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!

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 

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"

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!

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.

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

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 

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