16 April 2012

4:20


look at me i am chill
look at me i was alive this long
look at me i am talking about civil rights on a sports blog
look at me i am making divits in the green
look at me i am drinking too much tequila
look at me my heart is uncooked hamburger
look at me i painted birds on my skin
look at me i can eat the worlds largest human
look at me i am growing my own garden
look at me i have no idea how to rollerskate
look at me i know a thing or two about Nirvana (band)
look at me i grew my hair out with no care
look at me i am dreaming
look at me i can say things in a weird voice
look at me there is a live monkey on my shoulder
look at me i have a few more days to live
look at me i am in love with loving anything
look at me i am wearing this shirt i don't own
look at me i have popcorn smell all over my clothes
look at me i am naked
look at me my hands are holding fat stacks of cash
look at me i am broke
look at me i have sugar in many forms
look at me i am drinking a diet soda
look at me i have the key to the cool kids party
look at me i have a jacuzzi on my roof
look at me i grew a sweet mustache
look at me i am a photographer
look at me i am late for work
look at me i write poetry about myself and want you to read it
look at me i am the president
look at me i am not the president
look at me i believe something you don't
look at me i am a hug machine
look at me i wrote RIDE OR DIE on my chest with a marker
look at me i voted for the green party one time
look at me i keep up to date with the media
look at me i like 3D Tupac
look at me i don't like 3D Tupac
look at me standing in line for a bad movie
look at me i can ride a bike
look at me i have no cavities
look at me learning to floss
look at me running from the cops one time
look at me running from the cops again
look at me telling you about the weekend
look at me brushing my hair in a mirror
look at me making breakfast
look at me throwing up
look at me plucking my eyebrows and nose hair
look at me starting a fire in front of my face
look at me blushing
look at me i choose to be myself at all times
look at me buying shots for my friends
look at me wanting a dog
look at me joining online dating sites
look at me laughing
look at me going to a baseball game in May
look at me on my break at work
look at me i am birthday
look at me on the internet
look at me on youtube.com
look at me i have my name on a diploma
look at me i can grow a beard
look at me i am so sad sometimes
look at me i am hungry for my own life
look at me after i listen to a voicemail from my dad
look at me and how small i am
look at me and say my name
look at me when i am smiling
look at me through a window
look at me at a distance
look at me when you can't see me
look at me
look at me
me
me
me
LOOKING AT HOUSES

i can dig dirt for nothing
i mean money

mean work real hard at looking
like working

to cry you an am sorry
for being this old and unreasonable

it's a storm i'd like to blame
and wishing to save the me

body slowly deflates
of what an i owns is just air

a sack of me's and bile and heaving
the smell of a can't swim

eyes make for slow drowning
but what is said

as if a past something
is worth more than another nothing

13 April 2012

THE AIR

if you say me i
will die

when
you hear fall

off the bone
my

favorite movie is the movie
i think

first to start thinking
have a great

weekend people say
a lot

or i will die because
something

is
shockingly wonderful

like i remember
breathing

and then the moon
and then the sun

then you
in that order

12 April 2012

IT'S A BUSINESS

if the earth stopped spinning
i dunno,
but my heart feels floppy
w/ this gravity

sink in slop when i'm toxic
in bathtubs of booze
my hands turn blue
if i stop breathing on them

it's cold and i summer
to forget what i shake for
my sun, that i own
is a great grey walrus

11 April 2012

MUSIC VIDEOS

let the dirt sleep

no tears

for anything besides a peg

lodged

the heart of always

is a muscle

forgot to garden

or eat all things without season

twilight of seeing

what i am is soil

packed by trampling hooves

with flowers reaching

out of a body i once knew
SUSPENDOERS

does this me just hold my pants up
by unbroken branches 'n mud cake
where birds lived before i spooked 'em

i trail around a bit counter wise
looking for a new universe
paint a picture in the dirt of dirt

my maps are all lost pieces of me
leavin' fur around the fence post
or some old tree i don't know well

i wouldn't shake ya know 'cept hands
or find stranger things than another person
myself i s'pose younger than i am now'days

looks like i might be travelin' for awhile though
as long as this rock keeps curvin'
and my feet remember what they're made for.

10 April 2012


spoken with my speeding i hear
comes corner
flying fuck bird
with water gushing
from my hands like a dead drowner
bloated
oily
WALL--
of waxing air vent
energy to keep pumping my hips at darkness
open chute i'm gunning
can't hear
I AM GUMMING
the rear leather
roughhandled saddle sitter
i just made that
a work-out
or why can't we just therapy each other
with squirt guns filled with air
pressure
to sneak my fingers into a key hole
pushing all the skin off
so more dead fish
we eat the poor suckers
and their souls or anything
the vast emptiness of my sex void
losing a bodily battle to poison
weaken my goose fat tongue
brittle brain cube
clumsily dying in language speak
is why i languish
over my slowly decaying ability
to be able
without breaking
my tusks off in shallow
biting at rocks in anguish
and roar as my singing can be understood
as weeping at jokes you tell me
which are the same jokes being told all over the world
i am dying i
or have died many times but my memory
of what i am and my desire of what i can be
have locked me into this nothing
not growing
never moving lost sock in the dryer
the static is numbing
i can't hear you coming
but the light shines
and then it is dark
and this happens
forever



shaving off the bottoms of my feet
i am illiterate
with my left tree and right tree
wrapped around a small field
of grass that does not grow
in yard or turf
and i am sneezing
a cloud of bees is izz

09 April 2012

YOU'RE GOING TO DIE ONE DAY

i am going to write
YOU'RE GOING TO DIE ONE DAY
on the dry erase board in my bedroom
that i am renting
FORMING


everything
like i am kissing glass
to see the print of my lips

wonder who feels
my constant breathing

food
can only be eaten one time
i guess

nothing
and not like dying

there is still long hair
and not caring

shame
me
into being kind to you

or a book you are writing
about still dying
again

locked
into freedom
a sentence about starving

the wind is blowing

the wind is blowing

the wind is still blowing
BALD BIRD

decay coastal my land
mass looks loose frayed
my call my throat
hoarse cracked mud bed
listening or is not said
with all these trees
falling behind my head



feel the shout bubble out
foamy grin coat
i quiver
lipping the rim of ocean
salt pilar through my lungs
into the blood
or great wide open
MIRROR


i look at all the parts of me that are dying
i am ugly
i am vomit
i

06 April 2012

GULF

dumb beast of lonliness

i am tired
of your lovely anger

the roar of empty spaces
pressed against my back

naked is my armor

where you are biting
perferate the map of my longing

i will take

waves from the moon is she
sleeping

around the same time
i am
HOW MANY JACUZZIS YOU GOT IN THAT B


bad boys II

is on tv

dramatic camera spinning around you for your whole life

millions of dollars looks like bath water

do you crush

it is a fist or a fistful

my mom is mixing tampaco with red kool aid

my dad is making rice in a skillet

my mom is leaving

my dad is going to die on his terms i guess

i like to hide in boxes

turn them into things

i am inside out

i am running my finger

over the mountain on this globe

bad boys II

is over
WHY CAN'T I

be amazing
be a waterfall
be jazz
etc.
WOULD LIKE TO SEE YOUR SMILE AT ME

it drains the dullness
fingertips on spine bumps
take this empty glass from me
put your prints
into my beard
leave you on me
for a long time
i want to feel your entire body
weighing me down
IT IS DARK AFTER 3 AM

don't wanna be a dip
shit
load the guilt or say why i love
loving nothing
or my grassy teeth chewing
this is a funny way to grind
cud isn't enough
to keep me a cattle boy
like to take my little time
for a drive
you could be
in the middle of nowhere
i'd still
or am standing
what i want is
just to never die
so i might get this living right
SOME DAY
hopefully i'll tell you to look me up
in a fucking phone book
BROKEN

stretch my chest over an earth
i am
milking the blood out
is just a nipple
my life being fed through a tube
you
like like me
like i scald my unmelted rib meat
meet me by the dug dirt
hidden beneath finger nails
it home
is hammering with the blunt of my foreskull
think car
rolls off the road
i always thought a ditch
would make a decent place

05 April 2012

WHEN MY MOM ASKED ME WHAT I WOULD THINK IF SHE HAD AN AFFAIR
WHEN I DRINK A DIET COKE


every hole in my body is filled with holes
riddled by sunfire of a bullshit sungod
heaping heaps of nukes inside of me
through me
get the Hell away from me and me and me and me
it burns
it makes me feel badly
like i did something wrongish
getting born
out of this nothing zone to the less than nothing zone

04 April 2012

FISH

i am not joking i am afraid
whole body buzz

spit flies and dead fruit
just tanning

all the animals
keep singing to me about a river

they want to swim down
but they can't swim
RAW MATERIAL


lovely body goes

eucalytus tree

bark long way from here

dog is

i am

seeing

drill holes in the skull

letters to wave

write i am you

several dead men again

a hand

what gives

when you shark or you don't

looks like the Earth

grinning
A VERY SHORT THING I WROTE FOR MYSELF

they let me speak
at my funeral

i was nervous

wrote a poem for the guy
said

look, i know what
you are
all thinking
but
give the guy
a break

03 April 2012

DOES GET TIRED


great i know there's a rock in my shoe

but i'm almost home

change i guess

is jinglin

look in every direction

at the cow just bein cow

you heard

of the gold out west

or does my slow syrup get ya

liquor'dup

you see my coolness by boot hip

my shifting grass

how easy dancing can be

when you let it

well i'm just sittin i figure

there won't be much to learn

from being

just rock back n forth on the porch

til you fall asleep awhile

and maybe you wake up

who knows

29 March 2012



i want to tell you
nothing is
funny
from the sun i am standing on
my feet get all sweaty
in these brand new wool socks
or he punched me
gave me a big beaut- of a shiner
said im buffing
get
and get ready
to be out of
your mother
is so
fat
makes me wobble in water
she says i am floating
but i know everything
sinks
to the bottom
of oceans
lick my elbows clean
kitty
FINGERS

around a stone
slider
skipping liquid ground
my feet
are on ice
and is them
pointing
fuck you
stranger
i can feel in you
your throat
rolling
perfect joint
won't bleed
leak
my ass
spelunking
or clutching
piano was a
dream and
pull the roots
rubbing
choke high on the bat
place
or run
through my chest hair
kiss and suck
hold
my bones are snap
pull the knots
out
of my back
THE WATER IS MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN ME



what does the sky do

are we feeling

or wings on these arms

waxing

late for my i want you

to stay

in atmosphere

is air

my rhythm

humming through your head hair

spread my fingers

in the future

i can whistle

to let you know

where i am standing

after the sun dies

28 March 2012

BARBARA WALTERS

tell me clumsy
i am not a liar maybe
young mountain
point out the most awkward bone of me
humor my frame janked into unused
super hi-way
on the ground, a flat plain or the smoothest swamp
humming
i found is still
a mountain
just stretched out
my life
or questions about walking
how do you be?
call me graceful
i will always be alive
my voice is playing over
the internet
repeating the color of my throat
as a dense vibrating poem
i am walking
alone here
collecting
shark teeth on the beaches of Florida
so sand me
blow me a beautiful glass me
dangle the ghost
of a thousand dead fish
around my toes

INTERVIEW FOR AMANDA HUCKINS

1. WHAT IS YOUR OPINION OF THE NIKE SLOGAN "JUST DO IT" AND HOW DO YOU
THINK THAT IT HAS AFFECTED YOUR PHILOSOPHY ON PHYSICAL ACTIVITY??


i think it's a good slogan. it's a nice, bare slogan. now i'm thinking about it, and i realize that "just do it" is a rather ballsy slogan for an athletic apparel company. it is almost non-commercial, encouraging us- the public- to disregard the impulse to outfit ourselves for adventures in fitness. it could be thought of in absolute opposition to "just buy shit". like, "i know you're thinking you need new tennisshoes and maybe some kind of sweat-absorbing ipod arm holster before you hit the trail, but you need to JUST HIT THE TRAIL NOW". i'm no marketing whiz, so i'm not going to even pretend to know how this kind of thing sells stuff. maybe i'm just interpreting it wrong. i've browsed some info about nike that was in a weekly, this whole thing about nike being "found out" by wikileaks to be a company with a surprising amount of integrity/accountability. so maybe it's just pure truth and goodness that runs nike and they could pick any three words and everyone would want nike stuff.


in my own life, i agree with this slogan but its impact on my physical movements is relatively minimal. subliminal if present. i like walking places, and that's how i get exercise regularly. i go through phases of wanting to get in the habit of running but i "just do it" when i'm pissed of or feel pent up. and even then i wear 13-year-old shorts from when i played sports.

2. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE QUESTION "WHERE ARE YOU FROM?"?

i enjoy getting and giving this information, especially when there are obvious accents involved. what sucks is when the initial question gets followed up by some flat regional assumption that is completely uninteresting i.e. "where are you from?" "iowa" "lotta cows, huh?"


i always assume it to mean "geographically". like i don't ever answer this question "i'm from a middle class, loosely religious household headed by married, heterosexual parents."



3. WHERE ARE YOU FROM??

i grew up in Sioux Falls, SD. my family moved when i was 15 to Gretna, NE and i resented being made to leave my home, so i stubbornly referred to myself as a South Dakotan whenever the topic of origins came up, even into my college years when the initial resentment was long dead. over the last 2.5 years in Portland, i've devised the answer: "i grew up in South Dakota and went to school in Nebraska. i'm from the middle of the country." i say that whole thing. every time. often people will assume i am from somewhere rural, and then i have to explain that i've never lived in a town of less than 100,000 people that wasn't part of a large metropolitan area.


there's this phenomenon of people in different cities calling me their "friend from Portland" in certain contexts. that feels weird but since so many people here are imports, i kinda consider myself "a Portlander, in a sense". the move out here has had a significant impact.


4. WHERE ARE YOU GOING??

it's unclear right now. i plan to live in several more cities over the next decade, but i need to do a bit of research and also figure some things out, which is why i'm moving from Portland back to Lincoln for a while. my "ultimate goal" is to (instead of getting married and having kids and a "career" that i'm supposed to be fulfilled by) make a commune for poets to live together and rely on each other for emotional support like a family and spend their free time writing and doing poetry stuff. i'm excited about the possibility of EVERY ASPECT OF HOMELIFE being related in some way to poetry. i imagine (probably naively) that if 4-8 poets were living in a house together that would automatically happen. "here guys, we're having poetry soup for supper and afterward we're gonna do the poetry dishes. sweet poetry dreams!!"


in "anything is possible dreamworld" this would be some semi-remote subsistence farming situation and would last forever. but realistically, some iteration of this will happen in some town with a decent cost-of-living within the next couple of years and then i'll figure out something else i want to do, or continue working towards the unattainable farm thing. i found out that it's hard without thunderstorms, so i want to live in places that have them.

5. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON USING A LIFE TIME TO BE REMEMBERED?

this sounds like it's asking about whether or not i want to purposefully "do some work that lives beyond me" to the degree that i'm willing to allocate a considerable amount of my lifeforce to making sure something of me will exist when i'm dead. if that's the question, the answer is no, i'm not too worried about what will happen when i'm dead. i really want to be a good person while i'm alive, and i want to help people become better, but i'm not interested in "leaving my name" on anything, really. and furthermore i would advise anyone to concentrate on the work they do, on making sure they get satisfaction out of doing the work, rather than putting a bunch of time and pain and loneliness into something for years on end specifically in the hopes of some post-death pay off. i'm scoffing at the idea of post-death pay off, but maybe i'm actually just being selfish. no, i don't think i'm being more selfish than someone who is gearing everything towards being remembered.


it does make me sad to think that there is no way Mayakovsky knows how hard i cried during the April 12th-April 14th 1930 section of his biography compiled by Wiktor Woroszylski. i want to believe that he gets something for that, something for moving me 82 years after he stopped breathing forever. it's a nice thought but i don't think it's worth the risk to tear yourself apart during life. not that we're going to stop tearing ourselves apart during life anyways.

6. HOW DO YOU THINK WRITING HAS AFFECTED YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH OTHER HUMANS??

it is how i get around being bad at talking in most situations. and there is a multilayered history of my writing interactions (i won't go into the whole thing here, but i'll try to provide an overview). my first two loves were basically pen-pals (one for three years; the other for something like two years, but we still talk and are friends and see each other). they were both guys that i met once in real life through some common friend or acquaintance and then proceeded to have an emotionally dense correspondence, with occasional later real-world meetings. my most serious and longterm "normal" relationship was first built on a foundation of facebook messages and msn chats. i don't think i do very well with "making first impressions" a lot of the time, so when i have recourse to writing myself, i can build interactions instead of being marked "awkward" and forgotten. also, becoming a fully functioning human in the "computer age" or whatever is kind of great for me, since "chatting" is now a thing that is closer to "writing" (which i'm not bad at) than to "talking" (which i am sort of bad at, generally). then of course there are the relationships that have been built around poetry, based on a shared membership in the category of "writer" or "poet". in the past 4 years, these make up the majority of my new, lasting friendships. what i've been trying to say up to now is that, since high school, writing is in one way or another responsible for nearly all of the relationships i have with other humans. once i learned that it could actually be used as a way to find people, i have found it easier to build relationships with more humans.


a sidenote is that as my brain works now, there is a certain degree of "filtering" or "testing" new interactions based on willingness to engage with semi-non-functional modes of using language. whereas, when i was a kid, i just stayed locked up until somebody forced me to communicate with them, i now send out my own type of communication to sort of echolocate people who i might be already suited to communicate with. this tactic became available to me after i joined a "writing community" at school and got serious. it just speeds things up.


also i had a sort of breakthrough with my mom in the last two years. after lots of conversations and some key glimpses into my recent writing support group, i think she now has a really good grasp on what my "being a poet" means, and that has deepened our already good relationship considerably.



7. WHY DO YOU ENJOY WRITING COLLABORATORY POEMS AND SUCH AND HOW DOES
THAT HELP YOU AS A WRITER ON YOUR OWN?


serious, successful collaborations are relatively new for me, which is one reason to like doing them. newness. i guess me and rachael and paul did some collaborations with goog docs starting in december of 2010, and since then i've written the bulk of my present catalogue (including both collabo and independent poems), pointing to the fact that developing writing relationships seems to make me an infinitely more productive writer. one of the things i like most is being the remixer. i have enjoyed collaging in different mediums for a long time, and this really comes in handy when i'm ripping apart and re-gluing some mass of text. as you know, paul can really generate some mountains of text. he's like an ermine farm of poetry. i thoroughly enjoy skinning all that text and making coats and furniture. with rachael, although we haven't collaborated as much, i like going back and forth over a poem, hammering at each other's stylistic habits. she'll bust mine and i'll bust hers and i think we end up with something that we like because neither of us would have stood for our regular solo poems being edited the way we allow ourselves to edit each other when we make something together. it gets us out of ourselves by forcing us into each other's thoughts.


that's one of the beauties of collaborating, maybe the most beautiful beauty: it lays all of someone else's tools next to your tools, and you can just go crazy. like, i can use all of your surgical instruments ON TOP of the diesel mechanic's toolbox i've been using. with these two sets of implements we can really massacre some text. and also, it's a hands-on training for me. i might just pocket some scalpels and use them on my machines later, on my own.

overall i really enjoy the idea that i am giving up this (what i now view as) weird claim to my thoughts and words. collaborating has made me think differently (and i think much more productively) about authorship and responsibility and cooperation. WE ARE ALL COLLABORATING ON CULTURE AND THE ECONOMY ALL THE TIME!! WEIRD!!



8. WHAT IS ONE THING DIFFERENT AND ONE THING THE SAME BETWEEN PEOPLE
IN PORTLAND AND PEOPLE IN LINCOLN?


this is a hard question, because i am not some man-about-town here and i wasn't there either.


people that i was around in Lincoln and people i am around in Portland have a similar way of "creating identities out of a list of activities". i like this thing, it's concrete and meaningful. it's good when people think of themselves as being made up of the things they do, whatever those things are. and i think that there is a similar willingness to be that, instead of saying or aspiring in bogus ways. people in Portland might be slightly more committed to intellectualism and connoisseurism.


more generally:


Lincoln and Portland share this movement, this population shiftiness. in Lincoln it's because of UNL and in Portland it's because ""EVERYTHING IS BETTER IN PORTLAND"" so people continue to move here.


a major difference is that there is a greater variety of "types" in Portland than in Lincoln. it seems to me like more of everything is tolerated here, so there are like, 27 subcultures as opposed to what seems like 3 or 4 subcultures in Lincoln. or 1.


also everyone i've met in portland is an expert in at least one genre of film. i guess this ties in with the "types" thing.


9. HOW MANY OCEANS HAVE YOU "BEEN IN"?

atlantic and pacific. i only got in to my knees in the atlantic.


10. IF YOU HAD TO CHOOSE ONE OCEAN FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WHICH
OCEAN WOULD IT BE AND WHY??


the indian ocean seems like it touches all kinds of things that i want to know more about. it seems like the best ocean most likely because it isn't frozen and i haven't already been to it.



11. HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIE DRIVE? AND IF YES, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT
THE MAIN CHARACTER PLAYED BY R. GOSLING NOT HAVING A NAME IN THE
MOVIE?


yes, i saw drive. i didn't have any problem with him not having a name, partially because his jacket was his name. also, "driver" is as good a name as any. like titles of poems, a name is just something you use to differentiate one thing from another, and it's good if it comes naturally and doesn't act like a sneaky way to throw in some extra info without doing any real work. like if his name would have been "jesus" i would have ROLLED MY EYES.



12. SAY SOMETHING ABOUT NAMES.

i really love names and talking about names. i've mentioned this to a few people but i used to be really into finding baby names i liked. i have a favorites list on babynames.com that, can be dated to the end of high school because of the login email. i'm not actually planning to have children but i still like thinking about what i would name a kid. i also like to name things i own. Maud is my typewriter. even though i've only ridden it maybe four times and its tires are shot and i will never ride it again, my bike's greeness seemed to qualify it for a name: Doyle. i hated my name for a long time because it is so common and there were three amandas in my 7th grade choir.



13. WHAT ARE A FEW THINGS YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO OVER THE NEXT 5 YEARS?

the simple, preliminary commune is definitely on my mind for the near-future. i'm also starting to get really excited about figuring out whether or not sp ce could be made into a non-profit, and if not, i would like to devise something that could. i want to start teaching myself how to teach. i think this will involve convincing people to participate in a discussion group of some kind (attached to a writer's group, or not, i don't know yet) where everybody takes turns giving presentations on something they are interested in that they researched. when i get a job in Lincoln, i want it to have something to do with education, whether it's working with kids or adults.


i would also like to get some kind of certified skill. i've thought about getting an offset printer operator certificate. this seems like the most likely and most useful option if i'm going to continue with book arts. maybe i could wind up being the small printer who small presses like to work with. i imagine that being pretty awesome. i've thought about getting some kind of hand-skill certificate, you know like plumbing or mechanics, because i like to use my hands but i don't know how good i would be at that kind of thing.


it's possible that i will apply to graduate schools again in the next 5 years. the point of this next year or two is to figure out if that would be necessary for me and what field i would go into. my sister-in-law is trying to do this 14 month master's in teaching program for people with degrees that aren't in education, and that sounds cool. then there are the MFA options: poetry or bookarts or both? regardless, i need to keep making work to find out what i want to invest money in learning, or if i need to do that.




14. WHAT IS THE BEST THING YOU HAVE READ IN THE PAST MONTH?


i have spent a lot of the past month reading "the life of mayakovsky" (mentioned above) and it was like he was alive during that whole time, which was pretty wonderful. this was true even more than when i read "night wraps the sky" (a newer introduction to Mayakovsky's life and work that is fantastic and includes a lot of excerpts found also in "the life". the editor of that recommended "the life" for people who wanted more to read, and by the end of "night wraps" i did want more) last spring. similarly though, he died again when i read about the gunshot, and how the girl who was trying to live her own life and still take care of him heard it upon leaving his apartment, and her knees gave. i wish there had been more whole poems. now i just have to get a book of the poems.



15. ANSWER THESE THREE: 1. PULP OR NO PULP? 2. CHUNKY PB OR CREAMY PB?
3. PETER GABRIEL OR PHIL COLLINS?


1. no pulp
2. creamy
3. peter gabriel



16. WHAT DOES POETRY MEAN TO YOU?

jesus christ. this is going to have to be a summary. it's kind of on topic, that curse. the reason that it is kind of on topic is that poetry in a way is a kind of like god i guess, to me. what i mean is that it functions in a way that is similar to how i thought of god when i was younger and still traditionally spiritual. i've never been an evangelizer. i've always been a doubter and an arguer and an analyzer, and i have always ripped what i need out of discussions about god and left a lot up for dispute. but i have also always liked having something to talk to or ask questions of. i actually think poetry can realistically replace god in probably most sentences about god. there are whacko poets and self-righteous poets and literal interpretation poets and uneducated mystic poets and rational poets and loving universalist poets and all that the same as there are those types of religious people.


as far as i'm concerned, poetry is not poems that people have written (though that is part of the process). it is a formless mass of information that i can't interpret or maybe can't even see, but i have moments of feeling some kind of movement working through me and mining out realizations. it works but i don't really know how. studying it and practicing it makes me feel like i'm getting better at it. talking to other people who study it and practice it can be illuminating. basing my life around it is a kind of risk, but it's also how i am allowed to get around and through life. i think this is how a lot of people feel about god, and i have just transferred most of my godfeelings to poetry.



this might be bullshit, though. i'm willing to admit that upfront.

27 March 2012



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you



i am not going to believe you
INTERVIEW FOR AMANDA HUCKINS


1. WHAT IS YOUR OPINION OF THE NIKE SLOGAN "JUST DO IT" AND HOW DO YOU THINK THAT IT HAS AFFECTED YOUR PHILOSOPHY ON PHYSICAL ACTIVITY??


2. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE QUESTION "WHERE ARE YOU FROM?"?


3. WHERE ARE YOU FROM??


4. WHERE ARE YOU GOING??


5. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON USING A LIFE TIME TO BE REMEMBERED?


6. HOW DO YOU THINK WRITING HAS AFFECTED YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH OTHER HUMANS??


7. WHY DO YOU ENJOY WRITING COLLABORATORY POEMS AND SUCH AND HOW DOES THAT HELP YOU AS A WRITER ON YOUR OWN?


8. WHAT IS ONE THING DIFFERENT AND ONE THING THE SAME BETWEEN PEOPLE IN PORTLAND AND PEOPLE IN LINCOLN?


9. HOW MANY OCEANS HAVE YOU "BEEN IN"?


10. IF YOU HAD TO CHOOSE ONE OCEAN FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WHICH OCEAN WOULD IT BE AND WHY??


11. HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIE DRIVE? AND IF YES, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE MAIN CHARACTER PLAYED BY R. GOSLING NOT HAVING A NAME IN THE MOVIE?


12. SAY SOMETHING ABOUT NAMES.


13. WHAT ARE A FEW THINGS YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO OVER THE NEXT 5 YEARS?


14. WHAT IS THE BEST THING YOU HAVE READ IN THE PAST MONTH?


15. ANSWER THESE THREE: 1. PULP OR NO PULP? 2. CHUNKY PB OR CREAMY PB? 3.
untitled

look at these hands not shaking in the dark
my workmits smooth as pudding
hands out sweat hugs

i knew i was going to
butcher it

hello i mean
to be

say to your next door neighbor
anything that makes you seem closer
but still on the right side of the fence

like i am swinging
this massive tree trunk
a thousand year old stump

(i made
a handful
of investments
in the dirt
-y words
biz)

my skully thinker is a baby bird
with babyspeak words
like fuck "it"

crack is my frame shiver
shelled under constant piano hammering
golden in metal makeup only

covered in my own feathers
i can't sing
i can only get out of this cage
once or twice

or was never in a cage
meant to be

my headstone says
as you walk past it

think about that
all the technology they will have to remind you
that i
existed

or nothing to sing about
mouth an o
like we're fucking

paint a picture and defend why you
remember anything
or then i spill what's in me

unspent heroin
looking to calm my living
and the rest of what i ate
over the past 28 years

a number
then a dash
then a number

23 March 2012

SHAVED HAIR

nobody says you're going to die
when you're a kid

nobody says hurry up
because the end is around the corner

sure theres your whole life ahead of you
but

the vast emptiness of no you
is infinite

no song on repeat
no bawitdaba echoing in your skull
gobble my going gets tough
choke on marrow

the way a wild dog cums on anything
it wants

to be happy
and the sun is not sweating

my skin
is tanning hide

or be selfish enough to ask your son
to save you

and your creations
the things that die

weathered porous fat collapse
ribcage is ice crystals dropping

my pain is a kin
to your living

22 March 2012

WHAT COLOR IS YOUR HAIR

it's a time thing
it's a
forgive

my energy or my
unease
looks ugly in a photograph
looks like i am leaping out of me

there are ghosts with no
color
they say
they are blind i guess

like a t.v. or some disease
in my eyes
from sitting too close to the ocean
thinking i can hear something so big
NUMB

don't mind me
i'm just the demi-guy
in the corner
throwing up
crying
sucking pot
into my lungs

killgod is my only answer
killgod is my hope
or a vacuum

if my body could become a vacuum
with nothing
but poems
WHITING OUT STUFF ON THE INTERNET

i have
the urge
to scream
about
the holes
in my
body
the blood
i am bleeding
how i
cry because
my father
is trying
to kill
him
self
WHITE HAIR

wasn't it just a february
it never hurts

to try
understand what the hell a man is

can only be a hellish whip
snapping at

cattle-backs
and sharpen your sunken shouts

on changing
on the decay of your living

the smell of cooking fat
my arm

is on the sun
but i can not scream from the searing

my everythings
have combusted

into the darkest ash
and even that
is burning.

20 March 2012

LONG HAIR

burned into my hiding head
i burrow
or i shoot the fruit off you
my arms are jelly
sugar gooey
grr's coming from the dark is scary

i feel worthless
when you you me
hitting a wall with my head is breathing
hi i
am too short of a fuse
i can't even understand what you're saying

the doing it
my dying is not your business
my digging into my skull wall
hollow out the chest
brain

of course not
i should say
of course not
there is no reason
for me to be included
in a world
LONG HAIR

19 March 2012

GROW A PAIR

MOVE EVERY YEAR

where my breath is
hello a darling

i cut the grass
the grass is under my America

or the dirty is gushing
love mud blood oil magma

man i have a question
or hey friend can you spare a

choking on my own teeth
i like bite marks

the pink skin
marking where life hides

doesn't this costume look like
a battle-hard sweetheart

a dog is a
cute thing you don't kick

can't say i don't miss
a mutt, an honest father

just somebody who says a teacher thing
the rules of being

calling me son i guess
calling me the happiest moment

o' my air sloshing lungs plenty
ploughing through sky-earth

clouds you can point to and say
looks like a cloud
to me

15 March 2012

GET Y'R GUN

i want to be in love more than anything
i want to be in space
ships
i want my bones to slow gin
I WAS A JUMP AWAY
for awhile
my atrophy from flying
only
my arms are folded paper birds
i am buying
you an entire nebula
pouring
whisky into small glasses
to look through
shaped out of my chest
i am thinking
so step on my yard
tip toe the eggshells
so stand there
so break nothing but my ribs
with my chest brain pulsing
i can
beat the walls i build
i can
axe the forest i hide my face in
nest open
can i hear my own skull drum drop
my voice ricochets
help me
i am not seeing anything
my vision is going foggy
i have loose pills in my tummy
my god died
one time
stopped on my self lying
it is a cancer
or etched small names into my rice grain
teeth made of sugar
and cocaine
i am sniffing the glue in seams
breaking away from torso
waving red cape
at this charging blind anger
just fear of the changing
the death of my army
my back up plan
to my back up plan was
to shoot myself out of a cannon

12 March 2012

the iceman cometh

we invent a one shot time machine
i say i will go back in
time
to win lotteries
and bets on upsets
and find you
maybe
when you're 15-20 years of age
and say
i am from the future
you are
my friend
gin and tonic

i got 2 New York
likes
like i
am in the big time
say America has become
comfortable
with a white kid wanting to rap
for a living
but
you
will
live
after this
my status is
i am drinking at a bar in nebraska
i cry sometimes
when i am happy
and kick my feet out
i
invent lightning
and this drink
is my i miss you
or how else will i enjoy the jukebox
name changing instruction sheet

one of my replies was about my abnormal
bleeding
i checked yes for leaving
the body
does drugs
or does anyone say yes to the document
buy paper
buy lots and lots of paper to stuff into
boxes
creative factories
i am a genius on a genius line
or
i am a germ on a stone
the size of my ego
sand
is all over
for me to stuff my head into
packing in my
peanuts
my brain the size of dinosaurs
i got a speck of dust to launch
i got breathing to do
for now
take all this gushing
and i spit
my life
out
on a crumbling parking lot
on a fenced in fuck you humanity
a block away from
i love you's
the shiny parts of used toys
when gifts were the unwanted
my food
is all sugar
my blood is thickening
to a gravy
slowly choking off my lovepit
i cave in
around the fat neck of my eyestand
standing naked in a window
you can
see me
as my hair grows down to my ass
my eyes point to nowhere
where i am going
the edge of the world is always there
calling you
names

08 March 2012

07 March 2012

THE ARIZONA

filled with leaves on ground
blades my organ grinder
fills the dead tree scalp
on my sleeping
on my grass growing
my face was an expiriment
my quoting you is to say
i am an outsider
a middle life
son of nobody all my
grandparents are dead
and my name is erased
or google me
up and down
i used to want to be paul giamatti
i used to drink two bottles of wine every day
names are not gods
my chest brain does not think
THINK?
i am a time waster
i am a dusty farmer pulling dusty carrots
out of my garden
wash them and make them shine
like shiny glitter suits
like a billion dollars worth of skin
put a door here
push me into the closet
force me to kiss
whomever is in this closet with me
i am ready to get off
this universe
my standing
my ice tea shower
hunting for migratory lemons
leap off the ledge of AMERICA
put a fence
around your fence
I SAID I AM READY TO GET OFF
i'm sorry
did my all caps wake you up
did my saying i love you
like a lizard
suck the ground water from your breasts
my titty eye saw just a small reflection
a near rifle line
the distance of my hunting
the length of my noah flood
eyes leak an ocean
over walls
where you have yet to put doors
insulated with friends
and black powder
i never said i believe
or there is magic in my frantic
hand gestures
as i pull down my pants
or take a few pills
with this
delicious water
to swim in
to put out your drowning
to say i am drowning too
VINCENT

cover skin in i's or blade me
or toss me a dozen donuts
to fish
i looks like a sword
i rose from concrete
i don't look beautiful because i am beautiful
for now
a cloud
of toxic gas
or light from sun flares
or my name
said again and again
through a solid metal door
key hole
afraid of news
afraid of a black nothingness
or a rainbow nothingness
smell star dust
life as a baller
when i am remembering
being up at 2 in the morning
blazed i guess
i am storming
talk about what i can touch
in a chest brain
pipe dreams
dripping the sweat from your sun
laughing out loud at our words
my dungeon chomper
look at us now
look at us again years from now
we live
and die at the same time
i can sing songs from the grave
but only thug til i die
written on a stretch of leather
a california cowboy
said west was a direction
or great plains was a sky
and if the buffalo will run
off a cliff
so can i

06 March 2012

'a real bittersweet symphony' 

i wasn't inventing love always
or say what a fool i am
on a bus
in a line
stoned drunk
saying to my lovers that i can swim
or i can't swim
at least not long enough to survive a flood
or an ocean
or drown down to the bottom of my ass washing
look at my punched face
broken sniffer and smile
i see
you again
or i kiss you
again
or i
smoke cigarettes again
like i am dying
like i am standing still
or to know
what you want to say to me
if anything
something wrong is
or there is this great ironic lyirc
smoothing out my nice button shirts
like my knives
my stop lights
my man of my dreams
i don't think about dying sometimes
you make me
float
down a river
falseman

wasn't setting sun
pink veins dot the eye
over my
dead body
yelling and clubbing and clubbing
can you feel
it
my watering eyes
never
chasing
i can sit in the same chair forever
i say at the nothing
the creeping fear of being
forgotten
or dotted
or what we are
passing
solar flare
light burns through debris
both end and begin
with death
maybe

05 March 2012

1 person named Matthew Truslow in Idaho | WhitePages

broke in my leather
caked in
mud and covered in
gasoline

i burn my poems to get the age into them quickly

bury head in sand
was always a good joke
unless you are an ostrich

i don't have time
this thing is saying
running around
looking at all his watches

there are words in your mouth
no
moth
no

i have a song in my ear

did you see the sun ticking
tock or drop with a bell ringing

if you stand still
and stop thinking
the day will still pass

i will miss
all the talking we could have

and if you stop saying words
words will still exist

listen
put your hands on the axe
and wait for the trees to grow

02 March 2012

blowjob

birds sing
birds just open and make a loud squeek
you brag
about your gag reflex
let me say handclapping
or bark like a dog
like its' your dog
warning
bull dog at the edge of campfirelight
alone i am
in the dark barking
afraid of bears?
my old friend
we are never in hell
and this scaredness
is unattractive at night
like i am
holding your hand
here
take any part of me
and swallow
or build a boat to hold
all your animals
i once
dug
and you can make
me giggle
with your acting
place a finger
on my
chest
and push


birds sing
birds just open and make a louds squeek
you brag
about your gag reflex
let me say handclapping
or bark like a dog
like its your dog
warning

29 February 2012

ugly

i am rarely
and i am husky

or i have too many pockets
my hands in all of them at once

i hate when you are screaming
things

i hate when i say i am hating
things

i thing the sky things thinking
what were they thinking

when they made me
or they they'd me

like a sack of lost wash socks
stuck in the back of the wash

scrubbing the bubbles off my eye balls
so they shine like baubles

i want to drape
around your neck

i want to
be a universe

with stars and dust and stars and dust

and nothingness

everywhere

else

24 February 2012

when i was your age Chris Weber was still a planet

was i dumbed for berry hands
shaking puppy dog dry

my juicy pulp when you bite
is only a mixture of other tasteless things

log my trunk rings into song
sped up much faster to a whistle

i stopped growing several years ago
but i still change size

in and
out of my skull

swelling under snow soak
my teeth bones jiggle loose in melt

i slimy or i can always do more
i ooze and keep secrets of mutation

call my brain a wet hound
then sniff and sniff and sniff

your glass eye meets my tongue
i said i would swallow darkness

i said i would remove my jaw
to fit your head safely inside me

why am i still smelling vanilla
body spray or when will you erase

my life is a tree full of fruit
and sometimes it has no fruit

i was not ready and i am scared
that all the buildings i have been in

will be torn down before i die
it's nothing right

it's nothing to read about Buddha preaching
it's nothing to be afraid of nothing

or i am everything
or there is a void inside of my head

is why i am really making an effort
to stop calling zeros os

and to think having anything is only nothing
and hope or terror or the next day

with a great big smile on my face
i will write poems about how much
i love all of you

23 February 2012



collecting shark teeth on the beach at night alone

as i am going to die
there are only mirrors to refract my laughing
lines

about who can say "knows me", or do you miss
the morning before
or waiting for the next sun to rise

i know now too
poetry is not a weapon
no matter how sure you are of your poisonous pen

like i can type a bullet
or ball hate into my fist and pound out why
the loves of my lives have left me behind

or dear lord and savior and Barack Obama
please hear my angry sword
clanking dull against my skulling mind

21 February 2012

kuzma

i am swimming through a mountain
i am drowning in my own mind

my brain hurts and there is yelling in my veins
or i dunno what i am stupid drinking for

look at all this forgotten land
beneath the ocean

when it's not growing and the grass, grass, grass
look at my face when my brother is dead

i can forget an easy hole
no locamotive punch through my chest

and i can never say
that i am younger than him

i guess it's the wiped ass of a demigod
i guess what grass isn't

and knowing is what life is
and smiling is what death is

and i will grin my widest at the devil
let him know how glad i am to finally see
nothing

20 February 2012

100 mph

how fast can i lose a million dollars
in a second
does i stutter
i had a dream i was stoned
i never dream
then i am awake
and i dance acriss cross water
with my pants and baseball jersey reversed
i want to put my hands
in the ocean
squeeze the land out of them
stretch the web and swim into hurricane season
see you maybe weighted down in jewelry
thousand dollar bobbles
i got three paychecks on a table
i got my life on scales
i got my whole life ahead or i have
a lot to learn
like how to survive new york city
how to be happy
how to be zen as a dunk
the second before the sting of the rim on your hands
reminds you to land
maintain is a good wave, talking moon


i never wanted to save you
wanted to see you stand in the furnace

walk out

on me there is a heavy weight
of dead mes

all i want is to be the most unzen because
i am human

but as a great man once said
I AM NOT A HUMAN BEING

i want to find peace with non existence
i want to stare blankly at the abyss

i want to hang out
on your birthday

and what do straight edge guys do
on their birthday

and i like chinese food quite a lot
or anything thats good

today is the day after pauls birthday
is what i am getting at

then i say
why do i cry so much

and you say
because you think it is

and it is
then it is not

i guess i am going to go
i guess this is where i see

you again
where am i taking

what am i going to

17 February 2012

where did you put my skull tonight

i'm not blaming you
soap

i am dead
and you are grinning
i am dead
and you are grinning
i am dead
and you are grinning
and you are grinning
soap

drill me in the mouth with a
bulldozer
i love hearing the back up alarms of big trucks

crush me

i was a little brother once
and do you know

i can hear you
sometimes

like when you raise your voice
and it is a bubble

or several bubbles
filling up and over filling your eyeballs

and hey
do you know where vision is

like i mean
watching blind spots
like
trying to see the void
like
i am going to touch the sky
and say or shout or
tell me again why i am a terrible waste of anything
run me over with your car
quit smoking
i am dead
i am dead
i am dead

14 February 2012



cant help i was born on a time watch

my this ways are getting heavy

my skelly just a dusty chisle

and i know

that me thinking i love somebody

is

13 February 2012

i was at this party in west omaha when i was in college
and i remember thinking that this is what college is like
maybe
i played the interpol album turn on the bright lights
and i remember some kid saying that the music was bad ass
and i had this whole binder of cd's.


a door is
meaningless without walls
a door is
only a door when it can be opened
and walls are only used to make our universe
more cozy
on one hand
i am freezing
on the other hand
it is more than likely the same temp
unless you have one hand
in the oven
or on the sun
or is the devil
or your arms are miles long experiencing different climates

i wrote this poem
about blowing smoke
out of my brain

my brain is for digesting
or my brain thinks it knows what love is
or gets sad when love stops being
what it thought love was

and then there is the me laughing
and there is the me who knows things
adn there is the me who wishes he was still
a little boy in a small town throwing rocks
in the alley at cans and things that sound like cans

and i want to be so rich
and i want to see the entire universe
and i want to scoop out my skull like rainbow sherbert

one
color
at
a time

and without these glasses
my eyes wont slowly get worse
and without these glasses
i wont break my glasses
and without these glasses
nobody could ever call me four eyes

and if they did

i would not understand why

anyone would ever
want to hurt
me

so i hide in a closet
or just shut doors in my brain
turn off all the lights
and it gets cold
or warm
who knows

i shave my beard sometimes
i remember the first time
i shaved my beard
i went out into the living room
to see if my dad
would
notice

LISTEN:

i shout
or i am shouting
in distant galaxy far from every heavened spirit
can you hear
my falling
in the forest

i look like an aging human
so lost in my own voice
to forget that i am about to die

time is
ahead of us

who cares if your husband is honest
YOU ARE NOT YOUR HUSBAND

but one day
everything will unlove
and the walls will fall down
or be built
or think about an axe chopping wood
for the rest of time
like
there are all these
trees
that exist

and i am trying to understand
nothing
and when there is no more me
there will be no party
there will be no walls
no heat
no freezing
no doors
no gates
no pits
no fire
no gold

i am a noise
i am a whimper
i am a gust of wind
i am the no wind
still as an actors chest
when they are acting
dead
for the funeral

like kevin coster
in the BIG CHILL.
A POEM FOR ME

TODAY
I
HAVE
NO
CHEMICALS
FROM
CIGARETTES
IN
MY
BLOOD
I
GUESS


haiku

i thought

about all
the things i

turned them into colors
and
blew colorful smoke into the air

with my eyes
i moved

outside
through glass
and watched

float away
no title

chest brain engine powered on somebody

looking directly at you

in a way that makes you assume

they really do give a shit about why you are so scared

all the time

is ahead of us

like if you are at the back of the train

and there is all this train

just tracking along

but then it ends and you get off the train

and you realize you

are still alive

10 February 2012

TREE POEM


ADD A LITTLE FRUIT TO YOUR BRAIN

EAT MY NUTS

WHOA

MAN

WHY WOULD ANYONE NEED TO OWN

A FLAME THROWER

WHO IS CALLING ME

I CAN HEAR THE BUZZ OF AN INDUSTRIAL SAW

OR MAYBE

MY LOVER IS SNORING

IDK
TREE POEM

AND IM STRESSED HE SAYS
BUT I LET HIM KNOW HE
DOESN'T GOTTA SPLAIN SHIT
WE JUS STANDING ON OUR GRAVES
MAYBE
PUNKS COME SAYIN
PAPER
LIKE IT'S EASY TO GROW ALL THIS MONEY

09 February 2012

reincarnation

sometimes i am deaf
well there is this high pitch
tone in my right ear

there is something that makes me think
about this

about asking someone to turn the rap
down

or about losing control of the car
the rumble bars outside of the duplex

i died once
thought maybe i was karen carpenter

you look like a skeleton
to me

and i throw up every morning
one time

and it is almost valentines day
i guess

heading up to minneapolis after a freezing rain

wonder
how many people i am sometimes

on my birthday in 1994
i was living in columbus nebraska

senna died
rip

i am a racecar driver
T-Pain Blues

was i a demigod
before i was stone cold master

of my own life
of my
own

tell me what you do when some guy
gives you lemons

or some woman
gives you lemons

or if god was one of us would be a great
song
to mix

like ice
and
water

tell me what you think about when you are crying
T-Pain

does it sound like
the rain forest restaurant at the Mall of America

what's that
i can't hear you over the shopper stampede
lil wayne

who i
change a

thought
Obama

you were gonna

skip

my name was
and i

do not
or is'nt

a human being

things
die
things

can be skin or dust or cum

a memory
future

where
were you

in ten billion
seconds

stop breathing

breathe
the air
for me

my lung is
as much

a god

jupiter

a smaller place

absent

a voice or

can you still hear me
if i

i am
a tree
athletic identity

08 February 2012

twitter poem

i am talking

i would like you to know what i am doing

this is me still having fun i am smiling

here is a picture

dm: i miss all of my friends

laughing

hey do you see me

do you

send light beems my way

breathe you with nothing

i have never gone hunting

i have never gone fishing

i am going to die in the mountains

if i was alone in the mountains for months

hi

i guess i would like to say hi to you in the morning

my friends are all older

i remember 2006 like a ghost

my favorite bands are boring and dead

i eat junk

have you googled me and watched youtubes

there are small scars on my hands and face

i love tron

i am tweeting again

i can say

i am just talking to my friends a fast as possible

i wish i could tell everyone i see

what i am thinking

and then hug them

or high five

chest bump

lets fucking party


i am getting stoned
i stopped tweeting
i say i love
i dont give a damn
i give a billion rivers the width of an old dying star
i can stop eating like my dad
i can be a skelleton
i can close my ears until you leave
nest

off-path
covered
dirt boat

my beard
hung

w/ twigs
and prairie flower

arranged to remind
a million
miles
of sky

you
ocean i
can hear the other
side

of atmosphere

singing
when a storm
the size of god

rains

or darkness
or sun returns

call me
pheasant

i would like
to dance
barefoot
in the summer

if i could
sit in a field

or see you running
profile, oh

my darling my darling my darling
i think when i am walking

if only my thinking was talking
your ears or i'd nibble

a neck wrapped around a neck
watching the city grow into more cities
farmer

your rib
cage & still
kiss places
of you
buffalo track
graze
darkened skin
just
above your hips

we are in season

small hairs
grow
down
middle of
america or else
your chest
around nipples
my mouth paws
rabbit trail
or
i am guessing

what glows

no this is
not
my howling
i can
only move
like a coyote
bend

thank your thighs, alright
so i say things like;
your hair isn't curly,
when you wear white socks &
black shoes i keep my thoughts
to myself, put one hand below
your rib cage & still kiss places
of you that look like boys.

07 February 2012

we moved in
for ryan jenkins

shotgun shells over
mound of dirt--
as a play place
whether you're going
here, or
here,
or it's gravel road for miles. and dirt.

humid summer suffocates
drenched in sweat
feel
acrid reek of sheep farm
a country mile
to the east
seep between
the cracks of your leather

half indian boy
swims in a river
wanders into the neighbor field
step on fresh manure
walls you can feel a breeze through
hear the expanding plain
stretch you
from falls city to scottsbluff

whip of wind
against
white washed walls
is nothing
to trouble
pioneer family
drags behind
because this
is a temporary stay
it will pass.
all of it.
body

start to feel your gut organs pulsing uncomfortably
in damp darkness

from chomping and chugging pocketfulls of candy
your eyes

and then you


i guess what i'm saying is

what i'm saying is

answer with yes about what i know
the city makes you gravy
i
graduated college

was born
again

feel one thing harden and shut down
like a lung or a kidney

i guess my parents fucked once
or thought love was a thing you could find
and i

died one day
you might read
if words are still in my name

maybe i'll clone myself and say dear clone
please read my poetry
please love who i was

or i can know that what i say
is as important as what everyone says

then my poems are already being
and always have
hoover dam

once i saw the hoover dam
sometime after sun down

in a long line of cars
slowly moving into nevada

i thought about dying
i thought about donkey kong country

i dont know what else to say
about it

06 February 2012

love poem

think of you as words
and the pressing of small fingers on my neck
i guess i could
meet you anywhere to smoke a cigarette for a few minutes

i would kiss your jaw line
right now
or just stand a few feet away through glass
i remember every second i breathe
water displacement 40th attempt

eyes are seeing
pocket skull deep into the orange pulp of sun cakes
or this mind of mine is a winding clock
is an anchor
heavy as a heavy rock
the size of anything
and then
a sinking ship sits
like an ass at the bottom of the most water
i have ever
swam in
i am swimming
like a happy dog
fur as heavy as bones
as much weight as a solid gold dog
or a melted gold dog
i cannot be funny every second of the day
i cannot figure out
the world
do you know if you are told something is true
it is true until you google it
or do it
or do it again
like a damn genius
like a magician making magic happen
its all magic smoke and magic mirrors
i have no idea
how a television works
i am thinking
if i shake as fast as possible
i might cook from the inside
but i am just sitting here at the bottom
of nothing
shaking like an idiot because its so cold
i guess
in february
i miss you or something
i wonder if there are any good movies to see

03 February 2012

wish i was as cool as someone


i shook all over at the black jack table
you can hear my oldest bones breaking
if you put your ear down the the green felt table
i will say
i am not dying
because
i cannot
spend
i
am dying
because i am spent
and your eyes look up at my silly cowardice
like i am some kind of wounded monster
slowly cooking from the inside
the smell of
my organs
is gross
and your mouth drops open
losing control
you
sink
lara croft nude code

i remember being in houses a lot
wonder if gods got a god to be like
like mike
jordan, it hurts when you know
i have nikes on
i wish i had nikes on
i am afraid of wearing my nikes in public
because i might get murdered over these kicks
do you
walk around a lot
i mean did i just watch that youtube video
title: did jesus christ learn buddhism
of course
i didn't
but it really got me thinking
about how i said
loving you was looking at a beached whale
haiku

i wish i was rich
so i could buy all my friends
a set of gold teeth

02 February 2012

haiku

catch pump dribble stop
pass to the post and screen off
for the pick and roll
haiku

i told you mountain
you grew a volcano in
my lavaless chest
haiku


kiss me you idi-
ot my mouth is whistling
a song for our face
haiku


my generic fuck
the drowning son of a bitch
in the vast ocean
gut rot

i am hardly bullying and
i am not a library
i spell things wrong a lot
i feel really terrible about it
i sing like a dumb dog
i am lazy in the morning
dislike tap water
but god i want water so bad
it's like i need
to be flooded
or when i used to drive cars
i used to think about driving
off into the ditch
and to me this always seemed
like a hillarious way to die
was so young back then i guess
death just seems funny
like once the movie is over
i will never win an oscar
won't even be around to see people
walk out and stand in front of the theater
wondering what the hell just happened
yard waste

so this is my big shit grin
and this is my tin man
friend with no heart
or he couldn't think what he loved with
or he kept talking about all this blood
in his body
that just pooled in the limbs
sloshing around when he danced at the club
and i guess he's real lonely
but he's got a lot of thinking to do
on why he should think
this is the one
or this is the one
or this is the one
or this is the one
haiku

this is me
staring at you through twenty feet of dust