---For Nada G.
light sounds off to hail the air conditioner
Almaty teeth, giant snakes, and Indiana Freeman
wolves too drunk in the belly of a shark
fossils of dinosaur boners coming to life in a museum
this is also how my parents were married
they join lips and hurry to destroy me
a 24-inch gummi bear fucking up my gums
the process of teeth decay
all destroying me
Space Maurice:
Emperor Teeth is a huge bird with a 5-feet wingspan which covers what is now London, Essex and Kent.
His bony ‘pseudo-teeth’ which help him to catch and hold slippery fish or squid eyes and noses, create a false air hole where he keeps his wife: a devil-fish with no arms and eleven eyes.
She is the goddess of good fences and hammers dropping.
She is out to destroy me.
21.12.08
the puss that folds and exits with delicacy
---For Shannon Smith
In her tear ducts the folds measure the distance
from one Canadian haiku to another
or that infinite whine trading one suck-out
for a sore filled with fingernails
The red bends back against itself
its hollows broke on the light in dimes
against any rusted screw exists delicacy
it being designed to bend back
In Mexico sight can grow corn
and it is art
it is a delicacy
we understand how to evolve
to enter and exit
Fold all tabs
and catch sunlight in the center
Four corners calling to the river
sweeping debatable qualities "delicacies"
into a basin of pus to breed and lay down
It was about you
but people came into coffee
and we became Cherry's head in an airport
but that was before pockets grew in our earlobes
and we knew some animals were unfriendly
In her tear ducts the folds measure the distance
from one Canadian haiku to another
or that infinite whine trading one suck-out
for a sore filled with fingernails
The red bends back against itself
its hollows broke on the light in dimes
against any rusted screw exists delicacy
it being designed to bend back
In Mexico sight can grow corn
and it is art
it is a delicacy
we understand how to evolve
to enter and exit
Fold all tabs
and catch sunlight in the center
Four corners calling to the river
sweeping debatable qualities "delicacies"
into a basin of pus to breed and lay down
It was about you
but people came into coffee
and we became Cherry's head in an airport
but that was before pockets grew in our earlobes
and we knew some animals were unfriendly
18.12.08
16.12.08
pancakes and other things i would eat the fuck out of if tomorrow would just be here already
---For Daniel Bailey
Loop. Fuck. Eat. Repeat.
Hurry the fuck up, eat my meal as if you were tap water bukkake
or arrows of carnations that a fish makes, you shout and freak
I love you like Chileans compose a whole that perpetuates
secretly, between the language spoken in May.
I love you as I cut my eyes and the cherubic
hidden within the face of Neruda, danced off the aisle foot lights,
and thanks to a bunch of artsy bicycle folks
lives the dense tongue that rises from the cracks in our teeth.
I love you without a Spanish guitar solo
I love you simply, like the flower is the plant’s genital organ
I love you in a way that blew up in a rage on the warmest winter
but this, a light circumcised in franchise, a green knight birthed
so intimate that tonight I write what is packed in,
so intimate that it starts stabbing me in the points where I can't sleep.
Loop. Fuck. Eat. Repeat.
Hurry the fuck up, eat my meal as if you were tap water bukkake
or arrows of carnations that a fish makes, you shout and freak
I love you like Chileans compose a whole that perpetuates
secretly, between the language spoken in May.
I love you as I cut my eyes and the cherubic
hidden within the face of Neruda, danced off the aisle foot lights,
and thanks to a bunch of artsy bicycle folks
lives the dense tongue that rises from the cracks in our teeth.
I love you without a Spanish guitar solo
I love you simply, like the flower is the plant’s genital organ
I love you in a way that blew up in a rage on the warmest winter
but this, a light circumcised in franchise, a green knight birthed
so intimate that tonight I write what is packed in,
so intimate that it starts stabbing me in the points where I can't sleep.
non-conceptualism
There are perceptual states whose representational content cannot even in principle be conceptual. If that claim is true, then at least some perceptual states have content whose semantic structure and psychological function are essentially distinct from the structure and function of conceptual content. Furthermore the intrinsically “orientable” spatial character of essentially non-conceptual content entails not only that all perceptual states contain non-conceptual content in this essentially distinct sense, but also that consciousness goes all the way down into so-called unconscious or subpersonal mental states.
--Robert Hanna
crawling through space on razorblade laser hands and knees
---For xtx
This tribute is adapted from an obituary...
Theodore Maiman, 79, laser inventor, dies... from days when power was measured in “Gillettes"... on the house, changing frequently, but it's a gardener's draft of history... "I was bored," said one man whose hands were covered in sores and snow...
I was using one of those very thin, sharp, double razor blades in an aquarium... you sat on your knees perpendicular, as they rested in the pooling... you that you have to get down on your hands and knees and feel the earth... I open my soda and cut my thumb... the universe humps against itself...
The subject, who acts a frame for a light, is hanged from the ceiling by their hands or feet and beaten, taken to a bridge and is found out as a piece filth or film... not so much cutting an edge as half-cut and still sliding, a bolt of red cotton finding the ceiling... then I could see just how steady I could hold my burning hands...
Zewdie was kneeling... a crimson tide fell into bath water and made violin sweeps... African drums cut the cord with a sterile knife... at an acute angle, you'd do this more often... not my father, he'd shaken hands and gentleman's words... Jell-o fired me from Circuit City on a Monday...
To look down, to buy razors, to crumble down on air... this is done...
Thirty-yard lengths of paper were then placed on the floor... sweep off all big junk... murder of your kneecaps... razor blades churned like tough sponges... machine knives tickle the skin of your cornea, creating space... a device of oscillating metal... a life of dried flowers next to an open window...
In an x-ray lab he unveiled words better used for sword fighting... 47 years ago he unveiled a fully functioning world... gold fell around me in a paste and I died...
Like perfecting the laser...
... it is very likely that he was addicted to hand sanitizer.
This tribute is adapted from an obituary...
Theodore Maiman, 79, laser inventor, dies... from days when power was measured in “Gillettes"... on the house, changing frequently, but it's a gardener's draft of history... "I was bored," said one man whose hands were covered in sores and snow...
I was using one of those very thin, sharp, double razor blades in an aquarium... you sat on your knees perpendicular, as they rested in the pooling... you that you have to get down on your hands and knees and feel the earth... I open my soda and cut my thumb... the universe humps against itself...
The subject, who acts a frame for a light, is hanged from the ceiling by their hands or feet and beaten, taken to a bridge and is found out as a piece filth or film... not so much cutting an edge as half-cut and still sliding, a bolt of red cotton finding the ceiling... then I could see just how steady I could hold my burning hands...
Zewdie was kneeling... a crimson tide fell into bath water and made violin sweeps... African drums cut the cord with a sterile knife... at an acute angle, you'd do this more often... not my father, he'd shaken hands and gentleman's words... Jell-o fired me from Circuit City on a Monday...
To look down, to buy razors, to crumble down on air... this is done...
Thirty-yard lengths of paper were then placed on the floor... sweep off all big junk... murder of your kneecaps... razor blades churned like tough sponges... machine knives tickle the skin of your cornea, creating space... a device of oscillating metal... a life of dried flowers next to an open window...
In an x-ray lab he unveiled words better used for sword fighting... 47 years ago he unveiled a fully functioning world... gold fell around me in a paste and I died...
Like perfecting the laser...
... it is very likely that he was addicted to hand sanitizer.
14.12.08
(William Carlos Williams) Gnawing Bones In New Delhi
---After Beaten By A Beauty Shop-Owner
Ganoush has a temper and splits
a girl's wool over two tempered
boards, a gram of salt, and the
buried grave of wicker harvest.
He made a gi(womyn)rl take shoes
apart in front of a crowd. My eyes
split her skull and her blood
made a ring for my finger.
I crammed her hair in my nostrils.
I made a plane and left there, found
a new place and kept it clean.
My car is now a ghost of where autumn
barfed her soul onto the ground and
I walk there, but I don't want to
know her name, so I keep her there.
Ganoush has a temper and splits
a girl's wool over two tempered
boards, a gram of salt, and the
buried grave of wicker harvest.
He made a gi(womyn)rl take shoes
apart in front of a crowd. My eyes
split her skull and her blood
made a ring for my finger.
I crammed her hair in my nostrils.
I made a plane and left there, found
a new place and kept it clean.
My car is now a ghost of where autumn
barfed her soul onto the ground and
I walk there, but I don't want to
know her name, so I keep her there.
8.12.08
Don't Let an Old Man Cry in Your Vagina
---For Jess
He had buttons crawling to his favorite hole
an old bench and a tree and light differentials
Wild Bill surrounded by wolves teeth and diner napkins
and he looks at a young girl having sex
floss shreds line her cheeks
brilliant lines of granules streaming
Picasso is a limp and three cups of ice
as a sexual object and as a mother
passes sweat through a flag
now he summons a bladelike beard
to make a toothy grin and a dreamy spark
I hate him
Picasso clenches his cleft punchline
knowing that beer is in snow and in soil
Dead holes and pieces of eyes
that is a definition of a girl in sounds
all the body parts at once pathetic and dirty
old bitten colors pushed in shapes over tiles
a frame to bite at partials
Of parallel mythomania
so I contend through his quasi-provable vagina
what a master of
skyscrapers,
liberal feminism,
vance gilbert,
old man sweaters,
and social conscience
Pablo Picasso is
a bedroom is outside and touches and is again
that which could excite only a silverfish
He had buttons crawling to his favorite hole
an old bench and a tree and light differentials
Wild Bill surrounded by wolves teeth and diner napkins
and he looks at a young girl having sex
floss shreds line her cheeks
brilliant lines of granules streaming
Picasso is a limp and three cups of ice
as a sexual object and as a mother
passes sweat through a flag
now he summons a bladelike beard
to make a toothy grin and a dreamy spark
I hate him
Picasso clenches his cleft punchline
knowing that beer is in snow and in soil
Dead holes and pieces of eyes
that is a definition of a girl in sounds
all the body parts at once pathetic and dirty
old bitten colors pushed in shapes over tiles
a frame to bite at partials
Of parallel mythomania
so I contend through his quasi-provable vagina
what a master of
skyscrapers,
liberal feminism,
vance gilbert,
old man sweaters,
and social conscience
Pablo Picasso is
a bedroom is outside and touches and is again
that which could excite only a silverfish
7.12.08
Shave a Mouse Inside Me, Ted
---For Willie Z
It’s called Nice To See You
or Fucking Is So Very Lovely
You are called Mouse baby
Trusted Sister Wednesday
Lines not written
Ohio Blue Tip matches
typewriters
and colored pencils
An instance of him
saving a mouse
and it's my 80th birthday
This type of abuse in the capping
live coals walking right into him
how the beard is most important
A little loving can
I cannot re-read what I say
You think of him in cellar
sweating out lines
triangles of dark red
and your heart pinches a bit
and a bit more
then he chugs out a song
without saying
see you later
It’s called Nice To See You
or Fucking Is So Very Lovely
You are called Mouse baby
Trusted Sister Wednesday
Lines not written
Ohio Blue Tip matches
typewriters
and colored pencils
An instance of him
saving a mouse
and it's my 80th birthday
This type of abuse in the capping
live coals walking right into him
how the beard is most important
A little loving can
I cannot re-read what I say
You think of him in cellar
sweating out lines
triangles of dark red
and your heart pinches a bit
and a bit more
then he chugs out a song
without saying
see you later
From the Light of Water and The Heavy of Drunk
---For Tara
A light water reactor uses ordinary water
uses ordinary water to clean federal acts
to clean electrical energy
A flood of blue light shines down through the shower
while I'm riding a horse drunk after motorists
then a giant squid adopts a country road
all before heavy metal and light even began
Then there are pregnant sisters
injured by nouns that make a throat sore
Take the petals from your metal radio
and the waves that pin themselves
Drinkers are constantly concerned with language
A light water reactor uses ordinary water
uses ordinary water to clean federal acts
to clean electrical energy
A flood of blue light shines down through the shower
while I'm riding a horse drunk after motorists
then a giant squid adopts a country road
all before heavy metal and light even began
Then there are pregnant sisters
injured by nouns that make a throat sore
Take the petals from your metal radio
and the waves that pin themselves
Drinkers are constantly concerned with language
6.12.08
What the fuck are you talking about?
---For Jennifer
You have almost typed a wish
about peak oil
about how you need to exist
about dribbled ink in Chinese
about a coma for relief
taking aim upon a reasonable hill
That's how his letter left off
some stupid pills headbutting New york
ways to get high off Mexico
a child defiling petro thugs
but he never promised grease
They're buying Walter a field
and I can get you a toe
It's like a commercial for people peeing
drawing a line in the sand
Dude, will you come off it
I converted and yeah, yeah, yeah
fuck it
You have almost typed a wish
about peak oil
about how you need to exist
about dribbled ink in Chinese
about a coma for relief
taking aim upon a reasonable hill
That's how his letter left off
some stupid pills headbutting New york
ways to get high off Mexico
a child defiling petro thugs
but he never promised grease
They're buying Walter a field
and I can get you a toe
It's like a commercial for people peeing
drawing a line in the sand
Dude, will you come off it
I converted and yeah, yeah, yeah
fuck it
I Barfed Because I Ate Something Funny, Not Because I Was Reading Eileen Myles's "Everyday Barf," But It Seems Cosmically Connected, Right?
---For Nathan
That was between
the fog
and my clubbed foot
this eventual pleasing
of all the shapes
and the buckets
pouring out light
and some brothers
drank from it
puking stars
and piss soup
all of us
wanting to be a marriage
for you
That was between
the fog
and my clubbed foot
this eventual pleasing
of all the shapes
and the buckets
pouring out light
and some brothers
drank from it
puking stars
and piss soup
all of us
wanting to be a marriage
for you
4.12.08
5 Spice Poems @ Rain Fade
RAIN FADE
These two teddybear lovelies started this pretty online journal just a few months ago and they've already had heroes like Mike Young and K. Silem Mohammad and moi. You should submit stuff to them. They are very nice people.
Thanks B & W.
3.12.08
(William Carlos Williams) Giving Out Porn On The Subway
---After (William Carlos Williams) Making Love Inside an Owl
Dear exhausted placenta
I will
manage your money-
in the dark tentacles of
my heart
meat will be our currency
Old children in new hats-
I crush them
with each tired step
you will waste the heaven of
our car fire-
a kind of brutal frame
to the duplex- a kid
i see myself
saying damn to itch-grass
Dear exhausted placenta
I will
manage your money-
in the dark tentacles of
my heart
meat will be our currency
Old children in new hats-
I crush them
with each tired step
you will waste the heaven of
our car fire-
a kind of brutal frame
to the duplex- a kid
i see myself
saying damn to itch-grass
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