400th post

Maria winters: how was your day?

Sent at 10:36 PM on Thursday

me: sucked

invented a drinking game

where you buy 6 rolling rock pounders

and don't put them in the fridge

and try to drink them all before they get cold

i'm winning right now

literally, as we speak

New York Shoe

A wet shoe from the pavement
taps with its quiet wetness
with its solitary, broken strap,
a pattern smudged, an object forgotten.
Walking passed.

Shivasana

yoga
Apr. 11, 2010 – 5:41pm

Trying out this icebreakers thing...what do you think about when you can't settle into a good shivasana? I inevitably yogadream about food and up and bought some out-of-season strawberries right after the last class I took.

29% Enemy 59% Friend 67% Match Message from [omitted]

--------------------

Apr. 21, 2010 - 1:34am

I have no idea what shivasana is although it sounds metaphysical so I probably hate it. I do the kind of yoga that looks like yoga to people who don't know what yoga is (because I don't know what yoga is...mainly).

Most likely I will spend a few minutes looking up shivasana on Wikipedia and then looking at the "discussion" section to see what's been changed recently, whether or not there are other schools of thought, or just trolling the most devoted editors of the article until I get flamed/they get banned (because this is a fun thing for me).

--------------------

Savasana

Aliens.

In last night's dream, which is the first I've had the ability to remember in vivid detail in I don't know how many years, I am overcome by the presence of UFOs. The first encounter so to speak is walking through an abandoned lot somewhere in Northern Liberties in Philadelphia and I come across a group of people who are hanging out on this lot and they are all young people and I'm walking across this lot and see a two strings extending into the air, but there are clouds and there is no way of seeing where the strings are going but upon getting much closer I notice that it's a swing set with amazingly long chains and on the swing is a person who has been paralyzed in fear or awe or something worse and they get sucked up and dragged but I never am able to tell the others and so they don't understand what the hell I'm talking about since it happened and is over and is a very strange account.

Later there is a poetry reading in a building that is on a very similar lot and I don't find out it's a reading until later but I am on that lot again and I see all these people and I am now hanging out with the people and then all of a sudden I see the same thing happen again but this time I drag the people over to where it's happening while it's happening and they all come and we are able to pull two or three people off the swing set, the entire thing of which is being pulled up into the the abyss of the sky and we succeed in rescuing these victims and then all of a sudden we see the giant ship that's shaped like a trapezoid and is extremely large and close to the ground speed off into the distance and we are so frightened and everything is going crazy but we don't know what to do. The ship zooms off into the distance.

Back inside the building I don't hear the poets or see them but I know it's a poetry reading for some reason and I decide to take a smoke break (I don't remember from the dream the interactions that happened inside the building even though I know I dreamed something . . . ) and I am outside talking blankly with one of the people who assisted me and we are all dumbfounded. I think at some point I go back into the building and grab more people who had no idea about the ship and bring them outside and they are able to see it zooming over some warehouses in the distance and fading instantaneously.

The other major part of the dream that happened before I woke up and decided to stop dreaming and start writing was during the smoke break when an older couple come outside and the man introduces me (I didn't get a name) and he starts talking about how he has had experiences with spaceships like this in the past but he doesn't describe them. He merely describes my performance during the poetry reading in a nostalgic way and it's the first reading he's been to in fifteen years and loves it. I don't really know what to say and at this point there are a lot of people milling about outside and the last image I have is of all of us, maybe twenty people, looking up into the sky and seeing this gray, metallic object (that is hardly as impressive as the original ship) very far up in the sky, floating up into outer space, disappearing, and everyone sitting still in amazement.

The weather in the dream was fair.

The Desert (Excerpt)

The first thing I did was buy a big dog.

I named the big dog Kurt Gödel.  I know almost nothing about Kurt Gödel except that he formulated the incompleteness theorem and starved himself to death.

I want to meet a girl who knows the same amount about Kurt Gödel that I do.  Probably.

The second thing I did was find a desert.  David Foster Wallace said that Tuscon was one of the only places he ever felt at home in.  He hung himself on his front porch in Bloomington, IL.  His dogs were barking.  His dogs were named Drone and Jeeves.

Harold Bloom covered all of this in The Anxiety of Influence I think.

Next I found an apartment near the desert.  I lived with a couple who fought a lot.  Sometimes I would break up the fights.  I would separate the couple and tell each of them that they hated each other and the best thing to do for all parties was to end things amicably.  I told her he says these things because he loves you and is passionate.  I told him she hits you with hangers because you she knows you won’t hit her back in any serious way.  My windows faced the desert.

A window that faces the desert looks different than a television show set in the desert.  The desert in your window is one color.

The dog liked the desert.

I always imagined I would see guys in the desert with metal detectors.  I always felt that sand and metal detectors went together.  There is an episode of Pete and Pete where the dad brings a metal detector to the beach and finds a Cadillac buried in the sand.  The family spends all day digging out the Cadillac and then they drive home in the Cadillac.  How did they get to the beach though?

This was the period where I often did Yoga.  It wasn’t real Yoga because learned all the positions from a Google image search for “Yoga.”  It was stretching, with grace.  This was back when I was trying to be happy.  This also explains why I bought the dog (Kurt Gödel).

I did lots of jumping jacks too.  One time I recorded video of myself doing jumping jacks to see if I was getting the timing right.  I stopped doing jumping jacks after that.

I started waking up at 9 o’clock.  Waking up at 9 o’clock makes you want to do things like get a haircut.

I got a military style haircut.  People looked me in the eyes and said “thank you for your service” and I would say “You are welcome.  Enjoy your freedom.”  One time a boy asked me how many people I’d killed and I had to tell him none.  The boy was disappointed and his disappointment disappointed me.

My dog got pregnant by another species of dog.  She gave birth to cytoplasm-filled water-balloons.  She wept and I held her and said “poor Kurt Gödel” like two hundred times.

Reading Terminal Market

To: White Negro

You could do some serious kidnapping in that building.

From: White Negro

Yeah.  But the kids keep coming so its pointless.

The Best Part

is when she wakes up to pee
around six

wraps a towel around
exits, enters

towel drops and
she's back, wrapping your arms around

making everything the same
again

Tolerance

How we live our lives
with these marks on our feet.

How we sit and wait
for the alarms to sound.

Outside a young woman
pokes holes in the snowy chair.

Over in Annapolis a young woman
contemplates the northwest.

Up the street a young woman
tells me how she loves her family.

How we live our lives
hoping the wounds will resolve.

From the Institute: 01-28-10

For now I am at the Institute.
My TD Bank pen tip dulls.
I steal the bar’s Sierra Nevada paper pen.
Is it an ink water fountain or ink vomit mouth?

*

My stomach rides on illness tonight.
Dark chocolate shuffle syndrome.
I sip the Voodoo White Magic from a very small glass.
I dream of the calmest bile shaded with caramel.

*

Some may say leave your hats on.
Others would talk about rudeness and indoors.
You would probably say nothing if you were here.
I tell myself everything, and right now.

*

During a workshop Jeff Weaver stood,
facilitating and staring at me.
He never got my name right.
I watched his lazy eye stare at the others.

*

On the televisions there’s a snowboarding competition.
The commercial is cut to as usual.
Now a gnome sails down some slope.
It is a raunchy third person close up.

*

Outside it is cold enough
to freeze my testicles to marble.
I wonder about frost giants.
Their sex organs must be godly.

*

Who is George Lopez?
What is the Ace of Spades?
Channel surfing is done on surf channels.
The state of television is the cause of television.

*

A man saunters on inside.
A 6-pack of something to go.
There are no 6-packs for here.
I wonder about alcohol markets.

*

So yesterday Howard Zinn died
and today JD Salinger did.
There are pillars of culture crumbling.
Left, right, and on down the center.

*

I still haven’t written about noise.
A flash image: Jamie Townsend’s grin.
The chef says Seven Deadly Sin-dwiches.
Satanic cuisine needs more of us.

*

When you go to your favorite place
you will see your family.
They will be lined up, like rabbits.
What awaits is a group hug or mass homicide.

*

Shit, man, it’s like a stout, a shrine.
Inevitably the cherry smiles are sequestered.
There is buckshot to your own abdomen.
Pigs in this dream gut themselves wide open.

*

Prior to wondering about fairy tales
I took up a stance to other streets.
All you shemales, fuck off, says the barbarian.
I can’t call that fighter anything else.

*

What’s with color in conversations?
We work all day wearing cool eyewear.
We take things too far.
We go home and fuck up the toilet.

*

New Holland has a beer called Dragon’s Milk.
All I see are drakelings sucking
grinding, plate-like teats.
I mean it’s horny unlike those silk trousers.

*

Haven’t thought about Frank Sherlock recently,
but I was at the Last Drop yesterday
and got Dirty Frank’s wifi signal.
While thinking about boozers I forget big connections.

*

I’ve moved on to Victory’s Helios.
It’s a golden amber that’s defined by Now.
Maine was all local bullshit brews;
Rhode Island was shit brews; Philly’s exotica brews.

*

Storybook romance in text message form.
Oh jesus Katherine we would be perfect,
perfect love but there’s so much rotting distance.
I hope you never find this metastatic notebook.

*

Steven’s faces on his phone are guttural.
I mean his facial expressions are all mushed.
Like let’s go disturb the entire world.
I mean Steven Silverman, you’re on my boat.

*

My favorite new concept is code-switching.
“I use the term acid jazz sometimes
because it’s dirty,” he says.
I want to yell like a pit bull looks.

*

95% of an average human being’s thoughts are negative.
Thank the verse gods.
Thank the meditative state.
Thank pornographic Blakean angel visions.

*

There’s not a drop of hope
leaning against this bar
where these lines cross with telephonea.
Style is public when you ain’t watching.

*

This guy has the best lines about music.
But I can’t write straight with this Boolean cube
synesthesia barking up and down the trees
of this submarine tragedy.

*

I have never seen
more people behind the bar
than on the stools
and I needed to see this.

*

It seems like it’s time,
said the girl and guy.
Clutched hands and the cold forgotten.
There is that oncoming frostbite, though.

*

Glissade. Glossolalia.
Movies about gladiators.
Really timed, stopped motion.
Faux succubae kisses.
*

Sure there is the father who left,
hiding beneath Illinois billboards.
Sure your hair is perfect.
You are the universal receiver.

*

It’s so easy analyzing our death obsessings.
Some Superman move on a movie, an abscess.
Crashing buildings and this dream.
I have a dream: let’s fucking stop it.

*

Wild nights, wild nights, and skinny bikinis.
When you go there
you will get drunk
and your endings will be enough.

*

At the First Unitarian Church
Kate sat down on the reversed pew.
We talked about the summer and the future.
Just to remind you: she has elf beauty.

*

Kat asks: Can I get a sneak peak of your work?
You don’t need a cure if you yourself are the elixir.
I smile and reply: When you feed me lines I love you like chainmail.
Your distance is like staring at a cloth map with ex marks on it.

*

Folks are talking about hot food stories.
I’ve got a leaky bladder.
Goodnight to the perpendicular.
Good morning late, abstract night.

*

Some days it’s easier to let it out.
To fart in public, to be that imbecile.
You forget why you’re where you are.
I think about China, and Vatican City, V-City to you.

*

Sitting outside on the Unitarian steps
the black girl smiled and stared.
At me I am the kingly one.
At me this is another first person’s story.

*

A metal suit to hold me.
A raw beet to gnaw.
This heat is a turned-on flame.
We are rocking in these caverns.

*

In a world wrought with disease
another planet reflects on height.
God exists as nether region.
A boy is whipped by a pastor.

*

There’s a snus because I want to.
Bed time is because of spiders.
Everything dies to reawaken.
Life is the swagger of the Grim Reaper.

*

Watch for the glance avoided.
Hang on to a hang glider.
Wait and watch that teddy bear burn.
Wreak your havoc for your hairnet.

*

As Richard Brautigan turned trees into curbs,
Richard Brautigan fantasized about fish.
There were no suicidal characters
before Richard Brautigan’s raised rods.

*

Smelly, hippy vegan dude walks in.
The bar is susceptible to radicals.
The radicals have been here
with the same smells for so long.

*

Jury duty and scoundrels.
Let’s put the emphasis on “and”.
Jury duty and scoundrels.
Let’s get kicked out because of the bathroom.

*

Could it be drunk?
Could it be a slam dunk?
Could it be North Philadelphia?
Could it be taking the socks out?

*

I don’t know like I am too selfish
like you are as pure as that sunset
on the computer I saw with brain matter
and heart disease and flower petals tangoing.

*

Let it be known that there is hatred
and a lot of laughter in every corner.
Let it be known that there’s a storm
and precipitation comes with storms.

*

Before the eyes twitch into other ways
a land loads into the memory.
We have remembered this for you.
Just click around and become free again.

Training: 01-27-10

Training: 1/27/10

At St. Luke and the Epiphany
where the pews actually pad the ass
and there are white hymnals and black hymnals
and it’s quite apparent Jesus be in the glass.

*

Eugene says he needs a four letter lamb word.
Are crossroads to be found in crosswords?
Is Obama really old or really new?
Wilhelm Reich wrote about psychoanalysis and fascism.

Hills of Slag

1/25

Yesterday we were in Jim Thorpe.
We were also in Centralia, among its smoke and mist.
In Pottsville we were at its most silent.
Yesterday we were travelers and we ate cookies well.

*

We don't like sitting in rooms together.
But we do it anyway.
We don't learn from our mistakes
but we don't learn together.

*

I know what I saw.
I saw a cosmic radiance.
I saw the vision of moonshine.
Atop a slag castle, staring through mist.

*

Who would live in a town like Quakake
without hiding bodies
and thanking the rails
for a wonderland of jump pads?

*

No spray, the sign read.
I wanted to dip it in cacao chunks.
I wanted to swallow it all down my tight throat.
No spray, the sign read.

*

1/26

I remember Ron
who stood at the bar at M & M's
in downtown Pottsville.
He gave us so many beer tokens.

*

Also at that bar
which played strictly its club rap,
bologna from Jerusalem was the bar food
and we got free red and white plastic mugs.

*

Centralia's dusty paths
were the black backs of wyrms.
We road them and snused.
I puffed too and tried to forget her.

*

I am the robot king! I shouted.
My lazers are the fastest.
My armor the thickest.
My processor a blitzer.

*

So I'm in wait for the principal.
Plans fail. I repeat: fail fail fail.
There was once a metal army.
The nuke glued their shadows down like Hiroshima.

*

His voice was the sound of a guitar.
His mood was a flopping soggy roast beef hoagie.
I could put him between two pieces of toast
and ship him to the Emperors in Antarctica.

*

Today there's goulash and tomomrrow, Let's Go!
There is pending parental supervision.
Sitting makes us go crazy.
Bees go crazy when they're on a fence in front of a cave.

*

Ms. S. and I chatted Stenton Park
and Old Stenton Road and Logan Station.
She accused me of email viruses, and
after I mentioned Centralia, trees fell.

*

Chris and Carry are bright and merry.
They keep up talking about stuff
no one I know would follow.
Such fabulous knowledge the oppressed have prepped.

*

A carrot that's mine; and a brownie, a cookie: both Kyle's.
A swig of tap water. Phiadelphia's.
Danea's coffee. Down this hatch or that.
I'm still yearning for more fucking fruits and veggies.

*

So Yossarian gets visited by his fam.
They don't remember his name.
They care and he doesn't.
Nothing matters and that's that.

*

Berryman's Dream Songs failed and duh.
It's like this cat playing with a dead mouse.
But there are hundreds of dead mice and only one cat.
No one wants to see it go down like that.

*

I haven't driven a Creeley poem in a while.
Maybe because I'm afraid of the road.
Maybe the turns are too dangerous for me.
Or maybe I'm thinking of Penelope Creeley in Providence.

Twenty Tramps Lined Up

1/19

Today we walked to the bus.
Andy said two molestors were possible.
I said he could be the third if he wanted.
On the bus zero were obvious.

*

I pour down beer.
Its throat is wet.
The burger grease is dry.
Finn McCool's is opening, like an oyster.

*

The heels are all flesh and burn.
The streets are a rain forest.
No, wait, that's been chopped down.
Life is as a black hole or extinct animal.

*

1/24

While I wait for the exam
I try to grasp all of this year.
It would be easier to eat the year.
If only 2010 was just a leg of chicken.

*

It's a fun glide when Jeff orders.
The food was a chicken cheese steak. And fries.
Nathalie was a cynic babe serving him.
He stared at the plate then passed it to Steven.

*

Perhaps I am the youngest one here.
Perhaps I am the oldest.
Do suicidal thoughts graph age?
Who dreams of Kafka in pleasant ways?

*

I fear that there will be no money.
I fear that there will be no friends.
I fear that successes will disappear.
There will be a mushroom or an earthquaked island.

*

There are so many songs to dream.
Deep-rooted, they hit home in Philly.
Can thee be compared to a knife?
Thy kingdom is made of pen tubes.

*

I noticed the store around the corner of the block.
The Maverick burned like an incense ash stem forming.
Beyond the wall sat a cubicle forest.
I stamped out the paper and tobacco on the ground.

*

When you cannot stand still you get failure.
You get illicit downloads. Videos.
I cannot help but laugh at that screen.
We are dumb brutes when we try to grow up.

*

The bartender said, Rock and Roll.
The gorgeous Asian American was still there.
In a single moment of work she brought me the BBQ.
Later, we all agreed that her gift was damn good.

*

A man says, Traffic court.
A man says, The moving guy called me.
Please believe, please believe, please believe.
This shit is escapable.

Tales from Olney HS West pt 5

1/12

She's signed up she just hasn't shown.

Two bullets in your A.S.S.

You are cheesy because you see me - Chris.

time

They gonna get this shit in
opposed to this documentary.

on Wayne: He's got tattoos all up on
everywhere. Even on his thing.

Bryant: Get a grip on her. Come on to her.

Julius: I'm done . . . done the first word.

Dom: Take him . . . because we hate you.

***

Without the teacher
this is a place of undonned masks.
Zero respect.
More than one brow met.
If they aren't going to do the work
they aren't going to do it.
Circling your head like a cannon.

Get it gone like you had it.

Like a pass in Maddon.
[I don't even dream about it.
Keep it or doubt it.
Put a snout to it.
Give it a try before ya abuse it.

Story about a class
where everything in the
room is removed.

Does he want dips? Does he want to have sex?

***

Naime: Easy girls give it up so fast.
Ugly girls give it up so fast.

Walls and kisses.

***

1/19

Our life living as paper does.
Dry on one side and bold inside it's cold.
I moan warmth.
Where were we walking?
How did we get there?
Were the supplications too supple for ye?

***

1/26

Chris: there are too many A's in "Alabama."

Tales from Olney HS West pt 4

12/16

Somewhere I could/can see us
calling each other names
and finding takers, like everybody does..

The anti-hustle. Rushed with sugar.
Rush me to sleep.
Rush me to believe in nonexistence.
Diva glances. The lone ranger
rides in and out whenever he wants.
But to decipher desire ends in peril
and a puke-colored unhappiness.
Not helping anyone is the numb feeling
to dominate all others.

*

I think you should show effort
on a daily basis . . .

*

Earn a choice.

*

Does sugar constrict blood?

*

Sleep or television?
The hours of sleep increased
as the hours of television-watching increased . . .

*

I see you, you see me. That's talent. - Chris

*

Unique's tattoos are stronger than
dynamite. They cost him $5.00.

*

"It's not fun getting up in the
morning anymore." - Ms. S

*

To try and teach Emersonian transcendentalism
to inner city youth in 2010 is hilarious.

*

You're a biscuit or brisket.

*

Games from where they come on down by
life into foul zone triumph. This
cell phone to capture head folk.
Focus point. Your camera just don't
work anymore. Ditch to downright
doorbell snobbery. Knowing the
clacks of seats. Collapsing
issuance. Collapsing insurance. Insurance
spectacle. Anticoach job. Job
as coach. Coach and resplendent.

*

Ms. P: "How are you gonna make sure
your workers are loyal?

Chris: If not, they're gonna get popped
in the head. Carrie get
the AK47. Go pop pop.

*

"Ear hustlin'" = eaves dropping.

*

What would the plan to pass be?

*

Civil disobedience in everyday life.

*

I don't live the way you act. There's
something about you that makes me want
to throw up. - Ms. S

*

Fredeshia said: "It was so crazy
I was just laugh-like . . ."

*

You will get some credit.

*

A) How many times you spoke?
B) But how many times I tell
the truth?

Gun-Piece

This was originally written for an HIV Awareness event as a spoken word performance piece. It was never completed.

In the morning the sun unsheathes its casing. Minds click awake. I am the reborn one. Reborn into throws and thrills, blasts of life. I am reborn into deathlessness.

But it's a world of carnage. The balance of the beam. Men and women walk with holes in their bodies. The blood leaks freely and yet these peeled-back eyes cannot clearly see. People pass and go. A full throw through a window.

Beings of every age picking up all the pieces and loading them. We do not live in an action scene but the obscenity of action. The leaky one's dreams are shaped.

Four Six-Word Stories

1) Sparkles then birth then death, repeat.

2) The moral: it was effective bubblegum.

3) But back then soda wasn't grape.

4) The train took a long journey.

Tales from Olney HS West pt 3

12-16

We sit discussing rockets.
We delete images.
Our coffee is being hand-delivered.
This language is of yo-yos
and candied bulls-eyes.
We live in a world of disc-ed ideas
and disc-ed apologies.
It doesn't take much to think
about little. Or being stupid.
When you wake you are flashbanged.
Think of the worst words you know:
cruel rotting skin sapped in pine ash.

*

My goal, like others, is to relive.
But sifting into childhood is exposure.
Why don't we become wall-hangings?
Let's redefine period-piece thinking.
Let's rezone with electromagnetic
forcefields and the world's biggest pinwheel.
Our coffee is on the way.
There is blood on some pavement
but I am blind to which one.

*

Chris: "He's lunchbox. Burned out."

*

Julius: "Watch out for your body. Niggas gettin' shot. It's close to Christmas. People got bread on them."

*

Today she told me she is pregnant.
She has only known for two weeks.
She has only told four others.
Her brother doesn't even know.
She is so happy and so excited.
To be in on a secret of creation
is like opening a treasure chest
of gold in a shadowy corridor.

*

There are many pages I want to write about
my time here but I fear it will all be
fiction. I want to write what is here and
now but there are too many spaces to fill.

*

R. calculates his salute.
Arms outstretched he
mimics a soldier or criminal
firing a machine gun. Grand Theft Posture.
This air is false.
He speaks of the army like a
simile. His sister, V., shakes her head.
It's a no. He cannot wait.
The idea. It spreads like iced fire. Smiles.
These are the notes I take doing
tests. When disintegrating.
It is silent. Bent head over stranger.
If I don't pay attention I will be chastised.

*

We dreamed of hospitals
and the fields going green.
The steps to the front lawn
and children carrying things.
Our purple eyes were dark
and that image made us think
that every moment after
would come back to our drink.

I am dead, save face,
move it to the wall,
I am dead, save face,
in the backmost of the hall.
I am dead, true taste,
in the underwater room.
I am dead
but watch my body swoon.

Keep the coldest calculation
on the edge of your feet.

Keep up the stones
for the warmth of the tree.

"Yelling makes it harder
for people to hear you." - Ms. P

Tales from Olney HS West pt 2

12-3

Hooray for the Happy Hall Heroes.

+

Start algebraically. Start anthropomorphic shag.
My mother is a reincarnation.
If only everyone was. Ruby red
freshmen having difficult times.

Fine pat of the century.
D-Mac. Wu-Tang. A wall beat that
you cannot turn off.
How would I do it?
When can you return?
The equation of the eclipse.
Koszi is a raunchy thank you.
I do not even stand it.

*

12-7

"You know I'm math." - Chris

*

The concept of absence, as
enduring and timeless,
is a broken mirror.
Do you dare step up?
Only to be forced. Away.

*

Music on my iPad.

*

In consequence we do not double-check the
DOUBLE-DUTCH quantifier tonight.
Toasted, bred flaking ash, oh goodness.
Pouches--madness--madmen--mocking
pockmark--toc-mouth--chantry
canticle balding feature
the axiom angel hair prune.
Whadda prude boys, whadda prude.

*

I lick up the streets, fornicators
with vengeful malice and imitation.
The media's hyped giant processor
flailing against clean air.

*

Practicing signatures.
Post-quiz-part.
The blue paper taped to the wall
reminds me of the blue upper.
Some cultural residue doesn't heave.
It sits and rots. We are protectors.

*

You know you really like it.
Yo. Check yo before yo wreck yo.

*

Drink cookies and eat milk.

*

Why do they stop going?
Once you go to night school
you can't come back.
Through the administration
I found myself wandering blindly.
Silk surrounded me and yet
I felt turned off. Turned spun, around
for once and for good. For a
God forsaken credit or a measly
meal. A chance at the win.

*

Before Olney: nonviolence.
Winter makes me think of muggers
and rapists around the corner.
Of electric plots buzzing knowingly.
Of frozen puddles and sleet spit up.
Of fogged glasses and shivers.
Of women and men in furs, pea-coats.
And thick leathers, mittens, gloves, boots.

*

Moona mom.

*

12-8

At what point does anarchy
rebuild its cans of ashes?

*

Today Ms. S said only gays
wear black underwear.

*

Today I taught Lucretia
and Tramaine about negative nancies.
Laughter. Tons.

*

Party music:

*

Does the Ronald McDonald House
provide care for heart disease victims?

*

Control the air.
Put on the round shoes tomorrow.
Birthday ideas.
Storms on a 4th floor.

*

"Welcome to Ocky" - Chris

*

Come more, cut less.
We work here, below the cutlass, every day.
We've moved on.
We have chased
our tails and
through the calm
of forests we
have found rest.
Rest in our
lame bodies.
Rest in minds.
There are trees
standing straight.
Uprooted they
reach with hands,
grasp the sun,
a golden fruit,
an outsider.

*

Did we actually call that change?
Smoking on our off-hours
in Gorham, Maine?

*

Jardnains.

*

I know what to add to broccoli:
melted cheese.

*

I shove caramels down my throat.
I feel Ignatius. Purchased happiness.
Glands of rumpled fat.
These entries are the divine.
The subconscious of a high school
sunked to the low.

*

It will finally happen
and when they finally ask you
you won't even think about
how your response sounds.

*

In the lands of fights
I saw a ghost hanging
from the ceiling.

What I Owe

New Jersey blasts by
and Joe punches keys.
Sam talks about "gay music"
and am I the only asshole?

*

Stoned at the Sanctuary.
Whiteness whacky and contemplated.
I talked to the tallest black tran.
I'll pay what I owe someday.

*

Molly's Books where I brought guac chips,
where I drank beer and ate cornbread,
where we talked about subversive second graders,
where Jack never put on Little Richard.

*

Stoned in the room is a plunger
shoving me into the sloppy slit
like I'm nine and it's Christmas
and I just have to jerk off to the Internet.

*

What am I doing gagging people
while Philadelphia rots, wound afestered,
and it's true I like muffled voices,
and it's true, I love shutting up.

*

The black homeless man
has dry, cracked skin around his eyes.
When you look at something that's like a river,
hate yourself for not looking at all.

*

Let's get this party started right.
Funk and freaky, stay up all night.
I'll be munching on a cell phone
thinking about asphyxiation.

*

I was taping the top line
in the gymnasium's entryway.
The barbecue sauce exploded all over
and I wanted to force you to lick at gunpoint.

*

If I were a drumline
tapping kinetically on the wall;
if I regularly had seizures
and partook in grand anal sex schemes;

*

At one time in New York
olives equaled broc equaled cheese.
When we're done with mozzarella
let's design Mr. Potato Head interchangeables.

*

I threw a highlighter at Sarah
and took a swig of Yuengling.
I threw my head down
and took my favorite burp out. Burp.

Tales from Olney HS West pt 1

We weren't trapped at all, in fact.
I stared your face into mush.
Calming me, knowing you could
bend into fragments.

*

Normally a bedroom does not bend.
"Humdrum" as accurate word.
We were looking forward through the past.
I can't imagine sitting alone another moment.

*

The girl in the brown leather coat
sits at the desk with her head down.
This world is laughter grafted.
Between walls she will never wake.
The bell will cure her hypnotic toxic.
For now: seizure, her leg tapping on tile.
In her skull there are explosions
I can never return to.

*

No whining. Exercises.
Math class.
Math robbed them.
Mica in distance.
Micro crab trees
beneath finger nails.
Power surge from whence . . .
bandied posterboard.
Unplugged fan.
Brown and black jumpsuit
and an eggplant haircut.
White uniform: proxy.
Purple Vietnam hook hickey.
There was blood drained from
his mouth.

*

Oh God, father, oh
vegan rice krispies.
Cocoa and dates.
Walnut, coconut.
The sticking substances
sliding into finger cracks.
The hand base.
Zero preparation.

*

The feral zero zap.
My men are a military monster.
Green flak with Gak.
(I will not make you
take this test but I hope
you take it anyway)

*

Quilting, quotations.
For every nook there's open space.
Subatomic mind shank.
A shack housing blisters.
We live in a flooded mind.
Rouge criterion; single belly computer.
FOR SPANISH: change this to this.

*

Ms. Griffin as true American hero.
Security guard from Fels:
THEY WILL FIGHT TEACHERS.
Get back: what's real is real.
But there are more than one.

*

I don't believe in
make-up tests.
Hardly one more
trick of the trade.
Treated to trill tricks.
That jawn is straight.
The universal word.
Like breathing without
a silence.
Bulbuous black eyes.
Precognitive liminality.
Metal detector wear.
Get your garb on.
Crunk up a slam.
Three pastry eggs.

*

Now there are three
heads down where
once there were
two. Four
then verging
to five.
I'm finished.
Miss.
One second.

*

MONOFRAGMENT SILICATE. OSTEOECCENTRICISM. MALAFFECTED COOLENT. UNWORDED UNARANGED BOMBARDMENT. SIGN CHANGE THR0UGH TEN MORE MINI-MINUTES. COLLECTED CORRIDORS WITH LACKED FACES. CRUEL CAJOLLING GUEST CRUISE. APPLICANT REPLICATED TO TURNCOAT TORSO. EYE STARE TOWARD SORE. SOUR MEN DANCING ON TOP OF TWIN TWO HANDS. MARSHMALLOWING GRIEVANCE OFFSPRING. YO' NORMAL. PUSHCARD REPROBATE BECKONING ANTICLAVICAL TECHNICALITY. SUBWATCH WHAT I DO OR MY HESITANCY IN UNDOING. ROUGHED-UP RULING CLASS CLASH CULTURE. WHAT IS IN RED RIPS REGULO-RESPITORY. SAD FLAX SEED AND FLANKED MAGNET MONSOON MAROONED FOR OUR GOOD. WHAT HE GOT GROPED OPEN SPECIFIC BLOWHOLES.

*

Pierced irregularities flood the preordained input structure. It was a cut because you weren't wearing the correct pants. Bull feathers. The galaxy gala. Work piling up. Double to go over it. You are responsible for it. It is due on ____. Just so you know. Before grades go in.

*

A coffee from S & R is large
and costs a dollar and
is made of styrofoam
that is colored white and
has no decorations and
the lid is colored white too
and today the actual coffee
is actually a 3/10
rather than a 1/10 and
maybe that's because the liquid
is more cream than coffee
and yet that's okay with me.

((12/01/09))

Us two we're done for

The cornet blows deep
where the oleander grows.
You’re breathing
while I’m trying to empty my lungs.

*

Sick, sad ions inside coffee.
This brew’s done for.
This brew’s from four years ago.
This brew contains my vomit.

*

When I talk about Haiti ending,
and you look at me like
you don’t know who I am,
I feel like you should please keep up.

*

One time I stared at the pictures
of little Haitian children covered and swabbed
with blood so real it couldn’t be fake
and there was a small surge, but it was small.

*

Too bad Shauna wasn’t laughing
when she was yelling at me,
exploiting my failures
like they were breaded salmon or something.

*

I watched the castle turn into a hotel.
The school, Olney, lit up with so many whites inside it.
My face frowned and I wanted to find Staci,
run away with her, so we could build cabinets together.

*

Casey’s silence is age getting older.
I know she’s in Farmington somewhere
farming and inching along for now.
I know that our friendship has faded, a little at least.

*

And there was Jeff’s malevolence
slicing down across my cheeks, bones,
inadequacies blown apart by dedication.
And there was Jeff’s best texts, his best phone behavior.

*

I live in an old, converted bread factory.
We cool man we, call it THE BAKERY.
In a story, I get raped in the garage,
and then go to piss in it the next day.

*

Drexel University was built on flames.
So was Jefferson and all the other oppressors.
If I wasn’t older than now I would throw bricks.
If I wasn’t billabong I wouldn’t play along.

*

Bess was leaving for London
and all I could think was
studying schizophrenia in London
is way too schizophrenic for me.

*

At the party Bess touched my thigh,
Nora put burned classical CDs into a boombox,
and Nathalie gave us good directions,
and I, well, I . . . well, I, well:

*

I’ve started smoking outside in the morning again.
Every time I think about it I smile.
I think about the people who think about it too
but really I think about the mushroom kingdoms.

*

Tacked to my wall there’s a list of jobs.
I have applied to two of these jobs.
I have inquired about one but gotten no response.
I have not applied to three of these fucking jobs.

*

Carlos runs a cool house
and Debrah sits next to me.
We’re staring at computer.
Then I drop it like a fucking idiot.

*

Are you saying something?
You can’t tell me nothing.
You can’t tell me nothing.
Dear Christ, Philadelphia, nothing.

Basically All I Said Was

*
Patrick said the only way
is to obliterate everything.
He's in ninth grade
and he can see beneath.
*
"Cuckoo for cocoa puffs is my favorite"
said the nondescript girl.
In one of my stories I spray paint a bulls-eye
and jump down fifty stories to it.
*
I hadn't been high in months.
Debrah said her printer died
and I mentioned it was weird,
how people still say that.
*
In one of my stories
we all move away.
We track deer shit for miles
before going home and stripping down.
*
One thing I didn't mention
was tidal influence.
Arcane effects for these hearts.
It could be a problem.
*
When she or he said "matching witches"
I instantly thought about Salem.
They'll never prosecute your ass, Alex.
Will I ever see your witch's brew brain again?
*
Fredisha smiled at me before turning back.
When I was in high school it was "Fool on the Hill"
and now I am in high school and there it is again.
The minute it's about authority it's bogus shit.
*
Jahzeel's anger management
is something from a video game cover.
It's something you can hold
in your hands and stay pissed about.
*
Bubz: scars on cheek and eye.
"I see you got a problem."
Somewhere south of here you
will finally find what it is.
*
Seizure moments; chorus as echo.
In a failed idea four voices for one voice.
It's hard to experiment
without sticking matchsticks on down.
*
Far below Carl Rove drove home.
Even in hell he hollered quotations.
His eyes were way too deep.
The audacity too fucking hysterical.
*
There are so many labias
and each labia glistens
and someone's thinking
let me swirl a few fingers.
*
Two can roll as many dice as eight.
Two dice from two palms.
There's been a lot of dirt lately.
No one's saying a thing.
*
Lines, lines, lines.
Not on my face yet, asshole.
Anti-time lines, multiple-life time lines.
I'll keep knocking on doors when you're dead.
*
As a collective we dreamed of
a MISSION ACCOMPLISHED banner.
As an individual I could only think of
tearing it down right away.
*
Random output: Duncannon and Mascher.
Glancing down a hallway I think
shit, the young bulls are grazing.
I think boy, you outta pocket.
*
We can make it.
This is all I think
and all I see are Kat's lips talking
two inches from mine. Hot tub.
*
It was an old disease
and it kept on striking.
Everywhere: even where
Mr. Buck took her to fuck.
*
"It assesses nothing."
"The schools appear improving."
"Juke the stats." "Wherever you go,
there you are." Too many calories.
*
Supercock. The two words
blend and break into each other
like a couple crackly stones
fucking inside an asteroid.
*
First there was the mist.
Then there was the dome.
But always the same old dust.
Actually, first was lower back.
*
It can be a blurring process.
It can always be blurred.
I was going to reference that face
but I forgot the name.
*
Frame construction: up on 12th
I pass Callowhill and remember
Lucretia's worst face.
How I could fail her. How could I?
*
There's probably no answer on the west coast
like there's no answer here or home or in Asia
or in Austin or Montreal or in death.
Even the books have stopped staring back.

Chocolate Makes You Happy

you have a contract with your shit

it keeps working, you keep doing shit with it

watching No Country For Old Men

the best part is all the self-doctoring

and all the bad yellows and blues

and how hard they are together

and how right it is

Divine Lorraine 2.0

Download Here.

New Songs, Level Adjustment, Superfluous Audio of me Fucking Around, More Bandwidth, Reverb.

1. Walpurgisnacht
2. Gasoline & Lime
3. Divine Lorraine
4. Song for Murray Siskind
5. A Room Full of People who Love You Like Crazy
6. Peter and a Song with Many Birds in It

Special thanks to Maya and Jamerson for putting up with me recording this shit from 2:00-3:30 A. M.