pretty pretty

i love your smile to death
the fact it's attached
so such a tits ass though?

do i look like alice cooper?

always the
screaming down the street moto's
keeping me from tha
lesbian threes fours?
fuck.

but never a measure of love

the space between the things that matter second most is the most important thing

bad habits, smitty

my ties lie in residing in
that lovely black ink of-
thinking of ways i can ask
who has the lock to your key?
and all that. but i strike lively
eyes with the he that refills, drinks

so he lifted me up

so he lifted me up
from the barstool, smelling
armpit hairs to see
of being a really real woman

robert hunter

was gratefully dead

water dragon wasn't

a mother saying things like
shes
in heaven now
in a text

ink

the tattoo ink kept her up at night
with their unrelenting online presence

figuring she didn't mind, the tattoo ink
lounged in her desk chair, stumbling onto
girls of infinite beauty and problemantics

kd

Killdust

i kissed his helmet
when he didn't know i knew
are the affections measured in heaven

similar interests

they never talk
but their desk drawers
have numbers on graph paper,
lighters with wolves
and they listen to
the director laughing
in their ears at night

101

let's get digital
again ohes and wons
again binary or
something unique

it's a duet

so solo a solo

fruit batd

you're too weird

everyone.

everyone won
the puppy bowl

oh so nice to see you

<p>the greasy two ay em deals<br>
shake my hands into white
it is nice enough to match my bedding

i'll retire. i was feeling sick anyway.

i will, i will

laura sat at a table. it was a circle. leo, too, had a round face, blank and eager and pure and after she dipped her bread in red wine he knew and leaned over. listen, he said, if i told you we would have children, and we will, and they have children, and they wlil, and the grandson on your birthday and his kisses a sepia face, a third eye, and the contact was like a dream that germinated flowers erupting in the living room we shared for fifty years, would you love me now? will you believe?

long rectangles

i love you. the back of your earlobes are furry like kissing eyelashes. and smirks feed shooting stars for weeks.

the tempo of hip bones have chosen send vibrations through linoleum where roots once thought to grow.

i love you like i love the city's seasons, with tender necessitation. hibernation backed with free back shrieking, walks behind sultry mosquito bites and the motley turn.

for your affection, i alchemy my my's and we's and your's into fine diamonds and precious alloy tourniquets, i find ribbons in thin airs and daisy chain your hair with silver well wishes.

do you have any

i can moisturize
you can moisturize
we can all
make our bodies
suck up nine
dollar bottles

sdsb

stranger / delayed
strange / betrayal

you ask me

how the weather is here.
and i cannot say from
my electric blanket
where we both would
be nice and terrible
and i know
that's what you're
getting at

he held her head in his hands
91, i had her arm
age had clawed fingers into
soft little fists
that didn't know
why they were

drives lay blithed
sinused, knived

A LONG GREY NOTHING HUGGING

should i skip
today
it would be an
injustice
to the
skin and ribbon feeling shaking
between the between my fingers
it would slip through
the net of memory

for the sake of ecstasy
back rubbed sharpie tat
i cannot allow

the low round ho hum you master

when i read
rommel drives on deep into egypt
it is your voice reading it

the low round ho hum you master
makes braudigan sparkle
and i understand -

- this is the only way
to share sun rises
and bus rides
now

correctly whelmed

did you hear it?
i am almost certain
when she slid
her round pink ten
to a tight white sheet
no sighs overwhelmed
a quiet cotton crinkle

inclusive recluse
what's the use
subdued confusion
is the noose

shake and shake

my best intentions
are a rope on the floor

i shake and shake
self-similar smaller
smaller dreams

until the body
smooths still

ma lisc 365 her

there is something to be said
for one hundred hour miles
well alive in a metal beaming
older than i am

ze mistress h8z gender pronouns

makes eyes out of not eyes
can balance tears on tongue tips
and is almost prepared for
ex why ze

every other heads turning

if you wonder
if i wonder
if i still think about -
i still think about.

a bout of think of

every breath is you
breathing every other
every other heads -
turning turned.

ringing in

it's all about maintenance
the three thousand dollar three piece said
hard drugs don't scare me
hard drugs, should be scared of me

the only downside to hard drugs
is that they age you
prematurely

his haircut belonged in a museum
next to titans page boy
and if you touched it
your follicles tickled


***

dj wet dick


***

i went to bed
wearing only my
glow stick
and dreamed of
flash light disturbs

**

he danced with
a statue owl face
took mint nips back
six by six and snarled
shayna get me a beer

he punched dj wet dick
in the wet balls
and screamed
WHY AREN'T YOU ON TWITTER
throwing his phone
led to smashing his phone
his boots stomped,
triggered a seizure
and moved on

***

is it a siezure?
no no he's just in a panic
five good stragglers pinned him
in caresses and easy breathing

a delicate boy, james has always
taken milwaukee's finest to heart.

i straddled his head
my arms like a basketball hoop
and his body not body
punched my mouth
through my tongue

my mouth filled with blood
but i kept it shut
smelling only things
redolent of rough sex

the man with a million dollar haircut
slipped a xanax into my hand
and called it baby asprin
i put it under his tongue
with deliberation reserved for
returning temple relics

dj wet dick burned
sandalwood in the kitchen
and we licked our scrapes
wiped off drool
returned to the ebb

while i couch coddled,
they slept in my queen
like babies
but none as soundly
as the head on my lap

kerrush

i am waiting

to hear

the earth rumble -


it will start

from nothing


so first,

i need


to hear


nothing

christmas dreams

i let a girl borrow my tights. they were the lace flesh colored ones that, if i wear alone, make me look like i have a flesh eating virus. there was blood filling the crotch like a horror movie. i tried to find her new clothes, along with myself. she was skinny and blonde and perfect and would have been better without a person like me lending her tights.

some guy and i were hitting it off down the street from my house. suddenly katya and rob were there. one of the guys girl friends was quizzing me about myself to see if i was good enough to know him. rob and katya were just standing there and watching. rob stepped forward after the girl was done quizzing me and said "i updated my blog and i want you to read it but i'm sad and i'm leaving now" he looked impossibly sad.

i was on my houses patio, eating a messy tuna sandwich.

the website for rob's "blog" was hard to navigate, but i eventually found a button that said "what's new with rob?" the button had a man in a lobster in a tuxedo costume, with his lobstery back facing me. the website was confusing and making me anxious, so i tried going home. i called my little brother and he was pissy and said he was at the house and i was going the wrong way. my lack of direction panic kicked in and i just started running through the neighborhood. an old man gave me directions and called me "hun". i got to the house and no one was there.

i'm done having these kind of nightmares. time to start sleeping a little bit better

shitty freewrite

the first people of
a not never new world
shimmered, copper glean
in the naked sun

the not but thought
they were new men
stood toe to toe
with the shiny always

look, said the shiny always
i know you are
going to fuck us over

our kind fingers
beaded and stitched
and roped and loved
and we feel the sunset
we are not afraid
we are not sorry

their way will die
and with it the
holy communion of
sun and man

but we put your head
on the money, honey
and the wheat stalks
looked like laurels.
so who is
the winner now?

9911 pt1

you were the girl, yes i
can see your white dress now
full of red was your mouth
and your eyes were wet and wide
swaying forth, weeping willows
and i loved you then and i
would have carried you on my back
to the end of this world if
the end of this world was
before ruin

you had no need, shiny little one
all smiles of blood and strong sinus
walking through wooden pew circles
like daddy please and blistering pree
not on knees but standing at peace

imagined letters have my mantra

hello?

so i have nothing
do do with
one way mirrors

but i know the
installers and
there's nothing
to fear

here -
i hope
my audience
knows that

i could
be talking
to air

'n pee are

i'm ready.
prepared -
occupy my
bed

to the tune of
automobile chats
that usa existence
transistor ham laboratory
new oxygen
atop sharp
north american tundra house friend

friend,
for the companionship,
thanks.

i whisper into the radio-
you have such a fucking hot body
i grab his antennas and get to work

sig(h)j

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

give me

i have five minutes
to write something profound
and that's a lot
like life
y'know?

asses on edges

it's time for my first poem in this notebook.
it will be a morning poem, because it is morning.
see! so bright and frresh! i can almost smell mint!

i wake up with bob dylan in my body and my legs spread wide.
permissive starfishing. independent seduction.
when my wheels turn i think of my stockings.
they are old old, seamed in the back, a perfect tan.

i put them on with great intent
after you rub lotion on my feet and legs

i wear my dress that looks like a hospital gown
and my prozac bathrobe and it's your birthday
and you ask to eat me out in my living room
and i say that's fine, sure

i'm fresh and wet and smooth and need feel
i am hungry you are hungry
heads are leaned back, asses are on edges
these moments are mine and in them i am less broken

jesus fuck

a god damn martyr
saving somervillian panic
from boys exercising only that

i dress them in bathrobes
shuffle them through hallways
they are half drunk and half asleep
arms hanging/limp and saved

i convince them of almost truths
involving sacks of shit
and flush toilets like peter denies christ
(three times, blood and cock)

they sleep like angels
i rest like my mother

v no vino

sweet black head
is too full darling
bird bones crush
so easy hollow
the felted hush

d vul

she pointed to the devil card and asked
whose robert? i'm glad he's gone
why is he so sad? does he do drugs?

i say he should and she reads them/me
we all care about someone too much in this life
it happens once. it won't happen again.

mundane hate

the last time that

panic hit this bad

i squeezed my eyes

until my face sprayed

angry little red freckles

capillaries liberated

and yes it was squeamish

to see but also cute

like instead of sun kissed

- life and times bent down to

smack me a wet one

and the last time

i drank so at druids

i wrote horrible great poems

and laughed and screamed on

a two wheel motor

playing in the rain until i was

face down, wet roaded

but today

a tiny puffy eye

and sloppy trivia games

leave me feeling

unexceptional

mundanely dramatic

and needing more

well that's nice

a darling birthday

of squeezed oranges

pomegranate spray

floating sunflowers

is altogether wholesome

but your present

is what you give

to me instead

on my side

and we'd be excused

but there are no

sorries

here

oh god

how sweet to see

they are wanted

pleased teeth

graze heels

like cattle

and tongues

part toes

like they

still give

prizes

in life boxes

AY. CHINASKI.

HEY BUKS

YOU JUST REMIND ME

OF EVERY ASSHOLE

AND I LIKE YOU

BUT I'M LEAVING

YOUR STOMPING GROUNDS

always goanna feel

the oldest I’ve ever been

the mother goose graves

had em all aged around

twenty four

homelone

you can forget so much in

a house of pizza beer

tree trim friends

and waking up to

showering through

and twitter feeds on

you at my feet

like an animal

sry hun

back to old habits

wide bulging eyes

and finger fucking

mouths like honey pots

post offices

are decent enough

deciding places.

they are also good

for smoking nervously

outside of and

scratching second ever

scratch tickets.

the first being

with him and

it was a dud.

every penny

she turned

had a little

brass prison

behind it

hard water

obsessed with upset

routine reminders like

super shiny sugar beet shampoo

heads smelling messed

is no ending but

bringing labels backwards

means all heads bow

away to look erased

z

in my dream

you were still here

and mr manning

thumbed threw records

i pointed at him

and said see

this is the man

that said he would

marry me

mystery last month poem

run away

a wayfarer

fair and further

seem forever

don’t care so much

don’t say a thing

don’t mind the mood

you're mentioning

i don’t hold on to it

it holds on to me

and looks up

with big saucer eyes

crying for food

some days

are harder

than others

but my love

at least

it’s real

and honest

and something

two today

sick and twisted thought #12345678910

i have more interest and desire

in my toes and your mouth

than i do in waking

social vexwoking

instead of my walks being in old footsteps

i wonder about those

i have left behind

in my minds exile

(was i ever there?)

chap book

she squeezed her shoulder blades together and between the deltas came a flash of discord and it was like losing hair and the first day of preschool and then when every note agreed with each other the back of the girls head in class turned into the front of the girls head in class and graduation robes became bathrobes and hospital johnnies and they removed them all in front of each other in that instant and over and over again they saw each others naked ness but the puzzle pieces between their bodies trembled and shook and they were not afraid but they certainly were the same as the holy other. The notes lined up the dusk frenched stars into a twinkling grid and the truth fell between them like plinko chips and it felt like every elevator in new york city fell to the ground level in the same moment and the one you want is empty and it is safe it is warm it is sound. It brings you to a level the world agrees with

the three helmet headed

lemon haired

fair weather magnet

she showed up

on this coast

so put polaroids

out to dry and try

coffee, champagne

motorized bikes

we can sleep like

kings in a full

then raise happy like

white cotton, black leather

deep eshe

there she is

there's the chick that

cooks hamburgers

and makes everyone

drive backwards

she rules the country

come on

polite dinner conversation

i’m done with

casual dates

just looking for someone

to hibernate and die with

yeah

i’m into nestin and restin

easy as turning n’s to r’s

then lying down

i like being single

i’m single and ready to mingle!

no more like

single and ready to fuck off

like

i already know what's

going to happen

we are going to love each other

and hate each other so much

matthew six twenty eight

consider please

lillies blooming

in warm kitchens

how they burst with sex

and rot to the floor

this little girl

crawls under your desk

stockings trail behind

like a malcovitch portal

blazes a trail of smoke

tumbling down stairs

and she knows

he will care for me

and she folds her hands

and she knows

the lillies are beautiful

and everything

is destined for rotten grounding

pomegranate

fruit of the dead

skin between teeth

how did i get here?

persephone,

perky titted class act

taking your place

and we will wait out

the winter in hades

until spring brings back

a want for the my, the me

unicorn shirt

big and white like

the very first time

but now television and

video home system

and steve martin

are second cotton

needle hopscotch

if we need to still fuck to be friends, we can do that.

do it i will get so hard you will love it.

you're not going to find what you want making me breakfast.

those were the first big tits i've felt in a while. so, thanks.

i can justify anything.

your pictures have risen to the ranks of most masturbated to.

i'm sure this sucks to hear but i already do.

if we need to still fuck to be friends, we can do that.

do it i will get so hard you will love it.

you're not going to find what you want making me breakfast.

those were the first big tits i've felt in a while. so, thanks.

i can justify anything.

your pictures have risen to the ranks of most masturbated to.

i'm sure this sucks to hear but i already do.

if we need to still fuck to be friends, we can do that.

do it i will get so hard you will love it.

you're not going to find what you want making me breakfast.

those were the first big tits i've felt in a while. so, thanks.

i can justify anything.

your pictures have risen to the ranks of most masturbated to.

i'm sure this sucks to hear but i already do.

veins

if you’re reading this

you didn’t keep your promise

and if you’re not reading this

well, i still don’t trust you

but, your red veins

of steadfast devotion

i’m returning by post

if my blood moves without

you beside them

you can blame caffeine

otherwise

i am still and baby blue

like shoe crab blood

at the bottom of the sea

waiting

with perpendicular sting

fluves

i taught my shoes how to multiply by five

they turn tiny toes under, undertaking

in ten wing tipped caskets. a warning

that warming where you want it most

only leads to bleeding out their ghosts.

the day

this was

the day

for the poem

of new love

or a pedicure

but we d nice

agent orange

watching porn

you cool too

the way home

the road safe

are steady, even

paces

even stride

even strife

the luxury of silence

in the still dim room

that went quiet on her

she couldn’t even hear

her toes wiggle

under the sheets

her porcelain friends

looked on with

silent apathy

in the cold new

england bed room

that contained her

warming body and

broken heart, she

squeezed her eyes

shut and when that

didn’t work she

rubbed her

eyes with her

fists until stars

came out

and when that didn’t work

she thought about

backwards beatles and

whistled to herself

the world must let me focus

or my mind will let me go

nothing seemed to work so

she just prayed with wheat pennies

between her teeth and it went like

please and please please and

one two three four five six seven eight

harvest

weekends of pleasant distraction and distant dissent

explaining my religion to the son of a preacher man

through telephone wires, but he already has his sorries

lifted from a proud chest and picks pennies from my eyes

a harvest of bright and bounty. he whispered in my electronic ear

i followed your small words for a month, the month after i left

and i wonder, how many months are left in you?

your tabs that my phone thinks i like to see

feed me reiterations of feeds i’m reading

please tell me it’s because you feel nothing and want something

tell me your heart sings while it is throwing up in an enflamed elevator

tell my you’re wrong and not sorry but you’re ready - i’ll tell you i spent my time waiting

by dancing in the autumn leaves, my petticoat, perfect flower blooming at the tops of stairways

and they are strong enough to carry me flights and fights, to leap, lovely, open the tops of skylines

spindles tickling toes, but what ten tender tendrils want is to splay, displayed and perfect

on your sheepish skins.

warm flop

i love you and i know

you are tired but you still

tend to abused bruises

in the concave tabernacle

of your bathroom

and you lay me open with

hard healing hands, say

we never need to be sorry

your hands heal

they are old and you use them

to dry my back and you say

you'll catch your death of cold like this

and you ask who he is and i ask

who who is and you give me the look

you have given me fifty seven times

and i say you are crazy but you know

how many ways this road goes

rituals

i am certain my true love

is an aquarius.

i do not know when

my shower head was born, but

as an air sign with a cold empty house

we get along far too well to

ever be apart

i don't need to justify anything

do you spend your days walking and withering and wondering

how do i get the guilt lines from my face, sorries from my wrinkles?

i can take your fingers and put them near my fingers and show you the in between:

it is the wheat penny

you can rub it and you will think of america

it is lost but it is warm and it is okay

the stalks of wheat are oxidized but triumphant, forgiving

we say together oh hello hallow wheaties

we hear her trumpets call

and we don't need to be sorry about anything

we are missing the men who take magic from young girls dress

and we know they know we think they

shouldn't be sorry about anything

we love our long lipped harborers of hearts

and we think they know we think they

should never ever ever have to be sorry

the wheat penny is a totem with variables

dali had the back of his wife

and her, her ten tiny hanging bulbs

and i wipe the silver air off antlers

and horseshoe crabs off drift wood and

i think about america

it is cold and edgy but it is nothing

and never has to be sorry

the shame spiral

my shame spiral starts with a top drawer

makes a detour to our footstool

and tapers to the tops of toes

the only thing is

it is recursive

and she, flips over again

until my room is all upside down

and repeating myself to turn sand sides

where do you want it?

i want you in the rays of sunshine

that fall on my bed in the morning

we can stretch our limbs together

and feel sugar racing through our veins

beating against gravity

i want you in a big bigger pot

the best one. it is thick and

white and has naked greeks

on it for reasons of credibility.

everyone will know you are a

worthwhile plant if you are

rooted in classic phalluses

i want you like you want water

i want you to want me like water

i want to want water like i want you

i want you in my homework

i have no control but, would

love you as my science project.

i will tilt my cassette player into

your bowl and see what music makes

little leaves tremble.

that old chestnut

sweet bellied baby

let's get back to boring

my eyes have been so

wide for too long

trying on excited

is just so tiring,

hard backed honey

let's stay in our song

stubbly lipped darling

let's backtrack to stagnant

you know i can't love you

i know that you care

but remove my new clothes

you sweet bellied baby

and my thighs will find

an old home for you there

hello hollow hallow

the second best whistler in the city

wore his skeleton like a victory

you're a psycho

i wake up and

my body takes nothing

my veins are so calm that's

how i found out it's wrong

it's not a panic attack

i'm just in attack mode

and when i take my time

not with timelines or lines

its prime time thighs and

high blithe hips unwinding

and it's fine find me twisted

all tied in your binding

i'm heading ahead like

heads of lettuce in bedding

let us rush in and

i'll be russian dressing

don't you worry i

saved all my hurry

for someone who

can hurry up too

we'll press fast forward and

head more toward

a home like us non psychos do

you're out of excuses

and don't think your clueless

i know who got to

have you clued in

so don't think your planning

will give you a hand in

releasing the jam that

you jammed yourself in

what i'm thinking is if

you stay put without blinking

the thing that you think

is so great is unwilling

and unwitting is fitting

but if you get found out

i'll hear all your shouting

but can't help the drowning

what a gay ass pantoum

i want to take the world by storm

but only from my bed

this need to be so nice and warm

will not escape my head

but only from my bed

can i hear voices of our dreams

will not escape my head

now, i keep them bursting at the seams

can i hear voices of our dreams

within any other bedding

no, i keep them bursting at the seams

they'll explode me where i'm heading

RE: 1

synthesize touch/sight

seeing neon non petals

open behind closed

eyes. electrifying

legs slick shaved down

a first time for fall

and i press them against

your back i think about

all the layers it took

between getting here.

smell me smelling of

rain and leather, and

a weather and half hour permitting

you want to help me and you take

take my hand and it is small and

smooth and warm and yours is

big and cold and hard but it feels

like mine and its no surprise that when

i peer into where you keep your secrets

i say i love you and i'm not sorry we don't

need to be sorry and you take

take my hand and i feel like i'm

crossing the street but when i get there

there is no earthquake now but it is still

the same fuzzy humble low moan just

holding me under like a corduroy pillow

x-ray

some days

you find videos

on the internet

of an ex lover

playing a song

from when

you spent

your first night

together

and some girl

is singing it

with him

in a guitar center

and you reread

and reread and

you know

that people change

but don't forget

the rest

how to fold cardboard in three easy steps:

1. fold

2. rest

3. rest

i have been

i have been

many people to you

please believe

they have all been true

some days

you eat goat and wonder in the rain

why i should be walking under awnings

you honey blonde baby

when she stared at herself in the mirror

her skin glowed like honeycomb

her hair stared back from ants in amber.

her breast hung like a happy hammock

vacationed, ethereal, white cotton woven

waiting for swinging on seasons and seasons

boo please back to action, a boomerang boon

come again

tuffets a pubes.

buckets a lube.

no greater

the space between us

is no greater than

air containing galaxies

or

the holes of our pores

the daze blur

we are good at sleeping

it helps me forget

he is somewhere else

and you can't remember

that i cannot be here

not really

panic: calm

our religion has a call and response

'i’m so sorry about everything'

'you don’t have to be sorry about anything'

sometimes we switch parts

but there is always sandalwood swinging between us

i walk through between around linoleum tiles

so white. sucking me in

i rub the relic of our religion

it is a wheat penny

fondling the stalks, think about america

it is wide and yellow, asleep and nothing

in my dreams there are vampires

they tell me i suck blood, i am a vampire too

no no, i say, i just drink ginger ale and eat gram crackers

in a recovery room with a dopey grin on my face

sucking that hard is against my religion

nobody has to be sorry about anything

i offer them ginger ale and gram crackers

but they think i should go to a vampire party instead

i politely decline and spend the rest of my dreams in bed

art of losing blah blah

i have gotten so good

at losing things

that they are gone

well before arrival

still, i walk in slow circles

pacing eulogies, wearing soles

making sure that the things

that never knew they were

feel some beauty, love

and let stardust sprinkle

sleep in stillborn eyes

candidate for worst ever

on the night she was born

the room was cold

and she thought

about the gifts shed return

for a blanket

say it's so

take all your fatigue

lay it down on me

like a lead blanket

i’ll be so still

keep me where you want

i won’t say one word

until you told me

to speak i will

it was a nice day

write a nice poem for jeff will ya?

you depressed sack of shit

mature

poop hole pooed in poo pool

honkey

i hope all the trumpets and colors and dancing and crisp air

were a distraction for you

but sometimes i think

you need a distraction from

colorful, blaring, dancing, fresh fall me. i am wanting and living too much.