Friday, September 28, 2012

Anna

Princess with a face like a lion backlit banjo
holding everyone in the dark in
some held breath an-
ticipation and I
clutch the
program and I go back
six years to the few nights I
snuck into your crawlspace in
that barnstructure in
the
driveway and you gave me
Suzanne for the first time and I
was fucking
newborn
in those hour long seconds and
finally innocent to something for
once

Guilt Stomach

I am a dark fuck, I
awoke in a bed, noir
sharp light through blade
slits on the bed room and
I woke next to a form of
lies and tanglement of ma-
nipulations of her
trust of
her
fragile nature, like a delicate or
brittle twig near dead and dry
branch,
no olive leaf, no
happy ending for her
or me or
me

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Needing To Die, So Bad

I found you passed out
in a pile of dry roasted mixed nuts
and I was embarrassed for you because
you were not yet awake enough to be
embarrassed appropriately and when you
finally had some sort of
dry, rocky sort of vomiting and you
could contemplate the gravity of your
foolishness and you felt really,
truly
pathetic is
when I pulled a handgun from my
pants and
shot you
in the face

You ended then and the story didn't really
change much.

Exhale Exhale Politic I'm Trying To Get It?

White noise, a crisp air, a sodden face and
many faces more rigid,
pervert glasses,
contemporary unease, some wringing of
fingers,
politic tender neck
sleeze detector,
argon prostitute lecture rhetoric,
dick dick underwire liberation diseases of
angry fist angry mouth angry stomach angry
pelican so
many balled up socks so many locks on
sensibility

Man Gun

Romanticize some sort of
Man Gun holy union whose
intercourse
ends in the
ejaculation of
bullets and thus
death and
what do we really
have or learn but
that Men
Love
their fucking
handguns
too much and
nothing
else.

It's some poem that
doesn't mean
anything.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Universe, God

The sexuality to which we are born, arbitrarily chained.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Turtle

Who will wait a
cloud aggregated a limited
inflate a bower a fate a vining skinny
ceremony words of breast targeted poems of
words of words of words of droning masturbate

Corrupt a childing swingset mate a drinking
hollow safe sound bottle top of some world some
peak some risk of some tattoo some
dream

Some superficial tattoo,
some waffle,
some claxon sound some temporary teenage
barfing some pint of passing love some
desire to choke a self

done, bye bye

Monday, September 17, 2012

Play

Pose opposable throws total unknowable bros whose
foes are flows of hydro potable prose

Ten toes ten centric third eye crows whose
Knows are greater than the square of no's
whose fingers close upon the hose of hoes whose
blows bestow atomic O's


Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Objective

The devil's advocate still
laughs at appearances
sometimes

Sunday, September 9, 2012

To An Anonymous Friend

Thanks Jack, it's been a while...

Friday, September 7, 2012

Leslie

Some graveyard full of life and
some kiss full of so many nothings,
clasping irons, clasping laws baby
caught in my will to
hold a giant landscape and
a language of life and
experience,
bring me to life,
to something other than alcohol,
gasp gasp gasp gasp gasp longing sighing
lover baby exhalation air
there's a blue moon over this letter,
love me still,
love a fruit tree that was planted we took we
take we carved our names in every inch and
for the sake of
Him.

But for the overwhelm of living.