i
think
about
shooting
my brains
out
every
day

tiger poem

call me tiger more
watch my fur rise

lick my neck clean
of all the beast gore i wear

take me safely into you
sing about a field of strawberries

watch my eyes close
call me when i am sleeping

tiger poem


call me tiger
more, take my breath away
share it with anything
the air
or other tigers

Kim Jong-Il is dead
aka RIP KIM
for kim jong-il

wait i
wasn't done yet i
wanted to paint a picture
of my
explosive chestbrain
all my
smarts in my
tingling toes and fingers
they called me
the great white palm reader
i could
write a novel with my eyes closed
but please
don't forgive a goddamn word
forget me
no, please
forget me
project some shadow chaos in my
wake, unnamed ghost
with no
voice
only the winking sounds
of dice clattering in my
skull
my friends
keep warm in the coming winter
stay closest to fresh water
and always
question the aching void
i have left you

love poem

flex your eye muscles
stretching the pale parts of your body
around the receding view
of things like light
and all matter
my heart thing
all of my ideas are being pulled out of my brain
like dimes clanking up the metal tube of a vacuum
machine
chattering my teeth together in the cold
shaking so violently you can hear my skin
ruffle
until my limbs react to the line of suns streaming past
and i break into some prehistoric space dance
until every part of my body
is a billion miles away from you

love poem

i'm just

antler

for the pity love
my short sight to the stubs of my hooves
grinded down from awkward pawing
limestone worn away from years of blasting sand
high winds over great plains
watching each and every one of you
drop like bison
don't even hear the train pass
speeding steel cock
put your head down on the endles line
away from here
expanding space will only stretch things
so the rearview mirror says
as long as you can see me
i will never leave you
to a semi or some cross country thing
thinks the greener must be here
or if i haven't found love
in the arms of these beasts
perhaps i should try another
so pick up my head from the buzzing rail
wait for the raging storm
wait for the horns of my metal death
so all the other deer
watch

eat your heart out craig ehlo

i feel as if i am listening to thousands of drunk ohioans
screaming through four feet of water

your entire life is a road game that you need to win
the rest of your life is in front of you

they call it a playoff run
when you are the one leaping into the air after a buzzer beater

not scurrying back to lifes locker rooms
lonely stone pitty parties

make a million bucks and lose everything
in the face of so many famous halls

where are you today craig ehlo?
wondering how you can stop a madman

know that you will never love a human being
who can shoot over you

born

a gin
&
a gin
&
a gin
&
a gin
&
a gin
&

then you can't even walk
but you will say
the stupidest things
you have always wanted to say

craig ehlo eat your heart out

THIS IS AN INTERVIEW FOR ANNETTE

1. would you say writing poetry is more like shaking hands, dancing, or watching a movie?


2. what is the best movie you have ever seen in theater and why?


3. when you order coffee at a coffee joint what do you usually ask for?


4. what purpose does poetry have in your life?


5. do you feel that you are able to communciate creatively easier than through typical conversation?


6. what do you think about the phrase "poetry is not a weapon"?


7. how old were you when you started smoking?


8. what would you want people to know about you or your poetry?


9. have you ever been on a sail boat?


10. have you ever thought about changing the colors of your blog?



11. how many tattoos do you have and what will be the next one?




12. what are you going to school for?



13. how many q-tips do you use to clean out ear wax in one ear?



14. what or who first got you interested in poetry? what year was that approx?



15. how many dates have you gone on through internet dating sites and what was the worst/funniest date?

rain deaths

you are an animal

howling at a floating beach

while time traveling sci fi types surf galaxies

where do your solar systems fit in your skull

see all these sneaky cats screwing in the fog

while i am stuck in wicker park in the rain

bright lights of the saturday bars bleed together

or i am following you to my apartment

on our bikes down the path you take

i still can't get that rain off me

or the sight of moon waves and sun waves

sprawled onto the pillow next to me

out of my brain

i am sleeping in

i am soaked head to toe

don't tell me things can work out

people are dying from rain in south america

i am dying from rain on the great plains

or no rain and i am still dying

being crushed by larger and larger wallops

trying to keep me from all this laying in bed

eating krab and being drunk

reminds me

that i don't give a shit about getting wet

there are clouds and then there is moon

and then there is the rest of the galaxay etc.

i won't even shout this time

THIS IS AN INTERVIEW FOR ANTHONY VANDENBERG

1. how do you think being an Eagle Scout has affected your life as an adult??



2. if you could be a character from any movie or video game who would you be and why?



3. what was your last vivid dream?



4. do your dreams make you think about your life, or do you conjure any creativity from them?


5. do you write? if so what? if not, what would you like to write about?



6. best place to eat in vermont and what to order.



7. list your top five favorite beers.




8. do you ever respond to things with creative expression? if not, how do you respond to things like strong emotions?



9. what was your fave halloween costume, and what ideas for future costumes do you have?



10. how do you think the time you have spent in vermont and south dakota has changed your view of the world?



11. what are your goals over the next five years?




12. if you were a super hero, where would you live and what would your super hero name be?




13. which character from heroes do you associate w the most?




14. how do you think your relationship with your father and brother had an impact on who you were as a younger anthony compared to who you are now that you live so far from them?




15. do people in vermont ask you to take off your shirt and show them your body?

THIS IS AN INTERVIEW THAT WAS GIVEN BY DEBBIE HU TO ME IE I ANSWERED THE QUESTIONS

1. how important do you think writer's group has been in keeping you committed to writing poetry?

i dont think that it is as important in that aspect as it is in keeping me committed to transitioning my writing and the learning process of discussion.

2. who do you most want to read your poems and like them?

human beings

3. do you feel like you have a good sense of what bad poetry is like?

no not really. i like to think that if one person in the world has a reaction from your poem then you have written a good poem. i dont really believe that but i would like to.

4. do you ever feel like you're "faking it" when you write? like e.g. a note or a birthday card, like it's so easy to write something that will delight the other person, there doesn't even have to be any feeling behind it.

no

5. what's the thing you worry about most when you write?

"can i keep this going"

6. do you have particular goals for yourself, writingwise, like either in terms of daily writing time or writing amount or longer term projects?

no, i never plan writing. usually something just starts going through my mind and eventually i start writing a poem in my head and then i pull out my iphone 4 and tap away.

7. what do you think about grad school?

i would love the oppurtunity to go to grad school to be in the academic scene again. i miss that. i also want to teach poetry so i guess i have to sorta.

8. would you rather be funny but not poignant or poignant but not funny (but not like in the "cute" slightly derisive way that poignant is said in "how poignant," just actually poignant)?

i would rather be funny

9. i heard your photograph was once in a book called "look at this fucking hipster." i think that's pretty sweet.

yeah...

10. who are your favorite poets?

raymond carver, william c williams, paul clark, jack spicer, gary snyder, franz wright, ernest hemingway, robert creeley, and reggie miller

11. have you ever written a "political poem?"

yes. i wrote a poem about a fictional brother of barack obama in 2k11

THIS IS AN INTERVIEW FOR DEBBIE HU

1. how long have you considered yourself a writer, and do you think you will ever not be a writer?



2. did you watch a lot of cartoons growing up? which ones?



3. what do you want to be when you grow up?



4. do you think the movie wall-e provides a healthy view of love or the emotions related to the idea of love or an unhealthy view of how to devote yourself to something/someone to avoid loneliness?


5. if youc ould be any president of the united states past or pres who would it be and why?



6. list your favorite Beatles in order best to worst.



7. what do you think about having a conversation through art?




8 how do you think traveling affects your writing?




9. what is your favorite sport to play/watch?



10. have you ever thought about jumping from a moving car?




11. did you know that the owners of Little Debbie Snacks are 7th day adventists? and what is your favorite Little Debbie snack?



12. have you ever thrown up in public?




13. name as many bodies of water you have swam in that you can remember.



14. what is your favorite city on earth that you have been in.


15. in three sentences describe the role writing has in your life.

THIS IS AN INTERVIEW FOR PAUL CLARK

1. have your new hip specks lowered your desire to wear shades??



2. do you think pres Obama will be re-elected???




3. what was your last tweet?



4. in 140 char. or less plz describe your poetry writing process.



5. what sports figure has had the greatest impact on your writing?




6. would you switch lives with Tom Cruise starting now?



7. if there was only one word you could say for the rest of your life what would it be and would you ever use it in a poem?



8. on a scale of 1 to 10 how much do you relate to Will Hunting from the hit comedy "Goodwill Hunting"?



9. what about Ben Aflacks brother Casey?



10. what about the T.A.?



11. what about Robin Williams painting of the man in the boat?

12. have you ever dunked on a short hoop?



13. how has your straight edge lifestyle affected your poetry?



14. do you usually write poems straight through or do you piece them together?



15. if you could bring back tupac or biggy who would it be and why?

skyrim

hey this is the first time you saw
ghost
the first time you cried
in front of someone
for hurting inside
baby hands
letting the plains dust
know how much you care
shout at moon
say MOON
FUCK YOU
and don't worry about saying fuck
like it's art on ferocity
like i can hear through the atmosphere
why all these painkillers won't chill me
do i still turn sunlight into energy
can i put my mind to work
sword is words
i fight with my chest brain
violently grinding against the bells of my soul
take down the second that i raised my voice
or mumbled smile this
or i will kiss you forever

house poem

i was thinking about the time when i found out
we had to sell our house
and that my dad bought another house that was being moved
from the block of my elementary school
to the edge of town on a truck or multiple trucks
i didn't actually see them move the house.

but there it was just sitting on the grass near train tracks
where trains would park late at night
assuming no drunk ass kid is going to want to drive down that road
to get home
at whenever

that first night when we went there before anything was moved in
and we watched FROM HELL and we kissed a little
but you left and i was alone and scared and i locked all the doors

creation

confused in the guessing of your mathwork
it's too late to be early saying words

then the eyes not windows to black space
tools for the moon to breathe your grin in my way

i need your name said a few times at night with the window
open cold or crisp or complete darkness around me

i question i answer i poem i nothing i fall through
because you are beautiful is not the meaning of air

to be this nothing is a far away floating grain
waiting to explode from dust to a billion human things

there is nothing to worry about

i am feeling train sick
on this fifteen minute train
ride
into downtown chicago
are you bald yet
is sprayed across everything
or someone says
do not go into the crypt
it is full of the undead
so you do
and you are excited
about the idea
of this
but maybe you picked a bad night
and you had a few drinks
and there is this nagging feeling
that you won't make it out
of this crypt
so you stop playing skyrim
put away
think
it has been nine months since i spoke to my
etc.
and i close your poems when people walk by
and i like to walk home
and i think i will quit smoking in 2k12

brain talk

one two three
one

two



thre


ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

fuck

then, one two three

one



two


three


ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

...

halt this silly blasting noise

harmless as the slope of your jean ski

i bumble-bee where the frame stretches skin

see the scales flex under liquid life

stopping each millimeter to breathe leather

bush (band)

he quit the band
to fight his brain wars, even tried
to leap outta that plain
that took his old ass
back to idaho,
and i guess it's obvious
that a man with so many ways out
won't think to give up.
he owned about 700 guns,
for pete's sake.

tall earth

i am being born right now
there are no hands at the end of me
i grow stumps in the forest
to sell them
small families with two or three children
hang their faces on the wall
of my mouth
caving the roof of some bombarded cathedral
from the 14th century
now gravel is my absence
priceless art with blank price tags
shattered into teeth shaped color
dropping axe blades
so you can understand
why i say empty sounds
that come together as a dance
or the shelling of my home
the erupting mountain
is no longer a mountain

love poem

i fell in love with the girl
in front of me
in line at chipotle today
she ordered
the chicken fajita burrito with guac
when the chipotle employee said
the guac is $1.80 extra
this girl did not even blink
just stone cold
did not give a fuck

le facteur temps est critique

puss holds under the skin for years
depending on how thick the skin is

you can take a needle and pop it
or you can cringe in pain

waiting to die is a silly concept
there is no distance in changing

the gap between 2k11 to 2k12
is slowly watching your body ooze

chris gaines

blame the whole damn tree
my nerves fucking up your black tie affair
my tall shoes
say i am the last one, or i miss all of my friends

there is no surprise
of the complain score
drinking into the ditch of winter

i can see my breath
i can swing an axe
i will get black out drunk at your wedding

because i can just go to any bar
and they know me
they go as low as i want to dig
because i am garth brooks
because i am garth brooks
because i am garth brooks

also, kickboxing


you are not here to put cherries in my mouth
or catch the seeds i slowly spit

my chest caves in on itself
when,

when i am anxious
i can feel my atoms vibrating apart
it
makes me think of men in black

before you say anything
write yourself a poem explaining why
you should not say anything

take your name out for a walk
to see why your feet are so close in the mirror

i am going places
to stay put

try to move me
make my knees buckle
make my fur cry
make every human being to come from my bloodline
stand up and shout random noises

we can't all be from other planets
we can't all be drake

repeat the punch
repeat the bleeding lip
crushed nose mash

stare at the stone wall in your basement
tell everyone on the other side
how much.

when all your friends stop drinking every night

vomit in swaystride
i can smell the difference between the well
and the top shelf
i was thrown into the fire
at this bar
i am just here to tell you nothings
or speak poems
feel the numb layer
trip over my own loving
grease the wheels for a slow stumble
never trust the night
are there people here
can any of these things
with their mouths
tell me how they exist
i am growing into myself
each organ is turning into stone
i cant even piss anymore
without the sky turning into gin
falling all over me

this is a poem

i don't even finish my coffee
just name them

name things to feel nice or
let the guts in

i know i had an etc. too
thinking about this rope

from hip to hip with more slack
such a nile line

grooving to the grain fields
mountain pass and a vegas strip

i don't even know you
when i'm not breathing on your face

call me when it's late
i won't even be awake

call me thing
let me know how i divide the earth

it's whatever shawty

the reeper is on a first name basis w/ t.i.
and the pimp phone is rangin

brand is my bite
through flashing cash grins

what i am worth
is swag
when i cry in outter space
is swag
every second magic johnson lives
is swag

call me later when you know
i am passed out

say words with no weight

here is a poem and not a desert
sand is too annoying
with all this running

hey shawty
if your'e listening
to drake right now

i have never sprained an ankle
i have never been the greatest ever

i am just a human
with

buying salt

means we're friends
or where she takes you when you carry

over water
you can't let this spirit thing get in your head

lady wasn't going to feel
the same feelings you pick out of space

little dust off the alien ship
big rocks of everything

walk in every direction
at the same no-time

like you knew she existed then
or still does

buying salt

you make the sounds
when i drive someone elses pickup truck
into

rewriting joy's poem while listening to nelly's over and over

i found something
my machine parts in the backseat
youre mumbling things about work:

macguyver please
or what i can hear on the club floor
sound shakes off her objects
solar flares living in a smoke.

she slid down a tree
she spoke to me in hums

boys are the floating objects of space
debris
i will engulf your frame
stretch the skin of a cow over your bones.

magma

medium sized solar flare
salted peanut finger lick
a minor radiation storm
laughing
coronal mass ejection
a scar across western mass.
camels, amazing
frogs shhhh....
boom
water under surface of earth
the flames you saw were normal

bombing garages on my longboard

swag on infinity
watch my rope-tails hang
magic works
like touching anything before the sun can
do
it's just dying to
reach you
magic works at smiling away HIV
he's still dying though
when can't i stop
smiling
when can't i forget my name isn't
lil wayne
say money a thousand times a second
or a million times a milisecond
learn from the internet
i watched a youtube on how to be a billionare
i watched vhs of early 90s playoffs
i said
hey thats million dollar poetry there
i said hey thats million dollar poetry
i said million dollar poems
million poems
poems
i broke that down like a zone defense
i took out the money
and reminded myself about winning game 7
because there is no i in poetry

THE PROPHECY

man i can't tell you how to shit from the sky
but flying is all in the forgotten land
burden me man
with what i see, you know all that same green paste
holding up human parts
what makes this family really click
why do i love these sweet jams
how do i dance like usher
i don't know these things, man
i'm not here to mean
it's just you know greener here
the actual size of your heart
how the taste of a mirror
is nothing
my hand will always reach your hand
buzzzzzz
do you hear every fucking tree poem i cut down
in the woods
is any stump pile a pile of my colorful past
how many times can i beat you at chess
man, i have no clue
but i can say
the greenest place you have ever seen does not exist
it's all in the breast muscles
keep your feathers freshly waxed
only soar at night
take several sky naps
never go back in time
kiss your feet when taking breaks
let them know how important they are
grease your joints
taste clouds
forget that the purpose of pain is to hurt
forget what it means to be an apple
the core is the whole point
or am i growing
or am i tree
poem
or does this new me exist only because
in the woods alone
you cannot hear my brain bits falling onto the ground
from my beautiful view
sun
melting my lazy day wings
telling me you cannot forget the ground, man
it means more to you
than all the infinite galaxy

weather

there are powerful magnets inside your body
i muffle my voice when
i have an out of poem experience
the fake ice is not fake melting or anything
will travel
i can only bend under this heavy ass
stare with those glass olives
my pickling corpsebody
feels how long the sun heats/teases
my strings
yank at my arms and legs to kick up rocks
i see on the street
while im walking at a quick pace to who knows

buy a hawk

i am the map of the where do you walk on me
the moon telling bird cloaked brain user the way
to catch the windy am i this close to you
there's dreaming involved
hey
when the rain is falling you
i make choices
all sorts of ordering
like stand there on the other side of a window or
remember when a billion dollars was a lot
i would die for nothing
but my own endless deletion
and you want gifts of me
to dance on my tip toes
or nothing
am i ok with the face on a blank wall
do i get to keep the head

point north

i might as well sleep myself to wake
or drown in your grandmas brain lake
take my time forgetting
how i can be a laugh
how this splashing has nothing to do with skill
my broken nose exploding with snow
my heart racing a trillion thuds
my mouth making sounds out of air
i drew picrures of you shouting at me
i kissed the mirror
bleeding small dots from my lazy shave
i cant find the time to stop poisoning myself
i cant find myself under all this face
my teeth were knocked out of my skull
i feel ugly
since i was 12
all i do is worry about what people think of me
like my father
or girls that dont even actually think about my jaws
my fat thighs
broken nose and ribs
receding hair line
i am 27 years old
i am afraid of ropes and shot guns
i pay bills when i forget to drink
this poem isnt about me
this poem is letting my brain write it
and i wonder why
my brain thinks i have to be so sad all the time
or it doesnt even think
it just lights up
space at night
chicago
i said i never get lost
i said i always know where i am
but when i was looking for union station drunk monday night
i was scared i would never get home

zenzilla

confused in the guessing of your mathwork
it's too late to be early saying words

sAys do be me says dont or if everything is i
then i am or what is speAking other then

then the eyes not windows to black space are
tools for the moon to float your grin in my wallway

tools to color and if not then window and then whAt
what is speaking and then what is eyes other then

i need your name said a few times at night with the window
open cold or crisp or complete darkness around me

there is space and there is darkness and there is
your need you have wAnt to need and there is cold so there is

i question i answer i poem i nothing i fall through
because you are beautiful is not the meaning of air

or i too romantic to not need and there is i
left so then there is memory and there is i isnt

to be this nothing is a far away floating grain
waiting to explode from dust to a billion human things

new york city poem

the balance
of my head against space
not you included
there are 
fucking lights coming off the moon
sand
my florida skin and beautiful sea eyes
are you
the sun exploding
black hole of my paying attention
white desert
to be lost
spotting you off in the glaring sun
saying hello
or whatever people say to other people

sunnyside
for J.G.

press easy on the siezure bone
watch the ribcage grow

you can see the airbags expand
with each deathstep

do you even want to die tonight
feel my bodywarmth

the way puppies love to lay on my chest
up and down

i stood in the way of the sun
stood on the fire orb

after long years of space walking
to the source of blindness

to shade you for a millisecond
before i vanished in a flicker

TREE POEM

WHY AREN'T WE
FUCKING AROUND

HOW DO I
MAKE A SOUND

DO YOU EVEN
WANT TO DIE TONIGHT

AXE ME

AXE ME

AXE ME AGAIN

tax poem

i have door to door volcano jaw
i vomit
motlen
earth

sing about rich mother fuckers
tax
american
haters

i can't even save my tree poems
from chopping
down
lava

feel the ash i pay for
suck it
down
my ass.

sunnyside

sit in the glare of the sun
sit anywhere
she can see you

shade the brain halo
from wandering
stroke fire or grey hair

know that love is the only thing
that can protect you
from a furnace

know that i think about you
is all
standing where you can see me

standing on the sun if i have to
i won't fight
but i won't let you burn

shoe poem

I AM AN ANIMAL

i said i atomic bombed
i said i didn't
find the answer in cashlife
or asleep next to my shecliff
after i drop
explode
in the airsky
fly like birds
get high
get high
get high
your boring hands
filling up my lungfists
call my 3am friends
to occupy fuck street
find all the billionaires
with my gold magnet
detect
the teeth of sharks
on the beaches of new york
shit
in my shitcage
because i have no where else to go
thin out my body things
so i can squeeze
poemwords out of my mouth gaps
say
bite me
say
i just chewed off my own demi-godlegs
so i could crawl around
in my diamond lung castle
grow green backs
on space trees
and smoke them
shower middle class
walkers
with spacecars
liquid gold piss rain
i am laughing
i am R-O-T-F-L-M-A-O
i am leaking poetry out of my eye caves
she said i didn't entertain her
she said i never could
give
a fuck
about the tall towers of boredom
about the exciting sparkkle balls
of greener ball holders
cupping their
gold mouths
with their midas rap chompers
i am not basic
i am not basically saying anything
just poetry
just lil wayne platinum bars
just a ton of dollar bills
to die on
to tie a billion cash chain
weight around my little boy neck
sink through space
and bird land
falling is flying
underground
is only beneath
the earth
and kanye said
the earth
is something

boredom

william smith

so i am useless; flag
a dead answer
little boys had gone to war before

the first
if so, say so
and i am yours

news of nepoleon's --
news of my grandfathers death i
black prince
muse of buffalo new york

watch maps for viet nam to form
wait for rocks to evolve
into gods
mouth organ
tooth brush

swing sling in perfect shape
until the pebble shakes goliath

the city is afraid of you
getting pretty
skinny boy chest

your mystery
not dark tower of manhattan

not the too many words you said
or say
i am dying
and a flag is covering my body

say
where are you now
and why do i still see snow

I AM AN ANIMAL

she said i was made of 'pure
money'
before i exploded
i'm
going to drive
again
put rims on my exoskelly

i'm an animal baby
baby
i'm only worth a few dollars
a few
billion dollars

until i eat all the gold
from the gold mines
in rich teeth

bite your mouth
an accidental fractured clavicle
i can't squat bones
w/o shaking

stop this bucking buckhorse
with bone spurs
the shape of your fuckshaped feet
i'm walking on two

call me every morning
between 3 and 5 am
to tell me how much you miss my voice
darling

my voice is a flap of skin
stretched like fat pants
make plans to count the sugar in me
so my diabetis doesn't start

your plans are socialist
my voice is socialist
barack obama is not a socialist

everything i say is true
as words
as these poemwords won't mean
as much to me
as what they mean in my brain right now

i'm going to start taking supliments
supliment the gaps
in my braincage
think ribs
or tasty meat clings

or dead mammal things
the nails and hair and the shit afterwards
still shaking

do you have something for my hands

read online
someone said they would ask for indian food
indian propper
so the jailhouse cleaners have to clean up
a horrible mess

but the horrible mess is a messbody
the shell of your heartsoul
the thing that burns
in a bucket of fire
an underground oil lake

for days on twitter
people say RIP
like tearing away a page of a person
is death

or the sun exploding is death
or i just don't exist anymore
except on a page

dead but i am in another page place
does this mean
i can call you
at 3am

to say nothing
does this mean

i can do anything.

I AM AN ANIMAL

lost in my own wilderness
small dust
snow ball

i think i may be animal
or beast god
or short fuse

spark like sun god
throw fire
magma rains from my finger heaven

animal brain of chaos
wanting nothing
to do with the sun

or any form of creator
leaves me
blown away with wind blowing

and more wind
for my dust left-overs
moon landing

let the hair grow thick
for my hibernation
lick the fat from my skull shape

taste meat in heart
know what it means
to eat anything else

if i can stomach the love
or the kill or be killed
desperate living

know based off all the other animals
that die
i will die

i will explode into a billion dollars
i will be nothing
i am nothing

sea shells

or leave me
burried in glass bits

i was once in the ocean you know
a part of this shark mouth

i used to tear through chum
i once saw this couple of humans
in a cage

there was all this chum
and i ate it while these idiots watched me

i didn't even try to eat the people
they were already locked up
in a cage
under water

i figured they'd die eventually

she sells

it is in the being
found
much to be a shark tooth
small black
jaw piece
not much different from the other
teeth scattered
along the gulf beach
where a girl in a bikini
takes you home
and glues you to something

LONG HAIR

not a body

not the son of a man

not the boy in love again and again

not a man

not cells and soul and shit

not a mouth saying what you hear i say

not this idea

not that idea

not a carcas to put in the ocean

not shark food

not a puzzle of bones

not guts

not a father of nothing

not smart

not a believer in another place

not the greenest green

not even green at all

i am just energy filling up a small point
waiting to explode
like anything else
unlike all of this endless nothing
but i imagine it to be
colorful, or maybe just pretty to see

LONG HAIR

crop circles baby blue
eyes on man
in wet skull

feel the wheat fall
heavy nuggets of gold
aware of it's worthlessness

sink ship
next to desert island
or me

i never could be anything
other than a young boy
i hope

there were smashed pears
on the sidewalk
last year

i hate the winter
freezing to death
nothing but dark and liquor

is there really an ocean
can i surf
anywhere

look up and take a picture
of me flying
long rope of hair around my neck

don't blink
i am going to vanish
at cloud height

keep going i guess
through waves of drunk moon air
inbetween my teeth

i can feel you somewhere below
walking around
making shapes with your distance

and i'm going
lost in the world's wilderness
or else a space for my body shape

a branch breaks again

into another branch
named twig and twig
truncated tree thing

leaves it
for the ground to swallow

not afraid of the wind
or the death of anyone it knew,
love

or it moves on
grows up

any small thing becomes a smaller thing
quotes infinity
tells the body stories of immortality

death in senses
feeling the rain
feeling the rain stop

SHARK MEAT

shiny city thing of concrete
moves like bait
fresh un-killed


fill the ocean with carcas chunks

make all the beautiful slant faced feeders
come


little hands pick through blasted planet parts
who moves mountains
the way the magma rolls

fill my bucket w shark teeth
thinking i will write several poems about this
when it's time

trace fingers through the jelly-fish
on the beach
feel the alien sting child skin

just hoping
to be part of something
the way
sand is a part of the moon

glass

scattered space out of it
felt the sliver
in your foot
felt the window inside of your body

look,
i am surfing silver
streaks across
the blue shiva
or colorless water as running

shed the shards out
pissing cubes of crystal
from my open mouth.

glass

dune-sea lop the head
of mountain
of tall rocky jut
lava
swell
as i am forming
peak
through the looking

sand-see the weight lifting
out of my brain cage
building
see-thru walls
thin as the atmosphere

cracks from my chirping
cicada singing
exoskeleton was never heavy
just
is gravity
just is


glass

throw magma stones
sand-dune i am watching the shift
float each grain wave

rolling huh,
foamy ground.

my shark teeth tuned
better than my chainsaw poem
mouth as it eats

my memory
my respect for where i 'came from'

collecting my own jaw
off the beaches of nebraska

watch it move
the way my dream girl moves

sweep sea, boom
underwater, or underneath an ocean.


surfing waves

my body screams cicadas
wave as it smooths to beach
length is my longing

hold head under water until
it breathes

she is a sea lion
walking rocks
as the hurt is made
believe

or crash
as in the noise it makes
when my body feels the weight of galaxy


for paul and the people who touch his chest

i begin to understand why i love you before my brain quits working
i dont like nicknames
but she can call me whatever she wants
she can call me paul or ira or karate as long as she leans up
and kisses me again
or is she or is she or is she
the pronouns are fucked up here
i'll say i miss ellie pegler
i'll say there are a cool million drunks in this bar
or these suitors just beg the same
i'll say i can't even say
or that i remember details of everything
the way she paused
or im running away by just being here
but i'm laying on the floor awake all night the way my dad used to do that
my ribs are broken
i think my chest brain jumped out
it's running too
my heart read this book about running
my life is almost a romcom but it's just funny
the way my nerves fuck up everything i do
like wearing socks in my boat shoes the last night i saw her
or letting it rain
but when she touched my chest
i hit the space
bar a few times
can't even say that grin or that devil or that beautiful lady
sings songs in my liver
builds mountains of poems for surfing up purposes
i never finished that short story about that room
i never finish anything
except poems
i can't even quit quitting
or begin to quit without picking up another nose candy
or blowing my chest brains out with car parts
he ran me over man
i guess thats karma
i guess i said i deserve this
but i can't sleep now i'm just sitting here writing a poem
with entourage season one playing
but it's not even playing it's just the menu
and thats what i mean
that's why i almost moved to brooklyn without thinking
because if i think
a big white jeep will crush my rib cage
if i think i'll miss small moments with a girl
if i think the universe becomes enormous
and i might forget where you are
i might not see you again for a very long time
i might start writing poems like schomburg
or think i need to be more silly
or think i need to rap more explicitly
or think 72 twitter followers aren't enough
or think these pills won't last the weekend
or drinking might actually make me sad
or you leaving and me leaving is scary
or that i love everyone who touches me
i never meant the body
in all my poems with all these bodies
i never meant it literally
i mean it


cocaine

weigh my weight in body parts like math talk
and go for the heavy arms first or the other heavy arms

never said my brain would work faster than the sun moves
or faster than movies come out about the same fast movers

and crash crash like you could worry as much as i worry
or think that being awake is less of a step towards dying

and sun shows up again without the warning of smoulder smell
while you consider how many words will rhyme with spider-bite

or how many swear words you can write and erase and write
or how many birds do that thing where you can stay in the sky


infinity

the best poem in the world is written every day

when i watch tapes of early 90's eastern conference playoff games

like the knicks vs the knicks vs the knicks vs everybody else

john starks is a villian

today is the best day of his life because he isn't losing any game sevens

today is the best day of his life because he is still livin'

today john starks wrote the best poem in the world

it's called why i love every square inch of new york city

or why i love every woman that touches me

or why i love gardening

or something that has nothing to do with love

or green things like green backs, more and more of them

raising the debt roof literally

by stacking up your big men and their big green backs

until you can actually slam dunk on the moon like magic johnson

or the teeth of magic johnson

his smile holds onto the sun's energy

and cures everyone of any disease

which is the best poem in the world

until paul clark wrote the best poem in the world

until kyle crawford wrote the best poem in the world

until i wrote another love poem

until magic johnson smiled again, this time wider

which is hard to fathom.


31 July 2011
cigarettes

i cant clean myself the way you clean yourself
i cant ride the fair rides like you obviously want to

i will throw up down my body
or shit my diapers

i wont do heroin
no matter how many times i mess my pants

i cant feel anything
my heavy arms are dragging on the earth

i hugged paul the first time i met him
but now he just sits in his room being a babe

i gamble every day by livin'
but i guess the odds are stacked after all this stacking

my arms piled on my arms
knuckles mapped out to knuckle gaps

my clean skin covers the filth
my monster face facing the face things you have

or i say im sad all the time
or i say im in some sort of love line

my chest is a brain cage
i like to walk for infinity walking

say things like anything
or act like money is no object

but everything has a limit
even the number of hugs you can take

the number of times i will say do what you want
and it hapens to be what i was hoping you'd do

or it happens that you can actually put up with my hiding
in words and nothing and words that are nothing

what im saying is
what im saying is
written by justin ryan fyfe at 02:33 0 SHOTS
30 July 2011
facebook friend 19

man i am a fox
man i tree for the foresting
know the woman can too
know the woman is a travel
sing about the bird things
sing about how wheat sounds
like this in the air thing
or this whistling bread maker
or how my river
is a wanting
and all the washing off will not work
until the grass is unmowed
for three or so years
and all the people i miss are forgotten
written by justin ryan fyfe at 19:35 0 SHOTS
facebook friend 18

say i am spicer or baby orca
freeing the question of who the hell are
any of us
the vitamin man the carter list
like vince carter jumping over people
to score two points
its called showmanship
its called a slamma jamma
and it ends the way this poem should end
with millions of hits on you tube
written by justin ryan fyfe at 19:27 0 SHOTS
29 July 2011
cocaine

weigh my weight in body parts like math talk
and go for the heavy arms first or the other heavy arms

never said my brain would work faster than the sun moves
or faster than movies come out about the same fast movers

and crash crash like you could worry as much as i worry
or think that being awake is less of a step towards dying

and sun shows up again without the warning of smoulder smell
while you consider how many words will rhyme with spider-bite

or how many swear words you can write and erase and write
or how many birds do that thing where you can stay in the sky
written by justin ryan fyfe at 17:46 0 SHOTS
28 July 2011
facebook friend 17

abandon all things in sky
fall from the ice is ice

expand on ground water
or burning churches

or your own face burning
jesus loves you they said

barack obama loves you i said
your hands holding up the sun

you dont even feel the skin cooking
only the smell is a warning
written by justin ryan fyfe at 23:53 0 SHOTS
26 July 2011
fougasse aux olives

how to keep score
watch where the knife runs

cut the cut deep
say things like infinity

keep steam in tightly sealed mouth clamps
tasting every heat wave

surf to the top of mountains
clouds and space count as tall things

you conquer
keeping everyone in last of dark falling

walking safely
where there is no noise behind you

and still nothing
but your own sounds rising
written by justin ryan fyfe at 18:30 0 SHOTS
25 July 2011
infinity

the best poem in the world is written every day

when i watch tapes of early 90's eastern conference playoff games

like the knicks vs the knicks vs the knicks vs everybody else

john starks is a villian

today is the best day of his life because he isn't losing any game sevens

today is the best day of his life because he is still livin'

today john starks wrote the best poem in the world

it's called why i love every square inch of new york city

or why i love every woman that touches me

or why i love gardening

or something that has nothing to do with love

or green things like green backs, more and more of them

raising the debt roof literally

by stacking up your big men and their big green backs

until you can actually slam dunk on the moon like magic johnson

or the teeth of magic johnson

his smile holds onto the sun's energy

and cures everyone of any disease

which is the best poem in the world

until paul clark wrote the best poem in the world

until kyle crawford wrote the best poem in the world

until i wrote another love poem

until magic johnson smiled again, this time wider

which is hard to fathom.
written by justin ryan fyfe at 17:48 0 SHOTS
movement

when i walk through doors i think about people
gossipping about me walking through a door

how i swing, swing and the swinging
wanting a long walk home

they literally killed him
and then they revived him

i cannot speak for the hand holders
or the sweat they put up with

cannot stand standing on an escalator
though i prefer it to sitting

i was just on the slowest elevator in the universe
it was like flying slow

ok, i'll go or get going
i can see where i'll be is elsewhere
written by justin ryan fyfe at 16:19 0 SHOTS
oh hi

in a crowd any alone seems to amplify by no sound

on a highway line roads and roads and roads blur with speeding

seperate from every living thing, and wind

faster than human, or the animal moves

in outter space air is not air, but breathing

under the sun you are held to spin faster than dying

beneath night is just another time as if you keep track

even if my now is not always your now

in my hand is a waiting

in my heart is a new thing

catapulted by gravity, one moon to smile shining

or some atmosphere i forgot about until you
written by justin ryan fyfe at 14:16 0 SHOTS
22 July 2011
facebook friend 15

never give up on these greek women
or these california women
or these women

never forget that forgetting is a past time
like baseball
or forgetting how to play baseball

its not about the rules
or the diamonds
or the cleats that you wear

its about sliding face first into dirt
grass stains, spitting
and stealing things if you have to
written by justin ryan fyfe at 16:12 0 SHOTS
simple

as it has died before the moment you're missing
and even with no proof
do the pictures still smile
would you even try to measure the star to star
distance
is a callous
or some mangled foot thing for the walker
slowing down to a crawl
or ever was a baby boy
looking out at the lawn as a distance
or the clouds sitting there in blues
my puppet arms dangle to the faceplant
the sidewalk that wrecked my smile
the city where i loved things
like drinking whisky on the river
or almost dying all the time
compared to most people it's true
i can't swim
but i'll surf all the way to space
where i can just float


kyle poem

and what if nothing was ice, what would you be
there will never be the greenest green
it's all just another tree poem
or tooth tooth

keep whistling
or wind, wind, and the wind washing
off the high desert dust
glued to the lingering soak of nebraska

everytime you kiss them good-bye
they believe what you say about death
holding on to the last second they saw any of you
even the flat plains


facebook friend 13

what does the fog say
about the wanting to keep up with others living

how are your seeing feet these days
with all dog walking eye talkers

know me less and less as the body cools
as the aging takes highways or air

and makes it into a wall thing
or the largest pain in my ass since love


facebook friend 3

does that tiny philosopher fucking the girl you love
know how dark your eyes are
when you stare at the galaxy
it wonders how much space there is
in a man
when you can make yourself happy
let me know what thats like
write a poem for me some time
and title it for tony
i will remember you as something
but i won't promise it to be correct in any way


city poem

yes i'm not the ocean or sea calling
see me at the lava edge my magma feet dance
when the icy ice you are and i am everything
lowers room temperature or makes you sweat less
my glare reflecting off moon air
which smart nose heals this chest brain

no i'm a big city man or know this
any ant can build an eye castle for your reading
any insect can learn to die
under the crushing feet of giants
listen late at night when my westerly face falls
you can hear the exoskeletons exploding


ATL

my south speak got beat out by travel
hiding out in fielded corn crop

but i can still learn how to lie honestly
from civil war memorials

or battlefields or working in the sun
where your entire body hardens in bake

but my poet hands or boy touch
wont bruise any leg and elsewhere

and know the rain hasn't stopped falling
since the last time i saw you

my drawling walk and slow eyes
touching my fingers to your sleeping fingers

wanting to see you every morning
with your hair down and nothing else


bows and arrows

with american money i swing my candy filled pockets
at the horrible crying fits i make myself
eager for the excitement you bring to the table
ground water drowning
all the people who drown in drunk driving swims
or if i even feel anything when somebody dies
like when i day dream of my fathers dying
i could be honest or i am only truth things
but the worst thing i have ever done was staying
on the great plains
saying that i can heal my wandering chest brain
or im sorry i ever threatened to leave you
nebraska
where the goddamn dust makes people
shout at moon
wondering why their bodies are shifting
wondering where their parents went when they died
saying im sorry i cant stop the birds from flying
or i dont even know how to use my body
i dont know how to say things i think i mean
my timing is off
to a bad start
my knuckle gaps to knuckles and more gaps
can i say nothing
does the wind blowing and the wind and the wind
chasing my empty stomach
or my empty hands
or full of my shoulders tough meat
chewing it for months still wont break the skin


brooklyn poem

move my arm around your no waist
waste the breath of my kiss speak
speak at you like my inner you
she as an i thing
the fix of my longing
send nude pics of my clothed nakedness
flap my arms wild
like the cowboy me
or the time that im here like a new guy
or the 99 other guys who crush my crushing
say lady i build castles for your eye reading
write poems about what you want out of me
like this standing
like this walking through the worlds earth
taking apart my arm parts
to hold you longer than time goes
or kiss you like a love goes
or going away for the no shower
telling you i dont clean up after my dying
or dying like i can see you again
or seeing you
which makes me dream
dreaming about being something
like my eyes at your eyes



like wilderness

jog long legs toward the sunned sky
follow deer thing with the most beautiful antlers

vanish into the cement by jaw to jaw
to see what i can find inside of your you

teach me how to skin a fish
teach me how to survive city winters

there is no stopping in my mind
steady breathing into the long distance

i can hide in a cave for months
surviving off the fat in my brain


GOLD VOLVO

my god is a demigod
a lukewarm piss i take out of my body
to wash off all the cold piss or hot piss

i got stuck on ground water
or trying to tell the entire state of Idaho
i am a fisherman from the great plains
the great fucking plains

flip the bird
at old ladies who cant drive
write a poem about perfect teeth
or fly like these gold teeth
or collect these shark teeth

sometimes i think about how im dying
and wonder how im dying like this
with my hand down my entire throat
massaging guts

with my soft hands
feeling the cement chips
embedded in my lovely wound
or my happy-scared grin the size of everything


just so you know

i am a boring universe
i am the wind, wind, and the wind blowing
i am inside of myself
i am afraid of everyone
i am in love with storming
i walk away from pain
i am the epitome of dollface
i am the river receding
i am the dirt thirsting
i am the pit of my own pitness
i am watching fireworks
i love driving cars
i am the grass, grass, and the grass growing
i am afraid of the no you
i speak to my hearts health
i am the river flooding
i am the absorbing dirt
i keep quiet in poems
i am going to die
i am the no pain
i will tell you how your glow
makes my chest become a million things
that will never exist


poem thing

i'm struggling to understand my own existence
in the poem, where there is no poem

metal wall, pressing my face against it
to feel the cold move from no skin to skin

teeth become magnetized to what should be said
in the poem, where there is no poem

and questions are mouth moves i don't understand
because my tongue parts won’t stop talking

things fall from things thinging, and scared me
in the poem, where there is no poem

then lightning, then thunder
wind, wind, and the storm forming

thoughts on the night when there is no storm
in the poem, where there is no poem

the three longest rivers on earth

the Mississippi river is long but very poor--
a road of mud that floods & worships Abraham’s god.

the Amazon river is long & full of sharp things--
spends half the year still while small birds walk across.

the Nile is a long river & goes past some pyramids
that were built by aliens several thousands of years ago.

sweater poem

i bought this sweater because i
am in love with you
it cost me 70$
& does not even keep me warm
unless i wear it
in the summer.


kind of pricey

did i tell you i haven't showered today
did i tell you how happy-scared i am

your face looking at my face
becoming a face of it

read you Christmas poems at the back bar
in one hundred degree heat

the liquor makes me sing more
makes me less of a secret

or maybe i'll chain smoke for breakfast
stand where ever you want to see me


to Chicago

a whim & the fog
rolls, i can say what the fog is. where smart cats keep breeding
w/o consequence, & then the kissing words--

knew the sun would return even when there is no sun for miles
or if it took months of walking
so on & a great distance that i can push back
behind your ear

or do i dare city rain to touch us
with house taps--
scare the dog, drops

a letter
written with small bumps only on my arm
often confused with your arms

you will read to me words like hung, & hair lip, push me
back against the wall & i
watch your mouth

then know my hand is now your hand
lost in the land of your hand parts.
hidden by limited vision, & there
people are

& then a reality filled w/ real things such as
people eat, or
can i see pictures of your ugly foot before they changed it.
walking on
hand pads for the feet to rest, i could walk like this for days

w/ you telling me, don't be so silly
my boy hands. hold—soft

maybe more of a man w/ man hands than i want to be
measured by the silence
between the air-conditioning unit click ons and offs

but you don't look where you're going
& pass the nature walk, say blind spot
Iowa rest stops
greener as temporary, as green can be for the garden or
just a damn lucky guy going for the turn-around
& walk back towards the greenless things
that we can talk about
when we talk about

or do i know what i'm doing, with it
said
‘i know why fog is here.’
now, you're softest when the rain hasn't stopped
& a small line can be curved into something
like the dirt of me,
mud spittle
my mouth runs hungry over your collar bone


coffea

gone from where i saw you
or is where i saw you there.

staining things on my hands
now stain the pant legs of my pants.

shower when you might come by;
i do not shower often.

the rich wet dirt you want
is under the hard dry earth.

you put this seed over here, over here
& cherries grow out of me.

fresh fruit

gobble going gets tough
where i leave my skin to skin

in the sun's weather weathered,
leather under where i sun my shaded self

selfish to hide. breeze i can find
seldom despite a shiftless center--

horizon i noticed, the trees are no trees,
but the trees are still planted

i grab you by this neck & this neck
so they tell you the neck is detachable


pioneers

counting bruises oh, are we
apples
sail upon trampled fields
of water wheat
you grow gold w/ your soiled hands
she
drinks & i
drink redberry-wine cold
behind trails of bison bur & Indian grass,
smelling in barberry or
may-apple maybe, we
wait for it
to get dark for
our skin to hide

nest

wild horses draw the head off
you, razor-legs show me
skin of your bite bones
or where the fir trees grow
down to the night-time-water-body, so
i can be a romantic man
talk generic about the places of you:

the off-path covered wagon,
dirt boat
my beard dangling w/ twigs
& prairie flower.
arranged to remind you

visiting

scumming for a like soul
can i breathe your ocean air, Nebraska
cold is colder than your Nebraska.

your copper hair blondes me, gum
your plumb neck. plump my lips from the cement--
i can bite you, modern world, with my fakest face.

the slope of your back with the back hair
goads my hand to nick-it,
can you reach for me.
take away my cape.

fragile in the sense that a man is,
or why i get nerves in my belly when i see you,
a beauty.

call me for a second; call me while i am sleeping.

call me a word like darling
so my fur jumps
& the coats that warm my shaved shoulders
hide great plains from the belly i said.

more, there is an ocean under here,
you can listen
for the train coming. breathe
the air for me,
the jewel of cattle beds.


feel occupation

is what you said or to feel
as if its fur on me
and sounds like rain drops or
all these boys,
always a boy there
grabbing little marshmallow-hands
at a nip,
or things that sparkle,
singular as you
nest at the end of a bar, fully clothed
just
make it work,
the boy says sometime later on
as if words will do

on the slope of Nebraska

in me, Nebraska
shaped the way i see you
just waking on your front side

write you a letter
in my mind
say, i saw you once and remember it

cross the Missouri River again
i always look down
to see what is floating

every thought, you think
i could pretend
not to know what i knew of you

mist, over sand hills
where the cranes
make it back

all this silly travel,
talking about our day jobs
listening to the same sounds

your chin i think,
where the Indian caves are


20 July 2011
facebook friend 6

ask me how to pass a drug test
and i will tell you

smell the bacon smoke
mixing with all the other smoke

think about a thing like
car sex

or borrow the beds
of your best friends

remember that scotch is just scotch
after a certain point
written by justin ryan fyfe at 11:06 0 SHOTS
facebook friend 3

does that tiny philosopher fucking the girl you love
know how dark your eyes are
when you stare at the galaxy
it wonders how much space there is
in a man
when you can make yourself happy
let me know what thats like
write a poem for me some time
and title it for tony
i will remember you as something
but i won't promise it to be correct in any way
written by justin ryan fyfe at 09:10 0 SHOTS
facebook friend 2

i used to delete people like you
as if my emptiness made me less
vulnerable to missing people i don't really know
but who knows anything
fuck the haters i say
let them be in bed with you
let them remember how naked you are
written by justin ryan fyfe at 09:04 1 SHOTS
city poem

yes i'm not the ocean or sea calling
see me at the lava edge my magma feet dance
when the icy ice you are and i am everything
lowers room temperature or makes you sweat less
my glare reflecting off moon air
which smart nose heals this chest brain

no i'm a big city man or know this
any ant can build an eye castle for your reading
any insect can learn to die
under the crushing feet of giants
listen late at night when my westerly face falls
you can hear the exoskeletons exploding
written by justin ryan fyfe at 07:04 0 SHOTS
talk

things and things, as simple
as the city makes you gravy
or what i say
as if saying things
mouth moves and throating tongue
works just fine
but the sounds i make
or the nothings i yell when i yell anything
at moon at travel
at all the distance in the universe
my voice is here
saying prairie lady
then pausing. stop
the sun from sunning
stop my singing chest brain
from making the lonely thumping sound
it makes
written by justin ryan fyfe at 00:01 0 SHOTS
19 July 2011
emits a heavy air of deadpan

LETRIC COLLECTIVE//TUGBOAT READING//ETC


written by justin ryan fyfe at 17:18 0 SHOTS
15 July 2011
get in the pool

suddenly at 70 you just melt
you ancient hill billy
plains ranger flying a dirt boat

my shouts are your melting away
wash off the dust of nebraska
find worthless gold in a heaven place

how wet is your salty mouth
how thin is your entire body
will you just disolve if i wrap myself around you
written by justin ryan fyfe at 21:13 0 SHOTS
14 July 2011
waffles

i inhale the sun and then sun and more

make my words syrup or melting sugar or tree poems

miss my friends

miss myself sometimes

forget to breathe and forget to eat and forget to sleep

air or anything was space and distance

let you know things, the worst things i've done

that i remember

what i'll eat in bed

what i buy at the store at 3am

who i'm talking to about who i want to talk to

not knowing what i'm saying when i sleep

some masculine energy or lady moon beam

shock therapy for my deluded-self

trying to pretend i am the happiest mortal alive

or that this moment

is all there is
written by justin ryan fyfe at 17:21 0 SHOTS
13 July 2011
tides poem

& if my goodnights werent late enough
& if my hellos werent soon enough
& if my goodbyes werent loud enough

the best way to say i miss you
never sounds right

but the moon is closer to me now
written by justin ryan fyfe at 19:19 0 SHOTS
12 July 2011
ATL

my south speak got beat out by travel
hiding out in fielded corn crop

but i can still learn how to lie honestly
from civil war memorials

or battlefields or working in the sun
where your entire body hardens in bake

but my poet hands or boy touch
wont bruise any leg and elsewhere

and know the rain hasn't stopped falling
since the last time i saw you

my drawling walk and slow eyes
touching my fingers to your sleeping fingers

wanting to see you every morning
with your hair down and nothing else
written by justin ryan fyfe at 23:07 0 SHOTS
by normal i mean living

i meant to write something about honesty
like i honestly don't get it
like i'm always telling the truth
because i'm not
sometimes i say things to cover up what i meant to say
i think everyone does that
or i don't know what everyone does
i only know what i do
people won't tell me how to live
maybe they'll tell me when i'm older
like when i've been dead for a million years
someone might say to me out loud
what it really means to be me
because they will know
with all that time to think about it
written by justin ryan fyfe at 13:24 0 SHOTS
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING

i can wait for this poem to be it's being

or i can write a poem every night in my void

but i have already become too meta, or become nothing

kyle asked me what i wanted to do, and i said be in love

which isn't really what i meant but im sure he understands

my words mean absolutely nothing

it's vomit, or if i said ralphing would you understand

i said hey i like jack spicer too

but then you murdered me with your car, just ran my ass over

lets start talking about my ass

i rarely want to have sex with anyone

i have never been realistic

i used to call it making love but that was before i ever fucked

like a break up fuck, like the goddamn Bering Strait

i walk across land bridges only

wouldn't trust a man made bridge if it was built by demigod men

one day there will be no sun

it will just keep getting bigger and bigger like the bones in my face

the sun is a hole in my chest

or my lungs are filling up with water

so i suck fire down my throat, i call these blow jobs

i will hire millionaires to clean out my throat

i will hire millionaires to walk my dog

i will hire millionares to listen to me tell them sad stories

that are really just poems about how i miss my dog

this poem is exactly the same length as a poem paul wrote

unless you measure the spaces between each sound

then mine might be empty as a galaxy
written by justin ryan fyfe at 11:05 0 SHOTS
10 July 2011
bows and arrows

with american money i swing my candy filled pockets
at the horrible crying fits i make myself
eager for the excitement you bring to the table
ground water drowning
all the people who drown in drunk driving swims
or if i even feel anything when somebody dies
like when i day dream of my fathers dying
i could be honest or i am only truth things
but the worst thing i have ever done was staying
on the great plains
saying that i can heal my wandering chest brain
or im sorry i ever threatened to leave you
nebraska
where the goddamn dust makes people
shout at moon
wondering why their bodies are shifting
wondering where their parents went when they died
saying im sorry i cant stop the birds from flying
or i dont even know how to use my body
i dont know how to say things i think i mean
my timing is off
to a bad start
my knuckle gaps to knuckles and more gaps
can i say nothing
does the wind blowing and the wind and the wind
chasing my empty stomach
or my empty hands
or full of my shoulders tough meat
chewing it for months still wont break the skin
written by justin ryan fyfe at 20:52 0 SHOTS
brooklyn poem

move my arm around your no waist
waste the breath of my kiss speak
speak at you like my inner you
she as an i thing
the fix of my longing
send nude pics of my clothed nakedness
flap my arms wild
like the cowboy me
or the time that im here like a new guy
or the 99 other guys who crush my crushing
say lady i build castles for your eye reading
write poems about what you want out of me
like this standing
like this walking through the worlds earth
taking apart my arm parts
to hold you longer than time goes
or kiss you like a love goes
or going away for the no shower
telling you i dont clean up after my dying
or dying like i can see you again
or seeing you
which makes me dream
dreaming about being something
like my eyes at your eyes
written by justin ryan fyfe at 01:42 0 SHOTS
07 July 2011
oh hi

why do my arms weigh as much as giant arms
carry you baby doll
say silly names like baby doll
carry over any body of water
i swim like a dog like an idiot dog
with my heavy arms sinking as they flap around
written by justin ryan fyfe at 21:28 1 SHOTS
like wilderness

jog long legs toward the sunned sky
follow deer thing with the most beautiful antlers

vanish into the cement by jaw to jaw
to see what i can find inside of your you

teach me how to skin a fish
teach me how to survive city winters

there is no stopping in my mind
steady breathing into the long distance

i can hide in a cave for months
surviving off the fat in my brain
written by justin ryan fyfe at 15:10 0 SHOTS
bread


forget your bird feathers here flyer
fly me a moon landing, make beautiful bruises
or when idaho was the moon
new york the space ship city

i'm going to call you a darling
where the huge smiles you make can talk
looking for a hiding spot for my happy-scared eyes
to rest on any of you

challenge me to find what it takes
to scrape by for more time
like this me next to you time
like this awake and sleep time

i will tell you the worst things ive done
i will be the best idiot
i will walk face first into mountains
i will feel this way because i want to
i will kiss you again
written by justin ryan fyfe at 07:52 0 SHOTS
06 July 2011
GOLD VOLVO

my god is a demigod
a lukewarm piss i take out of my body
to wash off all the cold piss or hot piss

i got stuck on ground water
or trying to tell the entire state of Idaho
i am a fisherman from the great plains
the great fucking plains

flip the bird
at old ladies who cant drive
write a poem about perfect teeth
or fly like these gold teeth
or collect these shark teeth

sometimes i think about how im dying
and wonder how im dying like this
with my hand down my entire throat
massaging guts

with my soft hands
feeling the cement chips
embedded in my lovely wound
or my happy-scared grin the size of everything
written by justin ryan fyfe at 11:56 0 SHOTS
04 July 2011
just so you know

i am a boring universe
i am the wind, wind, and the wind blowing
i am inside of myself
i am afraid of everyone
i am in love with storming
i walk away from pain
i am the epitome of dollface
i am the river receding
i am the dirt thirsting
i am the pit of my own pitness
i am watching fireworks
i love driving cars
i am the grass, grass, and the grass growing
i am afraid of the no you
i speak to my hearts health
i am the river flooding
i am the absorbing dirt
i keep quiet in poems
i am going to die
i am the no pain
i will tell you how your glow
makes my chest become a million things
that will never exist
written by justin ryan fyfe at 21:04 0 SHOTS
01 July 2011
poem thing

i'm struggling to understand my own existence
in the poem, where there is no poem

metal wall, pressing my face against it
to feel the cold move from no skin to skin

teeth become magnetized to what should be said
in the poem, where there is no poem

and questions are mouth moves i don't understand
because my tongue parts won’t stop talking

things fall from things thinging, and scared me
in the poem, where there is no poem

then lightning, then thunder
wind, wind, and the storm forming

thoughts on the night when there is no storm
in the poem, where there is no poem

the three longest rivers on earth

the Mississippi river is long but very poor--
a road of mud that floods & worships Abraham’s god.

the Amazon river is long & full of sharp things--
spends half the year still while small birds walk across.

the Nile is a long river & goes past some pyramids
that were built by aliens several thousands of years ago.



mind poem

plummet comes to mind
or the inevitable rhyming of mind
my attempts to impress
with diving
and fine dining
or acting like I’m a brilliant actor

the time i said nothing instead of singing
for a king and i audition
when i could speak French in Mississippi
and beat my dad at chess
or jogging jog like a jogger does
at all hours of the night

hold me under a Canadian ocean
i will time a century by just walking it
slow like children can
because they can
with enough cat tranquilizers
to make ten cats sleep for awhile

utility

we take our flashlights with us
to the bathroom
when we pee

not because we’re scared—
are you

a question i should have asked
before blind walking into pitched squalor

bladder full
oh this madness

we being children
we being poor


house of, etc.

my range of movement is restricted
by your shoulder in my shoulder,

i am eating this formerly frozen food
that i have recently unfrozen to eat.

the temptations of being eager for this,
& then you avoid telling people things.

naked is not necessarily an advantage
with you smiling at me and my body.

you come to a room in your own house
that you don't remember being there,
& paint it w/ colors that already were.

sweater poem

i bought this sweater because i
am in love with you
it cost me 70$
& does not even keep me warm
unless i wear it
in the summer.

kind of pricey

did i tell you i haven't showered today
did i tell you how happy-scared i am

your face looking at my face
becoming a face of it

read you Christmas poems at the back bar
in one hundred degree heat

the liquor makes me sing more
makes me less of a secret

or maybe i'll chain smoke for breakfast
stand where ever you want to see me

heaven
for Iowa

a small box the size of Iowa
but let’s not mix the gods
w/ baseball

there is no gay marriage in heaven
because there is no heaven
there is only Iowa

Iowa
for heaven

stretch across a belly flat or
could i say it in a much more boring way
drive slow
so you don’t miss the largest truck stop in the world
with enough parking space for the entire state
to park
their semis

to Chicago

a whim & the fog
rolls, i can say what the fog is. where smart cats keep breeding
w/o consequence, & then the kissing words--

knew the sun would return even when there is no sun for miles
or if it took months of walking
so on & a great distance that i can push back
behind your ear

or do i dare city rain to touch us
with house taps--
scare the dog, drops

a letter
written with small bumps only on my arm
often confused with your arms

you will read to me words like hung, & hair lip, push me
back against the wall & i
watch your mouth

then know my hand is now your hand
lost in the land of your hand parts.
hidden by limited vision, & there
people are

& then a reality filled w/ real things such as
people eat, or
can i see pictures of your ugly foot before they changed it.
walking on
hand pads for the feet to rest, i could walk like this for days

w/ you telling me, don't be so silly
my boy hands. hold—soft

maybe more of a man w/ man hands than i want to be
measured by the silence
between the air-conditioning unit click ons and offs

but you don't look where you're going
& pass the nature walk, say blind spot
Iowa rest stops
greener as temporary, as green can be for the garden or
just a damn lucky guy going for the turn-around
& walk back towards the greenless things
that we can talk about
when we talk about

or do i know what i'm doing, with it
said
‘i know why fog is here.’
now, you're softest when the rain hasn't stopped
& a small line can be curved into something
like the dirt of me,
mud spittle
my mouth runs hungry over your collar bone

coffea

gone from where i saw you
or is where i saw you there.

staining things on my hands
now stain the pant legs of my pants.

shower when you might come by;
i do not shower often.

the rich wet dirt you want
is under the hard dry earth.

you put this seed over here, over here
& cherries grow out of me.

fresh fruit

gobble going gets tough
where i leave my skin to skin

in the sun's weather weathered,
leather under where i sun my shaded self

selfish to hide. breeze i can find
seldom despite a shiftless center--

horizon i noticed, the trees are no trees,
but the trees are still planted

i grab you by this neck & this neck
so they tell you the neck is detachable


pioneers

counting bruises oh, are we
apples
sail upon trampled fields
of water wheat
you grow gold w/ your soiled hands
she
drinks & i
drink redberry-wine cold
behind trails of bison bur & Indian grass,
smelling in barberry or
may-apple maybe, we
wait for it
to get dark for
our skin to hide

nest

wild horses draw the head off
you, razor-legs show me
skin of your bite bones
or where the fir trees grow
down to the night-time-water-body, so
i can be a romantic man
talk generic about the places of you:

the off-path covered wagon,
dirt boat
my beard dangling w/ twigs
& prairie flower.
arranged to remind you

visiting

scumming for a like soul
can i breathe your ocean air, Nebraska
cold is colder than your Nebraska.

your copper hair blondes me, gum
your plumb neck. plump my lips from the cement--
i can bite you, modern world, with my fakest face.

the slope of your back with the back hair
goads my hand to nick-it,
can you reach for me.
take away my cape.

fragile in the sense that a man is,
or why i get nerves in my belly when i see you,
a beauty.

call me for a second; call me while i am sleeping.

call me a word like darling
so my fur jumps
& the coats that warm my shaved shoulders
hide great plains from the belly i said.

more, there is an ocean under here,
you can listen
for the train coming. breathe
the air for me,
the jewel of cattle beds.


bone-chew

does your god know i
don't exist

the dollars of your can
feed it

who doesn't collect
shark teeth on the beaches of Florida

the flattest place
on earth

even the alligator in the canal wouldn’t
eat
my mother.


re-application

use the feet for function
all the ground being tight-rope
damp in romantic

because socks are for sandals
here, rotting wood pile
a poem about trees

tall living soulless, is
nose stubs, bent up branch
run my licked thumb over your eyebrow

girl thing
bite at the air passing between
your arm and ribcage, skinned

and jacketed
covered in water, can you
stop thinking

you are such a forest, moving
toward the moon
the top of your head breaking clouds

fish jaw

i will talk
under a mouth bone
artificial structure added
but unable to chew

through, thumbs for teeth
plucked at the joints or
cherry picker

will i talk
nice words about you and your
pretty bacteria
unseen on my swinging

knees bent in unmovable buck,
hip tall boots
grabbing at river darts

show me your true talk
over in the shallow
where the river moves slow


beard poem

the jaw angle hangs fat

do you still believe in ten
commandments?

were my hands any stronger
i could hurt you easy by saying it

look up words
to say

say, the part of me that hurts is
every part

so i eat less--

heroin is nothing to me, me.
unless i want to 'come in my pants'

and i told you about this
train, i said you took

but you took absolutely
nothing from me, the haves

my dirty underwear maybe
my loneliness

or the spit
on my hands

to grip the grip tighter
to nail it

to leave my face
at home.


station

so you faked the sad parts, my arms
cry big boat-
load the shoulder, making turn
after turn, after

you notice my lack of ampersands
and teeth
the venom kind, kind of like
poetry is not.

sand on the cement for slip
controlled behavior
in the lost pit of Midwest territories

cabin fever'd and
name yourself log-hands

cry, and cry until your brain fizz'z
interlock
knuckle bones
mention to me more about this secret
world you got


drive after we

your phone thing walk-
talkies to my phone thing,

using phone words
hey, and um

breathing, but the shoes don't get used
or the snow works like rain on them

finding plants with names
pretend we know

i wait for your pillow to say
face, you are lovely

or i just whisper this in a poem
about the interstate hours

be dead air for awhile
pretend we know that too

hear sounds others make
bathing and washing off travel

go home
maybe, for the speed in my ankle turn

let it be anywhere
back in a small room with a smaller bed

feel occupation

is what you said or to feel
as if its fur on me
and sounds like rain drops or
all these boys,
always a boy there
grabbing little marshmallow-hands
at a nip,
or things that sparkle,
singular as you
nest at the end of a bar, fully clothed
just
make it work,
the boy says sometime later on
as if words will do

on the slope of Nebraska

in me, Nebraska
shaped the way i see you
just waking on your front side

write you a letter
in my mind
say, i saw you once and remember it

cross the Missouri River again
i always look down
to see what is floating

every thought, you think
i could pretend
not to know what i knew of you

mist, over sand hills
where the cranes
make it back

all this silly travel,
talking about our day jobs
listening to the same sounds

your chin i think,
where the Indian caves are

there to go

i bought you a waterbed said
it was not an ocean
but i still surf

when i was naked
you smiled

i still am
laying naked on the driveway

i wished for a window to sneak away with my smoking
or all sky
for my space travel

find
moons everywhere

slow walk apocalypse

holding a body—
sometimes i am an asshole

the eye’s slits
cum in the clean jeans

trapped by environment
look like a baby

whole lives
ahead of us like ground water

drown your body rubbed soft
red at the nubs or trying lungs

even with a second body,
in case there is no one tomorrow

quiet you, quit--
squint at the sun. say sun.

i’m not dancing, i'm blind,
i’m not ready for the swing--

deck me,
break all my fine china

digging a hole through earth
to china, easy does

the other side, the other
Chinese lives, where.

so the body
keeps growing

does it shit,
we wait to see--

or ass, or bottom
of a beautiful barrel, apples

slice things with knives
ask why i always carry knives

“there are a lot of stabbings
in Grand Island.”

so scary, so wounds cut,
chop noise from cat alley

the sun is increasing in size
night slowly, paw.

am i right,
can you see the dust settle

watch the echo,
bouncing space debris off

past lovers, a fuck
reflections of people you think

talk to yourself
with this new body you found

looking alone with her
wrapped around you.

forgot the words, or
only remembered poems

about falling space dust
ricocheting off some body

turning over and over in your awake
sleep, pretty when you

no, snoring is love,
no this unattractive pile is love

my love, dark as space between
another sun

dust on emptiness, you
you, and the grass growing

under the snow
the beard with all twigs

being afraid of people leaving
or wanting to

lost in a world like china,
not unlike the attractive middle of Nebraska

the arms don’t know their chest
well, imploding

she thinks it’s useless to talk to them
but still talks to them.

nature poem

laugh at the thought of my voice being sunshine
or picture me gentle
holding baby animals in my uncoarse arm ends
wearing the darkest sunglasses ever made
wishing everyone was doing that

self medicate

this isn't easy
the constant shock of shock therapy

your lake face
bright rash red scale

the picture still smiles when you go crazy
it's the water watering

the grass, grass, and the grass growing
take a look at my hands they aren't melting

they aren't fake
you can sell me your happy waves

your moon
controlling my ocean

damn tide even shaping my eyes, which way
i never knew the wind

would carry the clippings
turning brown quickly without water

hiding the lights from dimming
electrocution is not an idea forming.

Spicer

that marvelous finger
he gave it
after being asked to take back comments made
on ted Williams’ contribution to the bosox
i was there he said
i was there when he gave it
but it wasn't worth a goddamn thing
if you want to win the pennant
and my poetry does

water displacement 40th attempt

melt my face to the ocean floor
with ocean lava, tell them
my father is dead almost
i love everyone who touches me
get the fucking axe for these tree poems
cut the jokes from my chop
i can zen in my pants while you grind me
meat from my knees
but i want you to know
my arms are your arms
knuckles to where there are no knuckles
or this stupid water displacement
that i keep trying


water displacement 40th attempt

my quack won't echo no matter how many times i quack
or i'm crying like a baby boy, do you see my wet face
rigid cheeks of me making a new me
trying to get rid of the person everyone sees

i swallow gum
one day my stomach will stretch into it's own baby
or i spit down my throat to dilute the blood draining
not quite a pint daily

filter the water through napkins
that i grab handfulls of at local restaurants
so i can hydrate without the fear
of what ever i should be afraid of in old pipes

i am a small thing and only getting smaller
if you can see past the dying body filling itself with insulation
and realize that the words i say
mean nothing other than what i have failed to do


coriander nipple ocean sunset.

hey girl jogger where did you get your
desire to jog
how wet is the ocean
or the small of your back
my licked eye-balls

have you ever won a free cruise
oh wait
did i see you on that free cruise
to barbados
were you that girl who wouldn't stop jogging


gaps

there is so much time to be june as a porch-swing
leave the days where the days go

where there was water
sunk the egyptians or swallowed the earth

but my mouth is wide open with words
to buzz away with its' bits

confronted by what i say i see
or the eyes, where they were forgetting space

vague shadows from sun behind moon
when your finger points to a godless sea

or a line from each knuckle
lining somewhere with no knuckles

mathematics

shaking in your no boots
carry water to the ocean

increase the size of the air
ask paul how tall a celebrity is

like i wonder how tall nick cage is
or i wonder how tall yao ming is
or i wonder

why
she ran away

to the ocean
with all these buckets of water

and i wonder
where she gets all of this water

polluting the salt soup
killing all the fish with purity

or whatever you call it,
go tell it

on the mountain
where there are no mountains

like nebraska
or like anything in my mind

shut-up-i'm-talking
about romance, about it being all quiet

about my nerves fucking up everything i do
about hating the sex of it

thats the truth
i'm going to white out my back brain

places where i remember places
like going there

like a car crash that i remember
because i told the story so many fucking times

i'm bored of that story
and the mountains i tell it on

but here i can see
taking water from one ocean

to fill up another ocean
is stupid.