Sunday, June 26, 2011


Seems a lot of things are this way or that way. Okay to be plain spoken aint it. Hell I don't even know anymore what it's like to look one in the eye. Lost my edge is all, maybe get it back this time around with that .22 rifle we used to shoot at small hares and like. Rusty up in the shed humidity pushed us past 100 aint that a bitch what a bitch a shed with a rusty .22 rifle in 100 degree humidity can be dont they knowit this swamp is pressing at her seams and hell if any of us can be delicate and sew her up again before a bleedout or worse. Or worse? Hell worse, not a worse to or. Buckets are no good for sinking boats thats what all them movie fellers got it wrong buckets are little boats and fill em and therere more sinking ships its an unkind passing drowning but its a calm as butterscotch cream eternity with seaweed hair blowing like one of them commercials on the tv for shampoos douches tampons crackers yogurt macaroni Q-tips rubber vaginas dogfood catfood parrotfood babyfood elderlyfood maggotfood cereal fast cars slow cars cars that are sometimes fast and other times are slow national monuments women men who dress like women tambourines a parade a circus laundry soap dogs money televisions hair that flows like seaweed/something about the humidity makes one tired of all these commercials and but sometimes there are ones to sell you air conditioning units the size of sheds where .22 rifles are kept in perfectly rusty condition freon buckets/the ones for buckets must be the most creative because it is the most depressing of the products, so they speak plainly to the masses, "Don't you need a bucket? It's also a drum brrrra-pa-pap-pap and so on." A bucket is like most things, one supposes, even if it is not really a drum because how can a miniature sinking boat be rapped upon brrrra-pa-pap-pap and not papapapbrrrbrrrbrrrpapapap in a time of great hardship and loss. It, like most things, is this way but often that.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Another Day in White

Another day in white
another day in white
Eat the day be gay if possible live life opposite of most
Burst any bubble that looks fragile weaknesses are
a way to deal so don't let the dealer lift a palm from the rivets
you might lose this hand if it's five card draw naw fuck it
grenade pin pick ya teeth got a few seconds unburned
maintaining of course rank and gender
It is best this way, keep appearances. Sell appearances but never give them away they will
fucking eat you alive or dyingdead.
Grill ya grill
If you don't get it there's another, homie
don't worry it's the game and the player burn em both a life.
On the street I should know right on the street we shoot niggas for shit like that man play hearts like a white boy but I am not a nigga man just a white boy with a little heart left, just enough to drag on just enough
Don't know nothin about losing heart in tough spots I don't know tough spots
don't know you but you seem alright but you look alright don't know but you bullshit alright caballeros and shit
stand up, hey
stand up if you got a foot or a toe or two a hold
run if you got a building sense of aftermarket open market green light a building sense of murdering after the first time it is difficult after the first time you've lost heart get shot for shit like that
Gentleman and cowards share a bathtub doesn't that make any sense
tired of communicating with you, sun rising on pink cut with shadow slivers of grass a moment of peace, please shut up a minute and look to see soon will be another day in white:

Primitive Flight

Aftereffects are detrimental to one's health according to the labels provided by the FDA provided in pamphlets provided in the seat back provided you are seated with the seatbelt fastened dinner provided headphones provided sexual organs not included eating out eating in eating up in flight cinema critics boo and throw chicken bones at the steward who rides disgrunteled onto the air via inflatable slide and subsequently dies several minutes later yellow is also the color of a banana and a banana is also slide shaped but a monkey would never ever under any circumstances ride a banana for 40,000 downwards feet monkeys are prone to go up the aftereffects of which are also death with some bit of irony ha ha atmospheric reentry is a matter of personal spiritual preference when you choose a church and it requires oxygen from outside sources make sure the FDA isn't involved because monkeys never ever under any circumstances approve of oxygen from outside sources they have become suspicious of this sort of thing and if God is truly dead it may have something to do with aftermarket parts such as nosecones and heat shielding monkeys are funny that way.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Fertilizer in Syntax

Stuck in the head, stolen, words, stolen. Stuck in. Stolen words. Getting the rhythm right. Getting the rhythm, right. Grasping at new, cipher future, drink past, fuck the present. Just a way to explain decay. Fuck explain. Fuck. Create. A clay structure. Hardened clay, a wall a wall to not climb to shatter thinking always of patricide. Rides to groups of two or less. Safety in numbers, slide fingers under the skirt. Rides to groups of two or less. Attention is dragged thin with only ten fingers. Tonight is a bad night until we rest, entwined this way like the way vines grow around rotting cadavering. Tonight is a bad night, until, entwined.

Monday, June 20, 2011

A Foot Asleep

To be a little bit tired. Motion lessened incrementally. A measured fashion. Rulers and such. A clock. Hash marks all around or filed neatly on edge. Somewhat distracted. A word, a word, can't be remembered but replaced by many others in stampede. Trampling is a leading cause of mortality, in an alphabetical sense. Or conversely in an alphabetical nonsense, more commonly. Why? might be a question asked. Only that it must be asserted rhetoric because a change in volume may net an echo but little in form of an answer. This continual might be asking is central to tiring. Measurement occurs implicitly. Suddenly it is still.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Jesus's Mural, Paint by Number

Listening is an art, the only true one left to us. Breaking bread makes its sound, though an old and often heard one. A crunch if the sun is hot a wet and doughy collapse if it is raining and if it is an hour of the morning that is dark and anxious and where one is swallowed by great sucking gales of breath then silence.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Request to Communicate Denied

Destroy it how sand flash bangs, tit, tat, rip your face clean open palm so you gotta smile so you must admit that gaping at her is judgement that turns you on quick like on switch like conflict one position up take it baby detrimental grasp on her hips lurid, I want to make you uncomfortable the way it feels to know how much time there is left to see death raised on your skin, eat you so slow tricks you to think you'll live for ever and fuck for returned minutes can't watch yourself rape her perhaps it isn't stated consciously that's what it's like getting raped by the sun afraid to roll up sleeves afraid to step out of a bucket of tar afraid you couldn't be afraid like it if you tried splinter vertebrae and let your neck hang on it, slide toward a growing mass until everything crawls and everything makes you angry.

everything makes you angry.

The act of relinquishing have you considered what this might mean. Scratch and grind like dogs do when they lock their jaw in a moment of the most real. My enemy that is a friend, no words hold us so close as the hill that we slide toward gestation. Hate is the wind that surrounds a pause.