some folks got thin grins
and others with 'em a little
wider

i hate clayton

he is the eggshell in the omelette

but it is only the mention of him
i hate
the reference....

tolerance
serenity

i do not know myself

samsara eats my tender pieces for breakfast

ah aha ah a aggfsgsnsnhjmkytk

oh geez fuck

the liner of this coat
the way the dust sits in like teeth brought together

really aids my imagining
that i haven't
moved in years

always coming down they are...
from a mountain
or maybe just the high stairs
of a lodging on the lower hill

plunking down pocket change
now with dates dubious
and preventive measures against
counterfeiting out dated

but hey... this coat...
Read More

ah michelle michelle michelle

i've been sitting in expensive heat reading jimmy corrigan

and golly, gol-lee even
what a pal i would have in him

actually think of the birth of the corrigan book (for it is quite thick) reminds of another one i picked up a while ago which was...

The Necessary Angel: Essays on Reality and the Imagination
by Wallace Stevens

I have...
Read More

i've yet to mumble the big verse,
to get over any of this

and samsara i realize,
dances the role of my
friend to fill the code...
cos it knows me
my impassioned reports
surface in between only seconds of deliberation

and my old friend,
the one who was a human being no doubt wanders around
in a more regal form
still a human...

that...
Read More

more and more am i
of a wordly build

and the world only...

ah..

NOTES ON THAT MOST INTIMATE OF INTIMATES (Sprung from a painted jar, a painted sign, a painted face, and then...) :



I realize that sex fosters in me an attachment to the partner and i realize that when finding itself in a casual setting, this attachment must either walk the path of repression or be communicated which may lead to a jeopardy of the whole...
Read More

here is my broken stock ticker
cutting children in
some irresistible dark corner

done wandered away
from the foil-edged
magnets framed
on the radiator

i swore i smelt
excellence burning
when the dimmer months
the lower months rolled around

the church floor colder
the rosaries stolen
broken apart and thrown
in the alleyway
with the hopes of confounding
the urgent meters and filings
of bold...
Read More

all my life
i've eaten out of bowls
the edges of plates
seemed greedy

i see a person and the face with which they work.

i see a PERSON and THE FACE WITH WHICH THEY WORK

the face, the body... and then the mind inside or
the mind about

formless
and only known thru it's expression
a voicing of sentiment or action
some snakebite expression

and i see this mind mildly at odds with its physical form

(it really...
Read More

did i tell you about this scrap metal hat i've been working on?
or that it's really been working on me?

every time i think i've got all the sharp edges licked there's some precious knick that's meant for my head

and trust me, it finds it's way there

why does blood poisoning have to feel so much like the flu?
where's the variety