the nightmare bombs

what's the CULtural highlight
hi-lite neon yellow buzz

wings by the head
riding over thoughts slowly (slowly)
till you can see it clearly still
see-thru intangibility ticking
off the time bomb

old woman rocking to newspaper clippings
epicenter blast radius zero-survival immediacy

I walked through empty kitchen light off
haunted madness, hey it's like some other
world I'm leaving soon fantasy,
with the squirrels lounging insane straight jacket
funnies, they laugh into the wooded window pane

the sound (the sound)

tv's bleeding out

to hearts

cold tile floors cricket playground violin

it's-

it's-

it's outsiiiyde I'm worriedl abouwt...
or the lieght swswswswswitch

ashuwrhr akk

both are nighttime automatic

Ha Ha Ha Guess?

jack that microwave jack
that awful taste bud ruinous
agreement
sliding door trap
of the rim of worlds bleak
gray bleak and take
the
t
i
m
e to tell me, haphazard, raw
smack empty death white corn powder
memory got ya movin' on to nowhere
pretty fast
and I'm right behind
cut 3 to 4 holes into plastic to vent

Morning on 17th

By the way there's like a whole bunch of names
beginning to pile up outside this fluorescent light
cubicle space, shit sh-sh-shit two dimensional
unnecessary shit, and I'm pretty sure they're serving
scrapple down the street little corner street off M
with Mexican voices crowding in and breakfast smells
like a great busy truck stop coffee stop truck smell in the city;
eggs on the griddle yolk running over bacon grease toast,
I walked by, hours ago now, to the sound
of engines stopped at  red quiet lights and morning,
bland sunny bright DC morning blended mosaic
recycled folders and post-it notes

Escalator's on the left side Shady Grove

Seem's I'm always-- stuck,
behind their ambling, steady concrete however,
feet, they're leaning slightly diagonal to prevent,
an effort? maybe- me from making pass
to where I gotta-- Jesus Christ! I'm under their
arms, raised, down on the ground quick
beatin' knees under legs up escalator whirring
on the left side left side Left Side!
tripping once...I smiled- just in case
somebody, unmoved, felt it wasn't- in some ways-
on purpose, scan my card, I did that before
looking back keep the pace, right? Well I did.
I'm sure- in my mind I'm knocking old ladies
got 3 people on the tracks broken legs
heads waitin' for the train runnin' rollin' rail
probably won't be good for them,
grinding wheels like monster B-movie madness corn starch red food dye wonder-

But I gotta get out

34th and 7th

(There's) Just too much to look at
I'm fuzzy with the monitor on burly blue
aha ha ha watchin' blargh blarch heeeeeeem (clears throat)
waking
waking
waking drizzle me a dreama ha
in which she darling darling well, one can

and lost I know it's lost oh when we
(spell out in stick and sandy toes on the beach
like pilots on a shore deserted island middle o' the seas
to fairy land starved death) you always said, and I'd smile I think
maybe

maybe I'd smile with my hands awkward at my sides in
torn belt, torn shoes ratty pants that you hate
cause I can't make myself wash them (they grow old
and sad)

so yeah so hold my hand and I'll,
yeah startled
I'll re-read from this masterpiece (don't be
surprised)

by desperation I gotta get it all out of me
before I take one more step out there
down; where ya find me

head down and muttering homeless man
punctured gloves and sooty fingers
searching (seeking) for that quarter I left out
(was it) years ago now

couldn't just couldn't be-

but I recall your face on that day
smiling sad sad empty smile
thoughtful

and I yelled out for you
but the bus
was on time and the engine ran
and the wheels with it

you'd never hear.

Crossing Streets in Winter Time I Caught a Glimpse

Cheap months october-november-december
uncapitalized diagonal streets dirty pavement
and blinking white frozen in-stride man, he's bald
I guess, without future but--
like everyone of us crossing the street
to our ululating white-washed horror destinations
holding our ears; the truth on the crisp lines shouting,
We've all had enough, since that first squelched cry
that immortal cry reaching back into super-nova-blitzkrieg-time
the first lament--
life leads everywhere leads everything hands everyone- pretty faced girls
and sober boys summer lushed by midnight fragrant airs-
silent oblivion...ob- obliv- oblivions-

I write it all the same

"You should write a poem about me smelling like cupcakes"

She smells like cupcakes
on damp autumn feeling winter auburn nights
kept out by cool glass and radiator heat
and I'm the ginger bread man ama n aginger
cookie baked shower rain
dripped from faucet sky cloudy metal dials
through the bakery vanilla cream air
following her footsteps shoe less
butter sugar icing irresistible sleep

painting

I sketch the numb milky
whiteness clear of snow,
LIVE Doppler 9000 HD 9 Weather NOW
google map slow radar drawl,

can't wri- write this fa-
music shi- caress fantasy, huh?

Got the beat voices running counter, ya-
to the clack crack smack smash
heavy pool table racket sinking
colored- coded- wait- fffff-

It's all nebulous anyway, you know?

I got it though, somewhere's through-
ou- my fingers, Arlington, VA- unfeeling yyya- too? ha

It burns, or it used to,
'fore I wrote it down somew- and
it tore me- backyard cutting grass
winter $20 ppppp- richer
click, bop crack numb ah

Down to store

*Read to music: "Taiwan's Heart"*

Oh, Angel lovely night
can you see me all alone,
rain soaked rainless indecisive night open--
tell us where has failure lasted?
Towered under cloudless, terrific black top night
lit by cars on fire - endless -
caffeine high confusion - shake this
immortal life--

I walk and care for it--
                                   too much.

Balloon Time

Been lately absorbed in dreamless sleeps
and visions only when I wake and the clock has
mishandled 5 hours or jumped ahead, head punch-drunk low
I'm picked up by Dorothy's balloon and, it's-- real-- colorful-
blotted out cornfield nightmare city-lines later,
forgotten the entire ride, or curled in a ball beneath windy flame,
eyes tight darkness un-watching, blinked ephemeral

time-lifting-jerked-dancing-shadow cast walls-howling- forgetful-
forever-foggy-time-stretching round-timeless-nothing-globe-

however--

Ebe

where would the novel be without the cellphone,
     on a used-book bookshelf rotting smelling old
instead of on a scrolling screen on a toilet in the recycling bin (icon)
     meaningless feces thrown out 1910 windows over
hobos wandering over sewage 9 (no indoor piping),
     when asked could recite Whitman/Dickenson/Melville
especially Melville, instead of [delete] kbs/space [dld] Ke$ha [play]
     evaporate. persuasion. spectacless-spectacle. End.

Mornings on February Cool

White week-older t-shirt
draped, arms wrapped underneath, over
radiating thermal coils, pulling on
my cold, sleeping overnight on back of computer chair,
corduroy pants, grayed from use;
the sun's somewhere, blinds down
stomach empty morning drowsy lights, baying towards
thundered rapt daydream fantasies
(women)

Bathroom Ice Cream Forevers

Permanence gets dull with use and wears off/down/out
felt-tip marker in the drizzle of working life souls complete
uneven-able mistakes sleeping behind office doorways about to be closed
hard by mexican cleaners growing- old- to die on steps outside
that apartment complex scoffed at coackroach fantasy weaving
an intangible dialogue of vanilla ice cream-jimmies rainbowed lasting love
with which I held your hand
to read
to ignore
maddeningly low
and soap could wish to leave it's stain like crying scum in bathrooms wrecking ball reality

Untitled

Past our terror microwave gas chamber love,
anthologize her legs over hearts in the petty pretty
streets, thought out in words-hammer-kiss-fault-wire-ink,
she's lovely with her tears carrying by you in the cold
that warms your insides with use, take it consume it,
dare lusting after high heel shoes tan skin smooth-
ah, it's everywhere holy redemption dark hair when

she's--

the driveways crawl...cars howl...moon tempts the...lips curl teeth pressed...
apricot night scent...clouds-

she's...

Lunch break sushi

walking to the corner on 10 minutes
endof thworld fear well what,
speak like the lost man supermarket
self-checkout talking to himself in english
that's not so eeeenglish, with layered shirts
and it's cold but ehe's got food,

unwashed fur matted laying in driveways in the sun,
kitty, out of the snow melting in continental formation
oceans about him,

answer answeringan swer edanswer pain
a long way to the --
with the lunch break dwindles clock