Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Haecceity


Go west or go home; you can't kill the same river twice.
Go on! Be a part of the hair you fear, you proud stickler—
What you digest is what you gestate
For an evening's elastic embrace.

And don't dare the heavens to descend
Almost to a man, lest the podcast relieve you
Of the comedy gold in what the stork brought to brunch:
That's right, she's Daddy's little fundraiser,

Mentor to the stars. Sweep her into your heart
And strip down to your merest identity, but take care
Not to hide behind your concern for those questions
That practically ask themselves, warming to your subject

Once you've teased it into being. Wash your hands of it
And set forth on a tourney of discovery;
You win some, you lose more. I've had a blast
Despite repeated warnings of exponential poignancy.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Smell You Later


Better shove off. It's time to flush beauty
from incredulity's redoubt. Good luck

doesn't apply here, let alone matriculate.
Professor Pleasure's gone away; rainbows

scared him, blasting in through windows,
introducing all new semen spray—

a single serving will light up the coast for a day
or so. Yes, the universe picked your nose

and that's impregnable, but you asked for
nothing less. Don't we all, before we go?

Monday, May 18, 2015

In Your Absence


It's always sex o'clock somewhere.
In honor of my outsider status
I present you with medicine
conceived in liberty, swallowed
in 3-D. That'll set the swan song swinging
if anything will; they say it's a cozy time
to be alive, and they would know
who know how to drive.

Heat, stern wife to humidity, is moving
upon us, will question us shortly.
Quick, tell me again about your gag reflex.
Presently I'll belly up and
snooze, squeezed in among archaic torsos.
Far away, across the street, it's Saturday night.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Cave of Else


Light up and seal a cloud in your maw
While in the free meal there's an outrage
Falling all over a hard-on in season

Isn't it better than piano notes on a prayer
Glued to a chair or a cure for zero
Mentions in minutes out of gloom writhing high

Now take some stabs and harass a leaf
Until it's a splendor unequaled, the pride
Of a mountain in the prime of wife

Under whose coat the sun's painted on
This little wonder is proud to pump
Agreeably with or without a cause

You'll never hear the end of before
We become a cave of else rocked back
On a new can-do attachment

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Noses in Spring


Her souped-up mirror shines
A little death in my ear
The size of a wish list;
There's no mall for that, no rat-

Faced amnesiac or
Furry friend to fend off
The curb of your slurp
(Do you know where your lips are?)

A city grows noses in spring
To bait your ennui
So fap to it or lose it, up a tree
Without a poodle

Don't gimme that
Charley-horse whinny
You know what fear brought:
A calendar home in disrepair

Whose teeth flunked out and got
Freaky on the god channel—
Oh yeah man, He was mad calm
And très debonair

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Spring Song


The deep red laugh of morning is lost
on the afternoon's hollowed-out shadow

souped up like a grave to make you
yawn and neighbor no further feather—

Don't buy that bull, go place an order
for whatever juices the sun applauds

in your voice's amnesia's endeavor.
Smother your echo in wet cement,

there to be merrily, merrily loved by
the dawn's early vocab forever.

Friday, April 10, 2015

Cloud Pleaser


Not every cloud is a pun to be unmasked
over the heads of unreliable witnesses.
Tell it to the sweetheart, judge. We're talking
weird of my couch's intransigence—

its question bedevils the hottest verb action
for whose sake one takes a walk
blind eyes shed fingerprints on.

Reduced to a skeleton mutiny, let's creep
out the wind no end, reading roughshod
all the way to the riverbank; let's defend
our pain from prick militias—

our bunker of saviors is kinda funny,
is indeed what makes the bomb so horny.

Forget money: I house my identity in my kiss,
asleep in the right direction, though I know
my freedom to see so makes me a meat
mistake, crying into my smile's hand.

Monday, April 6, 2015

The Operative Word


There was a free way of thinking I read about
but never acted on, opting out for love
of the operative word that resides
wherever it's never found.

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Require Dreading


Feeling symbolic, my "I" is entangled in
ephemera, trailing it down the avenue

where the afternoon isn't absolving.
Nervously the wind wonders why

nothing I can see feels necessary.
The sun is obvious as a birth; what

follows me home is sheer malice,
held to be holy. As soon as it goes

I'll examine what's left of me, then
that'll be that: another day relieved

of importance, sent into exile from
all the words I'm afraid to know.

Sunday, March 29, 2015

It Took Forever to Get Here


And here is where the ground is soaked
with a new kind of estrangement.

Maybe it was foolish to resist
the air's living ear—

obtaining a slice of its aura is a privilege
limited to those "in the know."

Those in the snow just ignore it, focus instead
on their lines of credit.

We do like a bit of cuteness, so long as it
doesn't abscond with our language too literally.

Great balls of silence! Check out the abs on that soda.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Future You


refused to dematerialize. How hungry was the mnemonic
morning after—it came spilling in from every window

irreverently. It was more than the mere doing
of an uncouth youth; it was a need to exist

allusively. It fizzled out, then promptly retraced
its steps into the blackboard eraser in which

this dream is embedded: We're having a drink in a bar,
as friends, but when I turn away, you silently slip

your arm around my waist. Shocked awake,
I'm a character again, artificially unsavory.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

East of Pluto


Amid the sky's deregulation, my passivity began to be indulged in. To find footing solid enough to read by seemed a too moony pursuit for words. Not that we weary agents of biology minded, not at all. In fact we liked it that way, the way of all flesh. I almost got famous adapting it for the screen. 

Watch out! Reviews are rolling in, and they don't look good for authenticity, to name but one disappointment among the many we, the unofficially bereaved, occupied in memory of adolescent appetizer days. Beige was a popular color that year, as usual; practically every state recognized it, took it under its wing. Then,

in a flash and a puff of smoke, an anonymous source erected a chocolate abatis in front of a grand piano army—to dignify our heavenly anarchy, some felt. But not all! "You may already be unborn," announced the imperial press release. At once we fell to bedding each other, languidly but rigorously, like writing a paper. No one ordered us to, we just took the liberty.

Monday, March 16, 2015

The Perilous Night


In the movies, the Wurlitzer seduces the howitzer,
but how often does real life redeem this?

I've been told to limit my remarks on this topic;
they all but swallow themselves, anyhow.

No wonder word-peddlers more notorious than I
are "wont" to "ply" their "wares" in my "vicinity."

It's not unreasonable to dismiss them as mere actors,
sad strivers with no more relevance to

our scrambled lives than the cloud I halved
and exposed for your viewing pleasure

one fine morning, long ago. Still, it never
hurt anyone to call for a stiff drink to go

along with a proportionately stiffer breeze.
You must sit as still as you can then,

yet take care never to get anywhere
in regard to the big questions:

The chicken is reluctant to surrender
documents the egg deems essential to its case.

Once again, without consulting me,
dusk is out the door, getting busy.

My thought-bubbles gurgle. Time is ticked off.
In some suburban driveway, a dog parks.

Monday, March 9, 2015

Watchful Whispering


Feminize the clock if it needs it, then inhale.

Later on (the best time of day), we'll have other
bodacious disarmaments to look forward to:

doodled maps of digital neuropathies
raised up as art.
                             And with pleasures like those,
who needs signature moves? This question begs itself

not to linger too long in the threshold between us;
no need to fear another untenable sleep
from which to wake into a catastrophe

different from the one you'd hoped would compose you.

No, all the time in the world doesn't begin
to enclose such a stubborn infinity. Yes,
                                               
reinforcements are on the way, memories
marching to a tune as urgent as a feather

floating on the atom-scattering breeze
that sent your unbound biography scudding away.