Saturday, January 25, 2014

Your 20's

Those who are beginning to start from their sleep are
those who eat a bowl of fruit and seeds to receive a
form of flesh from him to sustain them to
play at their sports or write books of knowing and they
make their greenback paper just by eating breakfast and
showing up on time to a sort of mostly determined

Sunday, January 19, 2014


When you suddenly find yourself in the middle of a large body of water, in which direction to you begin to swim?

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Please Return This

Colonial red hands bread silk cotton tobacco roads and
railroads and steam from the earth and steam from sweat and
sweat from labour and sweat from tears of colonial frustration from
Indian skin an inland overwhelm or invasion or occupation or accidental
welcoming and then a great number of trees begin to fall and the salt mines
begin to scream like dogs with their profits and their loose cogs and their
tight biceps spoiling for a knocking about the ears to assert their insecure
and terrified hold on some insecure and terrified people I
don't sleep at night I don't sleep
because I'm sorry


Gently reach a thousand feet to trip on shoelace
incomplete a bitter ink a bone necklace a confederate
sabre on grampa's wall grampa on grampa's fur rug mouth
open eyes rolled back back to fuck dead it's a
sterile living room when I come to claim my little things, the
things I've always been eyeing while he lived and I waited and
he breathed and I waited until I would own a few of his things
like that sabre on the wall to remind me of the slavery of criminally
certain entitlement and remind me to hate myself for at least
one hundred and fifty more years or until reparations are made for

but it's especially disturbing how handsome he could be still
the monster

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Earth Quake

The ecstatic is a faggot fuck
who loved too much but didn't know
to read enough or remember enough
whose sleep deprivations caused
memory shorts until forgetting to shave
became a daily fuck, FUCK
I stumble over myself I
am rotting my large
intestine I repent with
an incredible amount of salad in
the hope that it will
save me from cancer or the shakes but
I'm probably fucking
kidding myself who
doesn't dream of any fruit
won't be the one to apologize for that dick suck
who lost because of it who
hates and grieves equally who
keeps on eating so many vegetables though
just keeps alternating for
orgasms and whose faces
are faces of change and
change and
of change for love and for
hate and love and
optimism and fear and for
loving fuck hate

Sunday, January 5, 2014


No hands
featuring ringed fingers on hands of
lead that sink into the bedside sleepy eyes
a moth dives repeatedly at its firegod
she says something about sailors and
sirens and I put her to bed to sleep her
angel dreams beside me gasping occasionally be-
tween apneas and laughing dog hallucinations in
summer grass in summer skin in fall economies
I she senses a climate shift and a crisp teething in
the push of air when she walks to school

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Hands Between My Legs

Hours of auras
or a hand on a throat,
oral histories of ecstasy like
rug burn knees from so many
oral histories
If cum was honey I'd be
a cum swallower proudly but
instead I'm a cum swallower