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Posted on 2010.05.23 at 00:41
exciting theravisual implications
range from severe to profound
linked to selfdegenerative Arts syndrome
disabling profit effects are randomized

acute augmented pathomorphism. we seek
symptomatic chronicosis for a therafix
but cephalytic buds betray miosis:

antabolism at the core with
placystic variate desires;
desires confessed in the regressional

televistic omniphrenia screams to rest. our
epidermilogical ceiling cleans chemogenesis,
the schizollectual is not statistically significant

neurofortunate side routines of damaging,
even killing, personality cells in the inner ear

taken from a math conference

Posted on 2009.11.08 at 09:20
MOOD: hyperequal to
trivial stuff
it becomes difficult
some weird examples
could be zero could be one
not even square powers
the spectral radius dawned on me
marching out to the circle
break the space, do the obvious thing
follow your nose similarly
automatically satisfied this is
the only thing that matters
away from zero at a certain rate
the measure is building up
such a nice function be a
little specific

>:O

Posted on 2009.08.09 at 01:20
MOOD: annoyedCLOGGED
i said my mouth was a cannon but the hermit was a false alarm. the two cups left standing have the truth in them. reporting live from underneath the scythe: turn over your programs and personal pronouns.

BLAH BLAH MAKE WORDS

collecting plagiarisms for the cabinets in my skull, busting all the shelves in when it's full and dully spinning cut-ups of the masterpieces tours de force external sources sweating words for sinking in and sucking up. i charmed someone with all my theories, resurrected via carbon paper library and weary work, the difficult construction of philosophy from dirt and voices history and shirking choices ministry of mimicked joys revelations magic spells, our recycled lust for hell, reasons knotted to a noose the incest scripture of my muse and mystery. i read a book it taught me stuff. my neurons are a garbage truck, i eat for free the world is rich i throw the nonsense in a ditch i'm crafty. DIY! use the trash to build a shelf, buy your trinkets cheap online and browse thrifty for paradigms that best express the love affair between synapse and photon. i published seven mixed tapes and was patted on the head, no one calls a hack out when he's drawing from the dead. rhyme schemes and

-----

mumbo jumboCollapse )

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open the drain, alphabet soup, garbage disposal, sludge in a tumbler, grudges that jumble with crushes and grief, rushes that mumble with toenails for teeth, pattern deconstruction, alien metaphor.

Posted on 2009.05.22 at 14:47
Where to begin, in the skin that thickens
things cautiously, in the nefarious itch
of ambition? I'm the space between goalposts
where the air is off. Market talk disposes
love to limbo but we all knew that, like spin
is news and Morta cuts herself with the headlines.

Which suicide was in the cards? Was our tower
cut down before the deck or did you flabbergast hell
in your clown suit and bloodstains? I'm game
for solipsism if you say so, turn my key and let me
live this out my way for a small fee. Reckoning
is overstated and the whole damn place is burning
to the stamping grounds. Here I am at business,

I've got a plane to catch. Your coffin rocks;
time sticks me to you like a tarbaby.


Posted on 2009.01.07 at 01:11
a lot of stuff i'll be posting will be unfinished and in progress


I want all my night pills, my thoughtless new details,
the hole to the middle, to the misaligned lifetimes
where we saw our prayers undone with scalpels.
How did the trial go, that exquisite moment when
you watched your other self choose trash
from the wrong side of a makeup mirror?
Sometimes the sequence is the same and yes
there is a hole, a void viewed like text in heart format
because the world is a skin cell. I want that
endless last liter, the drops at the bottom, the
formulas and remedies for flawed organs.
I want intangible communication zones,
my polygraphs and milligrams, free scores,
whole melodies encoded from countdown
to coda, because there is a hole. It's obvious.
It's an old thing paraphrased and published,
some trick of the visible spectrum; I require
a remarkable analysis with the third drink.

notoriety

Posted on 2008.12.23 at 01:49
sociopathic syntax, what your
skin lacks you manage
to manufacture. don't fracture
your lifeline hanging on
to the wagon. some dragons
can be caged with pencils

or refills of residence.
common sense suggests
disaster. just master
misery with style the most
unflattering smile and the slow
lane to hanging
from the floor upside down
it's gorgeous in context
chasing ducks every day

it's not literary
it's a breath in and out
seven heart transplants
blood from the stream
scream what you say
say what it means

i got fucked up on reasoning
and high on hilarity
heart strings froze solid
drearily unsubscribing myself
from the happenings

fanatics flourish in the fire
verb and noun can't both retire
if they burn my sympathies down

Sign Language

Posted on 2008.10.27 at 16:23
On the way to what I need, the market pleads
for my donations. The Talking Couch Flags
in Aisle Six are Limited Edition Interactive
Collectibles, collecting dust and stickers
for Last Chance Clearance. At the infield,
Tummy-Slimming Control Technology Sits
At A Natural Waistline while I wonder if it's fair
to cheat the evolutionary race between ourselves
and the people we play on TV. Only
one lonely pole is not for sale, advertising
a safe way to extinguish fire: Do Not Remove
By Order Of The State Marshal. Someone
has scratched a swastika into the plastic shield.
What I need is on the other side. Next, it's Home
Theater System Connections Equipped
For Up To Six Audio Sources. I am drawn
by ancient forces to every Super Slashed Price.
The market yawns; I find my prize and everything
reads the same backwards: What Are Your Storage
And Back-Up Needs? I've got to back my money
up so some store will need me. At the checkout,
Best And Worst Beach Bodies are trapped
in snapshots midsentence.

squaring the circle

Posted on 2008.09.03 at 21:05
MOOD: cheerfulassigned
You are all piercing vertices,
linear spine, a face like a cliff,
dangerously defined. How squarely
you have boxed me up. How tightly
I am tied.

You infected me in pieces. You're
blocking me from deep inside.
Gratefully I greeted you, just
one cube at a time. Now I'm ripe;

I hang from your side for the picking.
To what field will you fling me
when my curves are all dripped dry?

For I while, I might bare arms
of an edgy nature. I may wear angles,
for a season or so, a sort of funeral
for what you failed to grow.

ghost story

Posted on 2008.08.15 at 21:56
MOOD: sympatheticchanneling
By nighttime I've pulled
blinds together tightly;
Your windows' slivers peek
at me reflecting each triangular
gap between a scream's teeth.

Why fears don't fit in poems:
They overflow the edges,
dangle at the crevice
between paper and lap.
They boil slowly
to a stanza's surface,
or sublimate to spaces
between finger and fist,
head and pillow, kept and missed.

Here is the stump
of a neck, here is the clunk
clunk clunk of the wash.
Here is one parting gift, my favorite
mouth around a question. In another session
his face rests quietly
between true and cruel: its blood
has gathered sweetly in one bitter pool.

Imagery dissociates; I see
one thing and spell out every other.
No image can be terror, nor a stomach
drawn tight nor five tight glances
between tick and tock
strewn across a stretch of carpet.


crunk

Posted on 2008.07.24 at 13:18
MOOD: anxioushydrated
i do an intricate procedure,
in parts delicate and meager:
swallow strong to fuel a fever
in a secret chamber.

i survey safely shadowed spaces,
choose a formula that chases
all of these treacherous traces
forming fast to frame her.

i calculate a careless dose,
split the seam that matters most,
raise a taunting, tearful toast:
ration the remainder.

why do blunders come in bottles?
why does dimness never dawdle?
every final drop i've fought will
surely dry to danger.

vapor

Posted on 2008.07.17 at 14:47
MOOD: blahother side
friends like fine china
your plate to my mate
breaking every barricade but:
never near enough.

look up see you
calamity envelope
impossible periscope -
i hibernated.

glacial knots:
no help per our
melting superpower;
dwindling tide.

wish could did not -
your ghost, my gash.
plant colors in the ashes
delicate soldiers.

reeds

Posted on 2008.07.01 at 23:07
MOOD: bouncymedieval
who tells dead soldiers the war has been lost
the poor has-beens tossed to the sands
- promised lands -
time breaking and making our bands
who would stand for nothing
more boulders cost our lives
all these bodies' wives
the war was good for building
the score for filling time
- promised lands eternity -
dead soldiers say - it's hurting me -
who tells the lord the time
the core has been bossed to a strand

PUUCT

Posted on 2008.01.08 at 05:57
MOOD: cheerfulcut up
pain soothes to stalk
misanthropy, balm for the empathy, talk
all your words into enigmatic
breaks for the mishap.
shame is your ballad; bleed readily,

restart embrace, and then let
go the calendar streaming enigma's sharp
curve; time sidesteps balm, and eyes
bleed our reigns complex.
knuckles to vibes
accepting intentions to stalk
new glances; hearts pump, remind us of pattern
blood keeps for the question marks.
at that step please let
the plane wander, bruises buckle misplaced.
mishap shame mission:
shame is our thesaurus born
of empathy; stark missing themes

walk. my back, forgetting rhymes
all footing and words into symmetry:
a bliss track for various moments.
your dream at the disgrace;
disgrace sincerity for a ballad and second courses.
courses unraveling if we were to
turn it up, recognize chemicals.

hum

Posted on 2008.01.07 at 23:39
MOOD: blankppl
text is my only means of touch
the tendrils text can curl
can unfurl your heartbeats maybe
i am writing to you off the line
on the other side of sometimes
it's hard to make persistance
in a world of fallover meanings
i feel the smoothness of things


mood strings

Posted on 2008.01.02 at 13:37
MOOD: cheerfulOCEANIC

text boxes on plains of patience. what's wasted for it to be so grassy. all sentences are meaningless until something happens. ocular nerves or eardrums. the thing that happens is amazement. the thing i wonder is what the maze meant if these things are used as finishing lines. fishing wire is wrapping up around the catch of the day but there's nothing left but placemats. feelings of forgetfulness force feigned favors while freedom fears fire. beautiful notes to inspire a word stream. put the blaze out with your blood. if you do it right the trees will blossom memories. i poured my last liter into the ocean it's lost and hoping for some buried treasure a measure of strength in a length of nucleic acids.


Posted on 2007.12.26 at 18:40
his luck was good and he was determined to avoid contamination

back spaces

Posted on 2007.12.25 at 23:41
MOOD: calmtypesetting industry

the main thing to remember about typing is that the reasons are imaginary. the best thing to do is to type a series of characters no matter what. once upon a time someone could do nothing but be a pile of words. that wasn't you. still it's important to remember the pieces and exercise the small muscles of the fingers and decide whether they correlate to any brain sections. personally i'm not convinced they do, but i heard somewhere that it could be arranged.

sometimes the sequences are so obvious. when they aren't then it's exactly like the moment when you choose to type a specific punctuation pattern rather than confess. in my notebook there is a cypher. in my notebook there is a locked box and in the locked box there is a diary and the diary is a hollow book and inside there is a locket with nothing in it. ho hum.

people should sew things with heart strings and otherwise utilize metaphors for the subtle processes of domestic life. in other news, i believe my backspace key is going on strike. i have been striking it several times a week and we are both exhausted.


Posted on 2007.11.11 at 05:21
i'm connected everywhere
some netting flies off
it's the dark spaces where sense is made
when the net is flies
when the swarm is lives
it's my back broken by a hand grenade

wireless network adapter
fluent in conductivity, my current
issue is no longer at hand.
it flew into a trash can

flaky and powderlike promising prose
rosey bummed baby with dribbly nose
i'll make the words fit later
i'll outrun the harvest man

"fix your issues into shapes"
you tell this lie it eases fates
let worlds resolve and unravel
let particles have spin
aesthetic stretching of spaces

there is an animal sound
there is a machine sound
there is a universe sound
there is just one thing

today i ionized hydrogen
instruments of measurement
were all laughed at probably once

mix astronomy with
what the dextroverse said
your mind won't ever lose
that kind of label bondage

you're liable for libel
you're slaughtered for slander
you're the real reason you're you

Posted on 2007.09.04 at 22:07
probable properties. your face
miling away from the mirror
one state of relief spins nearer
the other spins clockwise
married to causes and casualties
reminding each other of how to be;

the last collapses concisely
true to its grave function:
i bought this life at an auction
the very last minute. this place
is a branch on a tree. all spaces

imply freedom. marry it now
or forever hold onto your pieces,
entangled and reeking somehow
of implied observations. steady
yourself at your stations, all

infinite indignant leases
on lifetimes.


data crypt

Posted on 2007.07.27 at 12:49

well the unsure shores are shortening certainly. time-out for wind-downs; the island shrinks faster than my glands can master. the lost art of a cryptic question. eternal hello to repeat sunset rising. prices fantastically clashing with payoffs; a landslide, the runoff unpaved and left wondering where do the whys go when waves are so slow to be shorebound. pain in the foreground. fingers to foreheads again align wrinkles with rage. such are mistakes, such are sages hogtied and neglected.

meltdown misdimeanor she's meaner when matchbooks are cleaner. i'm straining to say i can see her, underwater where the giants are.


due date

Posted on 2007.07.05 at 22:11
this is always overdue
it has been light years coming.
relics in space,
do they stay in shape?
traversing the worst
poetry deserves nightmares, proper
elocution weeks later with shame
above the newspaper. absolute sense
(since senses meddle all meanings)
has no weight, one empty waiting room
is all it takes to get your queue,
take your hint and leave. tension
in the song is torture; in what key
can we sing our escape?

RESTART

Posted on 2007.06.04 at 22:37
secret summations, an
oblique notation. dissent,
intergalactic accident:
words spin and shatter,
minds mend and matter
is nonchalant, reactionary.

a number of times pass and
lifetimes dwindle, chances
dissipate into missed marks.

seas thick with sick sharks
spill through to dim dark
spaces for sages. one stark
mistake to remember the stakes.

once marked now taken, once
shaken forever stagnated.
restart the terrible

question mark

Posted on 2007.04.28 at 12:32
step inside our static mazes
nuzzle magic, peek from cages
whisper what you think about

castles float and rockets fly
mark dominion, curse the sky
whisper that and wonder why?

i do some things peacefully.
walk to the market: cup in hand
(plastic brand) down the street
through the trash gardens.
walking always watching this

world spins relentlessly.
the less you see, the more
greed seems to take. so see
the see-saw sticking - seas
fill quick with sickening sand,
one-armed march machine gun band.

step inside our cozy hazes
guzzle vapid kingdoms' pages
scream it sharply, please! before
it's trampled by fictitious war.
wonder what we're fighting for?

the job of the artist

Posted on 2007.04.20 at 18:35
forget and foreclose
our fits and widows
for show. foreshadowing
dwindled to babbling.

(lenses are lifetimes as
lovers are landmines, and
window-pain drips
from our eyes to our lips)

chronicle misery,
monitor wizardry,
fasten a shimmery
tag to the enemy.

(suffering certainly
heals inadvertently
parting the curtains he
sharpens the worst in me)

blaspheme and bingo!
forecast a lingo.
dress up their shadows,
head for the gallows.

(truth has a price
more than nonsense is nice,
and honesty dictates
the artist his sick fate)


Posted on 2007.02.13 at 18:58
Your TV is a tourist trap.
The world is burning down.
What's the format, President?

The screen does not advise;
it snickers and offers
instead an absurd dinner, made
for three and serving one.
Your tube is hawking lies.

Does anyone see the vacuum?

At the library, kids
are playing online poker. Books
grow dust in the back room.
Nothing changes but the format
twists and abscesses in this
horrible space vacated -

What lived here? I thumb
the magazine, its pages back
and back again, last year,
month before pain, some
rosemary winter - nowhere

is recorded satisfaction.
Your TV is a journal of inaction.
The world is catching fire!
Take the tour before it crumbles,
or build the tower higher.

aaa

Posted on 2007.02.10 at 19:15
MOOD: calmaaa
eukaryotic dynasty
fancy every cell is free
misanthropic faculty
don't discuss the leisure fee

parameters of paradise
marry down the ladder
partial highs are mostly lies
twice we nearly had her

download death to data ditches
flee to higher ground
hear the dragon hack your stitches
(number-crunching sounds abound)

one pair of lies to paralyze
optic nervous paramedic
magnetize two dumb grey eyes
formalizing cybernetics

QUENCH

Posted on 2007.02.08 at 22:17
MOOD: coldMAJESTY
MUSIC: HURRR
i have an empty box. my box, your gash. gash your head straight off. masturbate at resonant frequencies, eliminate juvenile deliquency. i had more but time ate the outcome, the vacuum sucks just like soapscum.

comp

THANKS GAVE OUT

Posted on 2006.11.27 at 08:01
thank universe that god
isn't real and all words
are cheap. thank god
for words and for warnings
for wars and pale mornings
for mourning til evening
four sad puns in a row.

thank heavens for lightning,
jesus for frightening
children, too new to know
we're all that way inside:
tangled and shame-colored,
out loud and on accident.

thankfully cracked and bent
vampire suicide note dimension
shooting up lucky stars
thank paradise for dropping
me here on the edge.

ELORGTUSSY OVERDRIVE

Posted on 2006.11.12 at 13:57
small corners exquisitely
hypnotize, divinity crippled
encrypted size minus
infinity. tall corridor
shoulder to throat
rivalry jostling hostile
but remote opponents.

all the observations
calculate fiddling variables
resize riddles immulate the most
immaculate perspective; a sign
scientific notation
assign varying values
a sine value staring
at the ceiling. one sharp
feeling rocket propulsion
blast past one

half past ten by the by
by the wall clock
my sigh turns its collar up
disintegrates. irrigation:
hot tears to dead graves
why do the words march
why do they stalk out
why do they suicide leap
my tongue, the void
ho-hum, which one
will they hearse you out to

do the signs hurt you?
they sting me.
beesting swelling, a fat lip
a kiss snuck out of you
all the presentations

desert me by the third course.
i wrote this coarsely
it raved and spat
every letter drew blood
i begged for it
hey where you at

quarantine lifetime theorem
when the faucets drip
the faces pave
themselves with secrets.


Posted on 2006.10.31 at 16:12
nonsense collisions,
i am wearing out the bank
and flow of things.
tearing at hair
typing at boards
the final chord is dissonant
and ugly as hell
quantity of matter
what matters here is quality
sharpen your brain
whittle out my molecule
of intellectual advancement

ELORGTUSSY

Posted on 2006.10.23 at 23:25
MOOD: MISS YOU
08/15/06 on the way to the funeral

structures and forms
forwards and backwards
outwards and inwards
graveyards and vineyards


 


 



rotational chronicles
baubles and building
glass in the ocean
word in a bottle
driving distracted
bootheel full throttle

kneel at the candor
open notation
delusional grandeur
heart detonation


LONGTIMES

Posted on 2006.10.23 at 23:23
MOOD: SYRUPY
decimal format, the formation
does not measure the meter.
quite frankly good, two cynical
lynchers peer over each other's
guts with a forecast of inaudability.

two sticks down into the market,
inches cancel everything. dowsing
for itching powder, gold dust,
irrelevent observation
on stationary characters.

FIXED AXIS

Posted on 2006.10.23 at 16:01
MOOD: ROTATE
the day took
centuries to clarify
eons of fabrication
speculate the obvious
love exists
hard love shook me
it shakes me every moment
the breath of the world
singularity apex
the nouns the ways
to tell that
tell these things
i feel fabulous
employed slightly
fumbling forward
learning luster
there is work to do.

Posted on 2006.10.06 at 19:44
susceptible silence,
violence issuing worthwhile
orders, heart valves
and cell borders repent
oxygen. sloppily sorry
for sustenance, taking
it back for a glimpse
of the empty space


 



the modest disgrace of
your absence. since
sisterhood separates
freewill from friendship
anger and anchors and
foresight from style,
what of the gaps

 



between sentence and trial?
what if we try all
the sentences, phrases;
what if they run on
like mazes, or tapwater
making the slap
hotter, the last gash deeper.
what if we steepen
the hole to the middle,

whole melodies leaping
from coda to countdown.
turn your heart up
harder, wind it back.

dig up the calendar
relive the morning
relieve the mourning with
pencils



FAKING IT

Posted on 2006.10.01 at 23:06
lol, circa 2002
----------------

Faking It

In the moment before your sigh
I am sweating, not for you
but for you to think it so:
this is my fight against my tendency
to disappear
while you labor, heavy, above me.
I attempt. I am looking at the moon.
I think: she's neither full nor new,
like me, some ovalish thing -
but there you are, still fevered.

Here my clenched fists are
like everything your success.
For this, I tense each muscle
softly and with calculation:
your respect is anything
but liberating. I owe you now
no service but my reassuring
pleasure. I am looking at the moon.

You quicken. It's time now to
love it (and I do, if you'd please
turn the sweet curve of your
eyelash to the light or your chin
to my tongue, but you the hurried
soldier have eyes on victory). I forget
to move but I am looking at the moon,
her patient loveliness. It's time now to

gasp; and I do, alone and
darkly once you've freed
my shoulders from the weight,
the wait of your terrible need;
it's better this way, to the snoring
rhythm of your confidence.
Because I love you, you may wield
my false cries like a slick
Excalibur, still soft,
a premature birth.

comp
Posted on 2006.10.01 at 15:50
poems and protests
peels and pages
secrets sliding out of sages
raging relentlessly
words in a pile
worlds in orbit
circulation five minutes away
ten seconds and counting
ticking and tasting
all i can do is be a pile of words all i can do is be a pile of words all i can do is be in a pile
piles heaps happening
hanging from the floor upside down
www
to-do
ta-da
talons tightening
gallons gurgling
grudges worsening
pacing october
worlds pacing themselves a calendar burning a frustrated minute discerning accident from cruelty
action-reaction pairs
count for the creaking stair
stare at the crack in the universe
"the universe is cracking"
flashing eyes vs. spraying blood
separate sameness

Posted on 2006.08.26 at 20:48
commentary what do you think. how hard do i stink. internet nation globe he she young old. lol for you and you and you. look here look there it happened where? upside outside turn the doubtside inside out from cry to shout. open wide. close the lid. burn the body. repeat sunset rising. green flash literary rain.

isolate the variance. the scariest version the wariest pianist. incest the intersections of indecision.

dandy

LITTERBUG

Posted on 2006.08.26 at 20:08
MOOD: thankfulFICTIONAL
MUSIC: KEYS
pulling into the driveway was normal, but i stared hard into the rearview mirror. the pave along the road behind was as flat black as always, but vague motion caught my eye. a layer of swirling papers, food wrappers and crinkled plastics blew gently across the street and down the sidewalk. from my distance the procession resembled a line of single-file children, moving along with order enough but lolling each about the other in lazy arcs. the breeze was light against my face as i walked to my front door.

Posted on 2006.08.26 at 11:45
MOOD: boredelorgtussy
MUSIC: pound
sorry about: improbable permanence of particles, intangible communication zones, and friendships under the radar. attn all representatives of friendship inc. run this ink in deep: woman overboard, land ho. do you get the pun. do you see it from the bottom side, seawater side, do you see it through the salt now sarah. are you a treasure chest. are you the mayor of atlantis. are you a pearl that jumped oyster. are you on the run again.

can you clarify my instantaneous velocity? are you a pile of ashes; is it better than being a pile of words? if words are swords could you cut my throat to stop the chattering. chat attack - where's my right hand lady at, home row defense missing. asdf oh no oh hell. hello world and goodnight moon. hello this and goodbye you. now you're all in pieces under the lenses of peace and friends. sorry we blew you up so gigantic.

you're all pickapartable, data segments and slices, a statistical buffet. can you oversee analysis or do you get to care just this much less. i still have a clitoris and i wonder if you do too anymore. the words in the books on the shelves are all just dirt on the days when you won't talk about them with me. why am i supposed to put that dirt inside my brain. why shovel all that in without my friend? to bury the dead i guess. burying your smile under 700 pages of science fiction was a natural endeavor. pack it in tight. please be a light beam and feed the flowers through. through and through the fabrics of bedsheets time and punchcards please be bold and drive yourself through everything.

i miss you sweetheart love and dear. the nicest words for you. the finest fabric for the thickest quilts of friendship. are you blanketed beneath the graph now sarah. did connect the dots work out as well as we both hoped. the quietist chemical queen was quoted as a constant query. i wish you the cleanest return values.


comp

COGNAC

Posted on 2006.08.26 at 05:17
compromised majesty, alluring polygon
(i can't tell which inside i'm in on)
this hive fits, fluent currency
and current fluency. no poem secures

the measure of what madness settles
homeward. tuesday's pilgrimage
to mayhem matters; matter settles
thursday under cat's-eye compliance.

not a singular appliance
will argue with me, refuse a whir
or kick or scrub. inside, hubbub
excuses waiting, the weight of
execution draining out my sides.

execute the argument, the imposing
denial. execute each fragment of
my trial. run my fingertips
along the borders here the paint
implies an order, here the faint

unfolding of a secret can be smelled.
sweaty hands of galaxies are held
softly inside my own, and luckily
our palm-lines match, good energy
between us and beyond.

comp
Posted on 2006.08.06 at 12:38
MOOD: confusedelorgtussy
MUSIC: sarah v

these are the haps the gaps between places the slaps in our faces the traces of raps left besting me in the afternoon. these are the unremarkable markers of hours, missing our marks twenty seconds from towers. these are the flowers dropped onto the grass atop powerful centers of mass disintegrating into scattered showers late in the fall. this is the middle of all the misaligned lifetimes the unhappy mishaps i miss happening with you already. our lifetimes were off center this time how could i have guessed. if every time is closer to the perfect time then next time i'm a rock and you're the ocean eroding me into yourself and the time after that i'm a skin cell and you're a hair follicle and we go everywhere together pushed into position by an external force of motion. seasick motion i also hope the ocean is still there and that i keep waking up and i hope the time after this we go directly to light beams illuminating everything holding hands. maybe we already did and this is a splinter of possibility lit up by preexisting amazingness.

i'm trying to step up out of the flat plane of the lifetime game and see the forces at work composed of metaphors made up of a mish mash of inanimate objects like dumpsters and horses' hooves all in a pile representing the inconsequential nature of death and life but the main thing that happens is i remember something transient that lives in the middle of a puddle of pain like an answering machine message or an unrecorded chat or a strand of hair or other symbols of immediacy and short lived things. if everything has happened and it happens all at the same time then you are living and laughing at every moment regardless of the visible state of things. if my eyes are basically flawed organs sending the baby of my brain a message about what's going on that's skewed by emotional chemicals and the prison of a perceived timeline then why are they still full of water and stinging with other things that conjure chemical reactions in my stupid body that can't stop feeling bad things about where you are just because it's not on the same planet as me. i love you and i'm trying to be less dumb and more hip to the haps but the haps hurt and so do the words you said that now we all have to say for you in a way that hurts because they sound different in our mouths and your style is awkward on us but we need it around.


Posted on 2006.08.04 at 16:51
A lonely stack of books
embarrasses the television;
it scorns the hungry looks
of girls to boys. Hunger
is the theme of the incision
below the breast, just under

the heart or straight through.
I'm in queue for heart transplant
I hope it comes tomorrow
with a special one-time only
bonus manual for sorrow.
Some books sneer; on my cue
their pages turn. Ages burn
between them, easily and distant.
A simple stack of lonely

letters punctuates, stands
to scream. Bright covers wield
advertisements, price demands
through which no flicker
of the battle gleams. Shields
of thick disinterest: we bicker

over Tuesday evening's sitcom.
From the couch I choose a show.
My heartbeat slows; I hope
the new one works. I hope it knows
to race against the slope

comp

DOLLAR GENERAL

Posted on 2006.07.23 at 03:41
MOOD: angryRETAIL WHOLESALE HOLE
MUSIC: RETALIATE

 

 


useless, you allow plastic
tools to clatter. plastic
floor beside your shoes they
cease to matter, when matter
is manufactured ten times daily
in exact proportions.

use less things. it seems
a simple formula, for making
more and more unusables
is being used to mass produce
a monster with our name
beside its face. shatter

another copy of another glass
replica: sweep it underneath
another nylon woven rug. shrug
again while you still can, before

the man beside you steps
onto the corner pressing
you into another aisle.


comp

ln(2x)

Posted on 2006.07.14 at 13:03
MOOD: touchedlogarithmic
MUSIC: prime

 

 

fictional faces, to leave traces erases
what grace is left still of his place.
fabricate firm facades, formulate
more mirage. miracles mount
vulnerability to his visage.

integrate a singularity. simulate
instantaneous hilarity, the moment
pleasantly frightful the moment
of cusp.



GIFT BOXES

Posted on 2006.06.07 at 13:09
MOOD: chipperUNWRAPPED
MUSIC: CRINKLE

 

 

 

the present tense:
your tension predicates
our sentient predicament.

this present's sent:
absence is a gift
of misery from misers.

your presence predicates
this unpredictable
premise. this, promise

that you'll abstain
from predictability, pretense
absent in your presents.


Posted on 2006.05.22 at 00:47
everyone is coming, cups brim yellow something cusp is soothing spilling over into format. linking loves and landslides, beams and ways and honest days. pave the way for mathemated countdowns doomsday seeming soon. you and me under the moon. lunar coaster drink a toast, together.

Posted on 2006.05.12 at 09:06
MOOD: amusedSTYLISTIC

push a chair under the table. hush a stare's thunder, disable the fable from blunder. strike wrath to the rabble, like babbling crooks bathing brooks saving looks from a five-winded hurricaine. caving to murder sane ravings of hive-minded furious reigns.

curious stains, undurable worrisome veins in the main line of shipment, lame fines and misplaced contentment.

[10:29] RACING THE TRAIN, FACING THE SAME BRAIN IN THE LEFT LANE SPACING YOUR GAME OUT, PACING THE AUTUMN AWAY

[10:29] HASTENING WASTING THE DAY, LACING THE BOOTS OF DECAY

[10:30] PLACING THE TRAY ON THE GRACES OF FACELESS SURVEYS

wasted forrays into places whose cases are tasteless and shamed. watching the wall for a claim, hatching a stall for your fame, still waiting to fall for the same.


comp
Posted on 2006.04.16 at 01:45
MOOD: anxiousWASHING MACHNE
MUSIC: DUNE

limit to luxury, life in the sky. kissing the queens and asking us why. singing past sundown and dancing til dawn, my best guess is chess hold your breath catch the pawn. a skyline recliner, a luxury liner, six oceans of sewage drain righteous reminders from accident. misery loves misery and company loves more. empathy can't wait to settle the score.

maybe solace is something you realize you get only once or twice a lifetime and maybe that's just okay. maybe i'm not going to be superhuman famous someday. maybe these words will go down and maybe i just grounded myself in the downside of shame. maybe they'll glow golden and maybe i just have too much in me to write, too much smite, rhyme, enough good ideas and not enough context. if i write long enough eventually i'll play out every sentence and every construction of parameters and methods. i hope i get there. i hope i tear this language down from the bottom up to the top of the highrise apartment luxury armchair remote control console consolation prize i'll get in my next life from being the best wife to a money machine. gold mining to certain seashores. be the beaches and teach the beautician to better the best bare shoulders, buffed broads were bred boring but bring biscuits and come quick to bounty. last night i dreamed about the spaceships again and i'm not sure how to put this down in a box or a page. dream log for certainty it would seem to say.


Posted on 2006.04.09 at 10:48
MOOD: flirtyFLIRT

 


stationary characters, two seconds
to sundown (it seems sometimes).
if love is a reaction of chemicals
then you are probably a complex
or imaginary replica of my mind's
favorite cure for pain. certainly
the settling of sunlight would
upset the surest equation into
irrationality. but instead

you say nothing, things pass, and
reactants produce. at midnight or
whichever hour is darkest, particles
spin in place and in the quiet
i can hear each one. still the sum
of the songs is somehow silence.

if point A is far away and point
B is farther, can you find the point
in waiting? can you find the limit
of separate sameness, can you integrate
isolation into understanding. two

points are one line and time
is one certain circle growing fast.
last time was different and next
lifetime is distant enough. hold
on and gravitate slowly to the center.



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