Saturday, May 24, 2014

Shade Goes Crown




JESUS IS A GALAXY FULL OF EARTHS

More female than woman, I've seen the Youtube video,
Less high than dog shit rolled in grass clippings.
I stay away from doctors and children and
It saves my sanity, life and money.
I'm miles from home, where shoes are scarce and teeth are even scarcer.
It takes the place of a penis in my dreams.
But coming back is necessary. And who's that coming up to meet me?

It's me being dead.
And there's Rachel calling herself an absolute pubic hair.
She lists me
Drinking all night, buying whiskey after beer from her wand-hand.
I lick her pussy, lick her pussy, lick her pussy, lick her pussy, lick her pussy.
Rachel smokes
Arms with various moles.

Angels arc.
Music is bulging. Bulges trust licking.
I've fucked everyone gone mad,
Taken their diet tips from a gunshot wound to 
No company has room for mistakes. 
And a fat slut explains to a friend how to fuck another friend.
I'm real cool the rest of the night.

Fat sluts demand I fuckface.
When they want a system I'm right there with them.
I'm their lost lover
Beaching as a series of left hands that never shook.
I'm aware of their reason.
They're just another show to be forgot.
I look beyond my disinterested lymph nodes. 

I see my brother find love.
I see my sister pass to her children a day beyond compare.
I buy Rachel's dog shit life so I'm not forgot,
And we shake together and
Compete in all things.
I paste the penis of my dreams to
Video clips of her missing blinks. 




THAT'S SO CLEAVER

Officer Dick says
Once upon a time a mannequin wore a chemical suit
And sold itself for $600.
I bought that mannequin and its manager too and 
Invited them to munch on my reincarnation.
We hit the clubs three nights a week, danced and flung our shit
In the direction of cameras.
Gorgeous tragedies paid so much attention to us.
We loved to fling shit to the lines of the poor.

I heard at another club I was abducted.
It matters cause I've eternally tapped me so disappearance is defenseless. 
I'm eternally full of goodbyes
Crossing and recrossing hi-fives.
I'm thankful for my hole in the ground, it's busy.
This way I have a dinner plate smothered with gravy.
Gravy from inside of me sopped by immediate snares.
A witness to the inside of me 
Heard at another club I was abducted

By the inside of me.
My contemporary bloom needs to contrive
A knock of further company-
A misadventure-fresh knock from a gnat silhouette.
I draw back the curtain, a moustache and mouth dressed
As a blackhole clipped pole star with pingers for lips
Owes my meantime a doubt.
That's so cleaver.
Enter untitled death concern.

Officer Dick burns,
Wondering about what to eat and hiccups commence:
Snakes come on.
Shadows stay long.
Snakes reciprocate then lather.

After burning I'm ignoring how I'm supposed to live.
I saw me not minding the gourmet market yesterday,
Smiling for a while at shadow swap meets.
Someone here, I say.
A pounce of sassy compliance takes showers with my wife.

I say to her I promise to be alive everyday.
Sleepy cigarette breath begins to cape
A meaning in my spine.
Sweat appearing inside my ears fears being without the distinction
Either ear celebrates seeking.
I crack a beer from my pocket, it's my abducted body 
Laughing for nothing ever after.
I'm free from home.
My moustache is a gyro.

The year ends alongside its meantime.
The meantime ends alongside an American story.
A lifetime puts forward a bad old bastard
Alongside untitled death concerns still beguiling.
My year begins and motherfuckers I'm smiling.
11:14 coughs a clever
11:14 returning and returning.
My shit's sure becoming snacks leveling 11:14 and
I go to war. I love what it's like to be alive. The shade goes crown. 



Friday, May 23, 2014

Viewer's Guide



DJ Gay Gravy & I share one of our collaborations here

Thanks to brother Rauan Klassnik







Sunday, May 18, 2014

RIP Russell Edson




from See Jack (2009)


PORTRAIT OF A HEADACHE

    Because a farmer was going to slaughter a cow he thought he'd have sex with it. And said to his wife, So I'll have sex with it that the possibility isn't wasted by death. Then I'll kill it and we'll have steaks and short ribs.
    That makes sense, she said.
    But first I'll have sex with it because it's going to die anyway, and I won't have to be hanging around the barn evenings pretending to like it more than I do.
    Good thinking, she said.
     If it weren't going to die sex would be out of the question. But, because it's going to die, it doesn't matter. Death forgives even as it forgets.
     A nice thought, she said.
     And after it's dead you can have a nightgown made of cowhide and wear its horns on your head like a Viking queen.
     Nice use of resources, she said.
     And so I'll have sex with it. And even if it gets pregnant, it'll be dead before it can go mooing to the authorities.
     A shrewd caution, she said.
     I'll stand on a milking stool and do it just this once. But only once, because I have better things to do than standing on a milking stool every night- No, no, just this once!
     I don't care what you do, you've given me a headache! she cried.



PORTRAIT OF A REALIST

     There is an old man who pukes metal. Today bedsprings. Yesterday, the iron maiden of Nuremberg.
     His wife is more for cloth. Today she pukes used mummy wrappings. Yesterday, a teddy bear without a head.

     Suddenly the old man pukes a battalion of lead soldiers. His wife upchucks a bundle of soiled diapers.

     They have a son who's also a puker. But, unlike his parents, he pukes real puke...