Tax Cappuccinos to pay the national debt!

for Joe

heart shaped
reverb-vibrations
in our pool of
memory
roasted and
tanned on rivers
of cosmic white
time intrusion waves
flexing ever-outward
to the edge of
known space and
what's beyond--

a sinking velvet foam--

heat building
to eventual entropy
stagnation

dry eyes
mouths

dark depths of the
void dipping
dripping

a sliding cup

further--

further
to the bottom of the universe.

Notes

A photograph of me throwing a couch cushion.

Jamie on the floor, a rolling, uneasiness in his eyes. He smirks, hesitates, glances at the floor, smirks again, drunkenly teetering.

Tommy is an elemental, a conjurer of this whole deal. A giant tossing glory like it was a thing you could grab and crush or vomit out of you at will. He is a breaker of walls.

Steve is in his glory digging it all, engrossed, grinning, gunning for the girl, or her clothes. He looks at me with wide eyes bearing his teeth, his soul. I love it.

I'm a ghoul exiting that plastic image carrying a stick torn from an alley and a tree.

Vitaly is everywhere, nowhere, appearing, disappearing, nodding. He gently rests his thoughts on the hardwood floors. He has a god out there. He dodges it.

Eternity dodges too.

Joe's on the couch, somber, assuming this is how it's all supposed to go, trying to disapprove. He can't though. He's had a beer. His arm is around the girl covering her face. Forget about her.

There is time. I've counted it and kicked it off the curbs,

I've squandered it on that Hurricane.

drinking on a mondee

Drinking coffee(black) over
tired conversation in the kitchen 6am,
my drunk wearing off and pulling me
to sleep, Whit already upstairs
hiding, which is very unlike
Walt with so many guys here and
cats normally liking attention,
I can imagine the dinosaurs outside
growling at the sun,
the high topped trees standing
against the wind, that flag reflecting
off man made surfaces, not so old
red-white-and-blue at the bears tasting our flesh on
paved sidewalks covered in rainbow silly string,
the coffee's now gone cold and
we're looking at each other probably,
for something, who knows, who knows
but we're looking anyway,
I tell a story about a gutted dog I
never saw and Joe is growling at the sun

Surfing

Pepper unattended whisker marks
         on ceiling,
light peeks around corner cold
white darkness,
                         Joe bandana
folded over to infinitesimal dimension talking fast
catapult snow melting without
                                  crisp
breathe the meddling air on the
sidewalk ground pavement window smash
uproarious acid Tommy synchronous
unbending movement in conversation
                                             Dave, sailing
couch gray seas, Tiffany hanging from ceiling sun rise,
                                                       apparently golden

ask and you know

The phone swirling
or the sound pleading to get out
leave the informed the movers the born-with-that-silver-spoon-fuck
wine and before we left weed
in the underbelly charity encore to what?
Oh who gives a shit, Christ it's 10 o'-
I'm a faggot you're a faggot biggest faggot in the--
tell a little story too-
if you can hear it in the morning over
red pounding head with legs,
it's got them anyways
thanks for the call
and missed your voice calling out into nothing

parking cones

"Where'd you get those cones?"
s'gettin' colder,
world's jumping up and down
with his lights off and cars slowing down,
"huh?" wha..
"you heard me." bald and
oh we've been drinkin' and we're
"If there's anything written on those"
don't tell me there isn't
but it's rising outta me and I can't stop it,
don't wanna I can't hide it when it's coming
"you laughing, you better stop laughing son because"
trying to jesus, now he's gettin outta the car
and mad, bald and mad, and comin for us
up a slope
fuck beer flying fuck sliver bullet crashing soundless
at least before it spills
the whole things bleeding in-out
like my attention cause we gotta tell him,
"Home Depot?" that makes sense, right?
he should just "what?" leave us
cause we bought these "Home Depot"
so we can go? GO. put that shit down
and Go. the beer? no that's already gone
cause we lost it when we dropped the cones,
white car lights off boots walking toward
in your face holding laughter while it's
burning PUT IT DOWN burning up
outta me like the beer flying somewhere outta sight.
like the cones and the cops
in the cold PUT THEM DOWN did he see?
can you believe "Home Depot "
how'd he know? HOME DEPOT
funny then and now
c'mon man, he must'a seen us
walkin' like pioneers on Broad's four lanes
with those orange trophies slung over weighted shoulders swinging
off into the reflective night slowed him down
blue and angry coming toward us and
the worlds spinning smashed cranberries
QUICK a PLAN bury the bubbling PLAN hide the rising mirth
drop that shit like he says and walk the fuck away.

October 6, 2009; 12:04am

Joe: why doesn't mine work tom

what the fuck

can you hear me typing

listen to how fast i can type

(fingers: typing fast)

me: are you really standing there playing guitar

Joe: !!!!!(hahahahahaha)

me: i can hear you

(Joe: that's my gmail profile picture)

well its called video chat

so i assumed

Joe: lol

(let me see if I can fix this thing)

my

first

foray

into- (incoherent)

You ended video chat with Joe at --:--pm