Dave, looking down, 4 a.m. ©2013

Curated arc
      Thou mitigated
            Jurisprudence
The syllabus-centric
  Love
      Didn't do the readings
          Asleep at the back of the
Wheel
    Round and round
And spinning
  Like a dervish sotted
    Scrub antler
On the backyard fence
Wait
Can I borrow your notes
Or your pee-chee folder with
The doodles?
No.
           

Babs & Pap ©1999 Oil, graphite, on canvas

Untitled © 2000 oil, newspaper, baseballs on wood panel

the placated antiquarians
       dressed in blue and red
             steamboats bound for Uruguay
                  lost at sea, presumed dead

Antartic explorers steaming crustaceans
          smoking Tareytons and drinking Tang
                  looking out over the ice
                      find a survivor whose name is Chang

packed in wool crates
         bobbing on the sea
                drinking cans of 7-Up
                       somehow survived, now drinking hot tea

the newspaper is months old
              but he reads it again
                       the stories don't change
                                 and no mention of his friend

...

The Blades of Glass


 stars drifted like
liquor store signs
           we stumbled in the street
              the conversation started
             as the lights went out
 and the waltz
   was frozen
         stringed instruments
            walked away
                       we ascended in alien eyes
                           looking at the cars
                                    flashing
 their headlights
       the dreamers were streaming
             videos of cats
                      but no one left
   until you started to yawn

The breakfast of champions

   like Rome or 

   Greece 

                   The Parthenon

                   dead Centurions 

                              strewn along the Rubicon

                spilling blood money

     for oil 

waxing the dishes 

    before the feast 

               the moon river 

                                  flows like pure virgin flesh 

the green grasses of Palestine

     the flow of the Tigris and The Euphrates 

     the swamp dwellers

    killing boars 

    in the reeds

    of Des Moines 

 Or Waimea

                                                                 we stink of dusty flesh 

                 we supplicate 

               pusillanimous 

         upsurge 

       in market share ideas

                            stoving in the craniums 

           of the didactic deity swooners

                   we song and dance 

       at money 

  money 

 and money 

and 

ding 

dong

   the Witch 

is 

dead.

     






my glasses
are dirty
  the fog is back,
thank god
    summer heat
    is great
 but
     I
   expect SF
to be
   a certain way
                    don't fuck with my
       preconceptions,
man





The tables
have turned-
it's a veritable
  shit ball
                 of twister fucks
    nipple twister fucks
    to be exact
    or redundant
   depending I guess
    on something or other





Paregoric trilobites
   encased in Damien Hirst
      funerary medicine cabinetry
    "the wounds of time"
    (some foreign antibodies revel in myriad
asymptomatic retardants)
     Grossly misinformed,
   the electorate
     vote to have their feet
chopped off
       "...better than military flights over
 the Atlanta Falcons game or chicken fingers"
       something something something






the bearded end game
                                                 salacious bricolette byzantium stone washed
    jeans
set apart
                     kind bud for sale
  and $7 gelatos
            seems too hot for a day like this
                        but the
                                                                cement went $100k over budget
fred said






prurient lapses
 in the remiss
 cake, candles, a wool blanket
     laundry piled in plastic hampers
              the toast is burning




The acorn or twig or some shit
 fell on thc car roof
 while I was smoking
        laid out
    in the back
                          listening to nothing
the car windows are open
     and i'm curled in a comforter
                              wrapped around my sleeping bag
    
    




      blades, glass
    broken round
                 butts can
                   steaming breath
         i see you
     the van is
        not waterproof
            buckets of rain
                     whiteout
     grayout
               sliding
                         wth
          the hoop guy
                                            seemed kinda like a dick





the Apache wedding
       was twin-less
   or half twinned
                                                  one was not in a good place right now
           many times
   I was the beard
            but times have grown
                           the van was cold at night





surrogate star centered
revelations re
 breezes and facts
                staying
in the reality show
of it all
    hey
i don't remember
    but i scratched
     remember
   the rasta guy
           he danced
                    like
   MJ
on your
     fiftieth
        no one backed him up
      not one
                                                     but it didn't matter
                                                           he nailed it






synaptic miasma
 the earbit torn
plague device that you left on the tv
   seen through a veil of october red leaves filtering the pumpkin latte
    porn
 




breakfast was oatmeal
    w nuts
           and coffee
   strong strong coffee
       then back to sleep
how do you do it?
   "I don't do anything,
                                              it does it by itself."





on the cover of
                            Who Cares magazine I saw
your picture
if you got a blowjob you should be thankful
well i'm not watching musicals
                                          (Southpark ref.)






banging and
drilling
   at 8 a.m.
                          outside the window
workers
                                     all speak Spanish
                                sometimes Russian
                                               I'm trying to jerk it in here
                                                   go the fuck away






the deciduous, no, coniferous drone
flying and dropping pine needles
onto the hair of the enemy;
   the ground





steep forecasts of death
or life
the whatnot
or the in-between
some sutra dutra puke-tra
  the beads on your wrist
                   make you look like a dork






   don't say vertiginous
   say fuckall
    don't say
hillarious
        say berned agin
                       as your orange face melts
(policy wonks)
                 strung out on heroin
           or social media
                stream baby stream!
I can see freedom from my window
  



the lights are on
blazing
      the highway
              on a bridge
                over water
     the fog is coming in



now its raining
like Sunday rain
                  smoking cigarettes in bed
  looking at pictures
              no news except
orange news
          we listen
   to the rain
                      
 
 

the fall burst twitchery
echoed in lost friends
    with bad backs and
     alcoholic
                    but there's always the sun
and the rain
       and old videos
             of drunken rambling
              to remind
                                                    of what we don't need reminding  
    

Leonia ©2016

New Glarus ©2016

Bubbles, Clouds ©2016

Wall. Medway, Mass. ©2016

erroneous
 definition
    of justice
            he should know better
    kings dish
out
  heads on platters
    not elected presidents

  

lips sealed
 the era of magick
   long passed
         the raven king
looks like sting in dune
     not a good look
   still
    an awesome book
 loved the footnotes

Six months later and the administration had been
 inundated with a barrage of emergencies-
the war was a continuous beast feeding the war machine giants
that they only concerned themselves with for political ends
  the General took his annual vacation
this year he decided to go to Slovenia
  he traveled in disguise
as a Catholic priest
  his entourage kept the curious and the spiritual away
saying his holiness recently had gall bladder surgery
he did however spend hours at the gaming tables
and made himself an unholy amount of money playing baccarat.
"Bonko!"

 

the skyline
baked into the eye
   i steered my mind
 with
 or with out
   scenes of sounds
 and thoughts
    programmable messages
   from my brain
 to outer space
    hello
  what the fuck
     still here
 on this ball of Iron
   waking again
to night
    no stars can be seen
 the fog
 the lights
the walls
 I'll steer the ship
 again
   around the corner galaxy
   again
   

The General's mood had improved.
The campaign in Jalisco had been a stunning success and he had restocked his treasured key limes.
Word from the administration was to capitalize on the ground game win.
'This could seriously snowball' was the line that stuck out in his mind from the classified memo.
'Those fucking cokeheads at Washington would love a giant snowball of peruvian flake, that's what this is about'
He knew the areas they seeked were heavily fortified by the enemy.
He would bore Washington to death with preliminary expenditures and tactical equipment requests.
This will 'blow' over if I overwhelm them with bullshit'
He turned back to the television and changed the channel to the Sox game.

Once you had the goods
  You bet it all and it came up
Spades
  You were the street
You were the finish line
You were the goddamn
Motherfucker
Who kicked ass
 The wrench in the works though
Ah that damn wrench
    The leaves burned the house down
The dog died
Termites ate the violin and the cello
The car caught on fire and crashed into a police station
 Because you
No longer had said goods
  Your lawyer explained
   As she hung up on you

Sentient
Directional
Ambivalence:
  To move
     To move
The thought
Is
Beyond
   The directional
      Not the car
Not the thought
The direction
   Je ne veux pas
Mercredi
  The thought is
Directional
  Sentient
Ambivalence
Is protection

There was little time to waiver.
The General knew certain factions within the military
Were aiming to see him removed from command.
Luckily, he had the dirt on "the old presidente."
He held the dirt in reserve, it wasn't the kind of dirt you can
Use more than once, like a nuclear option.
"If those weasels try any bullshit they'll be eating sand dabs in Montefusco."

Some time
The batshit crazy
   Gets thrown around
 And you
  Steady the
 Thoughts
But you know
You have the
   Remedy
So the windows are peeling
   The grass is burned
The retreat route goes through
Engelwood
   You don't want any more sugar
You have to drive
 Into the belly
Of a large animal
Named
New York

Tribecian
Anecdotes/
Sing
  The
Song
  Of
The
Reminder/
  Where
The A train
Doesn't go/
Forest
Green
  But
Not now/
There's a skunk
 Coming
  Down the stone steps/
By the bamboo

The General's supply of limes was getting desperately low.
He checked the positions data screen.
'We could take the state of Jalisco with a few thousand men. They've got lime trees up the ass down there. Those Huichols are baked on raicilla and peyote. They'll never know what hit them.'
He pulled the keyboard tray closer and started banging on the keys.

Creature
         Uniformity
Allayed
 With
The defense
   And the rigor
Pow!