AMERICAN GOTH

i baked
i robot
my wires rr fried
i want you to pretend you are
Abraham Lincoln's son
cut my neck with your beautiful beautes
i can bleed poems
or jumbled hello this is justin again's
across the mirror
i am joking
my thudder away away
far into the bay
a real dinger
my foulpole smile
aim a rocketship into my beautiful face
beautiful or beautiful or how can i tell you
the way you wave
a grain field only loves the wind
my veins don't have much dirt in them
i stopped growing
tall
but the fruit returns for now
it makes great juice
the rest of the tree
might be useful
as a totem tall with a kick ass eagle on top
call me MR.
or call me and i answer
or darling
can you tuck your head under my chin
and listen

i really like the song
do you know
do you know
do you know
the way
to san jose

and the beautiful air even in a city like portland,
I think well she is obviously the most beautiful one.
They are both so absolutely beautiful and so slightly different and so much in themselves.
The shine of a beautiful day…
and he tells me I’m so beautiful,
and then they say You’re beautiful,
it could be beautiful.
It got its namesake by the beautiful color of the water.
And the room turned a beautiful amber.
These melancholy beautiful photos of people.
How beautiful
this is too beautiful.
And there was the darkening twilight and the chirps of beautiful, unseen singers.
At home in beautiful atticroom
the beautiful breeze & warmth of sun
saw a beautiful little snake,
she gave me a beautiful dark blue gown and in it I feel like Barbara Stanwyk

and the beautiful air even in a city like portland,




I think well she is obviously the most beautiful one.



They are both so absolutely beautiful and so slightly different and so much in themselves.



The shine of a beautiful day…



and he tells me I’m so beautiful,



and then they say You’re beautiful,



it could be beautiful.



It got its namesake by the beautiful color of the water.



And the room turned a beautiful amber.



These melancholy beautiful photos of people.



How beautiful



this is too beautiful.



And there was the darkening twilight and the chirps of beautiful, unseen singers.



At home in beautiful atticroom



the beautiful breeze & warmth of sun



saw a beautiful little snake,



she gave me a beautiful dark blue gown and in it I feel like Barbara Stanwyk

UN MILLIARD


i have been collecting bananas from the breakroom
they are the nature in here
i am listening to the dead stars speak
billions of miles away
i was wasted at a built to spill show a few years ago
and i thought of you
but the light
has only now arrived on the moon
middle of a desert
or swimming holes in backyards
yr sweaty in the swim wear
yr twist in nest twig in hair
i come from a long line of fallers
maybe i'll eat this banana
call you in a few time space gap
look at how
handsome a voice sounds
when there are nothing but poems
coming from my chest
i broke vibration
purred my ribs to sand
and melted my entire torso
to build a glass torso
there are all these bananas
around me
it's like i am
in donkey kong country
i have
so much time
to find your hands in the air
my blurry vision
my afraid of sad
or you leave again and again
every time there is nothing
that i knew
i realize several years later
what i mean
what i wanted to say to you
twenty years ago
smash these fruits to a pulp
mash into any mashed banana food
have you seen me
have you made out with me at a wedding
have you swam in fresh ground water
it's lovely

SUBWAY

i ate the entire tube
of toothpaste
to clean away the tar
i shuck from my rowed teeth
it is 3:45 P.M. 100 DEGREES FARENHEIT
on monday
i have not seen fall for a long time
or am falling
i miss the times when you are not speaking
in my ear
i am eating a footlong chicken breast subway sandwich
with no cheese pickles cucumbers spinach tomatoes
banana peppers vinegar and honey mustard
on honey oat bread.

KILLING TIME



how fast does a train go
when a train is no longer falling
i have never been in salt lake city
i have never walked on water
but i saw it the last time i came to boise
but ice is everything
my ringer did not go on
and i did not hear this
and your voice is in my ears
hawks and falcons are hawks and falcons
i guess you should know
that i never learned to swim through sky
what you call them
what everything used to be
when downtown used to be
where downtown people used to be
i would rather live
in a horse pasture
than in a strip mall
because i don't care
about conditioned air
what is your dogs name
what does he call you
what else were you going to say
i woke up too
i am sober too
i hope the pain in your stomach is gone
i am going to smoke a cigarette

HUCKLEBERRY



the heat is gone or just waiting
i dont drink whiskey every day
but here is the ice you need
to prepare for your middle age
to say good good good
to my patted head
the lick of thinned hair curled
behind my ear
i can french braid my beard
or by a horse and ride it to the top
of a hill in october
i am still talking to you
dont you know who i am
still a flyrr
whrrring-ing-ring
am i enough to hold down the liquor poured
my hemingway-grave
hands blister from shovel handle
i cannot take the place of youth
i won't be a bridge to the moon
but take what is left in my labored lungs
my marrow tastes sweetest
when you leave it in the sun all day
or sit next to me
with our feet in the river
seeing a face
but not touching it

LAVA
for magma


i am in lincoln nebraska
my heart only bleeds when you open it
i screamed gin blossom lyrics
at a bar in omaha
how much of what i say
makes it to you
i was excited to go through tunnels
in west virginia
on the way back from the beach
the ocean is terrifying
i haven't said a word
to my father in over a year
and he tries to kill himself
and that sort of thing hurts me
i don't want people to feel
sorry
i am sorry
please forviv me
yr turqouise
i am i am the shades of a wasp
i am smoked in
i am in SP CE
listening to third eye blind
writing you a poem
did you write today
i am 28
and i forget
to drink
water
will you math me
will you hold my hand at the edge of a mountain
cliffs or the beach or the ocean is sky
my eyes are barely no years old
but i hear
or i can't listen from here
the wind over nebraska
lifts the cranes to other planets
kyle to the moon
you can call me
or i dont know why anyone would
imagine being stranded on a desert island
with your southwestern kitsch
am i missing south dakota
how do you say coyotes
what color are the hills on the moon
all these 90s hits i hear
break my heart
break my heart
break my heart
with a hammer
with the fist of rocketships
i am dreaming of clean water
but i cant dig deep enough
the earth wont open
where i am dry
is it too late tonight
are we just going
to skip to the end
i am asleep
i just woke up
it's nice to see you again

$$$



LISTENING TO PEOPLE EAT FOOD OUT OF PACKAGES
LISTENING TO PEOPLE EAT FOOD OUT OF PACAKGES
LISTENING TO PEOPLE EAT FOOD OUT OF PACKAGES
CRUNCH
I KNOW EVERYTHING THAT IS INSIDE OF ME
I CAN CHART AND GRAPH AND THINK AND DIE
LOOK AT THE SUN
LOOK AT HOW UNFUTURISTIC THE SUN IS
THE FUTURE HAS ALREADY HAPPENED
OR I DON'T CARE
CRUNCH
I AM WORKING REAL HARD
I AM WORKING REAL HARD
I AM WORKING REAL HARD
BOSS
I AM SO HARD
CRUNCH
BOSS
COUNT HOW MUCH VITAMIN A
COUNT HOW MUCH RIBOFLAVIN
COUNT HOW MUCH SUGAR SUGAR SUGAR
SUGAR SUGAR SUGAR SUGAR
CRUNCH
KEEP YR CAKE IN YR MOUTH
THERE IS A DAMN
IN EVERY RIVER
FOR A REASON
MY EYES ARE FLOODING
MY ASS IS SHAKING
I ONLY EAT ORGANIC ALIVE BODIES
I AM MUNCHING ON A BAG OF SMALL PEOPLE
WHO NEEDS TEETH
WHEN I CAN SWALLOW YOU WHOLE
CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH
NOW I AM TRASH
OR HAVE ALL THESE PILES AROUND ME
LISTENING
TO DEAD PIGS IN DEAD PIG PENS
AS IF A PIG CARES ABOUT WHO LIVES AND DIES
AS IF A PIG CARES ABOUT WHAT GOD MADE HIM
AS IF A PIG CARES ABOUT MARIJUANA
HE SCREAMS FROM HIS TIGHT HOLE IN THE DARK
LEGALIZE IT
LEGALIZE IT
LEGALIZE IT
I WISH I COULD GET MARRIED
I WISH THERE WAS A PIG DREAM
WHERE ALL PIGS ARE CREATED EQUAL
TODAY
IS ANOTHER
DAY
AND WASTE AND I AM WASTED
HALF A LIFE
HALF A TIME
HALF A BLOATED PIG CORPSE TO MAKE
DELICIOUS BACON
OR FUCK THE POLICE
OR FUCK THE WORLD
OR FUCK ALL THESE RULES THAT MAKE YOU
FEEL SAFE
WE ARE NOT SAFE
WE ARE FLOATING IN SPACE
THERE IS INFINITE DARKNESS
THE SUN IS SLOWLY NOT GIVING A FUCK
ABOUT WARMTH
AND I FEEL
I HAVE BEAUTIFUL FEELINGS
THAT COME AND GO
LIKE I COULD WRITE A POEM ABOUT
HOW MY HANDS ARE ALWAYS THE SAME
EVEN WHEN THEY ARE BABY HANDS
EVEN WHEN THEY ARE DEAD HANDS
SHAKY SHAKY SHAKY
I WON'T PULL THE TRIGGER
I WON'T PUSH THE RED BUTTON
THAT SAYS FUCK SHIT UP
BUT I WILL DANCE
ON THE GRAVE
OF THE SUN
AND WISH
THE
PIGS
ARE
HAPPY
LIKE HOPE IS FLOATING
LIKE I AM ON A BOAT
LIKE MONEY OVER EVERYTHING
MONEY ON MY MIND
I HATE MY JOB
THE PIG SAYS
BUT NOBODY
IS LISTENING
TO POETRY
ANYMORE
AND I AM LATE FOR MY JOB
AND I AM GOING TO GET FIRED
AND I AM UNEMPLOYED
AND I AM SO SCARED
OF NOT BEING ABLE
TO AFFORD LIVING
LIKE THIS FAKE SHIT
WITH ALL THESE NUMBERS
DEFINES THE EXISTENCE
OF ANYTHING
FUCK MONEY
FUCK MONEY
FUCK MONEY

i put on my gasoline suit that i keep on hand
in case i need to prove something to the universe
i can't get drunk enough to not weep
and i will never remember to ever go
on rollercoasters or strip clubs or vacation
countries where i don't speak the language
my mouth just opens and closes with foam
my stupid eyeballs turn air into ocean
my furnace is only magma inside me
press my face against the cold sun
feel the sweat on my tongue cool blood
feel warmth pass from skin to star to my burning body

CRAIGSLIST POEM



i was going to write a poem
it was going to be a sonnet
but not a real sonnet
if
you give a shit
about what is real
but then
instead
i went to craigslist
to look at furniture for sale
couches
or whatever
i can stuff in this sweet new pad

WATER

i forget to drink water


i forget to gush


i forget that i river


i forget where i go



hello



i used to drive drunk all the time
if she was somewhere else
i would  change my molecules

does glass turn to water
on the sun


when i ate spaghetti and drank a lot of whiskey
and threw up in the sink
and then went to your birthday party
on my bicycle

you know i wanted to never be fat
or lose at raquet ball to you or you or anyone

hell i dunno about gasoline suits
or anything about wearing liquid

but i am made of mostly
nothing
and i don't know what made me
or the mud

IT'S SMOKE AND MIRRORS
a boomed voice bloats
the clouds
are so
pretty
and
shit

LISTENING TO THE CURE RIGHT NOW


joke about my own death
mentioning how many times i refresh thedeathclock.com
in layman's poems i am gross i am a smokestack
i am going to crumple in on myselfish
my worst worsts
wrist wrenching my hands just throw up
all over a keyboard
i can type i dunno how many words per minute
like i got through the educational system
unscarred
i took a lot of physical education classes
growing up
but who the hell knows
what i put in my body
gall knows gosh knows
but i have chest pains when i don't see her
heard about web MD
they said there is no cure
but i am listening
to the cure
right
now

YES WES



would walk through your sweaty sun
in a poetry suit
to burn all the money
to gas up my limo
your'e making ends meet
your ends meets the grinds
the frrty hrr wrrk week
i gotta hand
i gotta find me a new axe
i have dumb questions
for you
the chocolates i ate
i am sorry i left
that delicious ice-cream in yr freezr
kiss the chronic cough
it isn't like lying
the blood doesn't mean you got hurt
it doesn't mean it will work
the words
are a weapon
say machine gun you fucker
yr hail is pounding the hood of my car
i have dings all over my chestbrain
the desert
is growing
forget this i am sad for not cumming
and slide the poems on
one leg at a time
addaboy you gotta brother now
a stone cold pimp
i mean i uh
wont drown if you ask nice
wont dunk on you at your false god wedding
say can you talk to your father
say can you be in his stomach
i know love is pain
or i dont know
why i need the sun to bake
im tanner im feeling leather
she added the eeee's to make it
go down easier
didn't i tell you
when i almost choked
on the ocean

a sonnet for kyle crawford

 

we're drinking because we have time to drink
what is Kyle short for why is Kyle so short
you think love is enough to love enough
of us the losers the lame duck high jumpers
i am so high all day and i am afraid of running
water do you spell my name out in the mirror
do you say i do not miss you i only wish you
were in my belly singing a song about sunny
meadows or something pleasant that buzzes
through the skin like a billion bees fucking
crazy man all those bees in your stomach
flying around making you gush with honey
natures nature farm growing in your eye--
brows and the sprinklers turned on full blast

a sonnet for ryan jenkins


YOU LOOK LIKE THE TALL GRASS LOVES YOU
HOW MUCH DOES IT COST TO BE SAVED
LETS SMOKE THESE SPECIAL CIGARETTES
AND WALK AROUND IN THE GARDEN
TAKE MY PICTURE
SO I REMEMBER HOW YOUNG I AM
WHEN I AM FRUMPY WHEN I AM OLD AGED
THE MEAT JUST TASTES GOOD
THE DEMOCRATS ARE GOING TO FEED US
I HEARD YOU SAY THE F-BOMB YESTERDAY
I HEARD YOU CUT YOUR WRIST REAL BAD
I WISH THERE WAS
A GIANT BUTTON YOU COULD HIT
WHEN YOU WANTED ANYTHING

the hotel was great bc we had 6 people in 2 beds
and i and alejandra on the fold out couch
i do love spinning
i do love having sex before everyone else wakes up
i am thinking
of how fat and old i am now
and that relationshi

look imma lunatic i smell the sun
i would walk through hellina gasoline suit to write poems
for you the morning and i eat pancakes
thick cut bacon marbled w/ gorgeous pig fat
if the bartender can't make you a pina colada
i will tip him until he can
i am a terrible lover
but you can have all of me
the storm is the silence
the wind wind and the wind blowing
distance is no hurricane
if someone was surfing another galaxy
the space between us is nothing
we are so close

HIDE


nothing i say is fucking retarded
the banana poem i sent you is not fucking retarded
it is about
I AM THE BANANA x3
i don't think
either
or i don't know anything is what anyone says
but i am going to say
beautiful bananas
i am going to peel poetry
i am going to wear poetry like a cape
a fur coat
a bear rug
i am going to peel poetry
from my skelly
make a hammock
or something else

i know what the fog means, and cats fucking
catch them and sell them on craigslist for drug money
or what other men want when they want and some
the phone is disconnected the phone is off the hook
i am just ignoring you and a father blows smoke
think about Amanda trying to deconstruct my brain
know that Chicago made ME go bald
but that is not why i am crying about
it's this fog that i know
it's a ballpark figure of a woman
i am guessing and start to gamble more
i am saying I LOVE YOU to Lake Michigan
but nothing lasts she says
while the cats keep fucking for no reason

was another poet and an i am sorry
then lets get stoned on the bus to chicago
i am going to eat the marrow out of everything
swallow animal swallow what is no longer living
I DON'T WANT MY MONEY... look at me
taste my breath when the spirit leaves
i am half me when me and pill and drink
i am not driving anymore
i am not watching where i am going to stop
the death i sing of is not a real death
she is a sleeper
she is a tooth
hold her in the back of your chimp chomp
where you don't need to remember

Jake was in the bathroom. Sirens blared through the wind. The hotel building heaved in the storm. Tad had moved him into the bathroom because he didn't know what else to do. He cried. He took two Vicodin from a pill bottle he found in Jakes pocket. Tad remembered reading a sign about what to do in a Hurricane. He remembered that it said all emergency personel would leave the island. He remembered thinking how strange that seemed. His phone wasn't working. Jake was in the bathroom propped up in the shower.

Tad got up from the floor corner where he had been sitting to look out the window. There was water in the parking lot below. He couldn't see much farther out. He didn't see anyone outside. The phones were disconnected. He remembered the sign saying the phones would be disconnected. Tad could see his motorcyle. He had ran out into the storm half an hour ago to tie the bike to a palm tree.

He tore the page from the phone book at the booth on 24th st. He ran past Damen Liquor. He ran past the vacant home. No one had lived there for over a year. The windows were boarded up in front where neighborhood kids had thrown rocks at the house. He breathed harder than he e He got home, to the house they were renting, and burst through the door. Mark was laying on the floor.

dialogue

"chuck's havin' a party out at his cabin"

"man, chuck is always havin' parties"

"he said he was going to have a band out there"

"man, that'd be nice to be as loaded as chuck"

"yeah, man chuck's got a lot of money"

"man, i gotta meat this chuck"

WALKING TO WORK BY THE GOVERNORS MANSION

wiping my cheeks with the long hair i thought about shaving
this morning. i think what if i looked a little better.
what if my parents weren't poor and i didn't knock
all my teeth out one summer. and what if i didn't have
some mental problem. i don't know if i do. it just makes
sense. like my dad wanting to kill himself. i guess. whats the
water i have been drinking. what am i thinking.

i want to stand in front of a sprinkler
one around the governors mansion

the news announced that people should conserve water
but his lawn is so damn beautiful. every morning
i walk by and see several men taking care of this
fucking beautiful green lawn.

i want to sit casually, leaned back, in a large comfy chair
talking to my banker about my investments.

i want a boat house.

i want all crimes to be punished by
desert island like leave them all there
like they all become cannibals

fine and young and i wonder what a vegan
tastes like
i wonder how many crimes are committed
by vegans

i wonder what me as a cannibal would
be like if i would still write poems

scrawled on the backs of my last meal.

The old man sat out on his deck with a bottle of scotch and an unopened pack of Winston's. The scotch was open and almost empty. The sun was still up because it was mid July. The old man couldn't stay up much later. He left the cigarettes and shuffled back into his home. He lived in a trailer on short stilts along the beach. A neighbor had built the deck for him last Summer.

It was too far of a shuffle to the bedroom so the old man slowly sat down on the orange sofa. It was still covered in cat hair even though the cat had been dead for years.

The old man put the bottle down next to the couch. The windows were open and he could hear the waves crash along the coast. The old man briefly thought of the turtle nest he had spotted a year ago. He wondered if it was a year ago. He loved the sound of the ocean.

The old man woke up two hours before sunrise. He had done this since he moved here. The old man pulled a flannel blanket up to his chin and listened. He wanted to look at the picture he kept on top of the t.v. but he knew he couldn't see it from here. So he closed his eyes. He could see it clearly this way.

The old man woke around 4:45 in the morning. It never took him long to get up, even when he slept on the couch. He poured himself a cup of cool coffee that he had made the day before. The old man worked on a crossword puzzle he had started last Saturday. He held his coffee in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other. He would put the cup down briefly to scratch his face from time to time. 48 Across was giving him trouble.

"Gambler's plunge," he scratched his face. The old man would not give up. But he knew wars were won with small victories. So he put the crossword away and put a coat on. He slipped on a pair of rope sandals next to the couch and picked up the scotch bottle. He had bought the sandals from a boy the last time he went to Mexico. The old man smiled.

He opened the door. The glow of sun reaching around the Earth's curve seemed new to him every morning. Probably due to his fading vision, he thought. Every morning he thought that. He stood there for a while, letting the breeze enter his body. He was half the size of himself thirty years ago.

The old man picked up the pack of Winston's and put them in his breast pocket. He started walking down the North Carolina coastline towards where he thought the sea turtle nest was hidden. The glow from the east began to increase slowly and the wind from the sea started to warm. He closed his eyes for most of the walk. He forgot about the sea turtles.

"Gambler's plunge," he mumbled.

He could hear the water and feel the sand. But his mind was in another place. His eyes were closed and he enjoyed being sober. He thought of the woman for a moment. But even she was fading. He knew the beach. He had his unopened pack of Winston's. He knew the sun was rising.

The old man's foot kicked a beer bottle on the beach. He bent over slowly to pick it up and then walked over to where he remembered there was a trash bin. He tossed the bottle away and noticed a young man sliding his pants on. He shook his head slightly and turned down the beach.

The sun was peaking over the horizon now. It looked the same as always. The old man reached into his jacket pocket and found his glasses. He breathed on them and wiped them off with his shirt. He looked back towards the young man sitting in the sand and could see him. The young man was still sitting there looking out to the sunrise.

The old man felt around in the jacket and pulled out a .357 magnum that was zipped inside the jacket. He flipped the barrel of the gun to see it was loaded and pointed it towards the sun. He fired a shot. The old man grinned. He turned to see the young man staring at him now. He fired off the rounds in the pistol. He threw the pistol out into the ocean. Without looking back at the young man, he turned to keep walking down the beach.

"Gambler's plunge," he said.

The old man had a smile on his face. He closed his eyes. He didn't give a damn. He reached into his pocket and opened the pack of Winston's. He held the pack up to his nose and breathed in the tobacco. He loved the smell.

COWBOYS


i hate being a cowboy
what i mean is
that song by Paula Cole is bullshit
John Wayne was a shitty person
John Wayne isn't real
the Lone Ranger is a deadman
the west is dead, man
you can't pull sticks out of the mud
and build a horse
you can't call Texas your east coast
honey faucet
Paula Cole you are full of shit
go sing a song
about how full of shit you are
i am waiting.

UN MILLIARD


i am not thinking
about a few hundred
miles and years and others
and what language
to ask come out and smoke
a cigarette w me
i dont need
a lot
miss you
when i cant see your face

POEM

grab my arm
tiny hands
say lets go
lets go
run off
or walk
or stand
roll down a hill
fall down on our butts

COFFEE


this is how we destroy the world
the mud muddy face worships sun
worships the ground you walk on
walk over hot coals learn to not feel
feel the magma before lava feel the hurt
of hunger the hurt of age the hurt of
where i am going with still boy eyes
blue as a blue thing like the ocean isnt
like the sky isnt like you don't even realize
how everything is invisible its just black
on black on black on black on black
until theres a bruise or a broken chestbrain
i am sorry i am not thinking
i am not being realisitc
i do not mean
any disrespect
to you

THE OCEAN

I CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH
OF NOT BEING ABLE TO BE IN LOVE W YOU
I MIGHT EXPLODE
I WILL DEFINITELY DIE SOON
AS IF MY TIME ON EARTH IS MEANINGFUL
I WILL LEAVE W/O SAYING GOODBYE
I WILL NEVER TELL YOU I LOVE YOU
I WILL ONLY WRITE POEMS
THAT ARE FOR NOBODY
EVEN IF EVERYTHING I WRITE IS ABOUT HOW
INSIDE I FEEL RIPPED TO PIECES
RIPPED TO TWITTER CELEB DEATH
MY GOD IS A GIANT AMPERSAND
TATTOED ON DRAKES FOREHEAD
I WILL MAKE JOKES
AND ACT LIKE I AM A STUPID GUY
A WORTHLESS FLOATING BODY
WHITE WHALE
I LOVE YOU
I CAN SAY TO NO ONE
AND IT ISN'T LAME
BECAUSE THEY ARE JUST WORDS
THEY MEAN NOTHING
BUT I AM READING THIS OUT LOUD
I LIE ABOUT HOW I AM SORRY FOR TRYING TO KISS YOU
I AM NOT SORRY
IT IS ALL I WANT TO DO RIGHT NOW

THE OCEAN


make sure my shades look good
shades always look good

unless you have a mutant head
like i do

the sun swells
i pull things out of me

mostly sand
mixes with water is just sand

i am surfing
galaxies

duck low into the water after wave
feel the tide want you

i am addicted
to being alive

but i still want
the sun to swallow me

The bike swerved as Tad briefly lost consciousness. The crash of a flung beer bottle against the highway shoulder startled him. It saved his life. Jake was slumped over in the sidecar.

Jake had swallowed a cocktail of anti-depressants, hydrocodone, and butterscotch schnapps twenty minutes before the two friends took off from the Copper Penny in downtown Williamsburg. He told Tad he was going out back to piss. The Phillies had just lost to the Braves 2-1. Two runs scored off error.

Tad took side streets to avoid the police until they got out of town and onto the highway. They had a hotel about an hour south near the beach. Tad reached down into the side car to grab a beer, nearly running off the road.

"Open this for me, man!"

Jake was slumped over. He had been dead for almost half an hour.

"HEY!" he tried breaking the top of his beer bottle over the side of the bike.
It worked, but it caused him to swallow a few pieces of glass that would eventually get lodged into the wall of his small intestine.

When they arrived back at the Captain's Inn, Tad carried Jake up to the hotel room and dropped him on the floor. He grabbed three more beers and walked to the beach. It was about 4:00 a.m. and incredibly quiet in the small tourist town. Tad took off his clothes before he got to the sand, clumsily trying to drink.

He dropped all of his things in pile and ran out into the water. It was cold but he was drunk. He was naked but he was drunk. Salt water splashed into his beer but he kept drinking. Tad eventually threw up in the water around him. A wave splashed everything back into his face.

"GOD DAMMIT!" Tad tossed an empty bottle out into the dark, screaming. Something had brought him here. He lost three grand on the game. He coughed violently for a few seconds.

Tad texted Jake's phone: Hert m an Wakle th FUCK up
Jake's phone began vibrating back in the motorcycle sidecar. He had eight missed calls.

Tad grabbed a beer and went back into the water. He was looking for a fight. He wanted to be pummeled by the waves. He wanted to be knocked out like his friend.

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!", again and again. Surprisingly nobody woke up. Nobody could hear him over the ocean. He drank another beer and laid on the beach near his pile of things. From his pocket Tad pulled a joint he had rolled earlier in the night. It was bent but still smokable.

The wind on the beach made it difficult to light the joint. Tad got up and wandered down the coastline to find a barrier. There was a sign with rules painted on it. He hid behind it. After a few attempts the joint lit up and Tad took a long drag. He held the smoke in his lungs as long as he could. It only took a few puffs and the weed was gone.

It took him until near sunrise before he found his things. An old man walked by on the beach but did not pay any attention to Tad as he was sliding his pants back on.

The old man could barely see and didn't even realize Tad was there. As he was walking by, the old man kicked a bottle with his foot. He picked it up and walked to a trash can near by to throw it away. He saw Tad at this point but did not acknowledge him. He turned and kept walking.

Tad was still a little stoned when the sun started to come up. Now he was happy he did not pass out. He brushed sand off his phone to text Jake:

this is awesome

there is water in the cup but then drinks all the water
there is no water in the cup but then fills it with water

FEELING AWKWARD OUTSIDE MY APT. AFTER WALKING HOME FROM THE MOVIES


i'm not not empty
i'm glad you're not mad i tried to kiss you
i'm not full of slime
my blood is just a normal human blood
i have no idea what type i am
i type i am
i have consumed three hundred and seventy calories today
i am getting used to hunger
i am getting used to wither
i am getting used to shrink
i am getting used to my eyes exploding when i see you
i am getting used to less sun
i am getting used to less sleep
i am getting used to over a thousand miles
i am getting used to ocean
i am getting used to long hair
i am getting used to don't care
i am getting used to not being a Buddhist
i am getting used to loneliness
i am getting used to no fast food
i am getting used to stupidity
i am getting used to loneliness
i am getting used to driving too fast
i am getting used to paying my bills
i am getting used to loneliness
i am getting used to poetry
i am getting used to Barack Obama
i am getting used to the end of heroes
i am getting used to loneliness
i am getting used to coming up short
i am getting used to having a lawyer
i am getting used to your slime
i am getting used to texting you nice things
i am getting used to nothing in return
i am getting used to bullshit
i am getting used to loneliness
i am getting used to 3D movies
i am getting used to wanting to write short stories again
i am getting used to not talking on long drives
i am getting used to fighting
i am getting used to sober
i am getting used to cancer
i am getting used to bald
i am getting used to teeth
i am getting used to the beach
i am getting used to not showering
i am getting used to loneliness
i am getting used to wearing button ups
i am getting used to Ludacris
i am getting used to saying stupid shit
i am getting used to not talking to my dad
i am getting used to everyone getting tired of me
i am getting used to water
i am getting used to sinking
i am getting used to feeling empty
when i am not empty
i am not a slime box
i am not bones and a soul
i am not a man or a boy or a son or a god
i am not god
i am not god
i am not god
teach me how to survive i guess
teach me how to be lonely
teach me how to be more zen
teach me how to speak french
teach me how to not kiss you
teach me how to be not not empty
my body is buzzing
its like
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
i am sober
i am a little bit high
i am tired
of the way you are beautiful
the way time runs out
the way i write poetry
the way i read nothing
the way i am nothing
the way my worthless body feels in an ocean
so weak
i am so god damn weak
i cry at my job sometimes
i feel pretty stupid about that
you said it was sweet
but i dunno
what that means

THE OCEAN POEM


also called diamond also called Bawitdaba
also called steam pool also called the way
to hell

she drinks it and then he drinks it too
because he is an idiot maybe
because he loves her and things

they both get sick
puking like pelicans in oil
and the gulls creep closer

KABOOM
the big toilet heaves
"DO NOT DRINK ME"

and so we are bronzing
and so we watch the bikinis
and so the lifeguards race

because nobody is dying here today
even when aug swims out
as far as he can

and god i am so scared of sharks
or anything alive
"DON'T TOUCH ME"

and it really sucks that i am a bad swimmer
i mean i can sort of look stupid
and stay up but i hate looking stupid

sufers never look stupid
sufers are always cool
even if they are only surfing in their minds

respect the wave
endless fuck you up shit
KABOOM

but then you start to like this
constant pummel
the hand of demigawd grabbing

go on says the song
"hit me with your best shot"
let me see what hell awaits

the sun is a sleeper
the sun is a scorcher
the sun is a ball of gas

FIRE AWAY

DRINKING COCKTAILS AT APPLEBEES JULY 8 2k12

the best is
i would write one million poems
about you and stop
breathing sunbeams

the best is
i kiss your ear
then go up stairs to my apt.
and listen to sad songs

the worst is
i text you how i feel
i text things like
i am just happy to spend time w you

the worst is
defining realistic
measuring how far the moon is
from a spaceship launchpad

the best is
you will put up w my stupidity

the worst is
you say it was sweet of me but

the best is
miles are meaningless

the worst is
time

the best is
more poems

the worst is
more poems

the best is
more poems

the worst is
the best is

OCEAN


i wander roads that lead to beach
drunk off local beer and grocery store wine
spend time
how high a skyscraper
do you climb to see the sun
sweaty globe i am naming things
i am tweeting jewel lyrics
at a quarter to three somewhere
on the interstate in indiana
going through hoosier national forest
there are trees everywhere
that is not the Great American Desert
not Nebraska where you are and i was
but i wandered off or you jumped
into a life
we all came from the ocean or something
and should take time out of our lives
to walk out into the sea
measure the waves as they come
swallow us
but i cant swim
and i cant wait to see you
and i am scared
the undertow will rip my legs
the sharks will take back their teeth
that i have collected over the years
a whale or some big fish
will move past my tiny worthless body
floating or sinking
sunk
i wave my arms desperately at gulls
to pick me up
by the wounds by the eyelids
by wing
i am flying
i am the wright brothers
for roughly 38 minutes
i am out of fuel
i turn on the radio
i turn up the radio
i will sing along to songs
that women sing about being stupid in love
because thats what i want to feel

SUBURBS



whats all bloody about you
i've got a limo w/ Monica Lewinsky
or some blue dress
and enough champagne to kill ourselves
press your face against metal
numb your cheek
feel the lack of sun
leap onto your salty coat
chug a million dollars worth of soda
it's extra gluclose
it's film star Glenn Close
like in the Big Chill
when we are not young
when we can feel the breath
of younger humans breathing down
our aging necks
coat racks
for our flabby hearts
i am cool
because i am so far from the sun
got shades
got the coolest sun reflecting shades
on the block
and i am drinking champagne
and we are heading to Canada
or something
we can go swimming in a real lake
not these muddy muddy muddy holes
filled w/ vitamin water from the Vitamin Man
XXX
pour a pound of pills in me
drank the wine
tasted what the dancers taste
the blue dress is still on
Glenn Close is trying to tell you something
i start to fantasize
about jumping out of a moving car
i open the door to the limo
can smell
the grass pollen filling my lungs
feel
like a dog.

SUBURBS


i have a limo w/ Monica Lewinski
or some blue dress;
enough champagne to kill ourselves

bust the door the radio the moonroof
look at my dangling feet
their toes are feeling through the ground

WINE DRUNK ON A SUMMER NITE

howl at the moon waves
surf a hurricane
you look gravy
maybe a ball park figure
of a woman
the blond w no pants
what shooting stars think
about endless black
the want of distance
the need of quick return

SHAKING ASS AT GOD

look how 100 yrs old we are
look how mirrored we are
look at these long ropes of hair
look at my breath slow

shake the logs legs lumber
shake the snow off your arms
shake fist at mr. god
shake your ass

shake your ass

shake your ass

MEMORY-FOX



the growing i have
stems, river branch, muddy muddy muddy
enjoying something that is outrageous

with trees?
you can't go back in time

bend at the knees
feel taut in hamstring a cello
plucking at sinnew

i don't walk around cornfields
because i am a farmer
or a walker
walking to

isn't is summer
can't i sip all the lemonade

when the Super Moon
is out
i am changing

chug lightning
bugs not some fall
apart broken watch

or bark you are
peel and green is alive
at night even

when are we going
you know the trick
where you put your
ear on a track to see
if a train is almost here

fool me on my back
make me roll
my skin is dancing

i won't let you know