dry |
.. .... .. Touring made everyone erratic and weird. It tore us from something abstract & sick but comforting. Beds and computers and dirty dishesthey were all back there, idle. By the end of Jul...
Posted by on Sun, 08 Nov 2009 12:34:00 GMT |
night twice (under) |
skiescoughing out hocks of heat, cold sweat dowsed inweak electric, andclouds--the earth spewing mania, shaking with cheap need. thereis something--some rock gut ghost of humid sweat,somesta...
Posted by on Mon, 26 Oct 2009 19:53:00 GMT |
to push the foot further |
a moth dies on sidewalk outside omaha, nebraska--i'm wonderingif it's always known this would happen--if it could sense its ownlife cycle like it might the chaosin wind patterns by the roadside of the...
Posted by on Wed, 30 Sep 2009 12:35:00 GMT |
the other three |
it only takes two ofyour senses away, to watch a reality show or drive a car or eat.the other three, i think, areall lonely, &a little high--maybe fighting off sleep, waitingup for...
Posted by on Tue, 16 Jun 2009 14:36:00 GMT |
a proud little melody in there |
the heart beats harder lackingsleep, pumping caffeine & booze, knowingall those things it will surrenderto the washout of morning sunshine& sickness & sickness wil...
Posted by on Fri, 12 Jun 2009 13:05:00 GMT |
I've always said |
I spent an entire morning.and half an after,noon running over shadows.of common backyard birds with tires: burninggasoline.I've always said that.someone's got to--keep up--the appearance of something....
Posted by on Thu, 16 Apr 2009 10:28:00 GMT |
presidents |
think of your face on a dollar bill, allwrinkled & not-so-green-anymore aftera thousand transactions, after a thousandpalm swamp dives and dayson end in dark rotation, sucking downlint and years. thi...
Posted by on Wed, 15 Apr 2009 08:08:00 GMT |
a game of solitaire |
we never getpast these hands we're dealt, with the frayed beginnings of a dry, plastic straw mangled &limp between molars, she needs a cigarette so bad the yellowstench of nicotine bleeds fr...
Posted by on Tue, 31 Mar 2009 17:21:00 GMT |
Blur |
pianos are rising alonein vagrant squawks, there is humanskin to be heard, and all around there is theblurof cadence & sound. ofsmoke & soundof carbon and sound. allaround, pianos are rising alone. ...
Posted by on Thu, 26 Feb 2009 15:06:00 GMT |
Hell |
you can only imagine what that gasstation clerk is thinking, with that lastpuff of his lunch break burning downbetween the vice ofhis index finger, which he's never used to indexand that middle on...
Posted by on Wed, 25 Feb 2009 15:58:00 GMT |
