4-23-15

A Poem is a Poem is a Poem

Gerdy Stein taught me that.
Except sometimes poems
aren't poems. They can be
leaves, or syrup, or a computer
chip, or an old newspaper,
or a calendar, or a poker chip,
or actually a prose piece FOLLOW
DIRECTIONS NEXT TIME.

4-22-15

I'm Watching Deep Blue Sea Right Now

That was incredible,
word travels fast about the
future. Beneath its glassy surface,
Seth Green lurks.

I am the shark whisperer. Fear me,
I am become death.

Trust in me, trust in my shark
whispering. I can't seem to remember
the word for "OHgodOHgod don't kill
me," but that's irrelevant.

This movie has LL Cool J in it.

4-21-15

Oh The Songs You'd Sing

It is a known fact that eating
pretzels can lead to a dry mouth,
a gasp, a glass of water.

It is a known fact that drinking
a glass of water can lead to another
glass, the desire to piss.

Pissing, it is a known fact,
can lead to overhearing conversations
better left unheard.

Hearing conversations better left unheard,
known fact that it is, can lead the desire
for vengeance.

The desire for known facts, it is vengeance,
can lead to introspective thoughts and
tears.

Don't cry.

Switch to DirecTV

(Brought to you by Geico)

4-20

Weed Culture

Weed joke
Weed weed wee weed

Look at me with my counterculture

Loooooooook

4-19-15

Baby Baby Baby

Purple and blue, green and
white: the colors of pill bottles
and tomorrow.

Kick into gear and look at the stars.
Remember the reasons why
we leave, the reasons why we
remember. Let us remember.

Let us forget. 

4-19-15

A Great American Story

Man watches TV.
Man meets love of his life.
Man changes channel.

4-16-15

Yeah yah ahaaaaa



yeeah heah yeah
yeah yeah uh uh
uh ymmmmm umm
um um um
yu youaaaaa yahahhhhhhhh

4-15-15 (FEATURED POET: BRITTANY MEANS)

Trying out something new. GUEST POETS!
In Brittany's own words, this is a "dumb poem I wrote about making whoopie."

Querer

 

Arch up and roll.

 

It’s two parts lighting

and as many parts touch

as the two parts call for.

 

Sounds caught turn into warm

to stick, peach body, home.

Sweet clock-stop, sweet thumb-neck, sweet lips-jaw

to

hands on books

on

back

on

ethereal planes.

 

Trapeze mouth drop, and I

snap down

the middle.

I twist mid-air.

I’m up, and you’re up, and we’re, we are, spinning.

 

Pool.

4-14-15

Poem Entitled: Poem

There once was a poem from
Nantucket, who couldn't think
of a good rhyme.

WAIT BUCKET.

When the poem runs out of
things to say, it ends, or at least
it should. What can I say,

I'm a sucker for a good
multivitamin

You've almost convinced me
that I'm more than just
touch and mercy.


When I update, I mean
business, when I shower,
I let the water run down
my poem and through
my stanzas. 

4-13-15

Custard Pies (Briefly)

Roving lunatics and bands of
Tommy Bahama shirts. You're
not fooling anyone JASON.
Sorry, sometimes Imake assumptions about
people and things, but then
again, bedsheets are purple.


Well well,
we've been here before
now haven't we?
Four stories up, and a
million Creed songs to go.


Here you be. Here
you been. Can't go on?

Buy Bowflex.

4-12-15

Majestic

Would it be?
Disheveled clothes, scattered
haphazard leotards and makeshift
love. With people.
And people, who're bullfrogs
frogging their leaping bull necks,
croaked and croaked. The
night is thick with scent, of
popcorn, of potatoes scoured by
fire, and fire moist with smile.

This is the end of the endings,
when the heroes come together
and think to times far simpler,
leaving and shaping the future
like clay. An owl hunts in twilight,
grass is lazy.

4-7-15

Holy Shit

Holy fuck, jeeeeezus wowzers
WOWZERs I'm like crazy
right now. On the edge of my
seat and fuuuuuuuckkkkkk wow
I can't believe this ohmygosh
homygosh ohymyossssshhhh
this is crazy man like so crazy
wozwerssss I can't on my
god I literally cannot
eveniliterallycannoteven
right now #cray

4-6-15

In a Galaxy Far Far Away

Wisps of color bursting in the air,
leaving behind the faint impression
of machines gone bye. Don't

counsel or regret. Glass pillars
ripping through the ether.

A wormhole is there one
moment, and gone the next.

Holograms flicker and wonder
what it means to live.

4-5-15

Chocolate Rabbit

Sweet sweet, milky and
smooth. Bite crunch crunch,
damn Easter is a fine
time for candy.

Eggs poking out of bushes,
warm in the sun,
melting sugar and cocoa
on sticky fingers.

4-1-15

April Fools Bitches

My spokesperson is a right wing, one armed jelly bean.
Cotton candy flavored.
He wears a top hat and a holster, which he holds a banana in.

This angers the banana flavored jelly bean.

3-31-15

All Around All Around

Faces that float and drift and wear.
Going nowhere, with ivory eyes and singing harps.


Is there a pill for the my ailment.
Just make me forget.

Put on your mask, you man of wicker and wax.
Burn unto a candle, burn under nothing.

3-24-15

Concept Album

Your music is evergreen, violet and yellow
piercing rays that shiver and vibrate. Like
dust settling, like ash falling, You've given
me too much.

A crescendo of cascading stars, hurtling
across the sky, bursting through the black,
around rings and gas giants, striking
vivid and abrupt chords,

With music like ferocity and salt,
I wish to die with you. I can feel
it shaking my chest, rearranging
me, breaking my ribs like

levees. My body is a city cleansed,
destroyed, and rebuilt. I am rubble,
I am the remains of something lesser,
years growing shorter, memory growing

longer, I am faint, I am a song,
ending. 

3-16-15

On This Date in History

Twins were conceived out of wedlock.
He cradles her head and runs her hand through
her hair, watching the trees and the wind.

State the facts and smell the stars.
Laugh and smile, laugh and go,
indeed.

3-15-15

Like the Glint of Cold Steel

He smells like the moon, gone and
crisscrossed. With eyes trained upwards
and footsteps grounded in the sky,
he walks amongst the dishonored.

You are a noose around my neck,
cinched and multiplying to the point
of intensity. My words can't justice it,
can't remember the freshest of air.

My least favorite misspelling is noone
no one who says noone can ever be my friend.

There's no reason for it, insanity which probes
along the dark side of life. Like ethereal points
pinpointed and slipped under the covers.

There's too much sugar in this drink.
I'm a moron.
I'm rambling
I'm a song, ending. 

3-10-15

Blisters

Forming on my fingers like little balloons.
The sergeant left his gun on the counter top, but I had no return address.

Major, please sit down and be reasonable.
Jets and Tusks are all well and good,

but I've named my dog something classier.

I have a coffee mug for every occasion, but my
favorite ones are the ones that I got on that

one occasion.

I admire his purity, the man
who dreams of lighthouses and the moon.

3-9-14

Fan Letters to the Dishonored

I'm sure that you always meant well.
I'm sure that you always meant well.
Take heart.

-----






Leave the toaster right where you found it.
It's not nice to steal.

-----


Take your pills.
They're filled with medicine.
They're filled with life, to replace
your dying life.
Take your pills, and fill those
lungs with new breath.


-----

Iron and calcium coalesce into
pure titanium. Dentures made
of ivory and starlight, fall
into a bed of down, fall through
into the floor,
fall out of yourself

3-5-15

Predator

I am the mighty hunter.
I have stalked these
Queso Fiesta Goldfish
for days

lurking in the grass
clutching my rifle
wiping sweat away
glancing at the sun
thinking

2-26-15

I just realized that I have been unironically listening to Europe for the past hour

What am I doing with my life?
Why?
Oh god, I should go outside. 

2-25-15

It's too late

I feel like you are the yes,
and I am the spaces in
between each and every letter. I feel

like a burning lilac, incense and smoke
along the wisping curls of your
lip. Yes, tell me why we turn,

why we dance and why we
grin. The interviewer asked questions
I was too afraid to answer. Questions

about why I never told you how I
really feel, why I am scared about becoming
a stick in the molasses.

I wish I could feel the highs and highers
of your neck, feel your smile on my heart.
I want to be soil between your fingers,

and the scent of cherries. I am the
wood slats of a cottage, begging you
to stay, because I know how cold it is

outside, I've been outside. I want to
print business cards with both of our names.
But I know when I'm being foolish,

I know when you're trying to let me down easy,
that little grin and sigh, cross your arms,
look at the trees and listen to them breath. 

2-18-15

Letter

I want to listen to the grass murmur
and bend, a long way towards the dream
that we both know we want to live.
Listen to thunder crackle across
mountain tops. See the brilliant
flashes of pristine people drink
from flasks and speak esoterically
of lovers past.

2-17-15

Coffee Cup Full of Pens

Pens that have signed checks
and all sorts of paperwork,
dripping bureaucracy and
legal pads. Red pens,
blue pens, countless
black pens, dried and inkless
on an inky night.

Give me another day to
scratch an answer. A slip
of paper torn from a bit
of cloth that bound our
favorite book together.
I won't hesitate. I'm full.

2-11-15

Ropes of Light

Through window panes and window
blinds and doorways, cracked open
so that the acrid scent of smoke
can waft and wander

down hallways and under
doormats, the vision of health
and warm coffee coma
mornings, office work

and cubicle torture. Everyone
had dreams of the universe
and water, bathed anew
in beautiful pools of

cobweb joy, sorrowful
mournful tomorrow. 

2-10-15

Coffee Mugs and Zippo Lighters

Steam rising from the click
click clickity clink of porcelain
on oak wood.

Click click open and close
watch the cold licking
flame, lapping tongue

and scent of thick vanilla.

2-3-15

Inheritance

A few pens, long since
emptied of their ink lie
nestled between the pages
of a Hemingway novel,
a few rays of the
rising sun cast across the
desk, a mug of coffee,
steam rising in lazy
wisps.

2-2-15

Cereal Bowls and the Apocalypse

The morning after the calamity
when the grid went down,
and the crazies rose up -
martial law and roving packs
of lunatics, cannibals and
murderers roaming the
gray, lost wilderness,

a man sits alone at his
dinner table, watching the
fallout crack and bubble
on his window, a bowl
of granola before him.
Lift spoon, slurp, drop
spoon, lift spoon, slurp,
carrying on and on,
clinging to and to the
life we lived, the life
that's gone, the sweet
taste of honey, dribbling
down his lip. 

1-27-15

In My Dreams, In My Nightmares

Molasses wallpaper dripping
dripping down the sides of
my face. Time moves slower
here. It's close; it's near.

Smoke rising up, the color
of burgundy and Edgar
Allen Poe, ravenously slipping
its cruel grasp around

my throat. Do not disturb,
do not enter, do not pass
go, do not collect 200
dollars, do not

love. Do not say
goodbye unless it's
necessary. We're forced
to say plenty of goodbyes

Talk to me. 

1-25-15

My Album Drops This Week

I made it for you,
I make everything for you.
Like rain
and shells.

1-24-14

There are Better Things to do

Than watch tiny droplets
of water roll off the
side of a glass,
than watch snow fall
outside the bay window
in the dining room,
than to sit alone and
think, than to sit alone
and think.

1-20-15

Signs of the Future - The Ballad of Betrayal (Part Two)

Down and around and
all over the sliding
slippery slopes of

Why do I enjoy the

taste of rotten 

apples?

Arrogance rolling down

the street like amphetamines,

like a voice screeching 

about the end

of the world.

Why can't I?

Why can't I stop loving

you?

He stands at the bus 

stop, stopped for us,

gazing up at the sky

rainwater falling 

from a bloody sky. 

1-19-15

Three Headed Devil - The Ballad of Betrayal (Part One)

Jack, who lives down on Oak
street, sells week old newspapers
and pot. Disheveled hair and
abrupt buttons, ripped clothes.

Beneath the billfold of a
duct-taped wallet, made by
his niece, he keeps a few
two dollar bills he thinks that
are gonna go up in value soon.

Just wait! just go
sitting on an monkey toothed
championship highchair.

Feed homes and hopes. They
don't last.

He struts down the sidewalk, kinda
swaying back and forth, like
the axis of the planet is constantly
shifting. Wolves cry,
and day shifts to night uncontrollably.

Jack, man of his word,
man of many faces and
friends, given to lovers and
loathers, wearing loafers.
money and plastic baggies
Exchange hands in a school
playground, the snow falling
in sugar shakers, and he
turns, leaving footprints
that are gone eight minutes
later.  

1-12-15

Songbird

All we can
be, or not.
Crystals and
diamonds will
energize and produce
fractals. Fractured fraternities
going off the deep end, going out of
history towards the moments where they
ignore and implode. Roll over and under the
joints of my kneecaps, sing and song and sunder
killings of dreams and world leaders. That is a
low blow, sir, a low blow, sir, a low blow,
merciful God, make me remember,
never let me forget those little
overreactions she desired,
pined for, it is absolutely
quintessential that I
remember. Why?
Sing of those
theaters of
unread
vibes.
We.

X marks the spot,
You know I love you, I'm a
Zealot from the church of you.

1-11-15

Eavesdropping

Sitting here,
earworm worming its worminess
over the hall and under
your wine glass, you
think that I'm unable,
incapable, impossible
that my sense of hearing
would be that good.

Words that twist and
bend over the and across
and through simultaneously
singing little inaccuracies.

I wonder if you really
think those things,
I wonder if I believe you
too.  

1-10-15 Long title, Short poem?

I used to chew on bits of plastic, which was before my first job as a taxidermist, but that's a story for another time, and that's how I discovered that I fucking love lemonheads, and any other sour candy but sucking on the sweet, sugary twang of a lemonhead just makes my fucking day, man, and reminds of those times I used to spend with my old girlfriend, sitting on the bumper of a 1994 Ford Taurus and listening to the radio, passing the box of candy back and forth and taking a swig, dreaming and loving until we ran out of candy and realized we had nothing in common - we broke up, but that's a story for another time, what I'm really trying to say is this:

I'd give up lemonheads for you.

1-6-14

Wine Soaked Daydreams

Salivating gutters slip and
slickly slide across cellophane
and slapstick wine soaked
shirts. Fall and stumble,
let the crimson and
chamomile solve the
chrysanthemum night.

To strut across the neon
of faded, washed out glory,
thirty feet high, balenced
precariously across the moments
we long for, across the people
that can never be with us.

Cross the tower, tightrope
walk through the night, through
the words you want to say,
but are too afraid to speak.
The answer is known to you.
The answer is far too
terrible, too terrifying and
real. Soak your daydreams and
your night dreams in love and
loss, live in them for as long
as you can. When did things
go so wrong. 

Return from Hiatus 1-5-15

Ode to Bean Burritos

Piercing, abrupt flavor
arcing across adjacent
taste buds. Oh! how
I love Bean Burritos.

Woe to the fool,
woe to those who
have never tasted your
sweet embrace, alas

I know there is a God.
The presence of Bean
Burritos, the one absolute
good in this world. Sink

your teeth in, and soar,
know enlightenment.