Tuesday, September 27, 2011

When crickets get in

Only one cricket is at least as annoying as a squeaky washer on perpetual spin, especially when it's in the house. The only thing you can do is walk over to where the noise is, and it will stop. At that moment it thinks it's hiding because it's quiet, but really it's hiding because it's so tiny. It doesn't even know that. But it doesn't even matter because it will start again as soon as you walk away, and it can go without good, wholesome food for days.

"Still rockin'!"

Anything can happen

As you hurdle toward earth,
nothing any longer surprises
until, we can suppose, the fi-
nal jolt, which promises to be
like wow, a moot pt, or both.

How is it we can still love at this speed
and hardly ever crossing trajectories?
When the body responds without even
checking in with the mind, is it truth or
allergy, collegiality, anthropomorphism?


Monday, September 19, 2011

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Post History

They found one of us in a bog, but here I am in the latest possible century, encouraging my pet dogs in the exploitation of grasses. Smoking something like turf in a bowl, I'm sure I wd also be swilling infusions, eating my fellow if that were something that ever caught on culturally in vogue. I've gotten better comforts and what else. Better comforts better be and are after all all. Is my god better. My god is kinder cuz he's mostly gone. Remote slumlording is something you can't take personally. And all the better in case you want to water a little patch of ground, just so the pups can see how it was in the virgin forest. Add it to their digestion, watch them puke away the side effects of modernity/ post history. After history I suppose it could mean there's no more great surprise events. You just figure out nature is this way or another; men are just so, and that's that. Whatever happens you're like yeah right whadid I tell you. That's not history, or even any kind of present to speak of, and it sure the hell ain't the future.


Friday, September 9, 2011

Deep end of your back

Twin, we're slipping down opposite sides of the economic divide:
as the wings of a butterfly seabridge, we close down over what
impales our individuality: the thorax of employment opportunity.

And I can see clearly what you can't: how sexy the dimples over
Your butt crack. The way you will always succeed just by being
Who you are. Yes, that's bullshit, but no more than every principle

We live by. You see the deep end of my back; I, flat top or fade
down behind yr skull cap. We are thankful at least that we each
have skin both our own and whatnot to throw on when it's cold.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Put away hope

when you begin to die,
you attribute all your errors to that,
and so you should; how right you are.

Even elections you held while asleep--
they count. No matter how shallow or
profound, you chose the plot, how deep.

But too there must be wild factors that
kill just as creatively, as life-like as you,
as determined, as unsure at what.

Read these last lines anticipatingly,
then put hope away for a moment to honor the
betrayeds, the beytrayeds and humiliateds of it.


Saturday, September 3, 2011

Parade of the grotesque

Fell out of escrow, still hanging on. The owner is partially invalid, peeking through the blinds in his apt, which is the room closest the office. He has an organ in there, covered in magazines. He is determined to help with the cold breakfast buffet every morning until he can retire, where, into some other all-male gay nude atmosphere.

Deeply stained camouflage seat cover. Haunted luggage cart. Corporate-sponsored parties of the lowest kind. Your eye is it jaundiced, Ken, or cynical wary. How bends a brow, time vexed by sideways-straining inquiry, counter-retaliatory scowls, discomfort of constant x-treme love pleasure to the everyday system.

Finally we couldn't extract the dishwasher. It seemed to have an umbilical cord connected to the Mthyuhphkn trailer. And between those built ins, we couldn't have even hacked it out. It was that snaky galvanized steel tubing and puddling water. We put a warning sign out for any literate and not too rebellious pervert.