Ages

Wrinkled pleasure
tissue dry
lunar meadow
tired eye
headless horses
horseless race
silent novel
crawling pace
mountain fancy
sunrise night
forest flatland
skyless flight
shadow beaming
hidden bone
rusty glimmer
water stone
crooked eyelash
smile scar
palm confession
whisper far
table prison
statue pale
bookshelf safety
mantle jail
honest fire
castle cold
halls remember

the king and queen
are old

The Theory

His soul swims in a thimble as
our eyelashes collect dust and
you write the history of God
backwards in a notebook
addressed to
the past, a hotel room
that doesn't yet exist

The moment of conception
was loud and
beautiful

Heavy Tongue Heavy Feeling

Clap the sun to keep secret handshakes hidden deep
Plan perfection in the rundown to the lake
Rivers seep like eyelids at 3 am

Drink blushing honesty like butterscotch schnapps
Wrinkled smiling moments delight
Fingers intertwine like spiderwebs tangle

Puddles of us take form each morning upon waking
I remember my solidity and you never catch the otherwise
Because you were dreaming with me

Days of days within night times of decades
Boxes of time containing nothing but everything
Everything is stardust, even the nothing

Confusion is a game we play
Because knowing becomes tiresome
Our truths need rest

Questions are dialogues with heart shaped rooms
My chest contains a child
My gut its sister

I suppose this is gravity.

Don't worry, I'm not thinking what you're thinking I'm thinking

An open letter to my brothers and sisters,
to my better others and worser lovers,
to those I've scorned and those who born
yesterday
will someday feel my kindness
An open letter to mom
and dad
to the greatest bad that ever could be
waiting, waiting, like a sharp toothed shadow
for me
To every girl I ever kissed, later pissed off
but wished I could fix
And maybe it's too late now,
it is late,
literally

So maybe I should sleep
I should climb deep deep within the sheets
and dream of peace like war has never been
like my heart's never seen
I'll
dream

The only hate I know, is a loving kind of hate
Those who never meant anything
could never bring it out in me

And I wish that for once, finally
they'd get that and
give me
a break

I hate honestly,
frailly
Lovingly

Lash

My mouth is dirty, laugh
Such an angry mob of teeth, a
throbbing muscle ache of
need need need hate hate and
my intentions are literally the
utmost good but
nobody trusts and
nobody knows each other
anymore
right (?) so
I don't want to
I don't want to
Imagine that I'm wrong
I'll just keep singing this
song of stomach hate this
song of clenching fists.

It's time to drop the bombs.

The Heaviest Gut

To convulsing trees, blue wind and

rubber bullet bees

that sting the night and

to the blackened light

all bruised and smiling,

to the baby boy

all bruised and smiling,

to the grass, green and garbage,

to the truth that's bigger than large and

to the lie that's bigger than large and to

my mother mother

mother mother

Dichotomy

I am convinced that I am self aware enough,
see enough of the big picture
to map a complete flow chart of my pathology.
Convinced.

But then a voice speaks with disdain, or maybe
just sobriety,
Pal, the moment of absolute certainty,
is usually the moment that confirms
you've lost reality.

Because Knowing
is usually too good to be true.

Possibility

I fell deep, so
deeply in love
in a Walmart
parking lot.

Life happens everywhere if you let it.

You should have seen the clouds...

Your Anchor, Your Fingers and Toes

On the day you
wake to find
gravity has failed you

You'll panic but
as your feet leave
the ground and
you draw close to
outer space you'll

Find so many hooks
we've put in place
they're running along
the hem of your
dress they're trailing
strings that are
tied to our fingers and
toes

Because we'll never
let you go.

We'd never let
you go.

***

"I'm just a boat on the ocean,
I'm just a ship lost at sea"

Right - And if you are, I understand.

But while the ship rises and falls so violently,
with every crashing wave
its Anchor rests peacefully
beneath..

While on the surface, the ship is in distress,
it must know there is safety in the depths.

And we are the depths.

Sometimes, Often, KNOWING Feels Like Needing To Throw Up

If I have this stomach,
I trust it, sort of,
and I know I'm stubborn and
you want to hit hit kick me hurt me
but I know you feel i KNOW
you feel and
I know how your skin's
electric despite hiding hiding hiding.

So we've come sofar and
maybe we've lostsight of
what it meansyeah maybe it
meansnothing
then fine

So

Meaninglessly I know you.

These words aren't beautiful but
they're my skin's electric.

I just need to do SOMETHING.

Humming

My Everything is humming, skin literally washed in clenched teeth
but I, beneath the skin and bone I see a stone a core

Centered everywhere or pulled in all directions I
with cocked head, curled fingers beating heart
lips half set apart I

Will something to happen

I've written before of the Valley of Hands and I've
told you that I long for a room like a beating heart and
now, now, now

Is everytime, the words I speak everyword,
my message is everything

So my Everything is humming
the vibration of this

I suppose there's nothing left to say.

Universal Position System is my Is

Lay awake in the stomach of this Is,
Let the Universe digest me slow,
So what now?

I'll be fine, and I'm being fine,
I've got this new promise around my wrist,
I gave it to myself so
Digest me slow

Maybe THIS is Chaos.

Sleep,
cocoon warmth and comfort deep
tight dreaming creep to
bliss and everlasting blue
to kiss and kiss the
everlasting truth
to sleep
to sleep
to see the beat of
heart mind

To know

Words of mother
Rock
Earth
Sphere of
Cyclical story

We're spinning something
we don't even understand.

Maybe that's what's beautiful.

You Need To Live

Turn up,
sit back, breathe,
look deeply into your
self.

You're pulsing, so tell the truth,
you're on the cusp now, definitely,
change is coming, you feel electric,
so tell the truth.

You want to shake. Yes. Convulse with something
powerful.

You want to grasp, hold it so tight...
explode.

Crescendo.

Move on my man. Be happy again, and live.

Forgive yourself.

Words To Live By? These aren't them. Are they?

22 years, and I ask, what thing have I learned that I can say, "This is the truth"? Maybe there's a few, but it feels that each demands that I stand behind some 'ism', or that I choose to 'see' some cosmic pattern... or perhaps a human pattern.... right now, all I know is now....

My Dream

It is my dream
to have a space, a huge room with bare white walls,
and large windows,
a bright space to work,
with a desk as big as god, a typewriter on it,
paper everywhere, pens nearby,
a never ending bottle of scotch,
and a woman, who comes and goes
but always comes home to sleep

she always comes home to me

Release

Your nose burns before you cry,
then you take a deep breath,
exhale, and an ocean of you
flows away.

I'm begging you to help me,
I know this is the path to
rightness.

My one path.

It's Over

Put on some Elliot Smith, and set myself on fire
Goodnight, it's over, so sleeps a liar.

This is becoming too personal...

What can I say, for fiction and non fiction blur and I'll tell anything just to tell.....

anything.

We're still spinning around something though;

so I can't deny the possibility that someone is watching over "us" and keeping "things "

afloat.

I can't deny that perhaps some[thing/one] sympathizes and ponders the idea of "action".

Does anyone DO anything for anyone else anymore?

Does this happen? I'm no authority; although I will perhaps attempt to instigate.

Fuck

That Bitch

Though.

See how complicated it becomes.

And so easily.

Title of sorts....

Okay, so.

From the mouth of Him/ It.

He says, "This is where we've come."

That's all so far. Really. Success is measured in toothpicks, success is dollars saved.

Success is you not questioning all the things I've raved and when I spill a secret, you not mentioning the black.

I've seen, I've heard of all the cock I can hear about and see, the begging sex that's simply too much to satisfy... too much. This city is a box, so find the corners, see if you fill them, and if not, give up.

Give up Daniel Black. It's not yours to say.

It's is a drum line, a pulsing beat, a drunken female with an agenda - not yours.

That film we sat through made no sense in the end. It had some aesthetic appeal throughout but in the end, it was a seductive journey through nothing.

Through nothing.

What did I learn.

I learned nothing.

I learned so much on my own though.

I learned to put a metal spike through a man's neck,

to get what I want, to get what we all want; sometimes,

in some extreme circumstance,

it is necessary.

So says "the way".

So says....

Nothing at all.

An exercise in

saying nothing at all.

Us & Them

Greedy pig-bastards.

Freak

That seedy freak, he took his hands and he squirmed and fidgeted and I knew something was foul, the way he kept looking at his watch and then the door. I could taste his anxiety.

Sales

He shook my hand and took my fingers

Heart Conditions

I'm pretty sure a bad heart is gonna do me in.... I'll be alone.

I'll try not to despair.

A Return: 2

...and the glass is empty, and it's time to decide,

"sleep, or one-hundred-miles-an-hour living in my deskchair".

This moment, and everything lately, is one breathtaking, eye fucking

string of platitudes.

(Questioning or calling out those weak attempts at deepness, as pretentious is another story. Don't ask questions)

Soul seducing, trust inducing, my ears are literally screaming at my mouth

to "take it take it take it!" and my IS is ready to BE in love with everything.....

My love is a dog with a cocked head and a full bladder.

Its tail is all

over

the fucking

room.

If you could hear the bass drum and the muted snare going wild in my chest,

you'd be close to understanding the seizure I'm having right now.....

Repeat repeat repeat,

revel revel revel.

This is Life!

A Return

Oh yes, a return, signaled by a mighty silence,

a white noise and a wholly unremarkable, quiet breathing.

I've come back to say a few things. Tonight I pan fried my steak

and I burnt the blue fuck out of it. I listened to this album thirty

something times over and then I masturbated chronically,

wishing that John Holmes were still "doing it his way".

It's so seedy. I feel like an animal. But my soul is clenching.

It feels so fucking good.

Maybe I'll drink myself to death.

Okay, so I cracked a window, the smoke cleared, I did the dishes, I sat at my computer and contemplated success. I wrote emails and kissed a lot of ass, and then I wrote more emails.

It was nice to be home; I've been in that huge city for weeks.

I absolutely, love

We Thought We Won

We've come so fucking far,

we've

come so fucking far,

And now we give up for

cheap breakfast,

Costco deals, box sets like you can't EVEN believe

Because we've come so far and we think that

THIS, it is,

We've conquered it,

Western Materialism is our science,

our perfect craft.

Our comfort is a finger snap.

Our comfort is easy.

We've given up and

we don't know.

Nuclear, brownskinned, hungry, thirsty,

ambitious, underdog

change is coming.

Wronger

Those 'live by the day' fuckers, I bet they've never seen a real tomato, the kind that we used to grow before the green in the sky.

Something's happening again, but it doesn't matter anymore, something's always happening,

so it just is.

They're living by the day and planning in their sleep, their cubicles like empty stomachs but knowing they'll return,

how many have forgotten the color of a smile,

how many have forgotten time,

fuck it, the old man was right and we're not able to govern ourselves.

I don't remember the moon and I can't see plum any longer,

as I go forward my memory goes wronger.

Becoming...

Needs to do something drastic. Considering arson. Just need for something to happen.

Set a few of you on fire. Laugh. Those of you who don't provide everything I want, when I want it. Not able to read my mind. I'm becoming more important in my life all the time... my needs are getting hungrier. Like insatiable headline news.

I'm aware of how wrong I am becoming. And I'm aware of how quietly it's happened.

No one's noticed anything...

There Isn't Enough Praise, Sex or Money in The World For Me

The only score is sitting it out,

in dreamless sleep.

You're just an Idea to them

The name is so much more important than the man,

the flesh forgotten for the word that carried meaning

from the paper to the crowd the crowd the bleating

masses breathing need for anything to believe in.

The name is so much more important than the man.

It is...

With the killer hands, the lips all red,

your favorite eyes all rounded out and

almond shaped,

to take the light from my old place

to take the days and days,

and take the time that we had left,

to take the place of seven sisters holding on

to the child of your deepest heart,

your heart

To save, with the killer hands,

to save a life and kiss the reddest lips,

that's the wish that you whispered in my ear,

but no, it's better than that,

because you die in the morning,

suddenly, it's the most beautiful thing

I've ever seen,

suddenly...

It just is...

Sense of Direction

If I'm walking toward the back of a moving bus, what speed am I traveling and in which direction?

And if I'm walking toward the back of a moving bus, driving on the surface of this planet hurtling around the sun, what speed am I traveling, and again, in which direction?

And if I'm walking toward the back of a moving bus, crossing the surface of this planet hurtling around the sun, the sun a speck in this galaxy careening through the universe, what speed am I traveling, and again, in which direction?

I guess I want to know,

Where am I going and how am I getting there?

Moment

Indeed the love that I have has touched a place in your hand,

in your palm, a crease that tells a story of the future eating

away at the past,

and the now is an intangible moment,

a beautiful

fucking

blur.

Wrong

A calm like a life

a home like a hat

a cell in the mouth

a ticket to last

A pocket like dreams

a joining of wind

a second hand kiss

a moment of skin

A letter in red

a blanket for lies

a favor for trust

this impossible height

Wake me up

Wake me up

A friendship erased

a guilt, my guilt

not yet faced

Hungry

Most definitely racking up caloric deficit,

Overdrawing on my body's credit,

No time, no god damn time to catch up,

My appetite fled with the season,

Fled with the season

Fled with the season

But when can I?

The things I'm made of now, like

a draw towards the aesthetic, a

tugging for something real yet vague and

undefined,

it has my name written on it, it was

in my dna, my blood

22 years now it's been waiting but I

haven't manifested its

ism.

I haven't done it, I haven't

been

it.

I have to wait.

I can't die yet.

Nearly Constantly Misguided or A Flawed Perspective

Halting the ark,

when you fuse my sadness with lips,

touch hands with fingertips

and pray that mother don't succumb

Halting the ark, the arched back

upon my mattress sends shivers through my spine

and I, I, fuck with dispassion and furious strength

all at once

Halting the ark because I'm drunk and I need to vomit,

the world spins against itself, orbitally clockwise

while the liquor spins counter-

this truth is cruel

Woman

Friend

Where are you tonight?

Why have these four years been so wrong?

Because I am not pathetic I've been strong.

But strength misguided faults everything.

For Myself

As if the Ocean chewed the stone to make the cliff,

and battered everything and everything,

we came to the water's edge

to find our own truth within the romantic.

It turns out that they told no lies,

and all I know is

they told no lies.

1:27

I like a heavy scotch glass

rum, coke

the absent stillness marrying frantic silence

and wrapped in a blanket of foam liquor insulation

Real emotions actually rise for once

but bloom too early, never reach the surface

fade

I'm indescribably grey again

2010 Version 2.1

I have to tell you something.

I'm sorry.

Because I was masturbating while you were pouring your heart out to me last night

on MSN.

I'm sorry,

that this computer screen in front of me is a fogged window that I control,

that I use to keep you at a distance.

I'm sorry, that you only see what I want you to.

Profile: polished.

Stats: carefully biased.

Likes: tailored to help me

fit in.

This mask is powered by Google.

This multi coloured cloak was designed on Facebook.

My soul is a One and a mother-FUCK load of Zeros

stored on a server somewhere in California.

I'm [not] sorry.

10:40

When I couldn't stop the water from falling from my hands

and I couldn't keep the carpet dry

I had no place to sleep, I had no place to sleep

The cigarettes burned themselves to peaceful endings

my lungs were thankful but my lips pleaded

My goldfish watched

Tired, Mad, Sobering

Television, oh God, stop!

Really, it's obnoxious.

Who was on the phone? Uh, just, later.

Where's the time gone? I had so much to do,

and then I had a few drinks.

Lazy fuck, or distracted- GOD!

I can't take the noise.

Toronto, fuck you.

Cement, queers, ugly

fucking

shoes,

go to hell.

This angry spill is...

angry!

Or should I be more articulate?

Something like,

if lips could touch the soul,

I'd kiss my sad rage into your heart,

breathe sorry for me into your mouth

and take

if lips could touch the soul,

I'd paint chapstick all over and

kiss/fix your cracked and swollen spirit

only to doubt you

And still, after all that,

the television is being an asshole.

Twisted Gut

"At my desk again, sick to my stomach with the self loathing of realizing I'm not achieving my full potential.

My peers don't inspire me, I react to their success with waves of nihilistic self-doubt; despair.

I need to share with someone wise the neuroses that hold me back.

I need a mentor who won't attempt to console me pathetically, who won't patronize me.

I need someone to tell me what to do."

Planets

You give me gifts

planets within

I have never been more grateful

to a woman, to a friend

for stars and planets collide after

millions of years of their dancing

love

and the space remembers everything

Irving jumpier

Irving Jumpier

strange man but always a friend

he left only his dark dark desk behind

and a broken pen

inkpot empty, miles deep

human mice were friends to keep

Irving Jumpier was a liar on paper but he spoke well

Perspective In Wheat Fields

Our home stands delicate and loved

weathered boards, splintered faces

a skeleton

coal grey skin, trembling fingers

the horses here only shiver now

our home breathes dusty air

the smell of hay and cool soil

on the road is Dog

my friend

he's getting on in years

the fence that runs our meadow hunches low now

sore backed, ragged

the wind and rain have beaten it down

so long now

and all this swims in the snowglobe in my mind while I think

only seventy generations we've come

seventy lives of seventy years

the trembling farmhouse doesn't seem so old anymore

Sleep Talk

Leave a man at the door leave hands in pockets

leave wishes and rose petal voodoo

leave smoke

leave more

Leave seven pm alone leave the ice cream cone torch bearer

golden lock, cherub cheek, ice-cream-cone-torch-bearer gift from god himself

leave the book and the thorn

Leave your heart of scorn

and leave your questions

Where I've been is nobody's mind

So leave mine

Inventory

I have

Sore thumbs,

No money,

A bit of a buzz,

A little love,

Tired friends,

Sirens,

Restless hands,

Tired eyes,

An empty glass,

Crossed legs,

Quiet vinyl,

1:30 on the clock,

Tired friends,

Not much time,

An urgent need to urinate,

Rum munchies,

A little love,

Sirens,

A heavy stomach,

Hunger

I've got

So much

To learn

15,000

I know what I want but I hate how I'm getting there.