Back in Terre Haute for a wedding. This keyboard really sucs. I's so freaking hard to type. Yu have to punch the hell out of he keys to make the letters appear on the screen. I really should typ more slowly, but now I've decided that this appraoch is more fun. It's been man mnths since I've had a real keybard to type on, excpt for the one at work, where I don't feel comfortable typing fas because I'm worried I will draw attention to myself. Not that I would gt in trouble, ony mean that I don' want my co-workers to know that I hav a blog. The don't know much about me and that's the way I'd like things to say.

It's thundersotrming right now in Indiana though it's tapering off around here. I'm not the type of person who turns off his computer when it storms, not that there's anything wron with you if you do. This fucking keyboard! Actually, I'm surprised theren't aren't more typos occurring as I write this. It seems like I'm making a lot of them but when I look up at the screen I am pleawsnaly surprised to find that the keybard is apparenty abe to figure ot what I'm trying to say most of the time.

Saw Indiana Jones tonight. I enjoyed it and I know better than to compare it to the old movies since those were importat to me as a child, and when something is important to you as a chld it takes on significance tha no later revival of a franchise can hope to replicate. I haven't been reallng happy wth anythign from the worlds of Star Trek or Woody Allen since 1999. The last Woody Allen movie I liked completely was Sweet and Lowdown, the last Star Trek thing I liked completely was the final seasos of DS9. I mean I liked DS9 all the way, but the last season was '99. I am worried about the new Star rek movie. New actors playing younger versons of old characters is not something I okk forward to.

If ou're reading this blog for the first time please know that I am not a Trekkie who types bad. I mean I do like Star Trek but this keybard is bad! The word keybard keeps coming up keybard! I actually type very well and usually not about Star rek or any other science fiction TV shows. Most of the time I d't even type much in the way of prose on this blog since my laptop was stolen in October. haev an iPod Toch but it's really hard to type with thumbs, espcially when they're as big a sine. Not to ive you the wrong idea—my thumbs are not freakishly large ro somethng, like Uma Thurman's in that movie about whatever the hell is was abuot—I didn't actually see it. I do know that it's basd on a Tom Robbins book. I've never read a Tom Robbins book. I keep thinking hes the motivatonal speaker with the big head who appeaars, or used to, on TV infomercials (informaton commercials).

I think I'm thinking of Tony Robbins. There might be just one 'b' in that name, I'm not sure. But it's probably too. Holy jeez. I can' believe I just typd too when I meant two. I can't blame that on the keyboard.

As my plane was landing I looked at the skyline of Indianapolis and right next to the gigantic throw-pillow-resembling Hoosier Dome, there wa a gargantuan structure that looke sort of like a cathedral without a steeple. And it was BIGGER than the freaking Hoosier Dome. Which is freaking huge. It's because of sports stadia (not a typo there, it's the plural of stadium) that i am not impressed by cathedrals. The first cathdral I ever set foot inside was the Cathdral of St. John the Divine. Unfinished, huge, and impressive in its own way, but theres no way a Super Bowl could ever be held nside it. Just not enough seats. The league would freak. Just imagine. Some NFL bigwig or bigshot suggests holding Super Bowl in cathedral. That would be the day. Well don't worry, t woudn't happe.

They're having the Super Bolw n this Indy monstrosity in 2012. The last Super Bowl ever, since the end of worls, according to some people's interpretaion of Mayan predictions, will hapen in December 2012. It's something I worry about ess and less the older I get. I'm also learnigto worry less about asteroid impacts, gamma ray bursts ad the Yellowstone caldera. The freaky thing about a gamma ray burst is that it would kill everything on earth, but inanimate objects would be unaffected. Buildings, cars, books, traffic lihts, flagpoles, objects of al kids, would be left behind to a dead world. Fortunately the odds of a gamma ray burst are extrmely rare. The bad news is, if it does happen, we will get no warning, and even if we did have warning, it wouldn't matter, because there would be no way to dfend against it. There is hope of defending against asteriods and meteors. The bad news is, there is no hope of diverting a comet. Comets are just way too fuckin' fast or big or...hmm...can't reember what the problem is with comets but I know they're much worse than astreoids.

Don't get me started on the Yellowstone caldera. A caldera is basically the lid of a huge-ass monster thng called a super volcano. If it blows it could wipe out half the U.S. and bring abuut human extinction (worst case scenario). I think it blows once every 600,000 years, and guess what, it's been 700,000 years scne the last time. Overfuckingdue, we are. But...

It's still pretty unlikely to happn anytime soon, so try not to worry about it. Hey, when did Mike Doughty gt all mainstreamy? That's the kind of things you should worry about, if you're goignto worry abuot anything.

Once again, before I end this post, I'd like to point out taht I am typing on a very bad keyboard. It's making me look like a moron. I am not, I repeat, I am not, in fact, a moron.

DISAPPOINTED IN THE MUSEUM


A few people I know
and I went to a new museum
just to see what it was like.
It was impressive, but
disappointing. The art was fine,
but there was too much of it.
There were exhibits
and a cafe.

In the parking lot my arm was cut off
by a disturbed docent. His machete

gleamed and my companions ran.

I have never seen a citizen resemble a celebrity more exactly than a woman on the train this morning did Cate Blanchett.

Cognoscenti is a word I heard on the radio while dressing. It was pronounced correctly and without difficulty by the WQXR announcer. Cone-yuh-shen-tee. Minutes later I was on the train. I opened an issue of Verse to the first poem. One of the words in it was cognoscenti. I was surprised to encounter such a foreign word twice in the same morning.

CANNED MATTER POETRY


My family calls this "canned" soup
because most of the ingredients are from a can.

It may seem like a dry kibble food,
but look at the CANNED CAT FOOD.

My point is that I Can't Believe It's Kosher.
We all know informed food lovers in pursuit of the berry.

In Japan it is freeze-dried and canned
for use in fruit salads and

Chicken Formula Canned Adult Cat Food,
lots of insect fragments, rodent hairs,

feathers and other matter.
Now let us compare this to canned food

that has 80% moisture. We know that with 80% moisture
we have 20% dry matter. The label shows 5% protein.

Therein lies the crux of the matter.
I simply can not let this go. I actually fantasize

about taking muscle shirts out
to the patio and using canned pea soup,

not that the pea soup here is canned.
Matter of fact, I don't know if it is canned or not.

I hope someone can help me on that matter.
I collect beer cans in Samarkand Uzbekistan.

Most canned foods are 78% water
which helps keep a cat properly hydrated

given their low thirst drive. This leaves 22%
as dry matter to abolish and disregard

the various pure-food laws and to live.

"Travel Plans" is a Leslie Monsour remix.

TRAVEL PLANS


The two of us were just an airplane's vapor trail
its bulby hump and craggy, knurled scar
saw the spreading, dangling the wine
before we're matter-of-factly lumpish.
We politely licked the grizzled pepper
from its source, you said, "I'd like
hopeful sprays against the sky"
while you forced the sun-warmed trunk
to make us too damn bold.
You couldn't go to Mexico a little
and sipped its seal while
your weight took a drunk tree across the
cinnabar, and spilled in to me and watched
the sun rest "with you, tantalizing tail,
to come undone instead".
On the course, lean round us
that-way, someday old and of it, this-way.

I disagree with this statement: "The only thing better than a Wilco song is a ten-minute Wilco song." Sorry, Cheryl Waters.

SCOTT CHANGED


Went over the other night to the crazy man
(good ol Doc Scott), only to see a black screen (???????)
so I did what we preach...delete the channel.

Not "hey cool new features" but instead "hmm,
either Scott changed his theme or got someone else to ghost write this".
We are such nerds.

Can someone tell me how and why?
Scott changed his approach as time went on,
showing much more maturity, but you only get one chance

to make a first impression and
Scott was the first regional lead that was selected.
After starting medical school in the fall of 1934,

Scott changed employment, working in the supply storeroom
of the Physiology Department at the University.
I literally can't overstate how much this has changed the way

I set up the inline-heading trick for this site,
coincidentally the same day Scott changed his design.
Thus, this year, when Scott changed, the roof fell in.

Scott, apparently by fiat, declared that a lot
of stamps were worth much.
It was during this time that Scott changed, "to be different".

Please note the change!!! PLEASE NOTE THE TIME!!!! It is 2:00PM!!!
The threat of storms tonight has
changed the team and no one saw it coming.

Nor has Scott changed these views since his report was published.
Several days before his first meeting with Justice Department handlers,
Scott changed and thereafter was responsible.

The girl who rang up my wrap today, her nametag: FUTURE.

NOT REALLY INTO HUNTING


Antlers are what
Brought me to
Canada with several
Devilishly handsome busboys
Each named Matt
Four of them
Good busboys all
Handsome as well
I wanted their
Job, not to
Kill mooses as
Life now asked
Me to despite
No skill in
Offing living creatures
Poor me, I
Quit this trip
Really tired of
Stupid NRA jerks
Telling me to
Uphold Amendment 2
Vegans are preferable
Witches, freaks named
Xerxes, I love
Y'all, in your
Zone I will.

13.4% of Goodreads users believe that Sylvia Plath and John Updike were lovers.

Jim Noir. Oh my god. So good. Find and listen. Jim Noir. Self-titled album. Oh god. So good.

DO YOU ENJOY LETTUCE?


Do you still close the door when you shower?
I really appreciate your support
and I hope you enjoy some of my upcoming vegetables.

How you wash from the garden...
but it doesn't seem to work as well for me.

I fall as you enjoy
your fresh snack, ask students,
Do you think that we can harvest and eat
value as an ornamental landscape?

Hey LETTUCE, ouch! Your Funk hurts so good...
nice to meet you here!
Thanks for accepting my friend
and I hope you enjoy my music too.

How do you keep fresh? You guys hooked me up
with the best way to enjoy the outdoors without trashing it.

Just one question—how many adults do you think this recipe can serve
if you don’t own a salad spinner and you enjoy eating salads?

You need to buy one, rinse the bacon bag, put the bacon back in
with "mucky" deli meats or bacon or wilted lettuce! Enjoy!

Fun reading last night—Matt Hart, Chris Martin, Amanda Nadelberg. A bar in Brooklyn called Pacific Standard. I wandered up and down Park Slope's 5th Avenue a little bit beforehand since I got there early. It only took thirty minutes to get from Atlantic Avenue to 96th St. on the 2 coming home. I thought it would take longer.

ZIONIST POLE DANCER


My name is Jay D. and I'm a Zionist
living in Vegas working as a pole dancer.
I thought I'll make that clear right off
because if I married a mail order Phillippino pole dancer
we would have some sexy Chinese pole dancer
at a China disco, by Tom Carter.

This video shows how Zionist propaganda
is spreading lies to milk the pole dancing.
Every free loving American should have 4 to 5 Zionists
that a pole dancer gets caught up in terrorist intrigue.

We know whose fault it is! Who's to blame!
Ashley is really a guy; he's a pole dancer
at a gay bar in his town. So the question becomes:

Does the Christian radical/neo-con/Zionist axis
featuring a g-string clad pole dancer
spare ammo for the US administration?

I suggest becoming a pole dancer.
As a political analyst you'd desire
a big Zionist community
and writer Diablo Cody

who previously spent a year as a pole dancer
in order to record with the Nazi regime.
That was a joke right? Is it actually a product?

What is all the fuss over the
gay, bi-sexual, disabled, rich, poor, prostitute pole dancer welfare mom?
This proves the fact the Zionists and Zionist Christians
are run by a load of Catholic, Satanist,
Zionist freemasons of the 33rd degree,
eh Francis? Bikini babes serve anyone well.

The other day I received my prize for a contest I won on the Omnidawn blog. It's Martha Ronk's In a Landscape of Having to Repeat, and it's the best prize I've gotten since the car stereo speakers I won for perfect attendance in high school one year. Thanks Omnidawn!

Robert Rauschenberg 1925-2008

The preceding poem is a Joshua Mehigan remix. I daresay it's an improvement. Is it mean to do this? Yes. No.

THE SPONGE


of reefs and villages, once it was strange
that minds and their milieux are all one thing
not rock, but a blank sleep on a rock shelf
the single thought forever in its mind

Still, one day, just by living, all will find
some see its way of thinking; most, not yet
dilating at the bottom of the sea
simply for being not a rock itself—

and, deeply sympathetic to the rock,
none of us understands our story better
it knows, although it doesn’t know it knows,
than this nonentity, unconscious slip

to sea and sea-dust washing through its skin,
reason enough within themselves to think
of nature, nonetheless our common parent
the parent, too, of octopus and pony

DAIRY BONDAGE QUEEN


Bondage Queen Kate is concerned about the animals
on her 500-acre dairy farm. This worried Penny
because she was familiar with the Queen.
The strictness of her bondage and the direness
of her predicament were too much for a hardcore
NC-17 PWP involving Duo, Heero, and bondage.

I've just been abandoned by myself at the Dairy Queen
with vegan bondage, a more ethical variant of the
Enigmatard anomaly walked into
late last year, inquiring about condoms devoid of dairy.

Queen Alsip, Illinois US Assistant Manager,
your turn on is bondage...all out.
This month the kinky freaks at Dairy Queen
unveil the new Coconut Cream Pie,
like the stuff they used to sell at Dairy Barn,
but better! Such a nice, delicate (yes,
delicate) combo of silver wrist candy and bondage.

Well slap my ass and call me a bondage queen,
because that's something I never would have
freaking guessed. Listen, jerkfriend:
I know you're trying to be
Bondage Queen Kate and
I want to do spin-offs: LEGO
is old, bad dairy
and Edward can never go awry
with her trusty crop or whip.

You fight like a dairy farmer.
How appropriate, you fight like a cow.

Would somebody please tell me what all the insane honking and yelling and music going on for the past hour is about?

A REQUEST FOR SOD


The call came in
around ten AM
a voice wanted sod
How much was my
question, about
four thousand
square yards
was the answer
Who do you
think you are I
asked. Just a
fellow who
would like some
sod he said, I need
to cover a foot-
ball field and
have some
left over for
a pet project
What kind of pet
I asked, he said
a kitty cat
I said what kind
of kitty cat
he said that
was irrelevant I
disagreed and hung up

AMERICAN APPAREL


Look at all that American apparel
inside that American Apparel. There,
through that plate glass window, that rectangle
bordered on all sides by harsh white
fluorescent lights, you can see the racks
of American apparel. Those harsh
white fluorescent lights are in fact
generating an electromagnetic force field
that prevents customers from leaving
empty-handed. It's exactly like the brig
on the Enterprise D. I would much rather be
a prisoner in the brig of the Enterprise
than a customer in American Apparel. Yes,
I would rather be taken captive by a Frenchman
(and his crew) than by the staff of American Apparel.
I wouldn't know what to do with so much
American apparel. On the other hand,
their ads are so erotic...extremely
erotic. Who am I kidding? I won't even try
to resist. That would be futile.

POLARNOIA


The girl scout stood
on the median strip
and unscrewed her
lens cap.

I must have
dozed off, because of
my hearty brunch.

The rest area was anything
but an area. It was
a launchpad

for America's next top model.

When I came to,
the median strip
was naked.

ANTARCTIC HEMORRHOID


Girl 1 talking to friend Girl 2
about some miracle facial creme
made of Mongolian lamb placenta
and wild Antarctic zebra hemorrhoids

is hemmed by huge ice shelves
that prevent them from finding that football park,
not to mention those delightful
hemorrhoid-inducing aluminum seats.

Anyway, all the kids are posers.
I don't know, I can't make that call,
maybe Justin Woolery can, because he had
Ass in the Tub, Ass in Space,

and Ass in Antarctica, says there's nothing better
than vials of a marine oil so powerful
it would suggest rubbing the toads
with a Japanese factory ship.

This provides for the sustainability of
Glenn Beck's eye-opening hemorrhoid surgery
(patently false Reaganomic mysticism)
to fend off the Japanese whaling fleet.

Although there are many other native peoples on the market,
the radiocarbon brassiere may be cold to most of us,
but is warm to a penguin in the varicose veins,
painful periods and so on,

photographed floating in some forms of cancer
because of global warming. Scientists blame
a crustacean found in Fatty Acid ebooks.
They say it was really surgery to remove his head from Antarctica.

No hot water this morning. No warm water. Ice-cold water only. I got my hair wet with ice-cold water, matted it down, shook my head back and forth, toweled it off, shook my head, matted it down. Eventually I came to resemble something like a human.

Tried to go to Anne Carson/Graham Foust/Misty Harper reading tonight, but the place was so crowded I just turned around and left. Stupid bar was one of those long skinny ones. Second time that's happened to me there. (11th St. Bar, between A and B.)

I'm on Goodreads now, but I have to say that I rarely read books people recommend to me. I have way too many to read already. But I don't know anyone on Goodreads, so I guess I don't have to worry about it.

24 HOUR NEWS CYCLE PARTY PEOPLE


Bush's anal obsession
with Osama bin Laden
and Saddam Hussein
is not a great leap
from an obsession with male-on-male dino-dragon porn,
Rove's October Surprise.
Now the 9/11 commission points to anal obsession
for some righteous validation.
It isn't surprising that Bush is deeply implanted in bin Laden's
extensive financial interests.
Eugenics is a key obsession with this group,
and we must end once and for all
our unhealthy obsession with imperialism
and anal rape (he is penetrated by the Empire
State Building). In this odd coupling
of bin Laden with O.J., bin Laden's wife
commits her husband to a psychiatric ward
due to his obsession with his Bluetooth phone.
Then there is Senator Craig and his anal bathroom adventures.

THE WINDOW


Earlier today it was later tonight.
Nothing came of this,
but the bicycle on the other side of this window here
is no less authentic. When I looked up just now it was gone.

Please trust me. It was authentic.
But does its authenticity imply an author?
"Who is the author of this authentic bike?"
one may ask, foolishly.

Whenever I get an idea for a blog post, I think, wait, why waste that idea on a blog post? And I try to write a poem instead.

The more comfortable I get with poetry, the more impossible I find fiction-writing, which should be easy.

It sucks not having a real computer. I'm typing this with thumbs.

All the ideas in this blog post are boring because I would save any good ones for poems.

ONE HOUR, 70 LINES, BEAT THAT, YOU CAN'T, I WIN


Guy looks like a guy from a buried place
smoking three packs an hour and loving his hot box

garden gnomes notwithstanding pressure
put upon, left open

to the breeze I guess he was trying to squeeze
and further along came the bent possums

homebodies would have
to wait, to pass a few stones before coming to grips

or shoving a mailman down the steps
building a bridge to the '80s

Mornings are fibers
at the same time buoys are crafted from high sheen

walrus tusk
too early for dusk but not

a potluck
or a duck

some people suck
a lot of them do

a lot of us come in from the cold
stamp out boots out in the

already crumbling edifice, a fire stumbles into AM light
today's hottest country

Is this this slight discomfort I feel at the opening of one
orifice or another real discomfort or imaginary

discomfort? Don't forget to peel your eyeballs
and then keep them that way

and then this and then that
all the way to next week, I'll kick you if

you help me, you helpmeet.
My, you be a handsome helpmeet.

I'm a helpmeet.
That policeman with dogs for hands is a helpmeet.

I'd like to eat a week
if a week was mine to be eaten

if lines were meant to be beaten
into shapes I'd play the same three notes over and knots

lined up,
spine-like

I find
my bike

artfully placed up against
a capital A in a time-garage

that's been happening a lot lately
first you ride your bike then

the bike rides you. You ride for miles
without ass-money. Your bundled honey is as

so much scum-bunny
which you would know about if you read, past tense,

the news. It's good.
The road continues.

People, probably from the future, are selling fruit
and feeling guilty about murders they've omitted

from their memoirs. Ha!
Silly fuck rednecks don't write memoirs

Frilly cup head wrecks won't fight peignoirs
unless you ask them to nicely

step aside, I say step aside you are my
bluish obstacle to yonder confectionary

where I shall make a purchase of some stationery
I don't care whether there is any there there

there is something about heartbeats here
or there don't make no difference to me do whatever

the fuck you want you want me no maybe I want to deliver
five American dollars into the lap of a fellow traveler

who is possibly you the lady reading this
you are touched aren't you

is almost but not quite palindromic quite not but almost is
California! It's almost time to go there, I

want to wear a bear in my hair. I'm
fed up with meals that cost too much in terms of money.

I guess these April poems have been "drafts", but I think they're as done as they're going to be. I don't care about making them better. If they're no good after the initial work I did, no amount of revision will make them good. Why worry? Just write new ones. No big deal. They're like disposable contacts. They're just poems, not final exam blue book answers.

Am I missing something, or isn't all comedy based on irony? The little twist that goes against logic and makes you go Ha. Isn't it irony every time? If you're anti-irony, don't you have to be anti-comedy? How can you like comedy, humor, funniness, if you don't like irony? Am I misunderstanding what irony is? Am I missing something?

Hey, I don't like every single story that appears in McSweeney's, but this righteous crusade against them is just dumb.

Remind me not to read n+1.