Sunday, December 28, 2014

and a century of cracked marble eyes
wrapped in thistles and wysteria
a 67 Pontiac and 
Pierro Della Francesca
stack of flapjacks with butter
and Maple syrup
and coffee
and Giotto
Padua
Mantova
Verona
but the faces of Pierro
like some modern comic book artist

cooking bacon in the morning and life is okay
just like Maude in the 1978 Star Wars Christmas special...
"Don't I have enough aggravation?!"
as the castoff aspersions clothed themselves in untidy misgivings
and the chief of remembrances barricaded an unruly deux et machina
the twisted body of the fourteenth murder victim
was found in a 73 Cabriolet parked outside the Jacksonville Marina Dairy Queen

a century of unforgiven lies did little to assuage the cold unremittant torpor
that was her affection


down the sunlight

down the cement sidewalk

Flamenco guitarist wearing two plairs of glasses

"Villa-Lobos wrote thousands of pieces"


Saturday, December 27, 2014

demon mog
traveling in storied discretion
indiscretionally,
obdurately perverse
(pickle)
 I just want to ride my motorsicyle
I 've been Arlo'd I've been Simon & Garfunkeled
I been Monkee'd
I'm roaming the sidewalk celebrities
at Grauman's Chinese
and waiting for Sunset Boulevard
organ B3 Hammond
destinations

Saturday, November 08, 2014

blowing smoke at my brain
living in a fog bank
the sunlight streams in

creature of the barricades
Brooklyn-ized turd filled talkers
I'm laying in bed

oh for the exclamations!

Monday, October 20, 2014

oh the mischief of
1 am
if you're hungry
but you don't want to wake anyone
you can just eat the drapes
except in the morning
when you're asleep
the sun will get you


the tyranny of boredom
invades the dust the mote the righteous brothers
until you sing
to keep the showerhead from cracking
to keep the tow trucks from towing
to keep the marathons
from waking everybody at 6 fucking am
blow that horn again asshole
do it blow it
instead of towing my car why dont they just lay down in front of it and let me drive over them? we'll call it therapy 

Sunday, October 19, 2014

creep
creep that

 don't be afraid
 the      rain is coming


 don't try

      to forget is not a remedy
snipe  and


roo da loo
 trolly rolly riddle days
the guppa guppas are riding

in Seattle somewhere
across the moribund privata
delayed due to an ice sheet the size of Michigan
a fractal sense of news readiness
vertiginous pandering
as the sense of
one's self
disappears

spiral jetty misanthrope
from the far reaches of
unregaled personas
the divestiture of pantloads
and willful ignorance masked
as apolitical groundswell

The General decided the best action to take would be to procrastinate.
He lit a cigar from his collection of Don Julios captured with a colonel at Veracruz.
"These things aren't half bad."
The southern front was in shambles.
The reports were increasingly negative.
Both sides had taken a battering in Hurricane Azalea.
And the rain had not let up.
He fired off a memo.
'Teams of  250 on 15 day leave consecutively with military flights and board on the Big Island.'
'That should put some starch back in their shirts'.
He changed the channel and eased back into his chair.

as I backed the
trucelent era
of insecurity
festered with bong smoke
and a battered sense of self esteem
at least I had a 63 Ford Fairlane
and a cassette of Blood on the Tracks
creature formus mcvoidus
terra incognita tryclopterus
a disaster of cat stevens proportions
the inability to tie one's shoes while walking
"and you better not try that in Bishop"
as the Linda st
times decay and moral sway
of the unforgiven
and forgotten
a weekend in hiding
Mrs Robinson hey hey hey
looking out bay windows
a rat crawls out from under the neighbors garage door
magazines on the table
guitar with a broken string
playing the blues
with lightning hopkins
"oh that cadillac"

Saturday, October 18, 2014

trombone skinned
barium mind
acid flex
trial worshipper
mulatto joe
sound sheriff
meat is the key
broad bottom
wide river
seeps in like your mama
great cat bridge
a dog like a mouth
stone left unturned
patched jeans
stag mag sundays
a floral hypnosis
stages of addiction
trim of aluminum siding
that's all folks!


Sunday, October 12, 2014

I forgot the memory of broken pistol-whipping
the careless void of your endless armpit conversations
you, who graduated summa cum laude, were now arguing with a mechanic
about motor oil
the sun had worn down the maps
to a faded blanched yellow
blue gatorade was the answer for almost everything
that and camel lights
I remember the night you spent an hour looking for a lighter
and then you ran down Calvary street
screaming "I hate you"
good times.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

In the morning we hotwired the volvo
and siphoned gas from a car parked on the road
the dog came with us
we had no way of knowing when or if George was coming back
we found plenty of canned goods
and we took a share
the house had been in fine condition
we were there for three days and no one showed up
we took the back route
through the hills
and the dog was happy

Thursday, September 25, 2014

The Wars of Tecate had
left boulders and buildings
across roads
and San Onofre
split the sky
with torn aching
cries
we breathed smoke from the burning refineries
and stole a motor boat
went up river
to george's house on the hill
but everyone was gone
except a hungry dog
who we fed and then he fell asleep
when i woke up to
the sound of dribbling rain and smoked too many cigarettes
got dressed and
went to Oakland
worked eight hours
calling Tennessee
came home and ate Ethiopian at a restaurant
and a glass of red wine
came back home
and it is still hot
and still air
and no rain

as the
spent
weakened
boring
snoozefest
m'fuckers
stare
at the ocean
you order a
a hero
with oil
and peppers
and
a
diet coke
the car
is smotheringly
hot
and the
ac
is
not broken 

Saturday, September 20, 2014

I have no memory of
what I am
the cells reproduce
I am drying out (if only)
maybe it will rain
I captured the foamy essence of your soul
it soaped and steamed
slipped in the tub
now it's towelling off

"towel off you sod!"
binary motion in flowers
candid ellipses through social media
epistolary reoccurences of carniverous cephalopods

I've fromed the frigate
frigging
frackers
frealz

Thursday, September 18, 2014

crisp hunger while smoking in bed
wearing underpants and the window is open
there is no breeze
I'm hungry
charting the flox
furgettin the finer furry
freaks
meandering
in rythmn guitar chops
the paint was peeling but
it wasn't a bad day
70 degrees at 3 am
i had to go
i couldn't listen to it anymore
they're ruining my life with their blather
i'll look at pictures
and think about leaves

Sunday, September 14, 2014

cough expat
reminder down the try
 harooom
biggity
my       stop
                  set
point
collide

haha beers maybe are

in order blue
button down
 
but sweating
in the sun and selling mangoes
sliced (in bags)
sweet sticky

and delicious


mozambique messiah
of the misery
a million legacies and a thousand hungry voices
the dying are not heard they just die
and the tv stations bark like dogs
forensic footballers falling and fading
heads bite the dust but the money rolls in
are you with us captain
the streams of our youth sullied with sardonic empire
sullied like the cane beating the slave
this not thought out
we are all slave dealers 

Saturday, September 06, 2014

flar
'

flar         flar
flappity

flar
'

flar         flar

jupiter

flar
'

flar         flar

fucking

flar
'

flar         flar

ice cream

flar
'

flar         flar

tomorrow

flar
'

flar         flar
flar
'

flar         flar

Monday, September 01, 2014

from the breaker
he saw a storm coming
the fire he built had gone out and
probably a good thing
he had a weeks worth of food
and zero ammunition
the cold would come on tonight and he had to find someplace dry
he checked the snooper for orders and nothing
their response was 10-96 Lay low
he had hoped to be picked up and transported to Central
but there was a major action in the lower central coast
and every carrier was busy freighting
he found an old barn and bedded down for the night when heard the rain start to come down
the hay was comfortable and the barn was dry
he feel asleep listening to the heavy rain


checking the coordinates on his snooper
Rafael sensed he was being watched
then he saw it
a Miasma Drone hovering at about 800 ft
it could be on a standard recon or it could be hunting
being so small they had to get fairly close to make a kill
he turned on his scrambler to block any microwave location capabilities
and he set the trap - a palmsized "jumper" with electromagnetic targeting
he set it for six seconds and started to run
drones like to hunt on the run
the jumper went off as the drone started firing
a .23 caliber bullet tore along Rafael's calf as he rolled into the cover of a cement divider
the jumper blew half the drone to pieces and the rest landed about thirty feet from Rafael
the machine gun was still firing into the ground
the operator had turned on the speaker and was laughing and cursing Rafael
in a dialect that sounded like Mamean 
he fired one shot and put out the speaker
"fuck you wingnut"
He sprayed cureskin on the wound and headed to the rendezvous.
and then again time moved in mysterious ways
seemingly backwards on a glance across the room
but no, it was just a shift in perspective
General Bosephus was reading a copy
of Mexico City Blues (242 Choruses) that he had found lying at
the bottom of the bombed out bunker of enemy officers quarters
he had also found a green plastic toy pistol that shot sparks when he pulled the trigger
Occassionally he would raise the pistol and fire
time passed backwards again as
he read




Sunday, August 31, 2014

As the riffle of time was forgotten
the Tecate wars expanded
A river of blood had flowed on the internet
but in Visalia it was still bone dry
Arnold searched the abandoned trailer and found a six pack
of Budweiser under a bombed out refrigerator
he also found a three lb bag of Doritos
"JACKPOT"
He stuffed both into his rucksack and headed up the dry creek bed



Monday, August 18, 2014

The papers wanted to know. What was the rogue beast? was he the morgue beast?!
Did it sneak up behind the times? Did it (he?) find time
to carry out the waylaid plans of newbie redneck senators?
Did the legion of parables aid (HIM?HER? them?) ?

black eyed and mustachioed the morgue beast smiled like new car smell
the morgue beast loved to eat Spaghetti Bolognese in North Beach
the morgue beast spread thin mints along the sidewalk once
the morgue beast kept a steady pace when being followed
the morgue beast owned a squirrel who had once been the president of a small country in Central America I think Paraguay

The Legion of Parables offices were located in a non-descript Richmond district apartment whose former owner sold pot out of
The Legion of Parables had several voices to offer, all undecipherable some more so than others
The Legion of Parables used silent conversation to make unwanted guests uncomfortable
The Legion of Parables read Hemingway every day!
The Legion of Parables created time on a Saturday when no one was watching tv
The Legion of Parables quest was the complete annihilation of analogy
The Legion of Parables ....
 to be continued...

the morgue beast listened but did not hear- he was like that
the morgue beast capsized on a frozen eddy of time
the morgue beast knew a thousand rhymes
the morgue beast wore a jewish coat- not anti zionist
the morgue beast kept a few old warped LP's in the trunk of his car
the morgue beast once threw sugar cubes at cats near the vatican
the morgue beast once lived in Alphabet city with his girlfriend's mother

The Legion of Parables had a little sister named Alice
Alice was born in Indiana but was taken from her transient parents at a young age
she was placed in foster care with a family of meerkats living under the trash packaging units outside Racine, Wisconson
Alice became a wise but sneaky child always adhering to a known path
Alice was wary of unfamiliar objects
Alice became a commercial photographer and made quite a good living in Racine shooting
pictures of garbage disposals and laundry boxes


across the river is a house
across the river lives a mouse
across the river is the town
cross the river you will drown

over the mountain is a house
over the mountain lives a mouse
over the mountain is the town
climb the mountain you will fall down




Wednesday, July 30, 2014

night sleepy beautiful dark indoors in doors
lights outside quiet and motorcycle roar dull hum
of what, wind? ocean? cars ? dull hum city of lonely night
with walls books and dharma bums cigarette smoke
and cheddar cheese fruit flies round the apple cider vinegar
pharma bums meditating medicating in the sunlight way
of walls and cars but
   night

  yes

        the night 
it's okay it embraces the bedclothes even though you sweat too much
and i wish it were cold with the window open smoking in bed with one light
no bugs no birds scratching sometimes rats outside? that's what they said
and bats in the trees i don't believe it
spiders maybe yes

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

d'aacord du box
de mac

n

cheese

le powder
sticks

to the fork

an jet

shoots all over
when

opened


an eruption

of powdery

cheese salt



big

        Moon


 BOOM



buy the bottle
wrap the trap



big MOON


broom

beat the witches
with the handle


in a marble
     clappity clappity

bejeweled automobile

wearing heels to underwear
(skimp)
Adding pages
to your blog
 can be
 a great
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to organize content - like ‘About me’


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 To make

                                 managing


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we

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tab in

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dashboard

to make it

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           like



something



you’re already familiar




with:

managing

posts.
you should occassionally
check
snooze
blort
blarg

solipsistic
ferengi

beehive bed bug
bereavement benefits

on the warp drive

farmland futures
freaking out at walstupfergen
drinking frackware frackenjuice
freakin frilthy

give me the vote and i'll give you the business
sign on the the line which is twaddled

beachfront bore-ifics
go to tj's
get booze

you will not die
in the sand of
stupidity


hey ho
too much salt
yuck







Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Its a far cry so don't be so stubborn
and sunburned, your shirt is on the floor electric yellow and burning blue
these three eyes of Far India and in the valley of the Khalpa try and and we'll try

we'll get some black tea

     and you bury your writing

   over
 and
over

    you buy some water

but it's on sale
free water    

                            
  but it's okay for you
    the train is here
we can go


oh sparked a reminder
and threw it out the
  "window"
            did you


see        that

cripes
what kind of hat
          was he wearing
              drink that wine
                  you dribbled
                       on your shirt
                           oh excuse me

bleated sheep are racing
to the forefront
                cowcycle riding
                       old ladies
                            embarrasing the offspring
                                   " get off that cowcycle!"
                                          " hahaha weeeeeeeeee"

jeez loueeeeez
i've been de-pantsed
was that a bomb going off?
        follow the cyclical imbrosure
embroglio?
imbature?
his lips formed the forward pass
scrreeeeech jazz bap
i don't like it - i prefer singin
                          some times its okay
    with a glass of mint tea
   but the sun will wear you down
                it's not Morrocco anymore
                      it's more like San Diego
                          with drunk engineers
                                wearing sneakers



from the essence; and kick the ball
pass it here
kick me if I'm wrong
but we passed it
             "justib time "
" bibbler in a black suit"
"maresy dotesy christmas leaves!"
fuck New York Cityyay

Monday, July 21, 2014

a tourniquet applied
to staunch the sleep
that leaked out in
every direction
at some point the light
would slowly
work its way across the wall
a gradual opening in the
mind

Sunday, July 20, 2014

trying,
toward the phrase,
in bright sunlight,
with sunglasses,
A song is played,
a scratchy old record.
From under the eaves
see
a dead girl laid
on a basket
of apples
the bicycle broke
on a hill
near the bay
under the sky
the wind blew
her hat across
the parking lot
at Walgreen's
pharmacy
me morrows past
scant review of fol de rah
thee thou thyme and ergot
false passage to the demonview
Encased in Marble
like the hand of a statue
prim to the leaves and vines
entwined and unravelling
through a den of forgotten
mythologies
...not finished?


Saturday, July 19, 2014

i was the race that left no doubt
i was the stream that could do without
i was the time that everyone had
i was the arms that were broken bad

time was the friend of a lost soul
time was the spoon in the cereal bowl
time was the enemy of *snide* regard
time was shakespeare ya know the bard

born is the sun on a moonlit day
born are the words that people won't say
born is the rock that shines in night
born is the sky that sleeps tonight

ryhmey ryhmey rhymey ryhme
for someone else not now forgotten

Sunday, July 06, 2014

feeling bereft of
anything
the shell that reality spit out
when it was devoured by technology
the bees gave up and died
we didn't care
we had lost the knowledge
that nature matters
and so it came to pass
that we would learn anew
our actions have consequences
deficient in a propensity
for armor
waxed in aluminum cans
and hydraulic lifts
a polka dot dress
was found behind several
old tires

the echo of Cochise
hit the high mountains
at sundown
it was still blazing hot
and I'd lost a good deal of blood
my arm was a mess

I would have to make time tonight
because
tomorrow would be too late



manatorally
discumbrevulated
late sunday evening

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

one day
the water frees us the next it entraps
ostensibly we are made of it
fortunately
but we gamble
with dirt
traitors to the moisture
with string theory
and trips to the bathroom
and car door handles
if you're young and good looking well
thats one thing
but don't feed me the vapid drink of thoughts
i don't need rainwater and grain alcohol
I'm not worried about communists
          if you read the lines
          you will not worry
          water may be your mistress
          so she won't drown you
          but she might hold you under
          for a bit


craydaddle amerigo
 pass bifocaled turtles in shells
painted with
fighter bomber pin up girls
oh the west indies
sacred home to boucaneers
the leather hides
stacked below decks
rancho de amerigo
sinner and cattle rancher
120,000 acres
two hundred thousand head
chapped hands
and broken rifle stock
looking for a cup of coffee
in the cold wind morning
off the delta
the faraday experiments
landed with out belief
comatose and ambiguous
not knowing what they were
something on the telly
but more like a meringue for breakfast

Monday, June 30, 2014

the conversation was thrown into the river
by a black-eyed son of a bitch
whose breath was bad
his mother sat in the car
and watched

across the narrow stream a black bear ambled into the deep grass

Lloyd Crimson sat in his trailer and drank Mickey Big Mouths
he had a collection of baseball cards from the early nineties
some kid had written on the Ken Griffey jr card in ballpoint pen the name Lloyd

Lloyd's girlfriend was working at the Alaska Bear Beer & Liquor

the black-eyed son of a bitch bought Old Crow there 

Sunday, June 29, 2014

finagle your hijinks somewhere else
 lover of fellini-esque drug addled ramifications
expurged, redundant
seemingly topical yet vaguely obscene
obtuse and obdurate
beseeching the mesmerized with
glass spoons
your fate is your wisdom
your curse the daylight
practice until the needle melts
let the keys be inked
with a pound of flesh
payment for what you owe
big time



you were my friend
the cigarette ash fell on my shirt
I stayed up too late last night
you were my friend

I had a trove of broken wingnuts
I stayed too late last night
the asparagus was overcooked
a beautiful girl accosted me on the street

the coats were in the back seat
when they broke the window
the tapedeck was bolted to the floor
they left the homemade dylan tapes

the man on the beach in Sayulito had his hand down his pants
we went to a different bar
when the owner said "What man?"
"That's my brother!"


Tuesday, June 24, 2014

1.the moonwhistle bargain
caught a long goodbye
his converse were thrown off the pier
by a drunk fisherman
so he walked home barefoot

2. all things end
some for a reason
most for a reason
telephone calls sometimes help
depending on who is called

3. do converse float?
he thought about this for awhile
and then went back to his book
outside the sun was going down

4.his golf game went to hell
actually he didn't have a golf game
but he had promised his buddy to play golf for his buddy's bachelor party
unfortunately it rained and everyone backed out except the two of them
they each had a golf cart so they got stoned and and tried to spin out
at the tenth hole it really started to come down so they gave up
and went to to the clubhouse for calamari and tom collinses

5.  

katie died
hanging on a thread
the sun shines
beware the jabberwock
and mint tea
downstairs the girls are laughing
outside the wind is blowing
call the doctor
get prescriptions refilled
vaccuum the carpet
make sure the car starts

Monday, June 23, 2014

Down
/////movie sense//////
where are you tonight?

feeling the cement between the sheets
cine //////// file
file under Godard

watch for the oval
change the reel


down movie sense night
/////////////
you're asleep at the dream
lights flickering like stars

the cane swings hard
the body rolls down the dusty embankment
the gun fires
the phone rings
brrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnggggg

////////////////

a french horn plays obligato
a cello joins in
the sound of a door closing
footsteps of sidewalk cement
a woman screams
tires squeal as the car flees
into the foggy night
the obligato
/////////////////
mirror mirror on your eyes
in Stockton they filmed
man with no eyes
sometimes nothing is a real cool hand
mirror mirror
in your eyes
take it off Dragline
taking it off here boss
down down down
i won't backslide
i won't backsass
I gotta a confession to make kid
I never shot anybody
maybe we should go to Bolivia
South America
los banditos gringos
where are your badges
if you men are deputies you should have badges
Morons. I've got morons on my team.
They won't attack us going down the mountain because we don't have the payroll

Did you ever hear tell of Sweet Betsy from Pike,
Who crossed the wide mountains with her lover Ike,
Two yoke of cattle, a large yeller dog,
A tall Shanghai rooster, and a one-spotted hog


neural decay
half life of aluminum
halfway to the pepsi life
indicores of drex/manatee
the steering wheel is sticky
its a fiat
by decree
aneurism blues
cax/pollination
young women downstairs
awoken by green bean
foray at 4 am
stills


death kreeps in
about the eyes
your not wearing sunglasses
self/pomo
boxing shade/ows
and cheer/ios


across =
the polemic pie eyed 44444
seems like
reel
keep the river to the east
sound the depth
of fragile yes album
peen hammer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
yours truly





the jaw shua tree
biggirty
buying boxes of fruit
near james dean death sign
silver ring
says know more
says shes naught
says lets go




ace slected /
ngff
the rowed
moves down
stihl de frozen face
ambigooey
looks like an escort to the gallows
wan fellow
soaked in rain
on a blue sky morning
your back is covered
the spots have diminished
two soldiers hold swords overhead
the marriage of the innocents
on an island off the coast of
Rhode Island

Sunday, June 08, 2014


grassed with envy
gassed with Henri
colonial style
on the 9th arrondisement
"I think there's a bakery there now."

https://soundcloud.com/dtalks-1/down-to-the-record-store



cetaceous cretins
"he's retarded"
on BART
pulling to Embarcadero
and walking with an adderall gait
sf gait
"reading the news"
but no pedicab for you
not tonight

it was like
all the tremors
the sirens
the park stories
it was raining again
the western ideal
turning to sand
and mottled reflections
while the sand spills out of
a billion coke bottles
and your mirrored sunglasses
we can go back to get what was
left behind at the beer stand
by the waterfall




the burlesque
was some nudity
stockings and stuff like that
he came all the way from san jose
I know somebody who knows somebody who lives there
actually a couple people
ac country
land of vehicles

moo moo go go bee bee
rifle

flying high in the friendly skies

smoke a bowl

I got this



I couldn't expect the sun to shine all the time, but I did ya know it's like when you're watching a baseball game on tv and you can hear the announcer's voice from the kitchen and then the cat comes running in because you opened a can and now it's meowing and there's no beer

is this real
are you the only one here
her hair was a nice brown color
I never eat that
try it again
why did you say that
crime doesn't pay by check
the cat went outside
haha you're not wearing it
wtf?


Friday, June 06, 2014

sitting in bed
smoking and looking at old watches
repainted faces
in India
somewhat sloppy
what the hell
I should be sleeping


Thursday, June 05, 2014

He told me his dad owned a propeller factory in LA and he didn't want to work there so he moved to San Francisco because he wanted to be a writer. He was kind of an asshole. He had this weird habit of clearing his throat under his breath or giggling to himself A LOT and then sort of brushing it off, oh nothing, nothing heee heee hee ha hah , no really nothing, cough, cough  ahem heee hee. He wrote stupid stories about things that didn't seem to be real but really were just stupid and not very well written either. Although he did a reading at the open mic at Babarian about bridges and how "you probably haven't heard the news yet but it was announced today that the Japanese government has bought the Golden Gate Bridge and is going to dis-assemble it and then reassemble it in Tokyo. They will build a much more functional and sturdy, but boring, bridge in it's place...etc etc."  People started to get shitty "What the fuck are youtalking about ??? IS THIS REAL??!! Then hetook the bridge thing and was just rambling about "what are bridges really?, are there bridges between all of us, who makes the bridges, what types of bridges do people have between each other ? suspension bridges? draw bridges.." and then people realized he'd been fucking with them and their spoken word Babar medicated depression alcoholic poetry scene had had enough of mister smarmy and he kind of sequed back to his seat giggling, heh heh he haaaa haa cough and then it was back to the regulars of the open mic with their most recent poems about whatever thelatest world news was but seen through the angry and confused, depressed vale of tears, medication, and canned tall boy malt liquors. 
crap crap crap
dont

fuck
w
the endless
 eyeballs
of history

talking women
are the
reason
we can even smile anymore

leave the trees
naked
like a monkey
smoking buddha

pile the clothes into the back seat
careful
don't break an axle

we'll never get out of
here


giant cans of tomatoes
and thirty packs of cappellini

a hundred bottles of Chianti
it's like we
invaded Italy
again only this
time
it's Modoc county

the trails are covered in cow manure
and there are spotted salamanders 
in the water

the bull deer
pissed on your shorts,
stomped them and dragged
them in the dirt
you thought they were mine
"hey look what they did to your shorts!"
"those are your shorts."
"Haha, FUCKERS!"

after we dropped acid I couldn't see you
you disappeared into the landscape
rock
rock rock
water
where's Pete?

"I'm right HERE!"
"Oh, What the.. I totally did not see you."

Then the dog knocked all your shit into the lake trying to get out of the freezing water.
Haha  your glasses are at the bottom somewheredon't panic it's not deeplet the water settle
sun was shining right on them
later we caught fish and cooked them with bacon fat
and couscous
I got drunk and Pete smoked weed

the deer were already wandering into the camp
fuckers




Here lies the untold
memory
of the fall
decidedly unambiguous
and smoking Marlboro reds
Watching television in the humid New Jersey
evening
blowing the smoke out the window
getting drunk to forget the heat
passed out and he's still talking
he never shuts up
the dogs are barking at someone
and one of the dogs just left a trail of piss on the
floor
I'm going to find an air conditioned movie
I don't care what it is
maybe Nicholas Cage
or Tom Cruise who
gives a fuck as long as they have
Junior Mints and air conditioning 

Tuesday, June 03, 2014

dropped
embattlements
ravaged and "torn"
So sweet
the song of the
sworn and
willful
don't forget
Al Capone
was here
be the April Showers you want to see on the Earth
steadily
climbing
   climbing
       climbing
to where?
oh hell
don't worry about it!






Sunday, April 27, 2014

Strange. Remora. She was so remora/The remora fell and was damaged/
There will be no feasts until Remora/
Tomorrow? No, remora.
tired/is a
hateful reminder
bug bites/
and cigarettes
overflow
seemingly books
upon which
I store
my harrassment
grand times
alluded/ hazey
the bar stool
decals
and sauerkraut

Saturday, April 26, 2014

i've forgotten 
more than I ever learned
Kurosawa scene
no. 73
hull no. senility
try to cape cod it
and shoot 
in the woods
somehow you 
captured it 
Forget Ilfochrome
those days are gone sadly
past the expiration
like yesterday
I would/be tried
 and tied
fit to lie
on my face
beware the hair
that eats at 
your brain
its not really there 
just like this train/sausage factory
pundits are spared
the travails of my broken suitcase
and my camera case
is heavy
you're ok, right
we're ok, right
i'm gonna go
get a sandwich
and an ice cold beverage
maybe Fresca

the bats/
like /
measured
deathscapades
spinning in ice
like a protein
removed and 
spun into spiders 
silk
I haven't cared/ for less
in so long /a time
that 
you/could 
care less
 
theirs/wrinkles now around
yore/eyes
are open 
and make me think 
of tears
I 've cared less
 
tweedle dee/and 
tweedle/dumb 
isn't it 
how we cry
 
 

cross 
the street
like a lady 
and get/run down
by a large hedgehog/try 
to 

forget 
on the fifth floor

go get 
some black bean chili
ten years 
since they 
brought it / to you
use no /know not /star trek/brace for the fall
imbued solitude/nude/like brancusi
except/it seems /accept/ redeems/renewed
ocean of ocean/bristol channel cutter/hull no.73/senility
tries/ and tries/ a seive/a sign/ simple times
tried a ways/baked goods/homemade oreos /leave a donation
across/ the sea/ the arctic north/remington sewing machine
who'll buy?/the labels/ the pens are mighty/ but the paper/ is wet
we'll run/ and ramble/forget college/you're better off/ slinging cheeseburgers
banfry
barked
and ballyhooed
yer the mark
the cream
of Times Square
egg cream
wet dream
in an airstream
grand canyon style
like 
shit on a stick
and call it a brick
build a highway
to Dubai
fly fly fly
airs be riled
im biting yer leg
your shoes are beautiful
and the carpet is sighing
im highing
and fiving
and sensemilla drying
park the car on a star
and go into a bar
send letter to
mo better
and fretter fretter fretter
buh bye


Friday, April 25, 2014

wait
its not my haircut
dont wait
its not worth it
hey
i'm talking to you
or not
fuck it whatever
try to be the
asshole that doesn't
something something something
i've got a new lease on life
but the monthly payments are killing me
haha funny
not what you think
i have a shirt
with a big hole in it

for my head


Poetry sucks
you can count
on that
go down
break the windows
lean over an old refrigerator
roll that shit
and then back slide
tumble and feel the concrete
scrape your palms
you're a fucking loser




Thursday, April 24, 2014

MAP NOTEBOOK

Miles

tap tap tap
    scream
sativa
  insolence
bravely
tap tap
tapping
to hold them
   together
echoes of
Mexico's
smells
the cobblestones
are slippery
her hand is
not a scorpion
MAP NOTEBOOK

black
as a
Mexican
  whore
 and dressed
in perfume
    oh dee
co loan
smoke is
in the skin
and pores
large as
a small
breadbox-
waiting for La Cena and
Jamaica
(Hah- Mike -ah)
   he says
so I like to
fuck with him
and play
 stupid; it makes
me feel
smarter
MAP NOTEBOOK

hot
fucking
fahking
he would say
  sun
hello where are you ...
from...how long...
where are you...
never once
did they get ...
oh once but
I was playing
him like a
steelhead trout
before I reeled in my cobblestones
and walked back
up the hill

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

MAP NOTEBOOK


  cancer
  spreads
downward
through the ranks
opening coca cola
cans which no longer
have pull tabs, outlawed
long ago though occassionally
one sees one rusting in
a pathway or field and
thinks, like the discovery of
an arrowhead, aha, an
artifact!
MAP NOTEBOOK


precious few
remedies work
any longer; chamomile,
Bushmills, Thelonious Monk 
MAP NOTEBOOK


digging in the ground
foraging, I hear
German voices and am
surprised to see two
young women searching through
the underbrush
poking with sticks
and laughing
one stops and carefully
picks from the ground a
mushroom, from which
she shakes the dirt and
carefully places it in
her basket 

MAP NOTEBOOK



"nothing can be
saved" brass tacks
and envelopes, mirrors
peeling, dust everywhere
you are tomorrow
today is death
on the road a man walks
in search of meaning
a car does not
see him
MAP NOTEBOOK


Try as I might
I still have
to walk up Steiner
and see Alamo
Square past the bus
shelter and some new
advertisement that
always makes me look
even though
I don't want to
MAP NOTEBOOK


There's no breadth to
these days they're
little walk up tenements
housing families cooking
oil rags and wearing
dried pears and peaches
looking in the mirror
and saying my don't we
look smart 
MAP NOTEBOOK

I was
blankly staring out
the window
   and my electric
radio was playing
some lost tune to
the endowment of the arts, he
                                said
don't be pretentious you
could be a college professor
if you learned to sing
                                but
my omelette was nearly
burnt, orange juice had not
been delivered
              Saul keeps a thirteen
book set of the practices of sea
shell sexuality in his motor home
          he's learning
to survive on a budget 
MAP NOTEBOOK

much scribbble
scribble out


Trying to be
something
besides that something
like walking (waking?) or not
I'm not sure 
coffee and
  Pinot Grigio I extoll
its virtues hermeneutically
expiring towards
a broken vista, transmorgrified
anthropormorphic rondalays
conjugate, ?
"it's a bitch" but what
are those guys doing in the
backyard- "it's a disease,
have some chocolate."
MAP NOTEBOOK

Like a log in
the dam
suddenly the phone
won't stop ringing
outside men are
sawing and pushing
wheelbarrows and
I'm getting slightly annoyed
  I don't even know
who Mayakovsky is
  The faces change
but they stay
  the same

MAP NOTEBOOK

Newt Gingrich
says I'm a man
and I know how to
survive
  hunting giraffes;
  women get infections
That's why they cant
be in combat- foxholes
the hotbeds of infectious
growth, that's why
MAP NOTEBOOK

The cronies
of Washington D.C.
are still echoing
chamber music of
Operation Rescue
requiems; card carrying
members of the fetus protection
program- the FBI is
watching your womb - they
plead for death, it is preferable to torture but
we support  them- freedom
fighters applying electricity
to breasts
and labia
don't worry, don't
laugh
you won't disappear

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

MAP NOTEBOOK

I'll have another
cigarette for breakfast
and peruse the want ads
of movie stars & baseball
on the radio
   cigarette ashes on the carpet
and a torn chocolate wrapper
two round stones and a
pot pipe
   I stayed up till 3 o'clock
last night watching a movie

about young women imprisoned
and tortured by some fiendish
bald headed asian warlord
MAP NOTEBOOK

Whoa
let us hold
sway with
a pontificate pony
up the backside with
him- is the pope
catholic-natch
it's a remote tendril-
time specs anonymous
colonies breeding-
Roman Catholic time
smashing my cable
TV- I am enterprising
decentraized- I have
no vision- this epoch
quartermaster- it's a
war of words with
guns & chemical infusions
it was a sand bug-
an arachnid that's given
you that disease- not
our own Saddam destroyers
milk of our mother- USA's -
breast
MAP NOTEBOOK

Sally worked
all night long
in a dimestore
phone booth
she couldn't go
home
there was no home
to go to
her boyfriend's thrown in
jail and she's got two
black eyes- he had all
the money she said- that
bastard-
oh Sally you're ok
don't let it slip away
Tennessee was no
place to be abused
she stole some money
sold some drugs and
she got loose
Thought she'd try her
luck in the land of
plenty
MAP NOTEBOOK (last page)

on the deserted
playground of my
desire
there's a plastic jungle
jim (gym)
I don't know his last
name or what he's doing
there- he says he's a swinger.
I have no time for fun
& games
There's a plastic jungle gym
in the parking lot - it's
painted yellow- it sits
in a large puddle - from
a recent rainstorm- someone
stole my bicycle- I
have no place to go today
the rain is coming again
dark clouds have slipped between
the sun &  me- I'll turn on
the heat and read a book
tomorrow is another
day

Monday, April 14, 2014

do not feign sorrow
thy weepeth and yet no dew
the morn is falsity
and beareth no truth
hark
thy tears
on alligator wings
fly to my warnings
red hands
and cold feet
the sky portends gloom
yet nay
hot mead for the tykes
brasses, tankards and jim
we shall partake of something
stronger
and then go our ways

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Harold dreamt he was in the dungeon
at the bottom of giant
ancient tower
24 hours a day they
played
Mozart
and fed him chablis and gruyere
at dawn
a one eyed hunchback
brought the morning paper
and a spiced latte



"you can pay more for it if you want, it's a free country."

and the dust landed
moon dust
on the childrens heads
their eyes
were watching
the glittering light
when
the dissonance singers
started someone was pulled from the audience
and interrogated
"Where's the moon tonight, smart guy?"

Sunday, April 06, 2014

without an ending
he pursued the middle
beginnings were not his forte
he tipped well
and tried to avoid soda pop
much

greivance decay
a fossil of
grinning
paperback memories
the kiln was broken
the kyles were at the game
time sloped down toward
an ashtray with a cigarette burning unattended

Monday, March 31, 2014

something slowly moved
through the sky like a giant whale
it wasn't anything forget it

there was a story but it was forgotten
time left muddy footprints on the carpet

the conversation was dead as an art form
now people just lied
about everything

this was seen as the new positivism
the taking control of ones life
corporations were the ideal

he looked at the window but it wasn't
really a window
it showed all the thoughts
that his friends thought were
worth lying about

Sunday, March 30, 2014

the darkness creeped in
only a bit of streetlight
on the wall
he sank in to the bed
and felt instantly relaxed
he kicked off his shoes
and fell asleep
Jesus died in my arms
she said
I am mary queen of scots
I defy you
then she passed out
I dragged her to the shower
laid her in, turned on the cold water
she said she would never forgive me


the refrigerator was humming
he lay under the kitchen table
and stared at her legs
she was singing along
to the Police
Walking On the Moon
the cat was annoyed

the sketch was torn but
it wasn't a bad likeness
she left it sitting on the table
after she drank all the wine
and had to go to the bathroom
again
fuck a big
apple
she said
i been to paris france
is that your trombone?

solenoid
embrace
parker bros
fury
encapsulated
by bone-like
etruscan manouvers
"the farce is unknown"
you used to have a car
with a manual choke
and a tape deck bolted to the floor
in the rain
we listened to blood on the tracks
and smoked weed
on the other side
was the light house keeper
song
the green is gold
 we bought a shovel
and sent a post card
to chowchilla
but the children were hidden
in a buried schoolbus in a
quarry
sick bastards
no one died
i think they're still in prison
probably
Soledad

Saturday, March 29, 2014

his grandmother lived at 54th st
she was a russian immigrant and had been
in the same apartment for 47 years
his grandfather had been a tailor
and then he opened
an art gallery
he knew a lot of emigres and 
he made a lot of money selling
russian paintings and russian icons
in the sixties he bought hundreds and hundreds of
russian propaganda posters from
a friend in Leningrad
most of them had rotted
in a flooded warehouse in Hoboken,
his older brother stole the rest after the grandfather died and sold
them for heroin.
he subsequently overdosed and died.
the older brother had been the grandmother's favorite.
she doted on him and refused to believe he stole the posters
even after they found several in his apartment.
" Grandpa must have geeven dose to heem."
He rang the buzzer and waited.


the one note wonder
but what a note
his shoes were failing
the snow had made his socks wet
he found a pair of sunglasses under a car
and put them in his bag
what he really wanted was a cup of coffee
he smoked the butt end of a cig
and watched the snow come down

benign
 muchanted
mush brained
bastion of eels
and polymaths
   on a whim
he crossed
himself
and walked across the street
with his eyes closed
he heard a car skid
crash and the horn blowing
he ran to the subway
and took the E train.

Sunday, March 09, 2014

It's March now
we had a little rain but
it's like summer now
drought will continue

dry years will continue
and then years of abolute rain & flooding
roads will wash away
crops will fail


Monday, February 10, 2014

from the trifectorate of pain
the dew point
tears
I'm sitting alone trying not
to forget
that will come certainly
the forgetting

seems all is forgotten
more than forgiven

Sunday, February 09, 2014

sweated through the night
Pajamas were not worn
for about ten minutes the
entire weekend
first rain in months
and now it won't stop
pasta pasta and more pasta
and cigarettes
and movies
two WWII movies
Gung HO - the Makin Island raiders
and Go For Broke!
the Nisei buddaheads 442nd
Regiment
what
the heebie jeebie
strike
pig iron
bits of plastic stuck to your hand
can you say what it's about?
if not it's not poetry
in the New Yorker
there's poetry
In New York
there's more poetry
Central Park
in the snow
Alice
and the smoking mushroom
I heard at least
six different ways to say
"i got the blues"
near Bleeker St.


Saturday, February 08, 2014

on the sonorous departure of future events
we the people
stand and crawl
no
we are blighted
no 
we run standing still
or going backward
no we are 
stepping away
stepping back
stepping down

standing our ground
why
give ground
it's mine



so we'll be hating on something
 someone for lack
of anything useful to think
for something but nothing
the departures are ourselves looking back

we the people
even those words
seem false  somehow
we are not a people
even when we are

there has never been a people
who know what's wrong
with you
and  me
I know what's wrong with you


who are you?



 we the people
we the cuisinart
need to eat
 are hungry


creating great bonfires
of words
burning books
we can't read
don't know exist 
our lives are dealt
fatal blows
because we
thought you were
wrong

it's hard to separate the
wheat from the chaff
when you're gluten free

great swirling mobs of
destruction of the freedoms
great swirling mobs of
the press
great swirling(not great barely swirling) mobs
of people who
don't give a fuck
cuz that is
yore perogative
and thank god
for that
great swirling mobs of not reporting
great swirling mobs of people protecting the people
lying to them
spying on them
great swirling mobs of people protecting
the right to make you know
you can be watched
we know who you know
we know what you said

newspaper crimes
the crime is reporting
the reporter
is the mob
 again pack of dogs

stay the execution
shoot the light out
feed the animals
feed the cat








the Hypernation period
had begun
the space bed boat was streaming through space
the sensors programmed to locate incoming obstacles
of a relative/exact trajectory
thus determinations/
higher level dangers required alert
minor dangers were dealt routinely;

Elimination of all smaller hazards
Deflection of larger, catastrophically fatal, potentialities.


I thought about it
last night

it's Saturday morning
for another twelve minutes

and now I can't remember


abundance of rain
the window's open
I smoke in bed
and read the fight
of a couple from
thirty years ago

Tuesday, February 04, 2014

I'm over that now
it's not important
why get mad?
take the loss and move on
saw the ferry
on red
brain dead

shot the hoops
with heroin

soaked right through
the tennis shoes

stopped to eat
no more this time

went to work
again today and tomorrow

saw the ferry
green as green can be

stopped to talk
saying nothing

straw man listens
straw man speaks

cans and cans
of corn
milk besotted
silos
of silkroad
semantics
purveying
the purloined
data

dazzling devotion
to
surveillance
cornucopia
the harvest abundant
such richness
like the opium smoker
great visions
in clouds
like reading minds
of anyone anywhere
ayahuasca
on line
and like the drug addict
best done in
secret

I laid my heart down
on a pile of embers
stoked the flame
and hoped
for fire
the wind blew
the ashes into
the reeds
I heard a duck quack
overhead seven geese
were headed south
I put my heart back where
it belonged:
on my sleeve
and my chest felt
lightened

Monday, February 03, 2014

Tecate Wars Part something

the broken window ledge
staring
out at the old dairy farm
the silo for corn
the silo for grain

The heat of the day
sweltering hot and humid


Time for Tecate

It's Tecate Time!


cans and cans and
cans

Breathing
   Biting
Beer

sinking
striking
TECATE

The Fronds
 of
faraway
fortune

these are the day!

at the
motorcycle
races


TECATE is the Time
of our lives!


aim straight
shoot fast
for
the beer
of a new
Nation
shall
be
    born
again
in Tecate

the role play

the sullen
the samurai
of
piss
beer

bring the house down
sing like James Brown

the Sinatra
of blue eyed
steel
the beer of
Life
the beer of
Death

 we are the
ones

we are the
drinker

let time take notice



Sunday, February 02, 2014

Reno was
a bust
his orders were unclear
no one could tell him anything
his clearance was too high
they didn't trust him
he cyphered a workload
status request
and was given a code 796 -
Do Nothing
He wasn't exactly sure how to do nothing
so he drove out to Pyramid Lake
the lake was as he remembered it
hardly any trees
dry hills
he remembered
the year the enemy had,
due to the unique
design,
mis-identified the Black Rock festival
for a military installation
They got some fireworks that year
he drove back to Reno
found a quiet casino and
went back to playing blackjack


seventeen years
of war
and it still seemed
there was no end in sight
The battle of Mexicali
had been fierce
but yielded little resolve
the general
had advised
asking for,
as a tactic,
a cease fire
but the idea had been
been denied
He thought asking for cease fire would make them appear weak
and their enemy would think they needed time to restructure
when
the opposite was actually true
his forces were well armed
trained and at their highest
levels since the start of the war
The general was hoping to make the enemy
greedy and overextend themselves
then he could could cut them off
from their supply lines
divide them 
and put an end to this stupid tragedy
but it was as he had always
assumed
they didn't want this war to end
it solved too many problems





snidely
   the hell that forms
on a riverbed barren
the hands of the barrow maker
now shackled
 for war
has come

the junkie sits by his window
and dreams
of coca cola
 and the sound
of not moving

the foment has
unearthed;
lo behold this
land
our solicitation
in non cadence
and unmeasured
steps

our shoes are new
but our souls are dead

Arnold Ysipro  Tecate wars poet 1986-2020


Saturday, February 01, 2014

Jack Redhorse had been working the
south line for seven days
and his mother kept calling him
she was having trouble
with her internet
"Mom, you're reconfirming the stereotype that old people
can't adapt to new technology."
"You're the one who drives an old Pontiac." She replied.
He smiled.
He bought the Pontiac years ago because he thought
it would be generic, anonymous. Now it stood out like a slightly rusty thumb.
Sometimes though, he thought, standing out was the best form of anonymity.

There had been abnormal hacktivity from a roamer and he was trying it track it.
He had identified several clones and had disabled them. It had been tricky because they were booby trapped. He knew they were the work of one person because the traps hadn't varied much. He had to remind himself not to get a false sense of security. These traps could kill you in nasty ways and he knew one way to gamble is establish a pattern of behavior and then use that pattern to deceive. Whoever was building these clones was no dummy. He would know the clones had been disabled and he could track Jacks trajectory.
He thought dude could just be waiting for him at the next one. No fancy booby traps this time, just a bullet from nowhere.
Looking like a drunk Navajo was in Jack's favor.