Sunday, December 30, 2012

not following the recipe

I wish i had kissed you.
to taste you

when you offered your most defended offerings
of flesh

and self

believe me when i say the word True, because there is nothing else
except colored plastic  _________.
                                      because, as of now, that is the only thing on sale
                  what i mean to say is thank you
but that wouldn't make sense without telling the ones who are reading
the what, where, how and why;

but setting sounds gently beyond what can be reached
in moments lived

in the moment

is like assaulting a kettle
singing precipice

in the only language it can scream
shivering contents

because the heat is on

was flipped on...and we both like to eat with our fingers
                                     and you where the one who could have turned me on

turning thoughts into thoughts

like accountants cooking book
and the flavors would have worked

if cooked properly
but thats my fault for not following the recipe

but thats what i'm good at
I'll Open with That next time. 

Saturday, December 29, 2012

posh sleep wear in other tongues

what if we could fall in love
                      with the word love?

like loving pillow cases

                                 instead of pillows

love spells in poplin tailored euro sham

and its reversible...
for when your low on quarters

and you could have two!
one for the head and one for the chest

and/or knees depending on your preference.
         because its always good to be as comfortable as possible

during hypothetical spoofs of word play
playing 40's

like your twenty two...when your twenty

or playing indian poker...(its the one where you don't know
the card but it on your forehead and everyone is laughing)

Because if we could fall in love with pillow cases instead of pillows
everyone gets laid.

and instead of paying for the cleaners; new ones would be handed out
for free...

like contraception
or like the french do it...only its different in french

and learning all the slang's a bitch

and because the people are different

                     its impossible
to really translate meanings

especially in english, because i hear its really easy to speak
once you get it

but really hard to learn.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

a kind of nativity scene... but with now and then as if in a braid

where did the idols go?
if you could remember...

                   we as sovereign letters of light

             inn, O yeah, there was no room

and yet the words survived...
the words,

passively pyramid      ing


and the snake was Her before you were
coiled legible

                 for the ones with green thumbs

and yet we stutter over what is believable

at least the traffic is slanted
drivers driving to their dens 

awaiting inert coiling 

coiled uncomfortable

naturalizing identity...
like a wolf acting like he cares wether

or not a tie is double breasted

even though it makes me look like i give a damn
i do....
                    but not like this...

because when you wake up with make-up on you feel it
and its on your pillow

until wash day. 
when everything feels clean.  

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Fucking with Sunday

if the pineapple viscosity soured
in a Sun lights gathering

gathering more than aptitude towards
the lines we find ourselves dividing

gathering weight
because we all have to make a buck

dividing itself
as the tide rises in spite of sand...
and the shelter remains

because we have divided it so.

and i'll always love fucking with Sunday
waking up with coffee and a cigarette

then coffee and cigarettes

because i have divided
it so

and the influence of the news fluctuates
Then the words of this

peace procrastinate

piecing together a greater radiation
to mend what is in the plan to mend

this might make sense if we could peace together
instead of piecing together

a mona lisa's smile

a north faced frank

a commercial whispered behind colors
flashing believable

Monday, November 26, 2012

the tree of alphabets

you where there at the first kiss

who does not dare to write in color
true beginnings

or truth as it were-or can be
without a holdings holding

you who can build beginnings that can send
the elephants trembling back to their

stars and prayers
their pillars

and branches of dowser
dosing remainders

to outdated to remain

sending them back to their snakes of misread meanings
misreading minds in sacrifice

to gain a plastic polar bear

you where there when the limb of coordinate
carrels sang from the tree of alphabets

singing words that can be translated into booyah

because the time has ripened
and by ripened i mean ready to stead

it is not Them

but Us
who will take It from them

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Two for Tuesday

in the beginning was the word
and the word was

in the beginning

words like predestinate
percolated between centric

and the ability to read between the lines
and when you needed warmth

you chopped a tree

from the center
and they tell us any point can be one

universal centricity simplified
into bite size

edibles for those of us that...

                                               well you know

because we are all so hungry
for more

watch the anima evade pruning

consummation is useful
depending on the paycheck

And So its Two for Tuesday

so lets text

Friday, November 9, 2012

screen side up

the linemen climbs a ladder
mending power line cables

soldering saviors attache
voltage to attics

and attics to edicts

precept to preposition
screen side up

the line man climbs a letter
mending powdered lines

sniffing sisters attache
voltage to attics

and attics to edicts

precept to preposition
screen side up

Thursday, October 18, 2012

this is for the party members of freedom

splitting alphabets
splitting fowl movements
                                      spitting Anchorage

and the tennis courts will split
weeded in semantics

and vodka

and the alcohol will not last...

                                                when their are no free hands to make it.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

after watching the news for 5 seconds

a ratio of self worth peeks
a caterpillars catch incased in assumption
a fork can be eaten in threes

a senators selection of words
a selection of words selected for him
a second to decide

a preparation in jest
a preparation is just
a preparation in juxtaposition

a pre-saunter
a pre-selection of selective savories
a post speculative salamander afraid of change

a bon fire blazing altruism
a bridge

a polite postman pedaling backwards ashamed of the news

and we can do better than this. we did once. but i won't go into it
it would just make thins poem weird

Saturday, July 21, 2012

the american dream

in a feulsaloudge the gut is made iron
casted steal upon steal

painted barriers

gas is made
to divert inward


but clean

like a stories telling in whisper

the story is not heard in the back
and miss read in the front

causing chain reaction
leaving altitudes


signs selling signs
stand unmeasured

in a pirated coterie
of clown and cuff

and the unseen wound festers
in collaborative

mail rooms gaining weight

receptions closed

directional indecision

and the stories told
accord are morned

then deified

then sold

Thursday, July 5, 2012

for returning the book

i saw the book left on the table. forgetting i let you borrow it a year ago, it was strange to see it. it looked skinny-unread. but maybe that was just the feeling in the room, the corners where cornered, bent, just how fingers like to do it-so it could have been the room. also, the book reminded me of this movie i saw a few months ago. the placement of the book reminded me of how ambiguous the movie was. there was a man. a teacher, of sorts. he taut people how to bake bread in an hour; and in a day, find god. he preached of patience in a robe, thumbing a mini-staff, and talking over heads-and they went there just to not understand. to understand just enough. the current mystery assistant assisting current mysteries for them. under his breath and underneath their robes, when the cameras are turned off. and no one could remember if there was salt in the dough, when i noticed his miser curls. his marine tongue giving over to the forged, nonpareil sickness boiled in his gut; thickened with greed. his scolds, lost in the ears of the half listening daydreamers giving themselves to him. but i liked the book, and the movie too; but separately. and i wanted to say, "thank you," for returning the book.

Friday, June 1, 2012

an emo...fuckhead...poem

to the loathing i feel
towards them

with team building exercises
of lies

the constant freelance stabs
at one another

mouths can't know when to stop
because it's too


and it doesn't involve them

to the riddled dart boards
hanging on every pub wall-

and every experience is special

and the dirty birds that
flock to window seals

looking for nuts
unable to think past what's new

the light is still on

the light that makes it easier for everyone
is on

and will stay on
until the Sun burns

no more 

Monday, May 28, 2012

The toss up
Solitude. Lying soiled
And serpently,
Like the good old days,
Like the times spent in
When we had time
And time
to busy learning how to walk. 
And the days go buy slow enough to
Remember the colors
But not the verb.
We can't stop
we can't delay
We can't let it happen.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Exit Music

i knew i was early
but i didn't want to be late

walking to the door,
i thought,

i would like a building with a door man
they always filled the necessary gap between

inside and out.
i open the door

passively to the next epithet

tallying sober jests

tallied somber jets
clouding the blue

of plans i'm not ready for.

the vacuumed air greets me

my walls appear,
shouldering mask sustainment

lending no advise

Exit Music plays
and i listen

and, because the Sun can not
i will account the light

and touch
be touched by it

for that is the arrangement.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

as We walk away

as We walk away

you will walk sanctuary directive
steal tent pitched

and comfortable

I will walk coterie scuffs tailing

dragging heals
walking deliberately silent past the shoes you wear

wearing sand
the lips and strings confidently sinking inward

whispering the time to the souls

you really smiled at me once

but your shoes knew the difference
they would not take you to me

they would not allow it
abide a feathers place

hat torn like it is

hats and shoes are not friends
despite what they may think

and i learn
as we all do

to walk
stepping castaway stones

deliberately past your shoes

past your souls

and smile
as We walk away

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

The kids

I don't remember 7 o'clock very much
Getting up for school

No eye contact on the bus

We were the kids your Senators loved

Hungry for toys

And why not
It will be the kids that save
Our asses

The kids
Will save their own

Friday, March 23, 2012

in a perfect world

in a perfect world
I would have kissed you

1000 times before the posters
you learned

from fell

we could have discovered strawberries

made love without touching
and flew across the world

with fingers
pointing out all the places

we were going to
eat dessert at

in a perfect world we would have
made really bad bread together

and lied about it

make really really good bread

in a perfect world I would have found you

before it was too late

Saturday, March 17, 2012

I would rather pass
The Bowl of chance
then taste the lips of indiscretion agian.
The weather will not take the chance
and none of us
can wait for the text to send.

Friday, March 16, 2012

pay day

i remember when the silver turned

fellow merchants wore their
collars low

falling short of the belly's
taunts of real

and we drank gin with gin
in donation of the will.

and time grew past the front steps
of the house we

grew up in

time left out thoughts for
the unthought of


leaving our eyes to color

coloring dominate


coloring situational commentary
a touch late
like a tapped foot
to in charge

the lottery says hi.

and we all are getting paid tomorrow.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Saturday, March 3, 2012

one lot

one lot they share between
the bushels of oil

and amber serenades of red locked
hypnotists parading

jealousy and

sown inside the same headlock

them feeding breadless loafs to every mouth
who will feed.

and the sherif is salivating Hamptons
and pissing on the street

like we used to do
when we drank to much of ourselves

one lot we give in retribution
for when it was our turn.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

ties, the know and tunnels

I imagine life's sown sanctuary
collar tied around thieves

tied around the planks of wooden

they use to corrupt

and the horny stones tied brightness
they throw at slaves

blinding hindsight
to see the know.

And the slaves who answer
their wounds with wounds

for the know.

the know that can't be known
unless the dog has been walked

first to the street corner where nightingales

the allies with their hair
and breasts

for cigarettes and the know.
i imagine

this from the angle of a beetle
who is starring

at you
starring at me

and the know that eludes us both.
the beetle is trapped

by size
we are trapped by size

and the tunnels
we hide

tunneling southern rocket fuel
tunneling salamander red
tunneling to keep the fire's fumes
at bay.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

at a swimming pool

at a swimming pool
the Sun does the talking

large breaths of light
can fill the lungs

burning holes in skin

to let the past flee
Tequila helps

with books opened
to no particular page reading


reading extremity
Mark Twain helps

with metaphor plaits
like tongues of light

stirring others tongues

to break the lines that divide

sounds from the water hippodrome
whispers everything

i dare not read long
because Water is cautious
the pursuit of knowledge can be a Dirty Game

but i'm not playing today

not today

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

a blind man makes a cake

the blind sees the difference
between right

and what is left

to trickle down
between cracks strategic

between lemons wedges modified

between jet fume air surprise
because the colors are absent

and the pilot flies
spreading message assistant
for reference

blending horoscopes
with coffee makes the mind wonder

like egg whites foaming, with plenty of air
between thoughts

to keep the conversation light
but it makes the cake rise

and no one likes a flat cake

Friday, January 27, 2012

swimming primitive

I sailed your severed skin savour

while smiling.
cupped hands

catching telescopes on time
like juggling Alvarez

throwing stones
at the temple gongs-

to quench what swells

while breathing. I could surprise your
mouth with mine.

follow touch

with touch
but in the door way

flounder-swimming half faced

into the sand
swimming primitive

the way i learned to do.

you couldn't make me flip
but that doesn't mean i can't.

Monday, January 16, 2012

the difference between here and there is
the tea I used to drink, during double shifts,

at that restaurant we all hated working at.
I called it the trinity;

mixing black tea, coke, and coffee together
made everybody's lips curl downward

made mine move money into pockets
to buy drinks

when the slip resistant shoes

were hung dry.

now I just drink and remember
what life was like when I didn't give a damn.

twenty three and taller,
twenty three and fucking like

the wold will end if we didn't.