this is all i need
to have happen

now, she said. just great
it always happens
to me

and she slipped out of
clothes, into
lesser clothes that
held great divinity

in mortal touch,

and yesterday the merest
thought of
detachment from her

windowless room,
could only be called
cremation

and madness.

damn, strange gods
lessons i dont learn

whelp! you boy! i
best ought to whip u

fuck please, its hard
to bang, so hard to
get a little head thats
all im saying,

oh when the minorities
are in power you'll see.

oh im jiving, im tripping
the fuck out right now
cant even tell you what

we were on, but there it
goes right out the
goddamn window. the capital
of oregon? no washington

state? why thats olympia,
officer!

it is the eyes
that win out

in a secret pact,
mixing with wealth
of days, dirty hair
un-clean skin

of last night and
this morning,

man scent,
woman scent,
knowing of your
wasted essence.

 dragonflies
crave light, a moth
will allow of himself
be bitten by a flame.

all is fallen

this city

is ruined, and what
do the birds
compose in mourning?

sage like lance
of spring,

tense as lips
on the cusp-

in the last bastion
of wholeness,

when then all things
fall apart

these edifices beg
for a Jericho,

and our armies
march over walls,

all skin, all bones.

beg beg
for strongness
for a big brain
that can gobble up

tubes full of internet
to turd out

the gigantic greater
than me-ness,

the humming, booming,
twisting greater
than us child,

the screaming eyes
closed ass slapped

hunger of it all,

black drunk dreams,
wanting that will crush
a man like a
worm in a crows beak

beg beg
for the hunger

laugh as you weep
 

i am strange
inside
feeling pills
fizzing expanding

there
bit by bit
changing me

into another
smiling dipshit
who fucks

drinks bottled
water wants

more is guilty
about having an
affair and a steak

thinks nothing
of truth

and waits patiently
in line
to buy checkered
orange dick concealing
boxer briefs

that come in
a three pack

and have all
the right proportions

and i swear to
the great pharmacist
in the sky

its all for you
to recognize me

subtle, we add upon
and pile up
to show, to prove doubtlessly

that we are
substantial, enduring

sun baked
cigarette butts

all twisted
in rigor mortise

caked mud like
ash dust bath

stir the liquid
into lemonade

now its pink opalescent
and lukewarm

the tap water
is safe

and granules orbit
a forgetful

motion

twist open the
capsule, stir
in the medicine

mobile suit gundam

anime japanese style cartoons
surpass our
best most honorable violent

expectations, and god
wrest his soul from his breast

on tv just to prove to
the nation of israel he would die

a thousand deaths to give
them a home,

gold thread would just
add panache to a well
wrapt parcel, chromeo

i am, from pin to prick
to dust, to ashes, byzantium
or bust!

I put up an ad on craigslist for massage therapy services and i've been getting a few responses. Its a godsend cause I am so broke its not even funny.

Its hilarious how broke i am; hilarious like kick-nuts.

My aunt mimi is in the hospital and she's very sick. I saw her yesterday and she seemed ok but they put her in ICU today. She's got all kinds of complications and problems i don't know what the fuck.

I was just there yesterday and she seemed ok.

sooner or later man and woman
rise to within

shouting distance of the gods

who we desire
more earnestly than death or love

to comfort us

they were stone in their hearts

but tears
and kisses flowed over them

and their hearts
turned to mud, and their lips
would feign

mercy and truth

and we thanked them
for being

majestic and terrible

like us.

i didnt have to get
high to write this

and getting high
is an excuse

to say, this is why
its not perfect

this is why i'm not
going to try the daddy
long legs
approach, preternatural
length

incredible microfiber
components, why
the fuck did i get

high? the gods were
saying something to me.

the gods in my mind.
the creatures that rule me,

from inside a segmented
eye an emptiness
looks up at me,

shimmering black
fire. then the gods
speak to me

through the mouths
of men who buy beer
with dimes and nickels
on a monday night

saying,"this guy doesn't
fuck around!"

but maybe they
are mocking me. maybe
they are issuing
an edict, that will

sweep me up
like old leaves into
the gutter.

with all this hoopla
and hullabub around us
a merry go round, what
a world, we love to hate
we hate to love, we hate
we love, we bob bend bow
break and fuck, oh so
merrily we go, injecting
confidence into our steps

while lies and prayers
bubble up and are swayed
by the indelible urge

of tree limbs dancing
to a sonnet of time sweetly

massacred by a bluejay
inmychestbutimtootoughforhim

on and on, without cessation

its one basketball game
after another

its one afternoon golden
rightfully yours

you say,

rightfully yours though
as loyal to you

as a toss of the bones,
so

holding on, holding on

to your moment
till the
very last bit of you
has moved on

and you are reaching
into the mists of memory

tenderly i reject you
and all
that you are,

put a finger up to
your pubis, and say

not yet. not till
ragnarok, and not i

but another who will
heave & cry ruin

and leave no
treasure un plundered