Tank to the bone
not fury, not temp
you know where the bones are buried
not spent. They come alive
and reach for the sun
sometimes stars
where they wash their clothes
and their worn up drawers.
Laundry cannot be made without soap.
The people that do not understand that are dopes.
There's only so many times a trash can be poked
before you realize the dog inside is dead.
Anyone can walk around with a fistful of lead,
no place to bury it
except someones head.
We all do dream, we all do seem
to be reasonable fellas
reasonable riffs from bred.
If you speak fast enough
no one will point blank become rational.
Spin tales
go deep and sing about things like whales.
You will get nailed to a wall
and your caterwaul will be diagnostosed.
Setting ten.
Yes burned black thick and thin.
Through and through.
Sight beyond sight,
we will show some sort of might and "yeah
sure you're right." You have no concept of
doom.
Welcome to think,
in here with me in the klink,
or in a jail, nope, chainmail. I where it too.
Sword tip to my
tongue out
in my face
in your face
toast blackens against inside of a machined
toaster and pops for margarine. Clipped thought
ends.
original works of parts
April One
I scream and rage and want the world to burn
because you are not mine.
Seven days removed, I take the same deal and hope
for the world to end.
The pain is the same and I live the days and
misfortune over.
I live the stupid shitty, fuck fuck, shitty, how the FUCK,
why, how could I have been
That out of touch when you needed me absent.
Signals. Neutered
for your own good, in retrospect did you want?
From the start, impossible.
Yes, I remember how we met. I wanted to know
everything about you.
I still do. Lines in the sand. We were on different
paths the whole way.
Can you imagine our conversations now that we
know what we know?
I doubt we'd get along now for more than a few days.
Development. I lied.
We would. I would. I still crack empty jokes
because there is a little bit
of your voice inside me, refusing to die. Weird
is what you call a pigeon
that has one foot, chilling out on an exhaust grate
in Manhattan like you
are the one who interrupted its day.
I suppose one of these
days I will settle down and saw someone to bits
out of boredom
after several dozen years of faking it to
make life easier.
I will keep in touch, in case you do the same.
The letter will have
no return address, but its contents will be a series of
tests to be sure you are
who the person who opens the envelope is.
On down the road.
One of these days I will stop sawing myself to pieces
to help me remember
the day I knew the family photo had me in it
kind of.
because you are not mine.
Seven days removed, I take the same deal and hope
for the world to end.
The pain is the same and I live the days and
misfortune over.
I live the stupid shitty, fuck fuck, shitty, how the FUCK,
why, how could I have been
That out of touch when you needed me absent.
Signals. Neutered
for your own good, in retrospect did you want?
From the start, impossible.
Yes, I remember how we met. I wanted to know
everything about you.
I still do. Lines in the sand. We were on different
paths the whole way.
Can you imagine our conversations now that we
know what we know?
I doubt we'd get along now for more than a few days.
Development. I lied.
We would. I would. I still crack empty jokes
because there is a little bit
of your voice inside me, refusing to die. Weird
is what you call a pigeon
that has one foot, chilling out on an exhaust grate
in Manhattan like you
are the one who interrupted its day.
I suppose one of these
days I will settle down and saw someone to bits
out of boredom
after several dozen years of faking it to
make life easier.
I will keep in touch, in case you do the same.
The letter will have
no return address, but its contents will be a series of
tests to be sure you are
who the person who opens the envelope is.
On down the road.
One of these days I will stop sawing myself to pieces
to help me remember
the day I knew the family photo had me in it
kind of.
To Disagree
Start a war
against clover
foundation chance.
Tear away clothes.
Schzschzqwa
For us.
For us.
That still
for whom you've asked
is still not my name.
against clover
foundation chance.
Tear away clothes.
Schzschzqwa
For us.
For us.
That still
for whom you've asked
is still not my name.
Kish
We
are
the
same.
If I can identify with a cactus
long conversations with a plant
the rainfalls on the wicked
the righteous too
cannot we all get along too
it would be magic
to leave us
hang.
Blisters.
are
the
same.
If I can identify with a cactus
long conversations with a plant
the rainfalls on the wicked
the righteous too
cannot we all get along too
it would be magic
to leave us
hang.
Blisters.
Scroll Bar News Feed
I suppose it makes more sense
that your roots are in our lens,
your rings and sinews
mosses and 'shrooms
thin dark branches and bright blooms
some dewy, some
spider web iced
are above for all to see
from where came our seed.
A change very small.
If only you would
come new into the ground
roots burrowing and eating
through places light never found;
then our be and our is
will thrive, pushing
shoving, eat into the sky.
Into heavens. Into stars.
Sway with the wind and rain,
our leaves fall, our seasons change.
Instead of scrolling down.
that your roots are in our lens,
your rings and sinews
mosses and 'shrooms
thin dark branches and bright blooms
some dewy, some
spider web iced
are above for all to see
from where came our seed.
A change very small.
If only you would
come new into the ground
roots burrowing and eating
through places light never found;
then our be and our is
will thrive, pushing
shoving, eat into the sky.
Into heavens. Into stars.
Sway with the wind and rain,
our leaves fall, our seasons change.
Instead of scrolling down.
French Kiss
Sing me home
beneath the sun.
The kid comes swiftly,
cradled until he can go again.
Humming back and running
my thumb along the hairs of an eyebrow.
Lips pressed to lashes
left and then right.
Count the number and quantify
the hairs at the small of his neck
to remember
the next time he walks
through the front door.
Tongue slips
offense.
Crank! Sing me home.
Earlobes graze and
embers tell his tale.
Forgotten you. Forgotten me.
We are the same.
"Have you missed me?"
"No."
"I have missed you."
Bring about the death of a galaxy
with one word.
Please don't run away this time.
beneath the sun.
The kid comes swiftly,
cradled until he can go again.
Humming back and running
my thumb along the hairs of an eyebrow.
Lips pressed to lashes
left and then right.
Count the number and quantify
the hairs at the small of his neck
to remember
the next time he walks
through the front door.
Tongue slips
offense.
Crank! Sing me home.
Earlobes graze and
embers tell his tale.
Forgotten you. Forgotten me.
We are the same.
"Have you missed me?"
"No."
"I have missed you."
Bring about the death of a galaxy
with one word.
Please don't run away this time.
KNDY XGIA XOXO
Spring shuts its filthy mouth. Two ton Winter blows away. In the heat of the sun, wishing for some glasses. It radiates and I am searching for my sound. The continents and ocean and working with a moon. That enormous citrus rose rises. Try to slip the heap of shoulder from the grill before it all tastes like murder. The circle rises and legends are made. The snow beard jackals yawn on.
The hillsides are melting. Icicles meters long are falling. Down river the fish the mammals the mixes the hexes the rexes the river monsters and the math that convexes the surface of the waves to make me crave the idea that maybe the next thing my line might find is a thing that goes bump in the night. Time falls later in the face of gaining an hour. Tossed into a tiny lake of disputable depth.
Charges go off and the sea flexes and winks back. When I was young we used to have this thing where I would jump off of the porch and whomever lands furthest wins. Are silly. Did it ever occur to you that God was depressed? Dance in the moonlight and embrace a noogie. Makesit, we have to revise and tear down the entire operation. Sixty sixty will be a good day to die. With. Lulz
in the waves. Did not come here to see you. Walked out to a coast to see them. Robots may win eventually. The waves will come with less frequency. Is a myth difficult to dispel. Summer altogether. A perfect world is voided Summer. Makes peace with no one. Solution could be a nuclear snow. Is possibly the greatest thing I've ever
seen a ghost?
The hillsides are melting. Icicles meters long are falling. Down river the fish the mammals the mixes the hexes the rexes the river monsters and the math that convexes the surface of the waves to make me crave the idea that maybe the next thing my line might find is a thing that goes bump in the night. Time falls later in the face of gaining an hour. Tossed into a tiny lake of disputable depth.
Charges go off and the sea flexes and winks back. When I was young we used to have this thing where I would jump off of the porch and whomever lands furthest wins. Are silly. Did it ever occur to you that God was depressed? Dance in the moonlight and embrace a noogie. Makesit, we have to revise and tear down the entire operation. Sixty sixty will be a good day to die. With. Lulz
in the waves. Did not come here to see you. Walked out to a coast to see them. Robots may win eventually. The waves will come with less frequency. Is a myth difficult to dispel. Summer altogether. A perfect world is voided Summer. Makes peace with no one. Solution could be a nuclear snow. Is possibly the greatest thing I've ever
seen a ghost?
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