Sunday, September 6, 2015

A Variation on an Ancient Poem

After the Zen Master
passed through the forest --
many shit-smeared twigs.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

HAIKU IN ENGLISH: THE FIRST HUNDRED YEARS, EDITED BY JIM KACIAN




An excellent collection. Somehow a single poem of mine was included.



 

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Leonard Cohen on Cold Mountain




Leonard visited my hut this evening.
I said, Leonard how much longer?
He smiled, shrugged.
 -- Well.
I made him tea.
I gave him almonds and an orange.
He ate the orange, left the almonds untouched.
-- It's nice here.
-- Do you like the crickets?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                -- They’re Zen crickets.

Much good laughter.
Then it was time for Leonard to leave Cold Mountain.
I helped him with his coat, 

then gave him a feathered shield for the trip home.

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Concrete Poem


Grha: no. 4

for William Carlos Williams

 

 

r

ed    redredr  re

dred     er er

we    erd       de

bar       bababararb

eel        eel    el

el red      weel

baa       rrel    rebelb

Paris, Madrid, London, Iowa City,

June, 1998 -  February 2001

Monday, June 10, 2013

Near The Littoral: An Interesting Fragment Discovered In My Junk Folder


Before
the latrine
Oblonsky
let the ladies
hear the facts 
in re 
the bleach.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Text Messages From Cold Mountain



I am outside.

***

I am on your porch, waiting.

***

While waiting outside your place
a gnat bit me on the lip and
wrist.

***

My lip is visibly swollen.

***

I'll pick up six bagels and two
coffees. And an onion, lox.
We have cream cheese
in the icebox.

***

Now I am on the couch. The cat -- Joey --
is on my lap.

***

Now I am upstairs.

***

I was thinking about
your sweet box and ass
wanting both.

***

I wish my face was
your smart phone
and you were
sitting on it.

***

I'm in bed now too.
O lovely gash good night.



***

Author's Note: These are 'actual' texts messages sent using my Samsung TracFone.  (197.48 minutes remaining.)

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Poem for Nick Cave


The bleeder
and the dove.
The wine-bag
and the glove.
 

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Poem For Jack Kerouac, Angel, Drunk, Poet, Confused & Broken Genius of the Sudden Illumination



Man, dig the perfect beauty 
of this nothingness,
this void, this discrete zero,  
that is here       that is now

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Prayer on Cold Mountain



O perfect emptiness deliver us unto rarities

 

Cold Mountain Poet Explains What's What To A Visitor And Then Hits Him With His Walking Stick On The Head

Here's my hut.
And look, those
are the mountains.
They're pretty cold now.

Some days it's beautiful
here. Other days, 
not really, just
rock and sky.
Not much else.

When it's beautiful,
when it's nothing --
either way,
it's' a funny name.

Cold Mountain.

No big deal.


Monday, February 18, 2013

Cold Mountain Is Cold in February


have only 
hearts 
left from 
the original 
3,000,000,000 
given to me 
by my mother 
on the day 
was born. 

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Did You Hear About This New App The Purpose of Which


is happiness
nothing more nothing less 

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

A Title From An Essay I Wrote Once Upon A Time


MY THROAT IS SORE & MY RIGHT KNEE & THERE IS NEVER ENOUGH TIME IN THE WET TIME TO READ ALL THAT I SHOULD READ SO I TEND THE SMALL PLOT THAT REMAINS IN MY HOLDING HANDS 

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Monday, October 22, 2012

Dream of Cold Mountain On Cold Mountain

At my lousy desk
typing Kerouac poems --
the kitchen mouse feasts 

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


Songs of UnreasonSongs of Unreason by Jim Harrison
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Jesus, can Harrison write poems!

A Zen master: one-eyed,
vertiginous, in love with gorgeous ass,
food -- even the memory of food --
wine -- even the memory of wine --
cigarettes, his dogs, the ghosts of various cats,
women, Russian poets, the Upper Peninsula,
defiant road-kill, the play
of two immature eagles going south, and a while later
a mother eagle, also heading south.


View all my reviews

Thursday, October 13, 2011

CAKETRAIN! CAKETRAIN! CAKETRAIN!

Caketrain issue 09 is now available for pre-order.
http://www.caketrain.org/
Get it while it's hot! 

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Yard Work


My hands dirty.
The Japanese saw in one,
your ghost in the other.
My arms ready
to ignite. 

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Sleeping With Women

Kenneth Koch (1925-2002)
wrote a poem called
Sleeping With Women.

You should read it
before sleeping with women.
And after sleeping with women,
you should read it
once more.

On The Nature Of Money, The Making Of It, The Keeping Of It & Various Related Subjects

It's scary how much I don't
understand.

poem for Steve Roggenbuck

THIS IS REALLY
GOOD STUFF
I MEAN, DUDE
IT'S LIKE
PURE GOLD

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Publishing possibility

If anyone wants
to publish a
selection of
poems from
what can be
found here,
here here,

I would be
a most
enthusiastic
supporter and
could chip and
hack away at
what is deemed
an unnecessarily
excessive armor
on the torso
that lies beneath.

Contact me, if
you think it
would make an
interesting
publishing
venture.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

preorder the plesyre barge

My book THE PLESYRE BARGE is now available for preorder from
Greying Ghost Press of Salem, MASS.


http://airforcejoyride.com/spring

Monday, March 1, 2010

beckett came to me in a dream and said

I shall wear my greatcoat
as I trudge heavily up that slow stiff hill
to Jerusalem,
Mississippi.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Poem

Slag, slag.
Leave me my slag.
I am the unslaggiest
of slaggy men. My
leavings all slag.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Poem

Lorca! Lorca! Lorca!

O Lorca!

Sunday, January 3, 2010

TWO POEMS

AN AGE AND AN EAR AGO


Are you saying my poetry is dark?
because it feels light to me in its shedding
there a goodness in the ear and slackness in the jaw
with 7 miles to go before we lay our bodies down
worked up into a stupid, I meant stupor



A LITTLE SONG TO COOL THE SPIRITS

Mine delight.
Sing this night.
Carry, carry low
The torches from below.

Mine delight.
Ignore the slight
Dampness of the fist.
You're pissed.

Friday, January 1, 2010

BEGAN IN A COLD PROVINCE

I am one boot:
laceless, arithmetical.
One in a hive of running smoke
come home.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

KURT SCHWITTERS TOLD ME ON HIS DEATH BED WRITE THIS DOWN IT'S IMPORTANT


for Gordon Lish


Garuddy
Garuddy baruddy
Baruddy baruddy
Brodobod
Brodobod
Brodobod
Brodobod
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Garooga
Garooga
Garooga
Garooga
Garooga
Garooga
Garooga
Garooga
Garooga
Garooga
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
Garuddy baruddy brodobod brodob
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Exmor
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
Blonk
Blonk
Blonk
Blonk
Blonk
Blonk
Blong blong blong
Urp

Friday, November 20, 2009

Thursday, November 19, 2009

fragment

Dumb-thinned in long
sea-winds, I am.
My blood-fleet away,
an easy storm now there.
I have your dock here.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

mindfulness poem

I am a 'walking-to-work-thing.'
It is dark.
A cat appears.
The universe is cat-mind.

in order to grow your product give them what they want

the poison
the lie
the killing nothing
they can't leave alone

Monday, November 16, 2009

Thursday, November 12, 2009

after math

Everything is momentarily irrelevant.
"Dad, no one gives a fuck what you think!"
Thanks for
the share.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

little ritual

First I feed our cats.
All six of them.
Then I eat hammer.
Fin by fin.

seriously everyone interested in real literature should be reading this year's Nobel Prize winner Herta Muller as she is

indebidble
und wrists sum flocked up shirts

Saturday, November 7, 2009

notice

bought
a bkt of bks
from Greying Ghost
whle supplies last
you should too

the bells

No matter where I am or what I am doing
when bells sound I find some way to pay attention
to their beautiful disturbances
of the air I inhabit.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

on the 2009 winner of the nobel prize in literature

In 1953 Herta Muller was born.
In 1955 I was born at home.
My older brother came in to look at me.
He said, "Get that thing out of the house."
I was told he ran outside onto a street
Of the English village where we lived.
Enraged at the sight of my dry-leaved stalk. 

Monday, October 26, 2009

an accountancy of my day among many others

saved or nealy saved
a penny
this slew-foot day

Saturday, October 24, 2009

proverb from Cold Mountain

the early bird
flogs
the dead horse

from the Japanese

tea
tea
tea

tea
tea
tea

sea
tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea
sea
tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea tea
sea



tea

tea

tea

Sunday, October 18, 2009

thought

The imbecile's
play-pen.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

fragment from a deleted tweet

The pun is an anal poverty.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

fragment

There is no greater heresy than love.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

is 'is' is?

I spent the morning asking what
a question mark is

I looked like a pair
of feet

in sand, maybe

Thursday, August 27, 2009

fragment

Hold my phantom hand.

Monday, June 15, 2009

in praise of zen being

Think of a thing in space.

Remove the thing from its space.

Think of the space itself.

Remove the space from itself.

Think of the space that surrounds the space of your thought.

Repeat.

***

Dig with your hands.

***

Carry a large rock on your shoulders.

***

Walk.

Continue walking.

Don't stop.

***

Lift a feather.

Lift a feather that weighs 1,000 pounds.

It is the same feather.

***

Think of an emptiness.

Think of an emptiness bending over.

Think of an emptiness smiling.

Think of the gifts you would bring.

***

Destroy by fire an object you love.

Gather up the ashes.

Throw them into winds.

***

Drive your car.

Get out.

Leave it somewhere.

Start walking.

You know where this is going.

***

Early.

Crows.

Hello.

***

I don't know.

Or.

I know.

Same difference.

***

Thich Nhat Hanh.

Plum Village.

Sweep the back walkway.

***

Your book is almost done.

Now is the time to throw it away.

Wait. Wait.

Is it done yet?

Sunday, May 31, 2009

a killer poem from Cotton "Chuckles" Mather

Great wars,
sacked
cities, kings
in flight


or chains.

a consequence my reading is Rilke of

A dog barks and then it rains.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Sunday, May 17, 2009

poem

lines blight free
in compact balance,
a balanced form,

of form, balancing
its formal strengths
made in the mind's

hand, the mind's
manifest, ledgers,
journals, vols. 17-21,
years 1955 to 2009.

the skull or sky is this evening

obdurate

the roman pettiness of poet to poet demonstrated

you know who you are, get over your vastation of ego



Xaniphonius appointed
several malices to me
when I had none

I offered apology
even so he fumes
the effect of which

is to create the malice
I did not bear him
but am now inclined to

the poet of Cold Mountain

admits to himself
almost all his profile visits
were visits he made

Saturday, May 16, 2009

it is absurdism that is, in cases voluntarily entered into, a banishment and an

an exile from that place where existence means Being-Inside-The-Other.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Bartleby liked to be stationary

in the end
we all do

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Monday, May 11, 2009

Sunday, May 10, 2009

how to write real swell dialogue that is winning all the way to the bank

he sd, gets
me smokes and a
bottle
of cheap bourbon

she sd, fuck
you and see you later
sucka, this MFA
is walkin

Oh, he sd, what no
coda?

fragment

I thought it a good idea to trim the sycamore branches back from the porch
then changed my mind and thought it better to sit within all those arms
made from bark and leaves fluttering like green eyelashes. At times laziness
is its own reward. This is what passes for thought these days as I worry
about all manner of strange things, not least of which is a possible internet
scam I may have fallen prey to. Cold Mountain is good for one reason that
is obvious: creditors and scam artists find it hard to reach me and once they
get here they quickly see it's a lost cause. My shack is an awful prize to
waste sweat on. Besides, hawks soaring above a lake's edge and owls outside
your paneless window at dawn is more than enough to make you laugh
like a newborn. Words measure only what is empty, nothing else.

poem

a rivet
riveting

Saturday, May 9, 2009

in praise of

rock smash of
sledge-hammer

poem

Let me be held
by love

or by any one
of love's presentable

handmaids.

Friday, May 8, 2009

final exam

a) Love is like a bleeding hand.

b) Love is sometimes like a pair of bleeding hands.

Discuss either a or b. Risk mutual exclusivity.

Show all calculations.

delerium city cab ride

One day you take the weather of
its change. You go, I can't stand
this any more. Your pal, Dionysius
the Aeropagite, won't lend
any money to
your archaic cause.

The meter is running.
There is rain. You don't recognize the
streets or the unfamiliar
fare. You

go, close the door pal.
Drop me off in front of the
radiant hemlock grove.
Like pronto.

sliced my hand at work today

I need a new
job, something
less cutting

Thursday, April 23, 2009

I want to write an essay comparing marginalia to tweets

what interets me is marginalia,
writing outside margins, what is scrawled hastily,
written on pages or twittered
on screens

Thursday, April 16, 2009

anagram

Jot ran path,
ere,
on cane.

Monday, April 13, 2009

poem

fish
fish
fish

fish
fish
fish

fish
fish
fish

fist

Sunday, April 12, 2009

four in an alternate mode

“…gas gas gas …””
John Ashbery


REVENGE OF THE GREAT PLAINS

Yeah, I quit eating meat, man, just like that [finger snap].
Cold Tofurkey!


PUMA IN A CAGE

I utilize utilize utilize utilize utilize.
To the max!


MUNCHAUSEN SYNDROME BY PROXY

We’re megaloading carbs pre-game, but we go heavy on protein-uptake post-game!


CRITICAL THEORY

A cake of some kind. I mean a biscuit. A biscuit with cake-like intentions.
To be eaten alone or with coffee and tea. I said, coffee and tea!

unner a ful moon in vt, hilles an valley chruch spyre

A SEESOMENAL GREE TIN



O



m

VE
R n


brunch at the fancy restaurant

I had eggs, scrambled
and
unsalted

Saturday, April 11, 2009

poem in the iterative mode

THE SHIPS SHALL SINK WHERE THEY MAY WHERE THEY FALL


Okay what is the nature of this thing. What is the nature of this thing. What is the nature.
Of this thing.
What.
The nature of.
This.
Thing.
Okay. What is the nature. The nature of this thing.
What is the nature of this. Of this. Of this thing.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

cold mountain (17)

is confused
by
TweetDeck

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

sutures

seemed like
a good idea
at the time

blood

pooling
in my mouth

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

poem for men's room graffiti poets of the nasty school

thanks for sharing

questions asked after [...............]

was this useful
like a hammer is useful?
like dental floss?

Saturday, April 4, 2009

unbinded me

WORK. A place like a tongued on floor,
where we went. Said haven to it, then
bought three shoes, one for throwing.
Wire winds, dirt palace, load mints.
How the bought stray, for us, alone.

Friday, April 3, 2009

all this talk

palls

one single

violence
in the name of

what otherwise goes by the name of fear

fear and its 7 children

Thursday, April 2, 2009

poetry

shmoetry

cold mountain (16)

what's with all
the gravure idols?

an ash day

that tastes like cinder in the mouth

work

in the way of work

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

cold mountain (15)

where it is an accusation
to be young

cold mountain (14)

here there can be no
absurdism because misunderstanding rules the day

my brother's transistor radio

placed atop my scabby white knees


like a rolling stone


1966, summer

FROM FIRST HAND EXPERIENCE I KNOW WHAT A DRAG IT IS

to have seizures

Monday, March 30, 2009

cold mountain (13)

figures

cut my hand on the coffee tin

Sunday, March 29, 2009

snow this morning

gone tonight

a good thing to have

one bulletproof apology

Saturday, March 28, 2009

snow

now

LATE FOR NIGHT SHIFT AT THE MEDITATION FACTORY WHERE WE MAKE MEDITATION

because I like the idea of
no followers, zero, zilch, nada, zip

but 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 tweets

read by no one
not even me

like cricketroar in a deaf poet's ear

Friday, March 27, 2009

zen is

not doing zen

at the intersection of hollywood and poetry

James Dean (1931-1955) wearing thick glasses,
reading from a book of poems
by James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)

yesterday on cold mountain I spent hours on

YouTube


I 'copied and pasted' a few video clips

on my other blog of visual stuff

I like to call it, 'Looking With My Eyes at Sight-Things and Hearing With My Ears Sound-Things'

Alejandro Jodorowsky
Samuel Beckett
Sergei Parajanov

go there, look the

sea

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

the importance of learning how to count

1,2,3,
4,5,
6,7,8.

9.

Whereas prose is spatial,
poetry is temporal.

10.

What the hell does that mean?

after eating, you could say

we're all
behind
the 'ate ball'

[you groaners get lost]

my life

meh

king lear (2)

enough
with the raging on the heath
already

king lear

enough
already

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Louis Ferdinand Celine

hate filled
bastard

genius

thank you

______

Roberto Bolano

from

the poets

Monday, March 23, 2009

design flaw

the ear
ache

A POEM FOR GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS (circa 84 BC - circa 54 BC) WHO WAS KIND OF A 'BIG DEAL' BACK IN THE DAY

_____________

I don't care
what they say
about you
in your home
town

Verona
is a cow
town anyway

Here you're
just another
old skank

Sunday, March 22, 2009

a good word, a simple word

FIN

cold mountatin (12)

internet service
is lousy

postal delivery?
forget it

IF I KEPT A DIARY (WHICH I DON'T) IT WOULD BE SLOPPILY MAINTAINED AND THIS ASPECT OF MY DIARY WOULD BE A SOURCE OF SOME BACKWARD PRIDE, PERHAPS

[illegible]

my good friends

n[.....]
b[..]
a[...]

don't even know I'm alive

the beauty of the shell-like human ear

and its tendency
to miracles
of pain

on music

once I cared

cold mountain (11)

even here
a tiredness that hounds

a book

made from 10,000 lbs.
of granite

it would
take eight months
to turn a page

&
eight years to
re-shelve it

caught looking at the american apparel

cotton spandex
jersey tank
thong girls

Thursday, March 19, 2009

what Gordon Lish told me in a letter

Get out of Iowa, man. You've been punished enough.

too much coffee?

1

sometimes I heart the
fear racing in my chest

2

sometimes I fear the
heart racing in my chest

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

heirloom

grandfather's
wooden leg
kicking

zen moment

*

NO CREAM!
NO COFFEE!

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

lines for a future cage

a

My necks
are sore

b

I call
them Hunger

in praise of

A BOLD
ITALIC
CAPITAL

published

seeing my poems in a
journal

nothing but sick

tangerines

three of them
on this kitchen table

for a certain poet, renowned

Dogged thing-a-majig.
Of the heart. Never
Use the word heart.
The heart is
Snapped shut like an old tire,
Language is, yours.

cold mountain (10)

missed garbage pick-up
this morning

again

Monday, March 16, 2009

regimen (2)

alternate


one push up.

that's it.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

regimen

100 push ups.

10,000 abdominal crunches.

meditate 5 times a day.

up at 3:oo a.m.

sweep floors.

clean counters in kitchen.

dig turnips.

wash laundry in river.

dust.

haul.

push.

drag.

eat.

drink.

piss.

shit.

lie on hard floor.

breathe.

weather

*



Clouds


doing their cloud thing.


All right.

fine dining

The pound cake we ate least night.
A goodly amount.
A goodness.

Friday, March 13, 2009

insult mind

I'll read Catullus for insult &
Han Shan for his hermit mind

question for my non-existent reader

does anyone know how to increase the line length (characters per line) on this blog?
I don't like the relentlessly short line look of my blog as it is currently set-up.

send me intstructions,
please

Saint Valentine's Massacre

Poetry today is
I almost typed 'powetry'
across the windshield in bleached sandwiches

sad rest-stop dispensers

huddled you always drop dimes in the snow
dream the cat lady
is eating out of a cat dish
on the floor
her rear raised

you won't post this it's what you feel
walking the mall, holding non-permanent
tattoos in Target bathosphere

you'd go on a crime tour of Chicago's
Saint Valentine's massacre
real cold glamor squared

Thursday, March 12, 2009

cold mountan (9)

dream of silos
& barb wire
like waves

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

cold mountain (8)

tweet free
zone

standing in a ditch a guy asks me for directions

I can't understand him
so I point anyway
up north on Crow Hill Road

basho

pond
frog
whatever

cold mountain (7)

we sit on the porch
watch the city
burn

cold mountain (6)

up here our favorite tv show remains
BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

someone from work phoned to ask if i would come in on my day off as it was busy and Sven was sick and so the department was short-staffed and

i didn't go in

cold mountain (5)

drink coffee
wash cup

burn underwear

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

mother look what i can do

too late
you're gone


(for my mother, 1924-2004)

poem in two parts or sections

1
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::
::::::::::::
:::::::::

2
:::::::::::::::::::::
::::::
:::::::::
:::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::

poetics

a parlor game

word I made up for use in a sestina

flarge

cold mountain (4)

not sure
what all
the fuss
is about

cold mountatin (3)

this twig tea
tastes like shit

cold mountain (2)

my whole life
gathering
wigs

parataxis

what. he. them. is. what. here.
there. blunt. lit. not. then. dark.

cold mountain

I've seen colder.

trees without leaves in springtime

PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!

typo, example of

the world is haunted by bad typoing

astrological forecast for geminis

okay

math

17 per cent
on your
2nd semester
math exam

in high school

history of rock and roll in a weird nutshell

I saw you over there
in your ragged armor
and blue suede shoes,
showing all the girls
your rock and roll fangs.

Rock on, you bastard.
Rock on.

Monday, March 9, 2009

second floor mud room

forget it.


meh.

either or

I prefer the broken hunchback



to the hollow-headed



movie star,

Sunday, March 8, 2009

poem

don't worry.

no one is reading.

the knife sharpener

1

Summer. The
knife sharpener
would come round.
All the house-
wives would
bring their
knives out
for him to
sharpen. He
was Italian.
A nice man
who walked
slowly ringing
a hand-
held bell.

2

It was good
to have sharp
knives.

I LIKE THE LONG TITLE. THE LONG TITLE IS SOMETHING I LIKE. IT ISN'T CLEAR TO ME WHY THIS IS SO BUT IT

just
is.

bravery

cowardice with fists.

to all whom I offend

I offer this:

aggrieved
spice in
jaw clamps
for the rabid

Leonard Cohen

A bowl of rice.
Green tea.

An army
of beautiful women.

Walls
in ruins
at your
feet.

middle aged poet practices typing with eyes closed going at speed far in excess of what is possible with his pre-arthritic fingers

[Tedium demands
the real
be deleted.]

Saturday, March 7, 2009

word

A

word.

elements

for Peter Markus


a

by fire?

by water?


b

by water.

to be with the fish.

Friday, March 6, 2009

ordinary

1

oh

okay

sure

i guess


2

what?

what?

uhhhhh.

I guess.


3

what did you say?

oh.

no.


yes, sure, I mean yeah.


4

oh christ.

I forgot my.

no. no I didn't.

I put it in my coat pocket.


5

let's get going.

i've got to.

what day is this?

too late. missed it.



6

where's the.

oh.

sure.

I guess.



7

see you.

encycling like a dorm head forger

TIRED IS THE KILLER MONKEY


Not so bad as a loose tooth.

The handsome one, who cleans himself like a fucker.

No nightmares, tonight, a simple prayer for those in need.

The slags they aren't calling as much, lucky

hard-headed heartless man you've more friends than you deserve.

Gone to find Jane.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

poem

poem
[ppoe,
poem
poem
poem
poem



poem

book recommendations

Recently I read two books, both of which I recommend highly:

EVER by Blake Butler (Calamari, 2009)

BOB, OR MAN IN BOAT by Peter Markus (Dzanc, 2008)

Friday, January 30, 2009

rock, sparrow, gertrude stein

This one is under development. Kind of.
I guess.