Wednesday, July 22, 2009

2 Poems


Your crude art is my way out.
But then, depression sets in.
And this depression distinguishes itself from sadness
Through its intensity and duration.
Abounding feelings of loss and disappointment
Further instill the notion that all life is futile.
And because you're young I cannot complete you, for I am
The critical result of years of sex and sin, destined to be
A crop coerced into birthing his own insecticide.
And some nights I watch you vanish into masses.
And maybe it's not half bad
Deleting that primordial flash.
In the darks in between, my accessories climb onto the brink.
And sometimes they vanish, and sometimes they reappear.
And some nights I vanish, and hot damn I'm skidding
An asteroid trail of sirloins slurred with chins.
May God bless such play.
May my God bless your filler
Mourning the first sensations to gloat.
Whatever you're healing is still desperately hurt.
It's never easy to wake a tubesock tasting of each sorrow.
Whatever sleeps under me has no antibiotics.
And I will leave here when the money runs low.
I will leave you either stoked or skinned.
My eyes they open your mouth an opening, I am hidden
By ways out.
I climb the brink and address this nudity.
Unaltered, as shame might say, engaging a wall
At peace with the law.
Now the money is done spent, and our booth sits reasonably
Enough to hold high these insults of episodic rape.
An owl's stain steals my affection for the sky.
I repeat, you die.


Catching fireflies, I think she actually ate one. Earlier, we took a
Long nap while listening to Bob Dylan's
Time Out of Mind. So how
Was your stay in Brookings? I found your note, and

I'm amazed you found my car back behind everything. You probably
Didn’t try to come in the building, which you couldn't have anyway,
But I was sitting in the grad office most of the morning right inside
The doors. When I saw your note I thought, I was so close! Anyway, I

Autumn Sonata in the mail yesterday and I read through all the poems.
I really like Trakl's writing style and the way you can see perfectly
The images he describes. At the moment I really like the poem "
Souls", but I also thought the prose poem "Dream and Derangement" was
Beautifully disturbing.

I hope you will tell me of some exciting or interesting things that
Have happened to you since you were here:

Mooncloud! At night
Wild fruit falls black from the tree
And space becomes a grave, and this earthly journey a

There, over you, unless your parents have died, of course.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

2 Poems, amid other fine scribblings @ Ex Cathedra

Monday, July 6, 2009

Friday, July 3, 2009


These reappointed shakes are almost as bronchial as
Kate Voegele's
"99 Times" or "LoveGame" by Lady GaGa, so
To deal I read how
Word Riot publishes the forceful moistures
Within up-and-coming flatulence blown out to warm some ringworm
Performing a kind of Pakistani belly-dance called
mujra in Lahore's historic red light district. Last fall,
A judge in Lahore's high court declared
mujra dance "vulgar" and banned it from being
Performed web-footed. Also, lauded were two teenage terrorists
Recording a new album sang sexually to arouse a goat's
Deeply conservative Muslim lactose. Where the

Punishment for blasphemy is a death sentence, one
Urinating fool in NYC openly mocks the grotesque
Establishment of mayors, pastors, educators, engineers, military
Personnel, first responders and others who dominated the fabric
Of American fanaticism from its conception to cow. And as ongoing
Helplessness defines moral and family values, the need for
Her home with a needle plunged in him has especially
Been making it to work everyday and even talks about
Gowns wrapping the windburn below a fractured crown. This
Information has been sent to the Library of Congress and sure I
Secrete an ISBN number while fondling it.

Thursday, July 2, 2009


A butcher complains about the regulated oasis while re-doing his
Motorcycle seat. Tans a cows' hide and is
Preserved by it. Another flight was off on a big tangent toward
The center line of the highway without
Regard for oncoming traffic - a rather good

Fuck You sort of supervising of determinant cancer. My rich
Uncle Nick's supposedly
Involved with the "Banditos" and other biker gangs. He's
Native American, tall, skinny, long and tatted up. He's often
Kicked out of Canada, abandoned in a trunk and

Shot execution style. All this
Indicates is that the spud always gets rid of lesser
Membranes. I start joking about culling the herd. Dick gets up
And says
"Has anybody seen Dick?," then busts out laughing.

The guy next to him didn't hear him and asks what he said. Rick's
Devoted to this brawny groin on his face
And says, "Nothing".
On a completely different float, hearses have landed as
Green bean assortments.