Tuesday, May 19, 2009

the and
and with
the season
the changing
and day
the prayers
the want
the free girl
and child-place
you may have heard about this discussion over slavery
and that it will only get better
but make sure you get the right information.
because people like Doug keep talking
“who is Doug?!”
don’t say you don’t know!
he is the first person to twitter from space
he said ‘press my thing and I’ll chat’
and since then, we actually had to give him
what we call a ‘makeunder’
we should not be honoring people
we are missing something--
can we hear it again?
"it can break, it can float, it can drift"
can we hear it again?
"it can break, it can float, it can drift"
can we hear it again?
"it can break, it can float, it can drift"
can we hear it again?
can we hear it again?
can we hear it again?

good morning

it was the ventilated night of boxers
it was the left tire home prevention program
matched up against external star-gazed loss
it was the eighth grade guacamole soulmate
making return with receipt (with child?)
it was the ten mile reunion fall,
fifteen minute independence
and five day water talking chewstick
it was the double fat American dirt camp
and it was walking—
walking through town, bay, and women sights
and it was the beach lie on Buddha time,
the homeless conversation hour,
and it was the lust seed in China street.
it was my shotgun marathon trip.

thanks for letting me listen to my music

Too far to trace Charleston lightning from mid-flatland to our California 69 boy in the ravioli game secret of your old college friend dunce momma hockey stick years back when then you had done the school thing, not me who not freed from sharing in the Carolina smiles and insisting old fads, fast food, and western sun passing through now other flatlands—other lands altogether—with “new solar homes” and me questioning thoughts of the frequented stops—remember Charleston?—trace those hills now but with different strokes (amigos): no virginity no Spanish to go home to—no home at all it seems besides unknown feathers and Hunter and the goddesses’ legs of earth with even hearts too open to recall on this day
he crossed things which
which would the mouth
with what does overhead falling
you said why things we

on place pretty school guns
system out zero eight
with what does overhead falling
you said why things we

all southern last in factor flat
the being so how friends
with what does overhead falling
you said why things we
bless this frisky risky japanese life

bless the saturday journalist

bless the pope
and jesus the california governor
and expansive lawns
and users of "folk medicine"

bless kobe bryant

bless life in the fast lane

bless everything all the time

Day 8:
high finish
earlier this week I apologized
-- another jigsaw falling

Sunday, May 10, 2009

5:27 PM


days old and small
we live free then die
on my garden mother
I fell away, around
the great future mountain—
chilling dolls:
they will kill culture
and the soul band—
we are stardust
and there are so many variables
in this private symphony space
we can’t leave
what we all share
we share in common
everywhere knowledge
perfect money
the best stories;
find the experience.


Dear American Cheese,
you used to be the best.
and you were free.
I know you’re excited
about a legitimate chance to be back
but you don’t need the internet
God believes in you
and I love you
you are my mother

Tuesday, May 5, 2009



now just a minute stop right there.
I don’t know you but don’t say a word.
shut the door. stay here.
hey what’s that sound?
it’s awkward, but almost stimulating.
keep it coming

one summer from Chicago
with their hands in the busy wallflowers
they knew everything

Monday, May 4, 2009

second week in septemberday

bright young cat:
released behind the garage bush
and bright young cat:
where I came to know no journaling square
digging for Hindu mother's breath
jogging forth from remember- you-when
(then with beard)

bright young cat
sleeping behind another garage
in this place so known as free
where stone buffets rolled down the hill
and into our arms

three hours away
in white we flew bright young cat
see see: sneaking lurking
but not lurking; re-claiming life
inside the 'staff-only' screen door
sitting with a song to myself
from inspired non-words and then
two drinks with breasts
tented by indigo glass

bright young cat stealing away
in Rhinebeck through that upstate air
through hills returning, replacing
again re-gaining the naked falls
without her drumsong
while we try to find anew;
a new gem and
moonrise over the whole country
the same that we
pedaled through without knowing,
without wanting: time
without looking beyond
the simple laughing return
of you bright young cat

Friday, May 1, 2009

10:07 PM


I stopped here to listen to “Somewhere over the Rainbow”
I wanted to stop here for jazz
something went awfully wrong
as you just heard
it’s somehow comforting to me--Yea!
I’m still a little high
but I think the rock
is a metaphor
for the illusion of habitat.
--it’s quicksand is what it is


they forget:
very strong country demons
civilized butterflies

they call dreams:
and lost discontinuity

they take:
the end to the moon
with this something;
(a way to do,
to breathe)
it was restricted

show me
western moments after dark,

show me
long-winded praise,
or criticism done on days

show me now
things like this
that they confiscated

I want to hope;
because I will.
our name I lay down
to other countries