big time cat fancier


Part I: The Dirt Mall


like you / bitter little son
of a surface under carbon and the blank meter of Dogtown
you drunk shit dragged right out and now
women falling into a swimming pool

skateboards are interesting
galaxies are interesting
snakes are interesting
owls are interesting
cats without names are interesting

but Dogtown
devours our hill
it can bite / can be a father to himself
everyone here is mother a fault
in that pistol on our poor ocean
on the other side of a balanced plague
and they are just carbon, Charles
as if you knew a kind different

now we may be devoid of a play
no way no ghost man
shot of a castle in a chess player
like some hollow in a board
but Charles made a deal of wood
and Helen hated a soft pillow
or mornings fucked in Egypt
so long after drinking up her brother or morphing into annoying trophies
her eyes were plates of hot fire
not to mean anything would be simple like making tools sing
Helen hated of all things blue

there is a kind of place
a yellow buggy two sets of dice our mothers hair in folds
not to be a box around my ears
framing this is our constitution our / our anger
Maximus you frightened ships wheel
drag me across a leisure suit
let me be golden for this

sassafras is concrete / poor old man trying to surf more
this said harbor is choked in snow and
now she is annoyed by furs and fish and bullion
ahh lady please don't make a history of this
but Helen / Helen remembers being a girl locked in a rivers locks and rubber bucks
He walked some miles in old shoes
watched not our moon but a moon only it couldn't be real
did I miss her
how does someone begin to miss a scented tune

my brother who was born misshapen
now you know that about me / the real me
with materials for me and a disguise
I had kissed Helen and brutal tones insinuated themselves against me
she the librarian twisted knew better of me
she kept lisps and whisper in a cold blue
then little boxes / this is where I live in
was with when / when cocksucking goddamn


to be magic:

the basic words / "to be able, to have power”
I am a machine in the magic lantern
what is the glass in Greek cinema
how we became projected with similar rapidity

the bol weevil / with a mystery inside it / was with it's things in Europe
but us people have no motorcycles or summer plants for chewing
so a breeze a real cat inside a plaster one
this kind junk around his shop / making a mockery of lines

I punish thee
push trampolines with no spaces
into light where clasps our plaid light
thus the science and religion of magicians
the hunter of souls binds thee into spools
we held to society like form of shape
putrid dripping knowledge of unwholesome revelation

these "magical types" are hidden fences
in our hometown
by a misshapen lake


  1. jesus christ.

    is this a part of the Spicer series? it feels like those, and i always wanted to know what would happen if one of those kept going. it's beautiful. there's really a tension building.

  2. Sweet!

    I really like "push trampolines with no spaces into light where clasps our plaid light" !!

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  4. Jess,

    This is actually that Olson inspired poem I read you, with a few minor tweaks.



  5. Alex, This is sooooooo good. I especially like the last stanza. You are a gentleman and a scholar!!