Madrigal, trained in puffer fish preparation,
a maiden of the
echolation that we performed
one saturday night in the backroom
at Wickey's
she tried to kill her boss
but had to be content with
just driving over his foot
she told the police her pantleg
got caught on the pedal
they believed her
and the insurance company paid
I had to go back to Santa Barbara
but my heart wasn't in it
I spent my time eating greasy fries
reading Larry McMurtry books
and smoking really bad weed that I got
from a guy in A dorm.

who smiles brightly

the sound
the sound

where is the waking forest?

into the deep
dark shadows
of Pine

who shakes the tree
and reads the novel

whose life is like a long drawn out
series of episodes
in different bodies

how could you have not seen
the wizard of Oz?

"I grew up in India"

piling up
green envelopes
with a thousand yesterdays
in harsh gray tones
you pushed the boundary
of the line between shop/work
left stacks toppling
a workaround janitorial remedy
but it all goes in the same bag
at the end of the day

my shoes are a mess
my socks are fighting with
my extension cord
in a pileup of bags of
random light year junk
and breakfast steps
late night chicken cheese dreams
and grapefruit makes my meds
*more* efficacious
my sinew hand
and turkey thanksgiving *likes*
Carl Jung said it best
in all those *white* books

if you called
i would answer
but no one calls anymore on land lines
my brain blew up
must be the Israelis, right?
who does that?

climate change
namaste
         stepped on coke
but you peed on your foot
and your stomach hurts AND
you cant get to sleep
but you do know where the end of the comforter is

gray day
of mourning do
the fresh
the reach
the anon
n\book publisher
broken or at least breaking
with so much to look for
and so little time

We used to eat margarine
on our toast, baked potatoes, rice, anything
you would normally put butter on
It was supposed to be good for you
less FAT
came in sticks wrapped in brassy colored foil
It got so butter didn't taste good
I wanted margarine
now the FDA says partially hydrogenated fats
are NO GOOD FOR YOU
after what, a hundred years they figure this out?
FUCKERS
haha
science is always right until they
find something else
My mom has a giant tub of this weird white oily stuff
in the cabinet - no refrigeration...that should be the first sign you shouldn't eat it
CRISCO
keeps stuff crispy
like your arteries
and cookies
giant tub of white stuff
like frosting
 DARK MATTER
we'll find it!
GMO wheat
WE OWN IT
screw the people
we want to own
all the food
TRUST US
ITS SCIENCE
OOPS
WE'LL FIX IT

Unicorn was bored and sick. He felt miserable. After he had breakfast at the Blue Jay Cafe he found a spot on a stoop and smoked his pipe. A troll came by which was unusual as Unicorn had not seen a troll since his Billy Goat Gruff days.
"I challenge you to a game of fingers." said the troll.
"I can not play this game as I do not have the necessary appendages."
He shook a hoof at the troll.
"How do you smoke that pipe then?" asked the troll.
 "I smoke it with my mouth." replied Unicorn.
The answer seemed to not satisfy the troll who gave a mild harumph.
"Sing a song then." said Unicorn.
The troll gave a sly grin and began a song.
"On the morrow steed of flintlock grey
a man of leisure rides,
a man of leisure rides,
On the morrow steed of flintlock grey
a man of leisure rides,
a man of leisure rides.
His wife is an Albanian
and lies about her age.
His wife is an Albanian
and lies about her age.
With sun and dew and sprinkled
light the two of them caught sail and flew
across the street to the liquor store. 'twas there
they bought a pint of Old Jack Barrel
and went to to drink it in the park,
and went to drink it in the park."
He finished the song with a little dance his arms outstretched.
Unicorn puffed on his pipe.
 "Good song. I'll buy the first bottle. No rides!" 
But the troll was gone.

Lyrics

That bastard lies
he twinkles and tries
DO NOT TRY
as the ponies run down
and a lonely egg fries

sad old lonely egg eh?

try again....

reaching for the gold ring
can you see it
it s on your forehead
its a sunburn

you fell asleep on the grass
you got poked andpimpled and harrassed


I gave up having friends
it wasn't worth it
-
on the lighter side lets go have a drink
ah fuggit

Dissent is a criminal act
Thought is terrorism
The potential justifies
The persecution
The apparatus of
Surveillance
Is driving the State
By for and TO the people
Now is the time
The typewriter is dead

archaic propriety
insisted he act
but he did so without passion
he folded the letter
and sealed it in wax with his insignia ring
the messenger of this letter
would be killed
despite his plea
across the desert
he thought he saw
Isis
but realized he was just tired
and in need of sleep 

the dromedary Ephesus
marched in procession
with a thousand slaves
under the beating sun
a lone Norwegian
sat atop
the great beast
Magnus Magnusson
said to be a genius
at mathematics
was now an expert in antique lamps

slander had a new face
shining brightly shining brightly

steep climb
move to the arc of detritus

EMPIRE EMPIRE EMPIRE
his foundation was ashen
and he carried a load of bent bolts

You are the missing
You are not missing
to be missed
to be missed

I'd lay down in a field of green clover
with a bonny lass of fifty years

Carry the stream
burrow and bough
fjord the distant capitals
dominican eritrean judea

an echo down the branch
of his left arm
expunged
with sterile prognostication
he cassocked  his way
past the rambling
into the entryway of marble and granite
learned gentlemen applied thumbscrews
and deforestation
to his country land
his sweat burned a hole in the floor
and he crept through the ceiling vents
and escaped in 73 Corolla
he was a lemon
but his car wasn't

Mired in the spirit
of the brig
drinking  fighting
pissing off the wall
and 
running through dry dusty
alleys
of barking dogs
chained and drooling
theres no heaven like tomorrow
playing violin
on the floor
He woke up with a tattoo of
a dancing hula girl

the ink dried on his hand
the serial etching
worked its way through
the cerebellum
a horse barked and kicked a pale across the room
Forensic evidence
compelled the DA
to turn States evidence
a roman coin lay on the floor
Tiberius

lack of real self awareness
is a pretty fucking sad thing

the dry foam bargain
wagon planted in west oakland
spray paint
wonder graffitti
im a woken timed seven
working that screened aphorism
tshirt factory day job
sandwich into a meal deal
found exploited mass
hysteria is tv
im a woken four times eight
going for sunshine rescue
or bold moves from a drug wasteland
white man, "are you really that obtuse?"
no n yes
im a token four by zero
 coulda just said no
shoulda akshully
but the patterns sometimes get ya
your no different
dont think you can fool yourself
there are ways
to forget
 right now just
watching tiger lilly
and Rebecca on my screen

I "should" have foreseen the dreadful
error of my ways
the gypsy fortune teller
in the machine
said

at times the backwards
sway
cotton candy
and alligators

for the arbitrary basket
of fate
fate is where you find it
what did you put in the basket?

VYL
63 Ford Fairlane
echofisk three
indian store batik ceiling
marantz tape deck under the drivers seat
blaupunkt speakers on the back
also covered with batik; hidden
suspension kind of low
car weighed A TON
all metal and steel
drove to Santa Cruz
1978
also Oregon that summer
in the drizzly sunshine
listening to Blood on the Tracks
and Old and In the Way tape
my sister made
stoned
smoked a lot of pot
driving
in the HEAVY rain
on hwy 17
cars going 75 mph
round great long round curves
past hwy 9
the old highway
at one point I had an sx 70
and took little square polaroids
everything analog except fortran nerds
and IBM and Lawrence Radiation Lab
punch cards and printer paper
drawing floating race cars
on computer printer paper
no computers in the hand on the wrist in your ass
like right now
was that better
uh stupid
driving to west Cliff
and Seabright
down to the garden mall
listening to jazz on sundays and smoking clove cigarettes
drinking white wine in the hot sun
playing guitar
jamming out
ROCK

on the divorced branch
of memnonic memory
ghost memory
staccato rythmn and blues
in "ghost DOG, ghost LOAD
Pussy Juice
Ghost allegory
of the chant
the chant of ghosts
(in the corners);
that's where they hide
look for them in the corners
they make you do strange
things or not - mostly not
Ghost hunger
ghost toast
with Ghost butter
ghost stories
you know those
how he left because
there was drinking to be done somewhere else
ghost rhymes
with ground zero
ghost is the most
we leave the laundry
and stare at the TV
"ghosts found in attic- want to be left alone."

Morgan Territory Road
where the dry grass is all that grows
the sun too hot the water too
nonexistent
sink a well 200 feet
one hill has scrub;
Brushy Peak
I thought he said Bushy Pig
"Bushy pig."
no trees on these rolling hills
no shadow side
just a winding road through white hot
cattle pastures
cattle pastures that have been cattle pastures for two hundred years
so long the cattle,
with their grazing, have carved ridges every ten inches or so
latitudinally across every hill side

we rolled joints maybe ten of them and
listened to Emerson Lake & Palmer's
electronic keyboard prog rock album
of a giant armadillo tank battling mountains
and human face scorpions
we were all trying to pass a joint to
someone who already had one.
We all wore blue jeans i think

for now we see
what we see
no wanting
just am
like a basket of flowers

1.
like a credit card lunch
drowning in fog
the music of our sorrows
is not in E flat
your boots are not John Fluevog
and we are not waiting to hear
the sound of the car door slamming

B.
Errol we prole
in Praha
bastion
of Exeter
down the
river road
cleaning
with
Comet
The Perseids
are going by
now
right now

3.
mean Mr Mustard
died a horrible cancer
death
deeeeeeeeeeeaaath
screaming in to his pillow
He did have nice sheets
with little stars all over them

4.
In George Washington's
wooden teeth
coca leaves
and pearls
On the road from Coba
I saw a man with
a machete
and a live turkey in a burlap sack
its head sticking out
the pregnant woman
did get a seat

5.
I know you
You're that guy that never does anything, ever.
you were on that show
what's new in who cares magazine?

The Days of Pre-Internet
such innocence and naivete
to not know where the nearest KwikiMart is
The revolution will not be emailed
It already happened

as far as the rose can be thrown
people who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones
what does it mean if you pronounce the g in hang up?
and other great movie titles

In the search for a voice
he found instead a portabello on pumpernickel
After two sleep deprived nights
he realized there was no SCSI to USB adapter
his mind had become a cybernetic sandwich

all she really wanted
to do was drink wine and smoke cigarettes
and maybe do a few lines of blow
then go home
and pass
out
but things don't always work out the way you want them to

my thoughts
hold no promise
I am the rose that bites
I am the thorn that bleeds
across my forehead
an avalanche of movie poster ideas
Avenue D and East How'ston
sneakers and jeans
smoking weed
and waiting for night
sleeping in the morning
making love on your mother's
extra bed

May the Fourth be with you.

when the parties
became the same
when the former
passed the latter
"we've been outdone"
Secret courts approving a surveillance package of all citizens communications.
Internet and phone companies legally obligated to provide warrantless government access to all data; emails, searches, purchases, phone calls, etc.


found this comment about NYT editorial saying Snowden had no reason to fear coming back to the states.

• from Bill Appledorf

Talk about shooting the messenger.

There would be no conversation about mass surveillance and its implications for American democracy if it were not for Edward Snowden -- because government spying was a deep dark secret before he told us what is going on -- and yet all anyone in the corporate media wants to talk about is what to do about Edward Snowden.

Here is what to do about Edward Snowden: give him a medal!

And do your investigative job.

Does no one in the U.S. media have the merest grasp of how toxic a surveillance state is to free speech, freedom of association, political dissent, and virtually every aspect of civil society upon which rests the possibility of a safe and secure life in the USA?

For all the talk about militants in Yemen, Somalia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and dozens of other countries, the biggest threat to the American public today is corporate rule, the militarization of everything, and a surveillance apparatus that would make the Stasi drool.

Unbelievable.

all things are measured
in "Literature"
for philosophy is a failed
balcony
see the car
see the shiny car
see how it shines
I do not understand
What we are about
when the keyboard
types the hand

Option. do not call
Option. please forgive me
Option. I am a failure
Option. Society has been failed
Option. the sin of the first world  repeat endlessly
Option. I can not be responsible
Option. We are one

gray worm
of science
burrowing
without eyes
things grow
flowers bloom
fish are hooked
timetables tell their tale
of story book freeway endings
as the siren drifts away
repeating endlessly
the hand lays outward
dripping blood
the sleeping face of the worm

mirror mirror
on the wall
who's the fuckediest fuck
of them all?

hello
as in shut the fuck up
-wise
I'm the marigold
of
the star
cross fibered
entity
of ice
with a capacity for fruitless
caring
sometimes it's better to say nothing
at all

a 12 %
decay
in the emotional life
smoking causes blindness
and gangrene
smoking in bed
well I guess that's a fire hazard

it's too late
for this
and I'm hungry

if memory
was my only hope
this would be a shit show
that it actually already is
people are talking and
they know what they're talking about
voices are raised
what she said
but really, right?
who took my beer?

truculent
myriad podiatrists
informed of the right to
escalate
in provisional manifestations
of the Buddha
adjusting bowls
parked near a 2006 Dodge Viper.
Beckoned, his glasses
badly in need of cleaning,
he gets in line
for some fried chicken.

there's
a dust cloud
in my brain
as I drink dirty stoli
and lie in bed

the creature comforts
of byzantine remorse

plagued by a lifetime
of phone-a-friends
and fifty-fifty's
who wants to be a millionaire?

the books shelves are yawning
the words
are stored
voices on the shelf
the bedsheets too have a tale
but let's not talk about that

everything has a story
even cement
has a nature
a life and death

life is hard and then easy and then hard again
Jane Leslie

an ocean of civilization
mired in sun
breathing LIFE
into the arachnid
hopes
spreading the web
filament tensile strength unrivalled
by anything we make
so now they engineer goatsmilk
to make spider filament
my spidey sense is tingling

the sun is shining
in August in SF
Buddy Wells is playing
James Brown's Sex Machine
metal barrel smokers are smoking
"what's your name? Poontang?"
Church parking lot party
in the Western Addy

donfer
Big Sur
echos of the past
in memories of
somewhat schizophrenic
and wine addled/potsmoked
sister in law
asking to read
my tarot cards

Tinker toy tarot card
readers reading roberts rules of order?

why do I think of that broken
window and my urge to say
"it was your fault, you did the same thing a month ago,
and did you offer to pay for the window?"
meanwhile she is not letting things bother her
and I'm all pissed off
(laughter)

such is the fate
of my older white male friends

Through a prism, darkly...For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. Wait, what? oh yeah when they come for me.

the logical
cognitive processes
theologically
spread like jam
on the toast of malaise
the island of Malaise
buried by
climate change
HOPE
sunning itself
by a mountain peak
in Burberry eyewear
I'm reading the newspaper
said a print publication
temerity aside
we are reading the news
I would quit smoking
said the old man
on the eve of the
event horizon

Headed to Paris 2013

High above Iceland
I see no ice
the girl next to me is reading
a mystery

5 degrees Celsius
in Reykjavik -
don't care
I'm not staying

$1200 to get to
Greenland, prop plane
even more expensive
from (?) Denmark

I'm in the emergency row
shouldn't we
get fed first?
fuck

it's 4:30 am
my time
I have not slept
the sun is shining

PANORAMIC PHOTO IN AN ALMOST EMPTY AIRLINER/One

The flight out of Maui was empty. "Folks don't leave Hawai'i before Christmas." The flight attendant told me.
I couldn't wait to get out of there. A certain legal issue caused the local Maui authorities to act like a cackle of starving hyenas circling an aging wildebeest.
Also, I was told I could no longer charge drinks to my room.
My inner lawyers recommendation was succinct. "RUN!"
The woman at the desk said the next flight out was headed to Anchorage. I paid in cash and gave my name as Archibald Veriduke. I had poor old Archie's passport. I last saw him in Malawi a year ealier. Luckily he could be described as my doppelganger. If you were blind. Swapping out the photos helped as well.
The conference on intertidal analgesic medicinal cannabinoids turned out to be a total bust. Luckily only figuratively. A more appropriate appelation would have been the Patchouli Syndication of Invasive Species.
Anchorage in December. Is that better than being incarcerated on Hawai'i? Questions,questions. Or as old Archie would often say in his creaky french "Il ya beaucoup à considérer ici". Luckily I don't speak French.

LYRICS ET AL

Al Kooper
Al is in wonderland
Al steaksuce
Al E cat
Al Cheney (Dick's psychopathic alter ego)
Al Bundy (no purported relation to Ted)
Al Stevens
Alvin Ailey
Al Buddha by the Bodhi tree
Al Hambra (Moors)
Al is not lost
Al Kaline
Al Carumba
Al bet yer sick of this
Knock knock
who's there? 

MORE LYRICS

creme de menthe
I am sleepy
mercury in retrograde
mercury in retrograde

frozen enchilada
frozen from the sound
frozen enchilada
frozen enchilada

mercury in retrograde
mercury in retrograde
frozen enchilada
frozen enchilada

all the tired pieces can never be picked up
more and more all the time
I heard it on your podcast

At last at last
time has come to pass
Alas Alas
this too will surely pass

Don't call me Shirley
I'm not on television
this will not be televised
the poisoning of your mind

Creme de menthe
Creme de menthe
Abel Ganz and 2 Live Krew
down the river Styx
 
I'm not a rhinestone cowboy
I don't wear epaulets
my boots were made in China
And I drive a Ford

Taurus Taurus
it rhymes with my last name
Bore us Bore us
some moreus, mister...

ay ya f*ck

LYRICS

I am waiting
for a day
I am waiting
for a day

I am leaning
all the way
I am leaning
all the way

because the night was darkness
and now it never is
we think we know the light
how stupid are we?

Cream the golden waffle
spread the turkey bile
smother the child in woolens
drive a sporty car

I am running
to insane
I am running
I am lame

Pass my door
and snicker
pass my door
and laugh
pass my door
and
oh just keep going


I am not awake
listening to wind
I am awake
listening to wind

the breeze that blows
it knows me
she is my only friend

the breeze that blows
she knows me
but I am not her friend

creazy

crazy
sometimes I feel crazy
when the moon is thin
and purple
I step to sounds
of
radiant night

the wolves
are in my fingers
little tiny knives
of hunger

I break the tablet
in twos
and fours
writing
by time
and in accordance
with sacred principle

the eyes are watching
the night eyes
of electronic
speech
echoing my thoughts
in amplification

down the well
are piles
of buttons
chipped and chewed
an old bic pen
was lost as i rested on the stone
waiting for the dragon

I saw a light at the neighbors
house
he doesn't speak to me
his animals are wary
when he whistles
two years ago
his daughter ran away

I am the speech of electricity
a cadence of lighting
and thunder
hushed by the fog
and dreaming of cold pools
and well worn blankets

toenal makeup pen

she said
my overgrown toenail
was like a giant canvas
so I took her
makeup pencil
and tried to draw a
stencil like face on it
but I couldn't really see
because
I couldn't get my toe
close to my face
to see
and I didn't have my bifocals
(being over fifty and all)
so I didn't like the face
and just smudged
it trying to wipe it off
so then I had an overgrown 
dirty toenail
later she invited me to see
her apartment

fuck yr stupid warning

LYRICS

by the swollen glade
down the marshy field
where childrens voices
heard among the bird cries

the cask of ale
and games of bowling
in the mountains
they did not speak
nor laugh
just the sound of pins
and glasses

the rifle rusted
the dog long dead
the cabin rotted
the clothing tattered

the frosty tankards quaff
by the mountain passes
they did not speak or laugh
the sound of pins and glasses

a large grey beard
would tear the axis
he was not feared
His name's Abraxis

what blade by hand
he doth forsooth
a piney end
a rabid tooth

and Tra Li La
and Tra Li Day
to dance and sing
the night away

come hither
you lass
and talk to the pins
and drink a glass

the market researcher  ---[[[[ah bollocks
did shine
his eyes alight
the fear was gone
and soon the night

ignorant smiling
self congratulatory
dripping inane
the same old story

His hair is greased
his stupid round face
he fingers his vestments
and talks of his "place"

He bores his friends
they complain amongst
the piles of pins
they complain loudly

succour the stench
of learned drivel
your wisdom is naught
that I'd give a shitfull ]]]]]


by the swollen glade
by the marshy field
a broken rovers blade
a wound that would soon heal

and on and on the rover
passes
unto the edge
his narrow glasses
attracted
peered thru with eyes
all brown and 
cataracted (hah!)

balthazar
strange brew of childe
foward thinking nights errand
lost at the faire
whence she was taken ill

the grey steed( ford fairlane)
known by many names
VYL or
)echofisk 3(
by chance the leather
coats were gone
the dead were grateful

In the land of winter
by the street of Geary
strange military watch
of cars already stolen

Bertha had been sung
and we complained
or she complaind
of stomach ailment
from sub harmonic
tones from the wizards
bass amp

the pins did fall
the glassed sounded
they stood once tall
and now resounded

to try the air
and play the lyre
it would be faire
but yet I fear

the empty air 
of deathly night
I tried but where
I could not right

the falling standard
our lot was lost
the ensign ranted
we felt the frost

of grey cold morning
and springtime though
death is mourning
and life is slow

the marshy glade
the mountain passes
a game of pins
the sound of glasses

ccc

LYRICS

the dow is now
time is for the money
mine is mine
you are the song
don't cry when the birds have died

able to be is not my choice
the wrongs are the times
the sign is the hand
I am not lonely
cry when you are eating them

Izzy stone and the lying governments
are having lunch in Venezuela
The mountain peaks are singing
a tune of "harmonisation"
by the stars my plane will guide
the ship of destiny

I have owned
I owned
I am owning
you owned
we all owned
the dead birds

too, yes, too
yes
too many people
think they are
the right
to say what I am
too,

If. the ifs
stone me to death
if the ifs shun my shadow
and the what ifs
sang to me at night
and the ifs, upset
the ifs, if the ifs upset
the thought of me
true the birds to fly again

there are no birds now
the song is sung
birds are birds and forever will be
until they are something else
the ifs however
will be eaten in due course

Draft Beer

this is an
untitled post
or
rather
a draft
I'd rather have a draft beer
in front me
as I imagine
you would too

It was kinda warm out
and I was headed south
from New Hampshire
it was early May
kinda muggy
I found the location
on my phone
and drove there
with minimal difficulty
it was actually incredibly easy to find
it would have taken so much more effort
and planning
ten years before
amazing what having a device in your
pocket that has the sum total
of human knowledge on it can
do for you
good and bad
I drove through the
town and it looked like I had imagined it
oh and I've seen photos
but the small little factory town
mill town houses
too many shops owned by
"George"
little cement steps leading up to
screen door
front doors and
doorbells
tiny little yards
with a car parked across
and kids in tshirts
eating chips
and laughing
It wasn't hard to
find
like I said
even the gravestone
I actually drove right up
to it in my red rent a car
I took a bunch of photos
with each of my cameras
I had five cameras with me
six if you include the phone
how many pictures do
you need of a grave stone?
Problem was I had to pee
REALLY BADLY
you can only hold it down
for a while
if  I sat down
I was screwed
I smoked a cigarette
left two behind
and drove off to find a bathroom

I flew to Iceland
and waited for another plane
the customs agent there asked me
how long I was going to be in Europe 
I replied "Iceland just until my plane leaves
and Europe for two weeks."
I didn't have any
what was it kronners? krona
750 ISK
for a sandwich
( oh this was coming back)
and I had a boatload of euros
but they took euros also
so it worked out ok

the Parisian
night sounds
of private clubs
drunkenly spilling out
in the street 
on the Rue Richelieu
at 4 am
every night
it's along the way to Bibliotheque
Nationale
where satori
was so difficult to come by
and misguided gendarmes
gave incorrect directions
and when I asked, three or four people,
and no one knew where it was
maybe I was pronouncing it incorrectly
but no I don't think so
no one knew
"Je ne sais pas."
so I bought a map
at Gallimard
where the window
had Cendrars and Miller
in the window
(I stopped at a shop selling signatures and asked
about Cendrars
1000 euros and they couldn't find it
in their binders
"binders full of signatures"
awkward because I knew I would not buy it
they had two, the second much better
the other was a note in pencil on a pocket pad paper, faded)
near Place de Moliere
or le restaurants Japonais
so many in one area
next time
I'll stay in a neighborhood
not three blocks
from the Palais Royal
When I got home I opened the
UK Deutsch edition
the one with the pack of Gauloise
on the cover
and it was the same street that
he was looking for.

the covert simile
marked by an effusive renegade shopping
bag imprinted with a picture of
Michelle Bachmann
across the plaza
near the Trevi fountain
somewhere like Las Vegas
or Missoula
she was insulted by the thought
America is for Freedom
not what you think
everyone who came here was equal
we are all equal
we are Americans

lumpy bed day
rainy
stayed in bed all day
tomorrow back to work after three weeks off

OFF OFF OFF OFF OFF

(don't know what that's supposed to be)

Not sure if my brain is going to work tomorrow

but my body will be there
I think

I like rainy bed days
but it would be better if I had some food in the house
I always wait until I'm too hungry to do something

I guess I'll smoke a cig.
and then figure out the food

My face is so red. too much sun and I have a three day stubble
maybe I'll get a frozen pizza
pre heat the oven
bingo
Now you're thinking

haha

Sitting on Jack's grave
-it doesn't say Jack though
I need to pee

did not bring a bottle
- a haiku is not enough
it still doesn't say Jack

right in front of
Vee Kay Eisentrant
Jack's grave stone

found this pen in a
flowerpot near the grave
under some garbage

Somebody left two fat brown cigar stubs
like dog poos
and some dimes and pennies

Warm day
at Jack's grave
overhead a plane
and two birds

My red rent a car
is parked twenty
feet away from
Jack's grave

Nice quiet spot
here in Lowell
the buildings look
like Lowell

gonna go to the car
to get a cigarette
and smoke it

Suddenly it got creepy
time to go
no not yet

Paris 2013

As Midnight's broken toil
We ducked inside the doorway
Thunder laughing

The red and white
Striped bag of
Parisian mixed candy "bonbons"
Little black rolls with white inside
Large white cubes of nougat with peanuts
Toffee peanuts
Jujy bears different colors
Lost again not enough streets on the map too many streets to fit on one regular sized map it would be like a tablecloth

After sushi
Waiter didn't know what unfiltered sake
Is brought regular, hot
"No sans filtre, c'est froid"
He brings same sake unheated

At lunch watching business people and other
Odd characters and fashion choices
Charlie was right "sit at a cafe
And make fun of people.. It's
A national pasttime."

Sitting next to me at the next restaurant
A modern humphrey bogart at a table
With ma mere - large matron and a
Young mixed race woman ... Thought the young woman
Was girlfriend but then probably daughter
She is checking him for temperature
Hand on his forehead
Then runs to greet a friend
The man calls her name the food has arrived
She back at table tasting his lunch
Her head practically in the plate
First a large amount of hot beans
Then some of the meat, me watching
We make eye contact through the plastic
Ma mere is working away at a giant steak

as the hole
   burgeons?
no, that's gross
blossoms?
no not really
it's a fucking hole
a hole for fucking?
no not sure what kind of hole
the hole in my middle?
the hole of me
hole of me
why not take hole of me
cant U see
eyem no good w/out U 
Theres a hole in my bucket
dear Liza
dear Liza
who was Liza?
and why did she need to know about the
hole in the bucket?
kick the bucket
there's a hole in it
hole hog
hog hole
simply irresistble
Robert Palmer
holey shit
holy
shit
merde
merder
redrem redrem redrem
who's holy meow?
 God in his emptiness?
in his absence?
in his black hole?
absence makes the heart grow fonder
If God was around he probably wouldn't be so well liked
"dude never contributes to the coffee fund" - someone at god's office
Thanks for those home runs but why did he have to let my friend get crushed by that bus?
"ASSHOLE!"

... assholy
that's some assholy behavior

put your asshat back on and get back to
making it rain caterpillers
hole-y 1

Im fading from view
i'm looking out
on the horizon
and the past
is all I see

if you had a
shitty ass
dream
about someone you lived
with thirty years ago
what would that say to you?

on Donner
on Comet
on Shitzen
and Blitzen

Undzer kaufften
diertzen prizee

blah ba dee blah buh di
blah

now is the time

the time is now

I'm walking after midnight
I"M WALKIN HERE

ah da fug
what da fug

cuesta forio?
crema de cookie
creationism in Arizona
wears a black hat
and shoots
from a watery fountain

I slipped in a puddle of oil and caught myself
at the last second
my back was tweaked
and I saw my reflection in a store window

In my dream my nose had a large hole
right in the middle of it
i pulled on it to where it would
cover the hole but then it just
went back

it was like a the nose hole of a skull
death!
was that that was about ?
that's not pleasant !

corporatography: the picture that results from a limited perspective of bottom line mind control.

Art Hipster 

I erased
myself
with a pink eraser
#2 pencil
left a lot of
eraser
dust
and smudged
the paper
pretty good

It was a
drawing
of a deer
riding a fixie

the readers
the rafters
the bleeders
the lafters
the badgers
honey
and non honey versions

the broken the token
the spoken
chokin
and tokin
on
the hathaway
dreams
and hathaway
drams

the crybaby
man eaters
and honeyboy
man boys
crying about their
spilled peas
while momma wipes their nose

the cryin lot
the parkin lot
the cryin tot
aerated ice cream looks
like a lot more

the hit and run
and el paso impala
tore up from
front to back
"it was right in front of
the hotel. Somebody musta seen it."

some perfect design
in valued hues
"valued hues/" what is
that?
I'm off the rails
lets get it back on track

Captain Fresgue
beckoned the comely lass
from his vantage point
of the sidewalk

His spaceship had been
disabled
and the crew had beamed
him to the surface
to try to find the necessary parts

that was six months
ago

since then he had lost his communicator
and
his weapon

sold them actually

he had seen several rescue
parties
but had managed to avoid
them
having dug the locater chip
from his thigh with a rusty
knife

it had gotten badly
infected
but the nurse at the hospital
was beautiful
and the pain killers
could be sold on the
open market
or used
to ease the pain

she was
the channel 54
of lovers

somewhere
on that VHF
dial

sometimes
she didn't come
in so good

a little static-y
and snow
ya had to
move the rabbit
ears
around

there were
some good shows
on that channel
but mostly now he just watched the news

Defunct&
cantilivered

born in
fomenting
remedial
political strife in
the family
  as it were
  as it is
while the barstool spins

a sunset in the
neighborhood
with

late night
wind

on channel 32

the bird
outside
the window
an airplane sound
the slam of a door
good morning

primordial

infancy
of

intellect
we are

cave
dwellers

writing on
the wall

with
chemical waste
and chronic
extinction

well whattaya know?

math is as the crow flies

listen to the
quartz
crystal

and tell me about
what god does
and doesnt
do

the probability of
Time's elocution
and the changing speed of light
is the only constant
a billion stars
in the Milky Way
and billions of
Galaxies
Galaxzy
Galaxyz
in the universe
only one universe
no billions of universes
mathematics
unfolding
outwardly
toward the event
horizon
the theory
is changing
as the observation
does

the artist
as Grapenuts
eater

pandering to
sugar sweetened
bits
and
thinking of Lucky Charms

wondering about
crostini
and marmalade

and hotel rooms

a tiny
spur
of remorse
digging in to
one's thoughts
never
more effiiciently
poised
for
a backward
sense of me myself and I

ah
fucked again
moving
in slow motion
as the fog pours
in from
the avenues

digitally genetically goose stepping
to a branded
fear based
shopping
experience

The Necropoli moved in easy
swaying motions
harvesting the wind
for their later enjoyment
The tepid beakers
and lowly petri dishes
were served in ebullience
and without remorse.
"FEAST, my beasties
let the sands of time mark our delusions
and the bacteria of Love
be our swarming enjoyment."
bony hands wavered
in appreciation
of the remarked felicities
giant swaths of crimson
rubberized material
were laid end to end
and the holiest of holies
was unearthed
in a perfunctory ritual
"DIG DIG DIG
we are the NECROPOLI"
"DIG DIG DIG we live
and now we DIE
in Tepid Beakers
and Lowly Petri Dishes
WE are the NECROPOLI."
their song was rather tiresome.
"oh do get on please" remarked the
provocateur but no one was listening
no one
no one at all.
except me.
and you. 

The Moon
shot a glance
at the furry eyed banker
whose glands
were swollen
and might be coming down with something

across the necropolis the
rings of Saturn
were dancing a jig
on a Santa Claus's grave

"you call this Poetry?!!!" she screamed. " you should
be ashamed ...what have you done to my beautiful Poetry? "

Poetry lay in a pool of her own vomit. She wasn't dead but it was close.

"Never should have had that last shot of John Ashbery " she gurgled and spunked.

"Don't mix Ashbery, Gunn and Bukowski...BLAAAART " she spat up another chunk
of undigested readings. 

The Necropoli stood and shook their bony fingers as if in applause.

The narrator bowed and took his underthings off.

"here are my swollen privies"

He farted a great howling wind that darkened the room and
caused the Necropoli to shudder in appreciation.

Outside the Chauffeur waited, listening to Joni Mitchell and humming along..
"Bluuuuue....songs are like tattoos you know I've been to sea before..."
In the back seat lay a tattered copy of Celine's Mea Culpa once owned by
a former Marine.

The banker ran for the limo but it was too late. The limo had left and it was thundering.

The Moon retired behind a cloud and smiled.

oh Fudge-icles
pork flavored fudge-icles
I must be hungry
this diet's not really cutting
the mustard
keep me awake for another hour
I gotta get up early
and call someone
about something
keep them pork bellies
rolling in oil
keep the causation wheel
moving
to the beat
the steady beat
that we taught the
harbor seal
to dance to

dive down deep
sweet baby
sweet baby jesus

dive down and let the water
run
and spray
the fountain
dive down
dive down

like the Dow Jones

driving
mortgages
and

dive underwater to where you lived
we took everything and now
we bought it back
]your homes
your jobs

dive down America
where you live and work and breathe
dive down
for no one is watching

when the shit hits the fan
though your
dead fingers will be clutching
the remote

pry it loose America
pry the remote from my dead cold fingers

pry it from downton abbey
where its always sunny in philadelphia


pry my dead cold fingers from
the throne of games

and I'll walk out again
this time as a brain hungry zombie

hungry for brains
we walk the tv landscape
feasting on GMO's

driving our dinosaur powered luxury vehicles
in to the zombie neighborhood
how could Hostess go bankrupt?

oh yeah the unions

those bastards - freaking taking the cream from the
brains of the wealthiest
and eating it like pinko anti capitalists

I'm dust on the needle

I'm a broken piece of shit

I'm the rainbow at the end of the pot of gold

I'm the yellow brick road


I'm not Elton John or Aspen, Colorado

but I wouldn't mind being

the headlight on a north bound train

or sleeping in the pines where

the sun don't never shine

or Leadbelly


I'm not Hall or Oates

I'm not Caspar the friendly ghost

I'm not Tom or Jerry

I'm not Barack or Barry.


I'm barely who I am

and then some.

drunken mulberry
bush wine with M16's
and Kalashnikovs
bare breasted women
in torn magazines
firing rounds and neglecting
the flank
blackened eyes
and children without shoes
empire demands
we stay the course
and feed the hungry animal
again and again
my cage is too good
it rubs me raw
and festering sores
rankle and bite
brains splattered
and legs
blown off
working security at
the mall
is a little different
why do they sell so much stuff
to people who have no FUCKING CLUE.

If I pushed my boat
through the darkness
and heard
the voices of the damned
left behind
gasping
and shrieking in eternal pain
my tiller set
my brow dry and
unfurrowed
I have nothing
to worry
me as I row your
soul to
eternal
fire

Grasping at Cupids
and
pixie wings
the furs
of Venus
lay in tatters
on the edge of the stairs
near the
vesper balcony
colliding with a
wave
of news
and sorrowful plagiarism
bent to the task
at hand
and cornering
the
blood of Christ
with a winsome sense of
clear denial
and expensively frocked
there were no women about

Born on
The March hare
The raven feather
Of pride and confidence
An elliptical purveyance
And the folly
Of interstate laws
And by laws
The midwives refrain
Tra la la la la
A woolen dream
Beamed and splintered
And hair combed
In the afternoon

I don't know
I'm trying
but
I got too much sun
and drank too
much wine at Easter dinner
then I put on an old Joan Baez
album
Mom thought the people clapping
was dust on the needle

I'm dust on the needle

We went through the old man's stuff
books and jewelry
hats and Eagle scout banners
badges
boats bought by Blanca
old paintings
from Ruth
and endless whatnot
take this
take that

found my dad's solid gold pocket knife sitting outside
on the porch

they didn't even clean the rifle
but no one ever taught them

Lon Chaney
and Dick Cheney

we know who's
the scariest
don't we

the man with no heart

who shoots
his friends

in the face
w/ a shotgun

No he wasn't working for
Halliburton

but the whole Iraq
war was

Treason's too good
for what he did

war criminal

BUSH lied
thousands died

Good try
Good effort

real horror
is so much more bloody
and
well,
real

Arctic Rush
knew something had changed
since he had been transformed
he found life more exciting and yet
far less satisfying
He was the same ice cold
blue red orange
that didn't matter
he was now a super hero
of beverages
The Queen had made it so
he began to wonder
if the whole kingdom
weren't based on lies
Were there any products that
had dairy in them?
That "ice cream" must have milk but
why is it so weird
He wanted to go back to being just
his old self
just plain old Mr Mistee

but things change,
right? 
Can you ever go back?

he was wearing his sunglasses
on his baseball hat
like a fucking douche

he thought if he could
go back in time
by getting rid of the
technology he might get an honest moment
of unaware non irony
it seemed too much to ask
maybe it was the meds
that made him always see himself
as a third person
maybe it was the drugs
he said aloud to himself

the off chance
was on again
another rerun
in the history of chances
it had
happened before
off chance on chance
it's all in the lay of the fabric
and the way you cut it?
His scissors were sharp but
his senses were muddled
another gin and tonic
nah maybe a grilled cheese
the clock said
quarter to ten
he poured himself another drink
and turned on the radio

sometimes we stared
at strangers
usually we kept our eyes
averted or
looked at our phones
the sun was doing something
shining
or behind a cloud
everything seemed dirty and worn out
why would you put
carpet on a commuter train?
We used to ride when the cars were brand new
now they're packed and dirty
humans do know how to fuck shit up

the
edge of the table
was where he hit his head
time was no longer waiting for
him
he stopped to unearth the pledge he made
and then passed on
into the void

Mister Mistee
has been banished
from the ice
kingdom
The Queen
has a new love.
His name: Arctic Rush

the beamer
wouldn't start
so she went back in
and put on
a Dylan record

one could
again

again
and again

or seem to


I seem to



remember


i swore
I remembered


but you are so
sure
surely you haven't forgotten

no I'm not calling
you
Shirley

stop calling me


remember?


I remember but
I swore


you forgot


seemingly certain

that I was
certain

that you forgot


remember?


again and now

and now


and then

we were
and now are


still

and again you  seem
to


me

there
was a giant pile of
old baseball mitts
and some had writing on them
Larry Kramer
443-7582
in faded black marker
I looked for anyone
I knew
there was one that said Peter Rose
Pete Rose?
couldn't be
it was a two toned glove from the
early seventies
Blue and darker blue
I tried a couple on
they had a distinct smell
of dirt and dried leather
one had stains
that looked like dried blood
I'd seen kids hit in the head
by an errant swing
and waited with them
for the school nurse
I took the blue one
and walked to the counter

Craptastic
High falutinism
braving the
river for the
march
capturing a
bygone measure
a dram
twelve drips
to the
drome
well, we never had silverware
we eat with our
mouths
 and catch lillyfrogs
and beetlerovers
by the Monarch butterfly
leaves
we'll stay in the car
and listen
to the sound
with the windows
rolled up

going down the rabbit tunnel
with a drug dealer and
a broken camera
there's a fly beating against the
window
that looks out on rabbit dirt
ah what's up Doc?
greetings Earthlings!

this scene is painted
in floral chorals
and mauve masticating

trammeling the
besmirched
throwing nickels at old ladies
the farmers jacket
is in the car
we are the loveless
locked in our appurtenances
not writing porters
in Mumbai
not writing poetry about
walks in the woods
although universally ignored
we laugh
haha
very funny
this is going nowhere fast
Did you see Beyonce?
she was shopping for lip gloss
at a used car lot in Des Moines
did you see Morrissey?
he has double pnuemonia
and still a cankerous tongue
ah yes but we're in San Francisco
dream factory for the freaks
and tech miners
smoking in our vegan capsule
dirfting into bars
waiting for the move to Oakland
to be with the real people
and see a little sunshine once in a while

with the dust
of a thousand days
lightning
strikes
the lonely wanderer

the smell of
onions frying
and the sound
of
a car backfiring
as
the sun settled
in old
sleepy town

where everyone
has a good time on a
Saturday night

the cliff wall
was a wall of sound
 a wall of graffiti
a wall of mystery
a wall of corporate corporateness
combined with
a suppurating pustule of
legislative hegemony

a turkey sandwich
with extra mayo

a wall of mayo
a wall

why mayo?
I don't know
I'm sorry
I failed

The lady paying for her groceries at the corner store said our bodies and our souls are separate and the body dies but the soul lives on and Victor agreed with her. I was trying to get to the Haagen Dasz Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream and she was in the way.

geriatric glass blowers
watching a Jim Jarmusch movie
while waiting for an expensive
catered lunch

Oh, castles of glass
floating in the sky
next to the
broken wine glass
and the overflowing ashtray

movement distorts
the pretty things
all left laying in a sheepish
pile
of pictures and wisdoms
wistfully pretending
to live in a cardboard refrigerator
house
while Dad works on the car
and swears loudly upon banging his finger
against the fuel pump

the wind captures
the wind is
the wild and wooly wind

I'm laying in bed
I'm lying in bed
I'm aligning in bed

Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Green Jeans
and Grandfather Clock walked into a bar...

I'm a frayed knot
I'm not afraid
I'm a string tied into a knot
I'm not a string

I am the volcanic carved totem
from the jungle
mixed with the electric BIG MUFF distortion pedal
and an old framed painting of a country
scene in monochramatic colors from
an amateur painter
in a non functioning SF apartment fireplace

Caffeine Roy James was named
for her mothers favorite addiction
and it had a reverse effect;
Caffeine was slow to do anything. Talk,
walk, use a computer, the maths
 drive a car, she just went about things with a distinct
lack of urgency or expediency
"it'll be there tomorrow"
was one of her sayings.
"Manana is too soon." was another.
She did however get her high school equivalency
when she was a sophomore and then leave school.
"This shit sucks" was her reply when asked
why she wanted to leave.
Her birth father was living somewhere
near Sacramento so she headed that way.
Her mother told her she couldn't leave the house until she was eighteen. In a letter to general delivery, Sacramento.
On the train she met a kid named Waynester who gave her some
mdma which made her almost climb out the speeding train.
"this train is going too straight"
When she got to Sacramento she learned her father had been hired
to do computer security for a company in Abu Dhabi.
There was a one way ticket to Abu Dhabi with her name on it which
she talked the airline in to switching for a ticket to JFK.  She boarded
a red eye knowing one friend in New York. Sally Jenkins from summer band camp at Lake Okeewanakapi.

as if to reckon with the void
he perused
the victoria's secret catalogue
his REI dividend lay unopened

the chinese butcher shop's gone
now there's a store that sells fancy things and letter cards hand printed
it's too bad
they had a poster of Martin Luther King, Jr. on the wall
and I ate some damn good pork chops from that place.
center cut. I cooked them "luau" style
fresh chopped ginger and soy sauce
yum

he erred
in a copernican
fashion
sense
went round and round
and never
admitted
something to himself
something he couldn't say

he threw the new yorker in a pile
and lit a cigarette
and looked at his phone
11:11
times was melting backwards
he knew he should get up and do something
but he didn't feel like it
the bed was warm
the window was open
outside somebody was tapping on something
with a slightly metallic clank

he felt bad
guilty
for no good reason
and he wondered sometimes
if it was the medications
if so it sucked
actually it sucked anyway
when he felt like that
there was no good reason for it
not that he could see anyway

he wondered what it would be like to
sell everything and move to the desert
get a double wide trailer and
a swamp cooler
drive 40 miles to shop for groceries
in an air conditioned Astro van

get himself a pretty little conchita
to make tamales
and feed the goat
drink beer from an ancient refrigerator
Maybe Baja would be better
or San Jacinto

1.  aquae
2.  aquas
3. burqa
4. equal
5. equid
6. equip
7. faqir
8. fique
9. maqui
10. pique
11. qadis
12. qaids
13. qanat
14. qophs
15. quack
16. quads
17. quaff
18. quags
19. quail
20. quais
21. quake
22. quaky
23. quale
24. qualm
25. quant
26. quare
27. quark
28. quart
29. quash
30. quasi
31. quass
32. quate
33. quays
34. qubit
35. quean
36. queen
37. queer
38. quell
39. quern
40. query
41. quest
42. queue
43. queys
44. quick
45. quids
46. quiet
47. quiff
48. quill
49. quilt
50. quins
51. quint
52. quips
53. quipu
54. quire
55. quirk
56. quirt
57. quite
58. quits
59. quods
60. quoin
61. quoit
62. quoll
63. quota
64. quote
65. quoth
66. qursh
67. roque
68. squab
69. squad
70. squat
71. squaw
72. squeg
73. squib
74. squid
75. toque
76. tranq
77. tuque
78. umiaq
79. usque
80. aqua
81. qadi
82. qaid
83. qats
84. qoph
85. quad
86. quag
87. quai
88. quay
89. quey
90. quid
91. quin
92. quip
93. quit
94. quiz
95. quod
96. suqs

as if to depreciate the world
more people were brought in
because thats what people do
more more more
how do you like it
how do you like it
shining star
of the island
reaching for the water
diving deep and
wrestling with the
jaguar
in the night
it's eyes are fire
and teeth of diamonds

the war is starting again
just outside
right there

the bodies are laying in the street
more more more
we will eat s'mores
we will eat you alive

sing your song
with joy for
being alive
sing the song of the child
pushing a laundry cart

sing your song of
the woman who talks

and humms
to the sound of St. Anne

listen to the sound of sand
and locust
and water

listen now to the wind
or the street
or the white noise of traffic
or the thought of the neighbor
dog barking all day
that's not a pleasant thought!

poor doggie!

as if the breach could not be contained
management of difficulties
thought process
never taken in to account
what is the
what
can't see the forest for the trees, eh Virgo
locked in
to this reality
locked in tight and
not letting go
NEVER
EVER
how could I?
I'd probably end up doing yoga or something even more dreadful.
(joke)
(sort of)

Quas-eye moto
third star from the sun
third moon in a row
barking up the wrong metaphor

Dye your hair
hot pink
and do your makeup
on the bus
wrap the puppy in a
blanket
and carry the garbage
to the corner
we're not on sale here
we're not rocket scientists
we're standing at the edge of
one more day

burnt out
hot rod
jalopy
in India
the elephants
are moving logs

killing is going on
everywhere

how lucky are we

we mostly just make the bullets and guns
and rockets
and death

stained blood red
and picnic baskets
for
a summer day

if a photo of a
young man
holding an assault rifle
and twenty dead children
won't do it what
the fuck
will

Mr Poe stares
out like a man waiting in line
for free soup

from here to eternity
the horses head turned
on the carriage
lay Emily Dickinson
in her black bonnet
her skin was white

the jerk store called
I'm on sale

freedom rings from the rafters
poisoned
from the draft dodgers
Brooklyn to Miami

wearing a linen suit and white shoes
buying a can of hair grease

and a can of soda pop

this heat will freaking kill you

what did the paper say?

she said they blew a seal
but it was just ice cream

I guess it's time to go to bed

I know this shit makes no sense
but I like doing it
humor me

oh I'm already here
and the sirens
are going off

the night was rain
and they were
playing baseball downtown
dominicans
against somebody else

Danish? They play baseball in Denmark
there's something rotten about that

there's a nice cool breeze coming in
along with the sirens

I always imagine a house on fire
or the cops chasing some gang bangers

probably just a homeless guy passed out in the street
drinking to forget the pain

Waiting in line
She did the bend over
Show me your breasts thing
I just want a sandwich
And a bag of chips

Unburdened in burl wood
With a complimentary corn muffin, buddy
Fried chicken racing
With Racer 5

Don't banish
thinking,
feeling from
your life
I know it pains-
button up
bottoms up
barrels away
we are the disenfrankincensed
move over
and pass the piper

ring that bell
Quasi- moto
as the escrow flies

you lived for your sins
killed a tree
or trees
or another human being

Carry ack
in Lole
thai jeans
and Columbia girls
with broken leg

look homeward angel

Grotesque head drawn
as by Brueghel,
Leonardo
or who?
you draw it

divided frankincense
with bald head
and a Laoccoon
in marble

my mea culpa
celine- esque
in small tome
living in the suburbs
and washing the car on Saturdays

 Al Watan, a local daily, reports that a ministerial committee is considering changes to the way the death penalty is applied, from public beheading by sword to execution by firing squad. The few officially sanctioned swordsmen are having trouble commuting from one execution to another fast enough.

Nine unrelated things

1. oh the aching
lack of
sleep
comes from sleeping too
much
in a hollowed log
or a hollow sleeping bag
or reading Appolinaire
in a suitcase

2. Marcel standard stoppages
from string falling

3. The practical application of random sample
data collection

4. Finally putting on the new sheets
rather than continuing to enjoy the
tattered ones on the bed

5. having to get up at 6:30
am when you'd rather just
sleep in until 10:30( file this under blah blah
blah?)

6. Someone left their hiking shoes in my
van from when we went to... it's been so long I can't even
remember where we went. Oregon?
Also a Mount Shasta patch with a safety pin.

7. Haiku Haiku Haiku uranium exposure

8. worrying about something like, all the time.

9. oh a good cup of coffee

It's a girl my lord in a flat bed Ford
slowing down to take a look at me
C'mon Baby
don't say maybe
I got to know if your sweet love is gonna
save me

Take it Easy- Jackson Browne & Glenn Frey

I had a friend in high school who called him Jackson Brownie
I guess that's understandable
he is kinda chocolaty and chewy
sweet and sticky
sometimes crumbly

We had flat bed trucks in Livermore and guys
would drive with their dogs on the flat bed 
those dogs knew that shit wasn't cool
they had a very concerned look on their faces and
their legs would be all splayed out for maximum grip
they were definitely not taking it easy

My neighbor, Bob is always
asking how things are going?
"Who lives in your place these days?"
"I never see them"
Not sure what Bob does with his time
I see him down at the Central Coffee shop
sitting and talking
"HEY DOUG"
"How's it goin'?

We had a guy living in our building who went steadily nuts
he told the police we were pouring water
on the floor so it would go in his apartment
He started cutting giant holes in the ceiling and walls
to get evidence
it got a little scary when
he would show up randomly
when I was in the neighborhood
and start taking my picture
asking me why I was following him

he thought my housemate and I were out to get him
after a couple years of this shit we were out to get him
we were out to get him away from us
we thought he was going to shoot us or some crazy
shit
his ex wife lived across the street
my housemate always called her by the wrong name
he called her Yoko
the crazy guy started putting cameras on her roof
they were pointed right at our living room windows
It took awhile but the landlord finally got him out

So Bob always asks Hows it going? but nothing
as exciting since the poor crazy guy had to move.

Sorry Bob.

Friggin' frigates
nautical naughties
and nighties
bent barnacled blue bottomed
baronesses boiling bromide baths
and and and and
capture the flag
create the myth
crown the queer
captive audience
coagulating in christ

and



    and




and



       and



summers in sandals 
sunburnt
car metal is hot
so is the black top
that girl is hot



and
and
and
and
don't give non ADHD kids ritalin


help me Jeebus!


af fer fuck's sake

hella
hella
hecka
fuckinA



dry mouth sleep
smoke another cig

buy another book

hey Geoff Dyer

I tried to friend you. Bitch.

I read some motherfucking DH Lawrence too
here's to old DH Lawrence

eek akakakakakakakakak

old leadbelly can sing about it

oh betty black betty
black betty had a baby
bam ba lam 
 black betty had a baby
bam ba lam 
damn thing goin blind
bam ba lam 
black betty
black betty
jom steady black betty
bam ba lam

or maybe Blind Lemon Jefferson

ah tell me where my easy rider gone

easy rider died on the road

I'm a poor boy here got nowhere to go

woman I love man she's out of town



The Continual Condition

sound like the Clash coming on
but no

skankin it
skankin it slow
spliff
whiff
from reality I just cant drift

we're takin it easy
we're takin it slow

we're skankin

take it easy

ahh it's Sunday night
wonder if there's any beer in the fridge...

You may be the Devil
but I own the gun
and in my dream I could
hear you sing the two
of you harmonizing downstairs
I almost cried
in my dream
then I saw the airliner
turning too low from the the window at work
"they're gonna have to pull up!"

but I like to sleep with the window open
I used to be able to hear the sound of a train
from my window
no one knew what it was
"There's no train around here"
but they heard it too
and I could see the bay
just a little sliver of blue green
see, right there
living on bed rock never seemed so shaky
as a summer in san francisco
Mark Twain never said that 

Torn sheets
and Macy's
un bounded
sleeping thru
days
and nights
of such tired
and
feeling the
pea up the nose
this phase has to end
the posting
uncommented
I own the jerkstore
tell em I sent you
they'll charge an addl twenty percent

stuck
and stirred
passing
fancy
and
green bottle
beers
mucking about
in sunlight
and park drive
rollerskating
kids
another day done
worthy of nothing
why am I writing?

why don't you write me?
I'm out in the jungle, Paul Simon

who was the greatest painter since Jan Vermeer?

with pluck&
ploom he
plays
he stirreth the fire
that breathe not
ten hands did perish
in outward gloom
with myre and woe
he faced
his
north
and your south
musket ball &rod
his breeches undone
and yet
was scorned by wythering
lookes
he stole a boat and was caught
by johnson's landing
three months in the grey
hotel
and not knowing him
coming out

ad hoc decorum
motivated by the insurgency in Syria
a prolonged agitation with Cuba
to stir the drink of the
rights that have been
wronged
a stiff drink
laced with an isotope
make your hair fall out and
yer balls will shrivel up and die
it's a combover somewhere in Egypt
It's a dye job in the Gnesset
Australian passports
flying in from Stuttgart
staying at the Abu Dhabi Sands hotel
with Bebe Rebozo
and Milton Berle
listing to Two Cent
in the limo

a no nothing day
like so many others
sunny and windy
in need of coffee
and still lazy

The callused approach flys
Mo
Mo mo fly
Chipped paint
On the windowsill

On the off chance of breaking
Broken on the off chance
Of haphazard
Musing
From bed
In the afternoon
While the the wind forecasts
A large WTF
And the quod
Is aspersive
The final
Gyno Gin Phizz
Child rearing
In Damascus and reading the
Latest book
Maybe I'll go back to
Sleep

as if to remember
as if to forget
to remain

to know

a cabinet
one would need to contain
the world

on television
all is remedied and made diseased
the black wig
the blue eyeshadow
the drop kick

every other
hunger
is in India
or right where you put it

this street is hunger
this lie is vast
a stream of lies
washing you of all purity

every other voice
is not mine
every last thought continues
in bright neon

while the thoughtless
like a royal appelation
the Thoughtless of Cornwall
the endless decree

of worn handkerchiefs&
snotty cuffs

I crossed the moor
at night
chased
by the phantom
steadily I move south westerly
and he trailed
behind
not a light did I see
the entire night
though I heard
his cough
my blade
sang with
anticipation
the phantoms blood
shocked my face
and his screams
lit up the pitch black
night
and then the wail
the caterwaul
and finally the rattle of
his death throe
I took his canteen
and found it filled
with
strong spirit
it burned
and pushed
me into night

Destructo threw the bus
down Sansome St
and
stopped to look in
Crate & Barrel

He needed some new
wine glasses
his roomates kept
breaking his