i hate
when people walk around their homes like they own them
when they think they are alone
they slam doors a little harder and dont turn down their music
they dont care who hears
do they know
that i am here?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
What this is amazing crazy?
In Albertsons,
a pack of batteries fell,
burst open,
some rolling on the ground.
Outside,
a man walking by,
spit on the ground,
and a cool night breeze blew through my hair.
a pack of batteries fell,
burst open,
some rolling on the ground.
Outside,
a man walking by,
spit on the ground,
and a cool night breeze blew through my hair.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
ERROR IN THE PAGES: SOLUTION!
As of yesterday, comments on any of the supplemental pages have had some kind of error that doesn't allow you to post. This problem is widespread; apparently something broke with the server as many people across blogspot are experiencing this. No one has any answers. This means that the other pages have become irrelevant, and will remain un-commentable-on until the problem is solved. In the mean time, if you have an idea or event, comment on this blog entry instead.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Excerpt from "Minute Poems"
This is the beginning of the third in a lineup following "Ephemeral Press," and "Hi, None." Here are some poems:
[4]
this minute was supposed
to be spent reflecting:
answering questions unaskable;
but instead was spent
describing a psychopath:
his hair gelled back
and angry eyes.
[5]
thinking about a smoldering pile of melted polyester
(coughing itself up into the fabric of a mattress)
listening to the sounds of crisp fire
drowning out an air-conditioner
smelling burnt ochre
a circle for summoning
greater demons
[6]
Drip-drain, and clustering leaves
hold, a certain smell
black-brown transition between winter and spring
a lost
dog smile
sounds periwinkle mouths and figs
[10]
by himself in a field of rhododendrons
(or were they wilder flowers?)
without thinking,
stepped on a bee.
now we can’t even sit outside
without burning up
in the unfiltered sun
the leaves on all the trees are gray as dust
[11]
false rock statues and rust lumps
eternal sky lamps
color the atmosphere gray and you get today
all heaped up
[4]
this minute was supposed
to be spent reflecting:
answering questions unaskable;
but instead was spent
describing a psychopath:
his hair gelled back
and angry eyes.
[5]
thinking about a smoldering pile of melted polyester
(coughing itself up into the fabric of a mattress)
listening to the sounds of crisp fire
drowning out an air-conditioner
smelling burnt ochre
a circle for summoning
greater demons
[6]
Drip-drain, and clustering leaves
hold, a certain smell
black-brown transition between winter and spring
a lost
dog smile
sounds periwinkle mouths and figs
[10]
by himself in a field of rhododendrons
(or were they wilder flowers?)
without thinking,
stepped on a bee.
now we can’t even sit outside
without burning up
in the unfiltered sun
the leaves on all the trees are gray as dust
[11]
false rock statues and rust lumps
eternal sky lamps
color the atmosphere gray and you get today
all heaped up
The TV told me this
Jesus walks in the swamp with bare feet;
it’s the only way he can find the anacondas.
it’s the only way he can find the anacondas.
COWSKULL SAD FIRE
I knew once I was past-distant in the air
Seeing something dancing
Across a great chasm sunken
Death kite flames and shining finger rising out like a rock
Target acquired
Not for long and the pain will be insurmountable
Having nothing to hold on to
Carry me
Fever spit and distant shouting
Stomping wildly (is that my heart?)
Slightly malfunctioning to the floor
Withdrawn from carpet
Staring into dream
Of this cowskull sad fire
Hunchbacked
Bloodstreaming
Cicada eruptions bass and treble continuous motion
Hardening from inside myself I confront
Thirty dirt rocks scratching into dust
On a tilted porch
An eagle with no eyes unimpeded soars
Something awakens
To here itself shout
A new silence
Seeing something dancing
Across a great chasm sunken
Death kite flames and shining finger rising out like a rock
Target acquired
Not for long and the pain will be insurmountable
Having nothing to hold on to
Carry me
Fever spit and distant shouting
Stomping wildly (is that my heart?)
Slightly malfunctioning to the floor
Withdrawn from carpet
Staring into dream
Of this cowskull sad fire
Hunchbacked
Bloodstreaming
Cicada eruptions bass and treble continuous motion
Hardening from inside myself I confront
Thirty dirt rocks scratching into dust
On a tilted porch
An eagle with no eyes unimpeded soars
Something awakens
To here itself shout
A new silence
Monday, March 22, 2010
"Fur Sultans Now" by Bats, Bats & Chaps
I have been handing these out to random people, leaving them in bathroom stalls and various offices, and will now be offering a display of these brochures at some table (the wine table? the product table?) at the p(art)y for Delta Journal next Wednesday, the 31st. I'm teetering over some ideas for the brochure dispenser, as in, what to say on it, images, etc... CLICK TO ENLARGE!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Pillow Talk
A truncated, poem form of work.
Pillow Talk
Under the covers you and me
Drowsy from this many afternoons
You thinking “baby penguins”
I thinking of you--
apple bottom, and watermelon Saturday, finding the chocolate chips
stashed behind the Tupperware
Rocking in the lull of heart hum
You say “hmmmmm” and yawn in
Let us talk about the span of the universe now when everything rhymes
Rocking
Let us get it all right for once
No talk of Hitler and his babbleplatz or sailboats, because I want to talk about sailboats. And dogs. We know we already agree, puppies filled the void of God.
Let us get down to the basics so we know where life should go from here
I won’t be abrupt, this won’t hurt
Occam’s shaving cream, I will be gentle
I hear you and your metaphysical inclinations, your causes, bumpkin
Or at least I think I do, perhaps I am one track too
If we see the inclinations as foundless beliefs,
though they may be perfectly right,
all that you can know is that you exist…though we feel that we exist…our emotions tell us we should care about each other
Our emotions will be passengers, though
we will couch them in softness
but won’t couch our meanings
If you could hear me out in your polar chapel
If only there wasn’t the crosswalk of precedent,
or the pragmatics of your bunching socks
Metaphysics is persuasion.
Well…it could be…I must lounge my words in probability not pope talk
Do you understand me? Did I sway you?
So we will bathe in the same cloudy water and rummage for the soap
It must be right under the surface
We will go together, we will find it
Let nothing get in the way--
the pale ceiling, the knotted skin,
the wealth of fanlight on your white ass
What do you see?
I see holes, holes,
Black holes, they get larger the more you fill them
What is a hole that knowledge cannot fill?
Some call it god.
But our gods are comb-overs of the aging.
Is it one life, that’s it?
or Infinite lifetimes?
Can you reason your reincarnation?
We kill over karma
Don’t give me that path. That cobblestone bath. That varnished cobblestone path which society says is so, reality is not up to the majority.
Just because whales don’t vote, doesn’t mean they should be vanquished if your suffraging neurons elect
What would the whales say?
No cetacean without representation!
Do you see anything?
Only the hissing highway, the open door, a cat moaning outside in the frost.
No, don’t be tired, this is important, I see why the tired, though--in lifetime perspective. Funny that the grave can flash mutate into the repulsive
In years the smile dry melts back into the death snarl
Don’t give me those gloss eyes, as if meanings get mold,
as if they needed a refrigerator
I will remain here, while you glide your feet over the swimming pool, skin silk on the cold railing and call you out to the expanse of buoyant ego death.
What separates man from beast is his discomfort,
his itch never to be fully pleased with himself
To build his worry into a house
Queasy at his meals,
Cro-magnon vomited from the loyalty of Mesopotamia, and itched for sunburn and frostbite
Everywhere you hear “I eat meat, what of it?
I kill coyotes, what of it?
I fight pitbulls, what of it?”
Collateral
Dogfight
Incisors sew into the neck
Suicide bomb hit
teeth knitted into the wall
A bandage around the head
stitches go in and out
To find out now is to have proportion, balance, to help end unnecessary suffering
You look at me crab style
Utilitarianism is untilitarianism
Either we die out in another few hundred years or we expand faster than we destroy ourselves and huddle round small stars that burn for trillions of years
Everything is a mouth, there are mouths everywhere. The walls are like a honeycomb with teeth now eating through the soles of my shoes, now turning my feet into flesh spaghetti. Now knowing the end--that we cannot know yet and maybe ever.
I have forgotten you, bumpkin
Please forgive me
I will not be this unfaithful again
In this odyssey from ape to man to beast again, we’ve come full Circe
I will always fold into the fold. It is so cold, let us shield ourselves here, and shift around the bitter burden of righteousness.
Pillow Talk
Under the covers you and me
Drowsy from this many afternoons
You thinking “baby penguins”
I thinking of you--
apple bottom, and watermelon Saturday, finding the chocolate chips
stashed behind the Tupperware
Rocking in the lull of heart hum
You say “hmmmmm” and yawn in
Let us talk about the span of the universe now when everything rhymes
Rocking
Let us get it all right for once
No talk of Hitler and his babbleplatz or sailboats, because I want to talk about sailboats. And dogs. We know we already agree, puppies filled the void of God.
Let us get down to the basics so we know where life should go from here
I won’t be abrupt, this won’t hurt
Occam’s shaving cream, I will be gentle
I hear you and your metaphysical inclinations, your causes, bumpkin
Or at least I think I do, perhaps I am one track too
If we see the inclinations as foundless beliefs,
though they may be perfectly right,
all that you can know is that you exist…though we feel that we exist…our emotions tell us we should care about each other
Our emotions will be passengers, though
we will couch them in softness
but won’t couch our meanings
If you could hear me out in your polar chapel
If only there wasn’t the crosswalk of precedent,
or the pragmatics of your bunching socks
Metaphysics is persuasion.
Well…it could be…I must lounge my words in probability not pope talk
Do you understand me? Did I sway you?
So we will bathe in the same cloudy water and rummage for the soap
It must be right under the surface
We will go together, we will find it
Let nothing get in the way--
the pale ceiling, the knotted skin,
the wealth of fanlight on your white ass
What do you see?
I see holes, holes,
Black holes, they get larger the more you fill them
What is a hole that knowledge cannot fill?
Some call it god.
But our gods are comb-overs of the aging.
Is it one life, that’s it?
or Infinite lifetimes?
Can you reason your reincarnation?
We kill over karma
Don’t give me that path. That cobblestone bath. That varnished cobblestone path which society says is so, reality is not up to the majority.
Just because whales don’t vote, doesn’t mean they should be vanquished if your suffraging neurons elect
What would the whales say?
No cetacean without representation!
Do you see anything?
Only the hissing highway, the open door, a cat moaning outside in the frost.
No, don’t be tired, this is important, I see why the tired, though--in lifetime perspective. Funny that the grave can flash mutate into the repulsive
In years the smile dry melts back into the death snarl
Don’t give me those gloss eyes, as if meanings get mold,
as if they needed a refrigerator
I will remain here, while you glide your feet over the swimming pool, skin silk on the cold railing and call you out to the expanse of buoyant ego death.
What separates man from beast is his discomfort,
his itch never to be fully pleased with himself
To build his worry into a house
Queasy at his meals,
Cro-magnon vomited from the loyalty of Mesopotamia, and itched for sunburn and frostbite
Everywhere you hear “I eat meat, what of it?
I kill coyotes, what of it?
I fight pitbulls, what of it?”
Collateral
Dogfight
Incisors sew into the neck
Suicide bomb hit
teeth knitted into the wall
A bandage around the head
stitches go in and out
To find out now is to have proportion, balance, to help end unnecessary suffering
You look at me crab style
Utilitarianism is untilitarianism
Either we die out in another few hundred years or we expand faster than we destroy ourselves and huddle round small stars that burn for trillions of years
Everything is a mouth, there are mouths everywhere. The walls are like a honeycomb with teeth now eating through the soles of my shoes, now turning my feet into flesh spaghetti. Now knowing the end--that we cannot know yet and maybe ever.
I have forgotten you, bumpkin
Please forgive me
I will not be this unfaithful again
In this odyssey from ape to man to beast again, we’ve come full Circe
I will always fold into the fold. It is so cold, let us shield ourselves here, and shift around the bitter burden of righteousness.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
composed on a recent shamanic journey:
I like abounding in this hallucinogenic eccentricity...
it's pagan electricity.
I'm seeing worlds beyond each thought-mind, confusing the delicious elasticity of rubbery-giggly sound-world. Experiencing the here-and-now as a ridiculously decorated decadent fruit-tray, I see the endless fascinating tasty distractions of swirly-colored hysterical fruit-smiles.
Insane sanity distorted mind-rider upon bizarre alien thought-perceptions
intensity beyond the breaking-point of the mundane. Psychological explosives were used.
Truth-Consciousness-Bliss is the very definition of love.
Giving in to the moment yields ecstatic realities beyond the range of which your pupils can dilate.
I have nothing else to say except this in another way.
I like abounding in this hallucinogenic eccentricity...
it's pagan electricity.
I'm seeing worlds beyond each thought-mind, confusing the delicious elasticity of rubbery-giggly sound-world. Experiencing the here-and-now as a ridiculously decorated decadent fruit-tray, I see the endless fascinating tasty distractions of swirly-colored hysterical fruit-smiles.
Insane sanity distorted mind-rider upon bizarre alien thought-perceptions
intensity beyond the breaking-point of the mundane. Psychological explosives were used.
Truth-Consciousness-Bliss is the very definition of love.
Giving in to the moment yields ecstatic realities beyond the range of which your pupils can dilate.
I have nothing else to say except this in another way.
Independent Article #1
There is a Kentucky Senator standing to criticize heartlessness and filibusters in Senate billions all over the jobless—“Should he be alone as a mortgage of the bill such as a stimulus?” the two bailouts being chairmen versus assessments. This is the industry being stood up by the belief party’s money.
Congress has been one of the few topics to sprout up for school systems.
Bunning is denying having unemployment spending where both sides of the point are saying that in a new the benefits of the people trying to get the more recent dollars, the Senate is going as well as more ethical money such as outrage funding.
Congressmen were attempting to be “global” when in theory, they weren’t being global at all. Kentucky stirred a lone memory occurrence against the Louisiana $10 billion jobless teacher/law subject questions.
The article in rollcall.com might put a pitcher of a still fastball here in the Hall of Fame. A shot was objecting to McConnell in 2008 praising the bill and the relationship hitting “frosty deliberations” on all points in question—deliberating terms the Senate is to be backing on various officials and aisles on the same side. Mitch McConnell elected this progressive and ideal backbone of keeping—keeping the people, the entire American population of topics, writing what he or she could constitute.
Congress has been one of the few topics to sprout up for school systems.
Bunning is denying having unemployment spending where both sides of the point are saying that in a new the benefits of the people trying to get the more recent dollars, the Senate is going as well as more ethical money such as outrage funding.
Congressmen were attempting to be “global” when in theory, they weren’t being global at all. Kentucky stirred a lone memory occurrence against the Louisiana $10 billion jobless teacher/law subject questions.
The article in rollcall.com might put a pitcher of a still fastball here in the Hall of Fame. A shot was objecting to McConnell in 2008 praising the bill and the relationship hitting “frosty deliberations” on all points in question—deliberating terms the Senate is to be backing on various officials and aisles on the same side. Mitch McConnell elected this progressive and ideal backbone of keeping—keeping the people, the entire American population of topics, writing what he or she could constitute.
RANDOM POEM GENERATOR #1
There is a randomly generated poetry website http://thinkzone.wlonk.com/PoemGen/PoemGen.htm
Its bad, because the word options are very limited, but the results are HILARIOUS! Look:
FALL QUIETLY LIKE A STORMY SHIP.
O, LIFE!
THE WAVE TRAVELS LIKE A WARM GIRL.
WHERE IS THE STORMY SAIL?
ALL SAILORS LOVE COLD, DEAD WHALES.
Another:
OH, DEATH!
NEVER FIGHT A REEF.
CLEAR, SMALL TUNAS SWIFTLY DESIRE A CLEAR, CLEAR SHARK.
LOVE IS A LIVELY SHIP.
And those are just from the sea template! The city template is good too:
ALL CIGARETTES DESIRE FACELESS, GRIMY DRIVERS.
WHY DOES THE CAR GOSSIP?
NEVER DESIRE JACKHAMMERS.
Its bad, because the word options are very limited, but the results are HILARIOUS! Look:
FALL QUIETLY LIKE A STORMY SHIP.
O, LIFE!
THE WAVE TRAVELS LIKE A WARM GIRL.
WHERE IS THE STORMY SAIL?
ALL SAILORS LOVE COLD, DEAD WHALES.
Another:
OH, DEATH!
NEVER FIGHT A REEF.
CLEAR, SMALL TUNAS SWIFTLY DESIRE A CLEAR, CLEAR SHARK.
LOVE IS A LIVELY SHIP.
And those are just from the sea template! The city template is good too:
ALL CIGARETTES DESIRE FACELESS, GRIMY DRIVERS.
WHY DOES THE CAR GOSSIP?
NEVER DESIRE JACKHAMMERS.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Haiku for John Cage
While hunting mushrooms,
You happened upon nothing
And understood it
This was so profound
The world decided to name
Nothing after you
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Reminiscences by the floor of Studio 54
i will not cellophane
aim can of taurus dust
at meninges
ice-a-lating vain
i will not sell a feign
until i count mouth parcel scrap
a member of the f. bee eye
feign copulating breighn
aim can of taurus dust
at meninges
ice-a-lating vain
i will not sell a feign
until i count mouth parcel scrap
a member of the f. bee eye
feign copulating breighn
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Mutt Holler
Three Piggy
Dr. Race-Walk
Smarty Resin Chestnuts
Ferret & Ferret discuss resin Techs and Stunts lengthy scepters 5 (thresh) and 9 (stints). THC contents will simmers spiffy the sultan fat merle.
Though resin ochre sun we find ands catmint node verity tenth classman. “SP resin thresh rods king lung find. Thy have lovely caserns that my choc be where its funds-n long corps. Thy can slay torte let fines and porn confess nothing flaring. Asps my nay shocking stunts slightly tight thru tent. Thy co cantle ink stints athirst” (Ferret, pg 69).
STP rattans ruled “porters.” Thy give murders than Spas, but only when necessary, stay “nay prism sans farm and perform titan such from tethers sessile” (Ferret, pg 69). SFP rattans ruled “Performers.” Thy natal sons firstly from, riming whilst likely girders, advent gates sight on what thy ring that thy my struck fame.
THC resin student snow who elves by the pyres “cry damp.” Thy love kith present and have no fur catmint and from. Thy map 38% fat pylon, curding tasty 1984 by Kirby and Bits. Specters fetus grope unclad though STP Nutty (most likely tuba called hydrate), STP Tenor (clump observers elf), SFP cru (playful, vices, and tango), nude SFP tryst (midst, gently, nitrating).
Nonuse, rattans make parley large prong fat pylon, villa from, catmint, no verity — living lens to print manta. Thy my have trebly flowing to rills, but thrum novelty dudes catmint chining.
Three Piggy
Dr. Race-Walk
Smarty Resin Chestnuts
Ferret & Ferret discuss resin Techs and Stunts lengthy scepters 5 (thresh) and 9 (stints). THC contents will simmers spiffy the sultan fat merle.
Though resin ochre sun we find ands catmint node verity tenth classman. “SP resin thresh rods king lung find. Thy have lovely caserns that my choc be where its funds-n long corps. Thy can slay torte let fines and porn confess nothing flaring. Asps my nay shocking stunts slightly tight thru tent. Thy co cantle ink stints athirst” (Ferret, pg 69).
STP rattans ruled “porters.” Thy give murders than Spas, but only when necessary, stay “nay prism sans farm and perform titan such from tethers sessile” (Ferret, pg 69). SFP rattans ruled “Performers.” Thy natal sons firstly from, riming whilst likely girders, advent gates sight on what thy ring that thy my struck fame.
THC resin student snow who elves by the pyres “cry damp.” Thy love kith present and have no fur catmint and from. Thy map 38% fat pylon, curding tasty 1984 by Kirby and Bits. Specters fetus grope unclad though STP Nutty (most likely tuba called hydrate), STP Tenor (clump observers elf), SFP cru (playful, vices, and tango), nude SFP tryst (midst, gently, nitrating).
Nonuse, rattans make parley large prong fat pylon, villa from, catmint, no verity — living lens to print manta. Thy my have trebly flowing to rills, but thrum novelty dudes catmint chining.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
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