here
nobody working
but the feds
twilight zone streets
pins dropping everywhere
darker even
than a regular monday
ride the centre line
whole city stopped
except us
boy's birthday today
drive and dream
I'm still in bed
with his mother
and him
ghost town out here
nobody working
but the feds
twilight zone streets
pins dropping everywhere
darker even
than a regular monday
ride the centre line
whole city stopped
except us
boy's birthday today
drive and dream
I'm still in bed
with his mother
and him
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
work (past the ports)
sit on my left nut all day
and say the same thing over and over again
the money's not great but it's better than it used to be
80% of the time I can tell what people are going to do
before they say it
music from the radio,
always just out of the reach of my hearing
I get to think a lot
but sometimes it's easier not to
people don't seem to like it when you
tell them what they're going to do
before they do it
there are pretty women,
sometimes not so pretty women,
and sometimes I speculate on what their genitals look like
I make the little ones laugh and
the old ones smile
and vice versa
while my back hurts and my hair grows
I mentally recite a list of dead actors
to assure myself my mind is still intact...
wonder if there's a beer in the fridge
eat the same lunch in the same order every day
except on Fridays when I get the breakfast special
and say the same thing over and over again
the money's not great but it's better than it used to be
80% of the time I can tell what people are going to do
before they say it
music from the radio,
always just out of the reach of my hearing
I get to think a lot
but sometimes it's easier not to
people don't seem to like it when you
tell them what they're going to do
before they do it
there are pretty women,
sometimes not so pretty women,
and sometimes I speculate on what their genitals look like
I make the little ones laugh and
the old ones smile
and vice versa
while my back hurts and my hair grows
I mentally recite a list of dead actors
to assure myself my mind is still intact...
wonder if there's a beer in the fridge
eat the same lunch in the same order every day
except on Fridays when I get the breakfast special
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Dan And Me
his ma got too much gas during a leg operation
so she couldn't watch us very close
we drank up all the grenadine
and played floor hockey downstairs
with a tennis ball soaked in ronsonal
we were always lighting things on fire
smashing bullets with pliers and hammers
3doz eggs on the back of Ryan's parents' house
the whole hood ornament thing
bookended that girl in the easement
he was catatonic the last time I saw him
his mother still says hi
so she couldn't watch us very close
we drank up all the grenadine
and played floor hockey downstairs
with a tennis ball soaked in ronsonal
we were always lighting things on fire
smashing bullets with pliers and hammers
3doz eggs on the back of Ryan's parents' house
the whole hood ornament thing
bookended that girl in the easement
he was catatonic the last time I saw him
his mother still says hi
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
I'm A Bad Man
I run this one stop sign on my way to work every morning
take pleasure in the misfortunes of others as long as they're not too bad
spit on the sidewalk and I don't always wash my hands
judge people by their appearances
stole from WalMart by accident once and just took off when I realized it
totally ignoring Student Loans and paying EI very slowly
sometimes I light my cigarettes in doorways
don't give two shits about Gaza
drink on weekdays
fart in elevators
and I killed a guy in back of a bar this one time
or maybe saw that on TV
point being, you ought not to fuck with me, motherfucker.
take pleasure in the misfortunes of others as long as they're not too bad
spit on the sidewalk and I don't always wash my hands
judge people by their appearances
stole from WalMart by accident once and just took off when I realized it
totally ignoring Student Loans and paying EI very slowly
sometimes I light my cigarettes in doorways
don't give two shits about Gaza
drink on weekdays
fart in elevators
and I killed a guy in back of a bar this one time
or maybe saw that on TV
point being, you ought not to fuck with me, motherfucker.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Abject Terror At The Carwash
oh god dear lord
what the bloody hell is that?
my father is battling some kind of horrible
spraying hose-beast
it's so steamy in here and loud
man, is it ever loud
that waxy horrible frozen hose-beast
is trying to kill my dad and steal our car
I'm strapped into this horrible moulded plastic seat
thrusting against my nylon restraints,
bawling at the top of my lungs but,
nobody else in here seems scared of it
I assume that that is part of its terrible power
probably terrorizes babies like me at gas stations
all over the country
I HATE THAT THING!
it circles our car and seems especially loud
when it goes past my window
my dad seems to be laughing
but I can't hear him over the monstrous roar
of that terrible waxy frozen hateful hose-beast.
can't escape it
can't believe my Dad paid $3 for this!
IT STOPPPED...
oh thank god,
it stopped
a p parent ly my father
has bested the abomination
Obama Nation?
never you mind
the radio must've been on
I'm a godamned baby fer chrissakes!
what do I know from wordplay?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Word_play,
bitches.
Fuck it. I'm out.
what the bloody hell is that?
my father is battling some kind of horrible
spraying hose-beast
it's so steamy in here and loud
man, is it ever loud
that waxy horrible frozen hose-beast
is trying to kill my dad and steal our car
I'm strapped into this horrible moulded plastic seat
thrusting against my nylon restraints,
bawling at the top of my lungs but,
nobody else in here seems scared of it
I assume that that is part of its terrible power
probably terrorizes babies like me at gas stations
all over the country
I HATE THAT THING!
it circles our car and seems especially loud
when it goes past my window
my dad seems to be laughing
but I can't hear him over the monstrous roar
of that terrible waxy frozen hateful hose-beast.
can't escape it
can't believe my Dad paid $3 for this!
IT STOPPPED...
oh thank god,
it stopped
a p parent ly my father
has bested the abomination
Obama Nation?
never you mind
the radio must've been on
I'm a godamned baby fer chrissakes!
what do I know from wordplay?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Word_play,
bitches.
Fuck it. I'm out.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
A Fiction, Brought On By The Stress Of The Season
The increasing frequency of those little shocks
when I touched something metal
didn't strike me as out of the ordinary.
When the static from the radio
began to sync up with
my movements,
I told myself it was coincidence.
The brand new light bulbs blew
when I flipped the switch
and I complained about the
shoddy manufacturer.
I'll admit that all these things
together were making me a little
curious.
I whistled at a dying, flickering
fluorescent light and brought
it back up to full intensity.
I changed pitch and
was able to make the brightness
go up and down.
When I started to think I was controlling traffic lights
with my mind, I became distressed.
I sneezed and the elevator I was riding in shuddered to a halt.
I briefly considered telling somebody,
My wife, my mother, some bum in the street.
But at the same time I relished this secret thing I had going on.
Maybe I was taking too many vitamins like that fellow from Albemuth.
When the vending machine blew up
I turned and ran.
I figured nobody coulda seen it.
It was mid morning on some back road, no truckers, even.
This was nothing new.
I'd experienced electrical phenomena before.
Back when we were kids we'd get all jacked up
on cough medicine.
Actifed DM had a peculiar way of dissociation
that made everybody think they were contolling the weather
but this just crept up on me
so subtly.
I wasn't getting high anymore.
Hadn't even thought about it.
But here it was,
Clear as day.
When I shook people's hands
I could feel what they were about to feel.
Gave some fool directions and tasted what he was going to have for lunch.
There was no physical sensation
to let me know it was coming on,
some days I just got up and knew
exactly what you were thinking.
My nose starting bleeding
when I brought that plane down,
by accident of course.
I done led them fuckin' hikers
to the bodies of their friends
just by reading the paper.
and you thought I was going crazy.
You thought I needed attention.
I thought you needed tension.
I'm glad you were in attendance.
when I touched something metal
didn't strike me as out of the ordinary.
When the static from the radio
began to sync up with
my movements,
I told myself it was coincidence.
The brand new light bulbs blew
when I flipped the switch
and I complained about the
shoddy manufacturer.
I'll admit that all these things
together were making me a little
curious.
I whistled at a dying, flickering
fluorescent light and brought
it back up to full intensity.
I changed pitch and
was able to make the brightness
go up and down.
When I started to think I was controlling traffic lights
with my mind, I became distressed.
I sneezed and the elevator I was riding in shuddered to a halt.
I briefly considered telling somebody,
My wife, my mother, some bum in the street.
But at the same time I relished this secret thing I had going on.
Maybe I was taking too many vitamins like that fellow from Albemuth.
When the vending machine blew up
I turned and ran.
I figured nobody coulda seen it.
It was mid morning on some back road, no truckers, even.
This was nothing new.
I'd experienced electrical phenomena before.
Back when we were kids we'd get all jacked up
on cough medicine.
Actifed DM had a peculiar way of dissociation
that made everybody think they were contolling the weather
but this just crept up on me
so subtly.
I wasn't getting high anymore.
Hadn't even thought about it.
But here it was,
Clear as day.
When I shook people's hands
I could feel what they were about to feel.
Gave some fool directions and tasted what he was going to have for lunch.
There was no physical sensation
to let me know it was coming on,
some days I just got up and knew
exactly what you were thinking.
My nose starting bleeding
when I brought that plane down,
by accident of course.
I done led them fuckin' hikers
to the bodies of their friends
just by reading the paper.
and you thought I was going crazy.
You thought I needed attention.
I thought you needed tension.
I'm glad you were in attendance.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Dear Client
You ask me a question and then ignore me
when I tell you the answer.
You ask me the question again
and then ignore me
when I tell you the answer again.
I begin to suspect you're asking
not because you want to know
but
because you can.
You rephrase the question,
ignore my answer,
and then turn and ask someone else.
In my mind's eye,
I rush across the room
and push you through the window.
As you fall five stories,
I shout the answer after you,
but you hit the pavement
before you can ask again.
when I tell you the answer.
You ask me the question again
and then ignore me
when I tell you the answer again.
I begin to suspect you're asking
not because you want to know
but
because you can.
You rephrase the question,
ignore my answer,
and then turn and ask someone else.
In my mind's eye,
I rush across the room
and push you through the window.
As you fall five stories,
I shout the answer after you,
but you hit the pavement
before you can ask again.
Friday, November 28, 2008
women, as I understand it
there's just three kinds of beauty out there in the terrible world
you'll laugh and think I'm too old
but...
some of the women take it for granted
they'll do it on purpose and will expect you to behave a certain way
in their favour
there's resentful beauties
they can't help the way they look and they're sick and fucking tired
of fool men goggling at them
they're stupid hot but they hate it and you oughta hate yourself for looking
you asshole
then you have the indifferent drop dead super women
they're a special breed, my son
they're the ones who're pretty in the morning
and even more so at lunch
you'll know them by the simple fact that it don't matter what they're wearing
they could be dressed in wet paper sacks and you'd only have eyes for them
you can be a friend with a woman like that
completely overwhelmed by her beauty, you'd have no other choice
you'll laugh and think I'm too old
but...
some of the women take it for granted
they'll do it on purpose and will expect you to behave a certain way
in their favour
there's resentful beauties
they can't help the way they look and they're sick and fucking tired
of fool men goggling at them
they're stupid hot but they hate it and you oughta hate yourself for looking
you asshole
then you have the indifferent drop dead super women
they're a special breed, my son
they're the ones who're pretty in the morning
and even more so at lunch
you'll know them by the simple fact that it don't matter what they're wearing
they could be dressed in wet paper sacks and you'd only have eyes for them
you can be a friend with a woman like that
completely overwhelmed by her beauty, you'd have no other choice
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The Wait
only two more days
just 16 more hours
eight hours is really only two sets of 4
an hour's only a dozen 5 minute increments
49 more minutes
just half of 1hr to go
still 23min left
six hundred and ninety 2nds
1sec=1hr
24hrs=7days
seven days times 24hr
= one hundred and sixty eight
three hundred and sixty degrees
three hundred and sixty 5 days
bear with me, I'm no mathemagician
just 16 more hours
eight hours is really only two sets of 4
an hour's only a dozen 5 minute increments
49 more minutes
just half of 1hr to go
still 23min left
six hundred and ninety 2nds
1sec=1hr
24hrs=7days
seven days times 24hr
= one hundred and sixty eight
three hundred and sixty degrees
three hundred and sixty 5 days
bear with me, I'm no mathemagician
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Polyester Sausage
belt and tie, choking me off at both ends.
pretty sure I could do a better job in a bloodstained loincloth.
I'd be just as polite and comfortable, too.
probably settle for relief of either link of pressure.
you likely aren't aware of the suffocation that goes on
when you're trapped in a uniform past 15yrs of age.
it ain't pretty, lemme tell ya that right now.
I'm pretty sure you can see steam when I tug at my collar.
for the record, I've had far worse jobs.
but I was young, then, and uniforms fit me better.
pretty sure I could do a better job in a bloodstained loincloth.
I'd be just as polite and comfortable, too.
probably settle for relief of either link of pressure.
you likely aren't aware of the suffocation that goes on
when you're trapped in a uniform past 15yrs of age.
it ain't pretty, lemme tell ya that right now.
I'm pretty sure you can see steam when I tug at my collar.
for the record, I've had far worse jobs.
but I was young, then, and uniforms fit me better.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I'm king of the fruit flies
emanating from their beercan cities
they bring me information
from the rest of the house
those wild provinces far away from my desk
perfect replicating genes
convinced they've evolved enough
to receive my prophecies
"Thou shalt not fly in front of the monitor"
and such
do my bidding
insofar as replicating and avoiding the screen
emanating from their beercan cities
they bring me information
from the rest of the house
those wild provinces far away from my desk
perfect replicating genes
convinced they've evolved enough
to receive my prophecies
"Thou shalt not fly in front of the monitor"
and such
do my bidding
insofar as replicating and avoiding the screen
Monday, September 8, 2008
I thought I was a painter until I started writing
I thought I was a writer until I started drinking
I thought I understood people until I met some
I thought it was your turn to pay
I thought this was what you wanted
I thought you thought we were happy
I thougt I coud still type
I thought I was your type
I thought that the word thought looked really pretty fucking funny if I typed it over and over again
I thought I was a writer until I started drinking
I thought I understood people until I met some
I thought it was your turn to pay
I thought this was what you wanted
I thought you thought we were happy
I thougt I coud still type
I thought I was your type
I thought that the word thought looked really pretty fucking funny if I typed it over and over again
Friday, August 15, 2008
I was going to write this great poem.
then I was just so happy that I'd had
an urge to write a great poem.
the afternoon light was falling perfectly
and there were beautiful women walking by.
I'd been eating good food and enjoying a fine book.
for a good forty five minutes there wasn't nothing bothering me.
I just felt just fine.
and I told myself, you should write a great poem about this.
and I said to myself, self, I'll never have time to,
and I probably won't remember anyway.
then I was just so happy that I'd had
an urge to write a great poem.
the afternoon light was falling perfectly
and there were beautiful women walking by.
I'd been eating good food and enjoying a fine book.
for a good forty five minutes there wasn't nothing bothering me.
I just felt just fine.
and I told myself, you should write a great poem about this.
and I said to myself, self, I'll never have time to,
and I probably won't remember anyway.
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