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dot matrix printed
horror of
lovecraftian design,
technological relic
of the internet consumer
age, unspeakable
doom that came to
https,
unholy gate of the internet
page, the
lurker at the gates
of the
android phone,
the thing that should not
link.

Beneath the Bear

Old light, tired light,
alright, I brought
the rain, pour out my
soul, bear rips open
heart from chest and I,
bedraggled, not reading
in that poetry voice but
from that voice in my head/
heart, audience isn't there,
it's like every trip fantasty
I've ever had,
ther is no individual reality
in a reality entirely individual,
the bear roars to heaven,
I worry about the tone of
my voice, the whine, I
grab my hat, act it out,
it's damp inside, raining out,
I've gotten through seven pages,
I've said my piece, I
leave without saying thanks.

Apartment talk

a guy screamed the other day,
at least I think it was a guy,
it sounded like a guy for sure,
well, he screamed and it was
like he was standing next to me,
it was so loud, so clear,
I wasn't sure if it came from the
hallway or from outside the window,
but you'd think they'd at least muffle
the sound somehow,
After the yell there was nothing,
just silence in both directions for
maybe 30 seconds, then I heard
doors opening, questions in the hall,
"did you hear that?" "what was that?"
"I don't know sounded like..."
a little while after that the doors closed
the silence returned, I sat on the couch
looking up at the ceiling, afternoon light
fading, and I couldn't get one particular
thought out of my head, I kept thinking,
"that's probably the first time those people
have ever talked to each other."

hey hey

chhhhhuerheyhaheheh
chyyayayajajajathinkhaaah--
----no one home static light
faint sound from bathroom
shower next door music playing
water running pop music
off on listen now street cars
tearing into weak pavement
pot holes ground down winter
impact tires one after other
hit same spot (waiting for blow out)
hhheeeheeeehtunkheeeheeeeehtunkhee
ehtunktunkchhhhhyehyeeheychheeetunk
clickclicktickikiikikikikiiihjjajaja
got typing got fingers on keys
sitting computer on lap typing
thinking of another poem in notebook
typing out sounds I hear even sounds
I'm making five lines up shhhshshhhshhshh
scrolling mouse-click-backspace
uh huh uh huh hmm hmm hmm
thinking about playing shearing maybe
or monk or yeah?--ahhh--uh huh I dunno
normally--it goes--whhrrrwhhhrwwhhhhrrr
some sound constant vibration
don't wanna point it out not sure it's--whhr
whhhrreal or just fabrication
and not ready for the answer--click--
spotify click hope it's not on an ad don't
really think I can handle that being the first--
click--tiktiktiktiktitktitktiktkt(password)--thing
I hear--hope it goes right to sax or intro
or--ffffsshhhhh-tunk--tunk--
bwwnaagt--bwagggt there goes--

Thought about this on the subway today

Remember the desert
outside Las vagas
everything dusted
dusty brown, burnt umber
orange, looking sculpted
from the sand,
gas station at corner
selling ice, drinks
gas, only things
you truly need out
there where the city
just plain ends and
sand begins,
Remember filling the car up,
smashing the 8 lbs ice
bags on the pavement,
the caffeine candies
Gabow shoved in everyone's
face,
Remember where were were
headed and how far we had
gone, remember the blue
sky without clouds
and the heat, remember
that fucking heat.

Dreaming Swamp

Stood on this rough
edge, wooden ledge
like a  dock edge kinda,
facing down into thick
green swamp, I undressed
to my underwear, there was no
temperature, in the shallow
swells of the pond I watched
egg yolks fry inside transparent
shells, I held my breath,
my father had gone before me,
had sunk to his knees (wearing
rubber boots), seemed to be alright,
pulling his weight through the sludge,
I didn't question why we were doing this,
I held my breath and
jumped in.

Can't find the road in a bottle

label was the same
but street was cluttered
madness backed up
rush hour mess, wait at
light three times, rain
coming down, smell
of sweat damp stench
M street to Wisconsin
time it takes to get
home on a normal day
what're ya gonna do,
this ain't Kansas brother,
this ain't the open plains

I drew up the memory of
40, walking under overcast skies,
lost in a place I'd never been,
never believed I'd be,

now, here, here
the beer doesn't even taste the same,
it's not unexpected,
and it ain't the west,

I choked it down,
I ordered another.

It was Spring

You wanted to sleep
early last night, you always wanna
sleep early, even turned the lights
out, tho street lamps lit your room
through the green leafed tree beside
your balcony, it was still
pretty dark, noises from the kitchen,
open doors, sound muffled,
we lay there in the dark
my brain was out of thoughts, set
on recharge, you were silent, breathing
your body tensed, relaxed,
subtle shades of blue/grey/purple/dark,
my eyes adjusted,
I felt for your lips

Mapped out

I've got the map
down in my head
memorized the blue line
on the screen page, the red
marker hand drawn state/provin-
cial lines, boston (skipping NYC)
borderline, montreal, ottawa
toronto 24 hour drive along
great lakes thunderbay winnipeg
moose jaw medicine hat dinosaur
bones calgary kickin'horse pass
over rockies vancouver and the pacific sea
north pacific down back into old U-S-A
desolation peak 7 thousand feet up
over ross lake, seattle portland once
again seaside and the sea crater lake
the great big empty yellowstone
and ole montanny butte cross the state
north dakota minnesota milwaukee
on great lakes again chicago heading home
over familiar paths and western PA
part I don't wanna get to
part of line obscured
rather live on that first
half that western bent
this is the hard ink path
we've chosen
this is the goal we've set.

What kind of liar am I?

I'm the kind that can't
say goodbye
I'm the kind that loses time
forgets it somewhere
I'm the kind that says what
he thinks and believes
what he says, most of
the time,
I'm the kind whose life is
one big joke no one gets,
I'm the kind that's effortlessly
dying, formally insane,
I'm the kind that writes down
his every thought but never
reads them,
I'm the kind that can't lie to the
page,
I'm the kind that let's anyone
and everyone down,
I'm the kind that wears it like
a badge, all scarlet and drowned,
I'm the kind that's like this
and I'm the kind that's not.
who I am.

Entry point

My life has
one great schism
there was before
and now after,
there was a terrible
Hurricane, Edd clasped his
hand to door nob,
plates blew off table,
there was an infinite
open space, maroon skies
cerulean floors, a silver statue
without form, without face,
I died and was reborn,
I was someone else and myself,
a mushroom cloud eruption had
slowed down time, while I
sipped imaginary tea at the
top of the stairs,
I'm still waiting for someone to
tell me it's okay to come down.

Space Virus

came down
look at star
shooting westward
always westward
I'm on that trip
on that way
foreveralwaysneverendingly
stuck seeing empty
passage revolving
heat birthed bodies
in the cold sinew
between one form expanding
out from the beginning
one being working the insides
sentient consciousness individual
consciousness is a virus
star grazer we've been infected
with misunderstanding, I'm trying to
get back there, to the first step
to the all-being-one-ness
to the entry point

I wanna see how it used to be,
I want to be what's next.

"Okay," She said.

we waited in line,
with all the other
suckers, we had different
reasons, but we waited,
they waited, all the same,
I tapped my foot,
another guy leaned forward,
leaned back,
then he got up there
and started talking to the
lady, he had mail,
gave his room number,
she left for maybe a minute,
some more people joining us
in line, she came back gave
the guy his mail, they
exchanged pleasantries,
he left, I moved up, looked
around the lobby, too many
old people, too many students,
I just wanted to use the grill,
finally,
I got my turn,
"I'd like to use the grill,"
she took it in,
fixed her glasses,
sighed,
this was a tough one,
this wasn't mail.
"no propane," she said.
"Oh,' I said.
"yeah," she said, "sorry."
"thanks," I said,
"I'll just cook upstairs."
"Okay," she said.

I'm calling you

imagine color
rainbow drawn over
clear sky and you,
white dress nipped by
breeze, smell of flower
can't quite pin it down,
spring warmth and tanned
legs, cloud casts fleeting
shadows, there's a field
you're walking barefoot,
hint of smile, unknowing
gazes into the horizon,
obscured by green, green
trees like everywhere on
the east coast, it's so green,
and the day is fleeting, already
going, afternoon golden sun,
tired sun, earth turning,
another day, a peculiar
way to tell time, the only way,
you rest your hand on the back
of you head, turning turning
toward the sound,
with your other hand waving
imagine the sky blue blue
blue imagine.

Is my life over?

Old man,
your memories
are worth
nothing
to me

COntext CLUEs

HOw'z'it'nOW
I'mjust NOw realizing
justnOW that the moOn
peeksout from leftsideof
building standingstark in
front of me and all blood
moon eclipse I'm watching
wrong direction, THen,
that was then, I was,
I couldn
't wrapp my head '
roud which way which was
it, &living on north/south by north
south highway makes that
pretty sad NOw I kNOw,
I said it myself like,
HOw'z'it'thEN
I'mstill NOt thinking
thisthrough right just not
sinking into where it hastogo#
I just(forget it) I just (I'm gonna
end it) my thoughts scatter like
scatter liek thoughts given way
din-din-din--din-din-din--din
it's en it's en its end is ending
is GOne oh no oh god ah fuck
oh why why why
I wouldn'
t
t
ttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt--
hold the k(e)y
WHy'z'it'We find ourselves
here //SO oftEN//

Some days

I'm a big ol' blank slate
with no words,
a terrible failure of a
poet with nothing to say,

I've been lying on the floor
drifting in and out,
sleeping 12 hours a day,
wondering why I can't write,

forcing myself up
every now and then
to vomit out some bile,
to click and save,

I tell myself to ignore it, that
it's a rough patch, that they come
and they go, I can't decide
between coffee or wine

I pour both

I drink neither

I go back to staring at the ceiling, I
try to keep my eyes open,
I fail

I'd rather dream about
all the writing I'm not doing,
I'd rather not think about it.

Same old

Rainy
grey
same old
place
umbrellas
ticking clocks
shoes
walk to
work
same old
thing
another day
same old
people
sentences
yes
no
pretty good
and you?
desk
lamp on
computer
hums
bodies
moving in
and out
revolving doors
beige building
facade
acronyms
breakfast coffee
lunch
same time
same roads
no windows
carpeted floors
murmur of
useless conversations
uh huh
numbers
oh
clock moves
slowly
I can't see
myself here
but I'm
here
what do I
look like
outside
I don't
belong

where am I
going
why aren't I
going?
why am I
here?

10:17

powers down
blood moon behind
thick rain clouds
soaked this morning
right arm left arm
bandana under hat
waited up, couldn't see
eclipse through heavy
sky, what a waste, what
a har-har-something-somerthing
argher-hargh-argh-sumetin-
hag-aw-well, sleep outside
sleep on stomach dream crash
nightmare see thought like those
thoughts you get moments before
sleep come like crashing waves
images bleeding into each other
like reading a story and seeing the
picture in your head, at night tonight
in the night I am hearing this and seeing
in steady streams what I am believed to see

every morning I look at my bed and think, "I
should cover the mattress with a sheet," and every
night I look at the bed thinking nothing and fall asleep.

Gigantic Sequins reading 4/7/14

Preserved for posterity

A conversation over type; I'm still looking for my first badge

now that I('m)
done saying all the important
things I thought to s(ay)
I can (dis)appear
(and) you won't have to
go on missing me
or my words.

I'll pick the letters for
my tombstone anagram

that'll have the scholars talking in
a hundred years

"what'd he mean by it?" "What was he trying to say?"

"Is it a puzzle?" "Are there clues hidden in his work?"

If they point to this poem,
if it's still hanging around,
make sure let them know it
was a set-up a cosmic joke
a big laugh

the alphabet has (english) 26 letters

I've used every single one of them.

scouts honor.

Sunday

you just sit here
and type following the
keys hitting enter
hitting space hitting letter
hitting shift without glancing
at the screen just going along with the song
sound of silence instrumental
version spring night rev of
cars whistle of air through
tree branches already blooming
red tinted flowers gone
chimes, guitar strum acoustic
slow drum haunting notes
light becomes starker the difference
sunday night head starts beating
with work hours of free release
ending back to cell doors gates
tomorrow, bongo drum duk-buk-dunk
waits again sky is still navy
visible buildings lighting up
hum of tires sounds like steady
drizzle, I'd enjoy it if it rained
could sleep outside, song starts over
repeat one long endless circle-thing
minutes click thinking of getting pocket
watch felicia types away rosamond
wears a path room to kitchen sffffffff
sfffffffff sfffffffffffff rug to tiles flip flops
on sfffffff clack sfffffffff clack
kitchen door kitchen light baking
sunday night sad song dun-da-da dun-
silence.

Admonishment

Read I've Shouted... without
realizing it was only three
quarters typed out, last 3 pages
made a lot of sense for the overall
theme, but I guess it was
unnecessary
for the reading, or maybe
that's me making
excuses for fucking up,
who knows probably is
I won't say, but it sits on my
conscious now, I can't shake it,
like something undone, or a word
I can't quite grasp tho I know the
damn meaning I want and need
oh well, I say I'm saying I'm telling
get'em next time make sure it goes smooth
make sure you type the fucking thing out
quit giving in early up early
take fucking notes.

Notes on a napkin

every now and then
there's this moment when
a waiter has to reach extra far
in order to hand me my coffee
and I'm caught in between
reaching out and taking it from them
or sitting back and watching
them lean all the way across
the table to place it in front of me,
this usually ends with me
staring at them until the coffee is
gingerly left in front of me
and I stare at the cup and mutter
thank you as they walk
away.

looking around

page count
set to constant reset
my toenails are too long
but they grow so god damn fast
I am naked
sitting on my robe,
I wonder why the windows are closed
but I don't get up,
I'm too busy typing
there was a group of girls
on the balcony below
they didn't stay up too late
probably tired from work or school
retire after a few drinks
I taste beer in my throat
tho I've had none,
writing poetry always conjures
that taste, like stale pretzels
and old beer, like failure
or tiny pin pricks on my scalp,
I felt my stomach drop
when I got my hair trimmed today
like my intestines slipped out
and back in, like a roller coaster ride,
like vertigo, maybe,
I understand there's something beyond,
it was written in the fallen strands,
dead ends, wet curled forgotten
cuts,
I wish the light could be dimmed
but it's one setting,
I am alone in the night that's too much
like the day, poison light,
what must be going on all those miles away,
it must be something,
I think I'll sleep soon,
I'll do it for those who can't,
there's always somebody awake
when they shouldn't be, somewhere.

Dream Face

You take the little pieces
of me that rot and fall away,
and kiss them good night,

there is a room
that leads to another
room of the same size
that leads to another
room of the same size
that leads to still another
room of the same size
and so on

the door cuts the back of each room
a standing rectangle
a single flight of stairs
leads up,

there's a drug to share our thoughts
there's bodies sleeping on the floor

you I we me step around them
over them,

the windows are slits cut into the walls
light barely fights its way through

I look in the mirror
I see myself

I am surprised.

If I don't get out there soon, I'll die II

You know she's calling to me,
great siren of the west,
yellow flower, desert rose,
mountain girl, and I'm
looking for those pacific blue
eyes, those endless cerulean swells,
I'm ready to answer the call,
I need my foot on that pedal,
that white-lined road,

You know I'm calling to her,
golden haired beauty,
pioneers dream, snow
white dress, and she's
looking for me to make it,
singing her song,
blearing that blue sky to heaven oh,

you know,
you know--

If I don't get out there soon, I'll die--

Bear Poems

tearing your heart out
frozen in place
damp air damp legs
you wobble you teeter
growling at some unknown pain
a phantom of the ceiling fall
or can you see outside,
I know, you're life-sized
but off, the mass isn't there,
the bulk, silent roar mouth ends
teeth sharp, amp behind you,
microphone, you won't need it,
I'll speak for you, if that's allowed,
you haven't moved, there's a gash
there's a roll, there's words,

what are you doing out here,
in the cold?

Figure in a Dream

dim lights flicker,
camera pans to man
at table, bent over bowl of
rice, he's scrapping pieces
stuck to the side, zoom in
to bowl, hand holds large
candy-bar-like-of-rice, mouth
bites down, enter skull, nose
eyes, looking out, man is me,
in Joe's apartment, but looks
like when I lived there, feels
like it, tho now kitchen table
is in living room, I take another
bite, Felicia walks out from other
room, she moves to sit across from
me, pulling out a chair, the light
flickers off and on, there's a man
on the stairs, a shadow, coming
toward us, I try to speak, nothing,
he's closer every pulse, closer, and still
nothing,
I am somehow able to stand,
he's here.

Manifesto

I am returned champion,
I am david meets goliath,
I have met the Greek choruses,
given them songs to sing,
I will be reincarnated in the past,
present, future, I will disprove
linear time, I have watched
the sun replace the moon
and back across 7,000 miles
with no sleep, I have pondered
the stars, become the stars,
I am a flashing comet,
I sad jester, a homebound hobo,
I have done nothing which is
everything, I see no value in gold
am too poor to melt it all,

I belong to noone
and everyone, I see the lines
and strings, the prediction
the reckoning, I understand
so little of it,

I am one thing one instance
one piece of the whole stretched
back towards all time,

I have written nothing
that has not come before.

One

hum of escalator
drum deep breath
and song syncs
to my step, gold rays,
sun rays crisp afternoon
solid light cuts shadows
like it's painted on pavement,
warm on faces of
passing no-face strangers
I'll never begin to understand
how the day breaks and
dusk and night and it was so
different when I was so long ago--

don't be afraid
my love, don't whisper
my love, I am here,
I am walking into the future

free--

the sun is a burnt offering
lit by the gods

I'll be your guide.