reminded me of a time when i was at college and my car ran out of gas... after a week I got some gas, put it in and started to drive down the hill to the entrance of the campus which was a four way stop...my brakes didn't work, they went right to the floor and at that moment a motorcycle cop was driving through(did I tell you this already?)and I missed him... literally by inches... if he had been a few seconds slower I would have mowed right over him, probably killing him because I had an old heavy 62 ford fairlane and the suspension was pretty low... I never really thought about it but one day I wondered what my life would have been like if I had run him over...I probably would have been convicted of manslaughter...

flulike symptoms
heat and uncanny
awareness of skin sensation
to smoke or not to smoke
in this heat
dried up
phone vibrating urgently
the window is open but the sound
of a lawnmower
beats against my head
dying in the suburbs

memorizing
post androidian
malfeasance
i squirrel away two
bushels
and forage amongst
the blighted orange and lemon trees
across the hall
a large
vesper
of antinomial proportions
is watching a video
and eating popcorn messily

aluminum cans

his shirt
was torn
the wound
bled through his fingers
she said "oh, you're wounded".
he said. "oh it's just my heart."

reaching through
the broken artifice
his vexed countenance
persuaded the masses to
be calm
and find their voice
to reach beyond
the battered ramparts
to the arms
of the children
the lie down now sweet dear

a summer of July's

The breakdown of
meaningful discourse
served on a bed of spinach

smokind
puffink
burner

feeling
fracked
fucked
and
fore lorn
ambient
temperature
blue bottle ass
cold
searching
for
something
and coming
up
empty

spent
sent
shent
snuffed
puffed
duft
damn
sam
ham
pea
she
we

japanese for because

becasu I love you
becasu the music is pounding
becasu I'm drunk
becasu you're beautiful

not becasu
just becasu

shit what does it mean?

why am I laying here in bed typing on the computer at 8:04 am on a saturday morning in July. I should be watching cartoons.

It doesn't seem like July. None of the months seem any different anymore. I guess that's San Francisco. Foggy and cold even, especially, in the middle of summer. Genius, pure genius.

Downstairs is getting his bump bump on already. Who plays that shit at this hour? His housemate said his music has a lot of *ounce* to it. And yep, it does. And she lives in the same apartment. haha he's starting to boom. weird. I guess he just doesn't think about other people. it sounds like some crap rave music from the nineties. fucking toad.

zoinks,
like a ping pong ball
bouncing down the sidewalk
i'm wary
of awry
no left turn unstoned
I've passed a marker,
a milestone,
a warning in stone, do not build
below this point.