Sunday, July 20, 2014

I've been hard at work on a book for Corollary Press, so I've been squirreling away poems rather than posting them here. It kills me to have to hold onto poems in some secret vault, rather than sharing them as soon as I write them. It'll be worth the wait.

Some five poems will be published in Otis Nebula's upcoming two issues, so I'll link that when it's out.

Will throw bones,

(wif luv)


Monday, July 14, 2014

no anger here
just having what
is abundant
until the real thing
comes along

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

did he ever get me with the Deems tune
I was in the alcove of the place by Oscar's which sold
shoes and in the door of Bikram Yoga, I grabbed everything
she's idle in the minds of men

I quickened my pace once double-stepped it out
of Oregon and saw the layering of the purplish-grey clouds
knew I was in for quite the sweat
and quite the cold shower

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

living in the manner of care
which is farcical,
I yam dulled by reeding
and righting, am pumped quickly,
deflated over years,
with only humor
as the sole

what ruff skin forms
after a time w/ the English-mades
need that pumice, man,
after all the sweat is wiped
I make my intended mark

settle into my mind
laff all night

cave neck

tried rolling
my neck to the left
and then the right
all around really
hearing the crinkles
and low fizzing

was essentially a noodle at the desk
I had closed out several potential clients
Holden Ransome was one of their names
I didn't close her, no, she was one of the few worth
putting down in Dave's notebook 

( he had categories:
celebrity, prurient, 
first names that were similar to last 
[e.g., Richard Richardson],
and downright silly

don't get to see much of him now in my cave
I have an 'experience the experience' poster board leftover
from a time before I had started,
clipped two of those suckers together
and created a neat little roof for myself,

it's for my eyes
I tell people when they ask
they're very light sensitive

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

poems - june 25th

big goose has a
     fitting caboose
shakes her
     droplets loose
only to vamoose


hey friend w/ a cig
I liked you
when I stood big.
some way in the
past, 9,000 days
when you stand
at the lake --

Some way,
I felt a reluctance
to speak out

and Knowing there
was nothing left to
shout about --

in my own interests --
practice empathy,
yes, why
it's your virtue
     but not mine.


hold a washcloth
over Niedecker's

bump her by the river,
smell the grass
     between her toes,
think  &   ready
  to imagine
    Ryan Eckes as
an infant in her


Some damn slope
choke - slump on
the rug.
take a long meditative
shit, give myself a hug.


how do you hurt me
by living out the
rest of your awful
And w/ that awful
And what you call
    a plan?


Mirror was her
   elbow sore from
  poetry  ( believe it )
and the tip of the
 lamp (from U-ARTS
 - lounge, stolen)
  peeks out of
       the bottom.
     Not yet in the
floating helplessly
  through spacetime.
  To lose is that.
To win is also that.
  To not play
              the egg
     is to
       further delay


I propose blood
         brother ritual
having none all
of my life
    and only learning
                 how to
rally for blood.