Lacy always wrap.
Drumming ear tolls, cushions
caging bleu ribrib ache -
nestling legs general paw, 
bodyneedtobeneedtobe. 
Always ox(ish) head yolks 
allway liftings blankets shirts comforters
& nesting, angling Lacy Way This Way
& That (Way), so ---

Lacy building cabins in woods, paintings imprisoned ceiling mural heavens, wombs
Lacy Way away from here: Mom's belly weaver dreamings&time-share vacas 
nexto Jackie Boy couching hard wombs, all so padding winter fat
& the pre-hibernative like.

D D

e  e

a  a

t   t

h  h

is C

C R

R U

U S

S H

H E

I   S

N  --  Romance's 

G      Less & Fullest 

         Scale tips just

         a smidge pending

us all.                           upon the view.

Yes, yes, yes:

castle cloud

on! Ward off

Only's, embrace

Only's pending

upon the view.

. . . heels click
on the pavement above
outside my bedroom window
&trance dream cadence
&heart beat trigger -

                                  So, no.

                                   I don't think so.


                                   I are
                                   flatters & vain, Truth: but
                                   why skin descends, rocking
                                   unporcelain bleeding atoms, tiding
                                   messengers tightroping tautiest floss held b'tween
                                   the god's big toe & fat northern lip                               
                                   we can never know.
                                  

T             Mu
  OO





                  c





                                                                            H



                  LIFE                                                  (,)




                                                                             t o    w    r  I  te

You In Hymnal (Written By Somebody Else As Me); Or, Secondhand Mythmaking 330: Adoption and Rearing

I hear her eyes 
fall on the color spectrum Some
Where between
Chartreuse and Infrared and 
the sight of them can 
cause a man to delve in the psy-
che of The Woodland People that once 
inhibited(sic) 
The Anti-Mountains of The Great Plains.

These builders of civilization conquered 
the internal uprising against 
The Dying of Light and those 
eyes reminded a modern man of those 
times past when 
hunter/gather's(sic) 
were seduced by the Native 
American version of 
Medussa(sic) 
and to gaze upon the iris caused 
one to cry and recall a fetus 
inside the womb of Sacajawea 
and the celebration of life and afterbirth that 
flowed into The Mighty Mississippi 
Ohh So Many years ago.

steadfast

feet patter & pit,
cold linoleum
bipedals A/C
flowing brains well
healthful & flourish

    Taking steps outside your bed;
    foreign funky
    unframed,outlined
    webbed,con,tin,u,a,tion, of cross-
    ed state & country lines
          
    just decimated, re-
    drawn blue skyed;Art needs
    some thing to
    art against arou-
    nd,from:High

    tide.

hands curl inter
locked fingers
entwine unlocked oxygen;
Wily lived in the 
forest for years


  

Quotid Jones Met Ravish Rupture-Smith

'per
 hap
     s' t
     he
'gre
     ate      st'    's
ong   '   '   eve r'
m a   de            ?

l                       o
ve a
s in-
semination bir  th       ,
wa          t           er     -
ing        in     -     choate
breath   fin          ger tip
stretchhhhhhhhhhhhed(
Cha       rle          ston C
                                     hew);Death put off.

Excerpt from a Story I'll Never Write (Only Live) (III)

Thank you

    (lowers jaw,
                      nose,forehead
                 even with her own,
                 lips plant)

                 for being patient

                 with me.

We
ll(eyes

vibrate      
taut, drill boring core
mind soul heart)

I think you're worth it.

(and it's perfect)

i

  t's o
         k;you
       'r
     e  i(')m
   pe
 rfe
ct.

-                  -                  -                  -                  -           I

w







I                        L!L!            al





w              a







         Y(e)S(!)    [...]& READ ALL ABOUT IT

help organize tea
                          pick the dead skin
                                                       arrange the library by spine by heart
                                                                                                                               and love you.

GIF Dreams (Sidney's Ma)

I am surprise by every breath released
sucked in caught back up taken in
up and away: the white chalk splashed
explodes euphoric as you GIF me

to sleep, fair unfoul. I am surprise by inauctionable
smiles rowing under the pier to look for sea-ridden lost and found
refusals to dock - out of what? acceptance? fe-
ar? Hoped. I am surprise with every year knows

known lives
what's intestinely
'tween eternal and breath
squealing triggerdly
galaxy bashed out of soil
standing at least six feet tall
shadowlessly, As-Is True.
                                                      (In Fulfillment Of The Scriptures)

un jeune albatros trouve le courage et l'amour de propager ses ailes (merci, charles et samantha)

But man oh man, I feel like you've gone and put more kindling atop heart's

glowing diasapora vast embers, stoking fire into matching shadows for once. Warm
tears streamed down my face calmly draining off chin, depositing 'neath t-shirt 

covered collarbone filling clavicle's basin, placidly accumulating on top lip's

pooled salty exultations from river into lake into ocean undammed falling 

gentle deafened onto tongue igniting the revelation of connection of feeling
like I know someone or something a little more, that we are one cloud closer to one
another than we thought possible, and, sometimes, can hear each other plainly 

speak in silent meditative resting our beat for beat rise and fall tasting all of tears'

despair and howling laughter, all while seeing in technicolor, too.

Excerpt from a Story I'll Never Write (I)

"The Alamo is a nice time and place I hear. My brother demo'd a time-share out and back there. Said it was a real trip. A good fucking sim. He even got to keep the coonskin."

Giants (All)

Trails leading away from when we knew

people almost. We were giants all blood

and flesh and trust.

I never wanted to wander through

too many hallways until I trudged

into too much need and must

turned over 

and clicked and clicked and clicked

and clicked and clicked and clicked

and roared

the engine wild steered off gravel

the hood smashed open the throw 

pillow down feathers scattered 

only everywhere.

I see you everywhere in the stars.

Trust and flesh and blood giants
all we were people we knew from trails

leading away and here, too.

the world's
                 smallest margin for error
      requires
                 a new god's surgical amnesia.

distances (cloying)

                     how?                                                        

                                                            

         can you so

misunderstand me.how

        can't you s

                (!)
            

         e


e                            me?

everything else is in the air

te                                                                                                                                                              ll
m                                                                                                                                                              e
wh                                                                                                                                                           at
y                                                                              o                                                                               u
kn                                                                            o                                                                              w


i                                                                               '                                                                               m
go                                                                            i                                                                              ng
t                                                                                                                                                                o
d                                                                              i                                                                                e

every                                                                                                                                                  thing
el                                                                                                                                                             se
i                                                                                                                                                                s
i                                                                                                                                                                n
t                                                                              h                                                                                e




                                                                              

a


                                             i
                                                                                                                                                             r










everything else is in the air

ground hog daydream (wetting the bed)

              I

sometimes

                (most recently, thirteen seconds ago),

i feel compelled to delete, wipe completely clean this blog's 199 published posts and 416 drafts

                (but this seems like suicide)

sometimes

                (most recently, seven seconds ago)

i frantic and churn pre-apocalyptic dread into drained pitch-white, clenched-grip scrawling transcriptions

                (and this feels like exiting a womb only to look over my shoulder)

             II

                 i checked google mail ten times and

                 i checked facebook six times in

                 the forty-seven minutes be-

                 tween start and complete of the

                 fore(and on)going poem.

                 i also learned the tyrannosaurus

                 rex jaw size (up to four feet), the

                 reason honeybees die when they sting (pride),

                 how the seasons change on neptune (every

                 forty years),  the truth about the breast orgasm (it's true

                 for some breasts), and rosario dawson's height (5'8") 

                 and upcoming releases (too few).
                                                a ground hog day would be a miracle

            III
where do you go when you silent past?

my shoes are always untied and track mud

on the rug. i shuffle loudly, too. 

i am frigid when you are scalding.i freeze while you scald.

i am dreaming while are needing.i dream while you need.

i am needing while you are blanking.i need as you blank.

i am scalding while you are frigid. i scald as you freeze.

            IV

        dollop          -fetch

        dollop                    -fetch

        dollop                             -no. stop. 

the internet wants to date you (maybe) (probably not)

hi, i am the internet. i am interested in dating you.

Existential Option Trading (The Importance of Being Ironic) (Part Two, The Blimp)

Existential Option Trading (The Importance of Being Ironic)

ONE
(Un)fortunately you (I) can('t) choose who (what) you (I) dream (fear).


TWO
I want to use 'I' powerfully
antiglacially, snap-just-like-that
quick and in stride.


THREE
I can't find an antonym for 'choose'.

Il n'y a pas de hors-choix.

Dreaming we've walked grocery
store aisles stalking
perfect cereal. Then: Which aisle 
for toothbrushes? And does soy
milk's cream perfectly 
complement Lucky Charm's
marshmallow? The man pointed but
didn't know what your smile telegraphed
into the pillow later that morning right before I picked
Total out of sky and into bowl.
--
The secret isn't a secret un-
til after midnight's pumpkin hour
when my etched back sits
setting into the range your nails laid,
forcing unknown unknowns' hand
delivering the knowledge of questions.
--
I have stood in my bathroom under
examining bright light, back toward
the mirror, neck craned twisted avenging
loss through understanding
the intent of your topology. How
can we move peak-to-peak - and did
you pack the leather bomber?

por supuesto, la puta vida

dams don't have honest divinity.



The flood always comes.


The gods hear not, think


not and only uncunningly will

[ . . . . ] 

undead, too: the 
pantheon will survive us all. 

(Godliness next to 

nothingness.)

+ One Hundred Two Days, Twelve Hours, Forty-Five Minutes, Six Seconds

" . . . "

"I said that, yeah."

[ . . . . ]

 "I do live                      

        even tri=  

=umphant, pearly dreams 

half-awake."               

[ . . . ]

forest groves, the city, the sidewalk, 

sideways glances, cracks, slivers, crevices, mud brown, 

pitch black, chaste white, hand-

conducted words, conjured memories, maps, unrequited love, 

shrill hissing, requited love, hot pissing, heroes 

furrowing into cowards, cowards sweating into heroes, communication 

chasms, aladdin, thom yorke, mozart, simba and nala, apocalyptic 

v. gradual change, amor fati, foraging, rummaging, 

looking underneath, satchels, 

heraclitus, 

orange peels, 

red rover, 

the river styx, 

conflict->tension->rupture->flux->transcendence, 

leap frog, dirty clothes, naked sky,  spackled idols, sticky buds

[old] 2012.05.30

there's more in the shed

jus ask the girl at the counter

bring her empty cartridge box 

she'll pull it from back

microfiche

vhs

laserdisc

floppy disk 

whatever you want

just make it dusty

Elegy for 'Warm'

I cherish every
word you give
me though
you give me not but a few, and
it's not the void,
the sparse, the lacking, the...

   that brings me back and back under
   tornadoed, pinched-off knees
   weak through to plasm tenuous as
   you shyly try to outcheshire the missing-out-
   on-you-world but as a fool's fool I am unfoolable.

I've downloaded
the automatic refresher, and
purchased a yottabyte
hard drive so I might
divine genesis, gestation, birth: the
bell ringing your heart's hand-

   maidens, and at what hour, what
   angle of sunlight, I can see through
   foreboding uncertainty,
   through Beam courage holding
   belief's straggling hand giving

us Heart we
just dug: letting the
cat out of your eyelash,
ringing the mys-
tery out of your skin,
airing into being a stranger I
  
    know, whom
    you carry in maze
    goddesses enw(/t)ombed;
    I pray you know-- to
    gods divined wholly

in spirit, effigy, tribute, idolatry, through
saccharine lonely-fired castles
--that you might meet you, and we
might smile so big our
waxing, saltypink faces break off in-
to eternal combustion engine bread.

But this is myth:

   ROYGBIV to pitch-white;

   Lies under flashlight
   hurt worse than sunbright
   conspiring.

   Losingfull loneliness
   enlarges the heart in-
   to authoritarian delusion.

   Heart
   subsumes every. Heart colors
   Heart into blank. Warm does
   not feel Cold. (Warm is
   gullible)

on smiling (the de- and re-constructive act of honestly taking account of the cheese, the cliche, the tragically trite)

Harsh warm morning light

          

Creaking new house sounds

    Opening patio door

    Looking into vast plat;

The creek trickles softly in détente,

cleanly over stoic bedrock agefull.

i

His cheek's

a bit pocked. Smile peeks 

out behind red lips, 

life reveling 

ribs weary from 

rescusitation

exposed to flaccid 

pummeling broken 

into unevent. But here parting lips

calendar Holiday's arrival.

ii

Smiles are

tributaries rushing through forest,

trenching a new path toward

quenching scorched choking sediment

yearning memory aching to transcend 

sentiment.


iii

Smile 

plats heart's blueprint. Smiles

travel time, rupturing

past; 

Smile canvasses

future, bridges presents.

resting heartbeat (an end until another beginning)

and then all of a sudden
the sun shone brilliantly
upon the unfurled green pistil

and anxious pitterpatter
became ambling pit-pat

i'm a pathetic parasitic almost sort of poet dining as i do solely on despair or revelation emanating from my own day to day tribulations and epiphanies composing the year to year life arcs i foretell in dreams and then enact and then watch on looped replay with threatening telestrator in hand.

this might be the first time i've ever straight-facedly referred to myself as a poet. which itself is  inherently more than just 'some' acclamation from an otherwise increasingly cantankerous never satisfied always pullin out more canvas sort of philosopher life author self.

feels like implicitly bullshit tho. this whole charade now.

'poet', 'poetry, poetic'... these are judgments assigning value, taking 'poetry' as we (me and my group of bureaucrats, credentialed experts and thorough archivists) to not be confined to that niched writing territory of 'not considered short and novelized fiction'. i mean: poetry seems less a discipline and more of an abstract value not limited to written words applying to or eschewing convention. a spirit an aesthetic. 'a poetic gait' 'your timbre is poetry' ... as well as homer and whitman and rilke and dylan and hendrix and others more conventionally called 'poets'. i don't pretend this to be revolutionary to the aesthetics field or a meaningful contribution to contemporary or eternal philosophy of art conversations. the declaration is important to me.

this is all to say that i may be a parasitic poet but it's not pathetic.

unedited (or, run-on) (or, fuck 'or': 'and' 2012, baby!)

loving is the only thing i can do. everything else every other action is overflow outgrowth from loving or trying to love.

or that loving when i should've been liking lest i break some code some coolness line in the sand because there is nothing worse than looking up and suddenly realizing you're on a perch where after 0-CRYSTALLIZED you now are of the clear-headed sober minded opinion that (shhhh) you now just-this-moment like someone less than they like you.

should've been shouldve been shouldve been shouldve been...

who says?

the reckoners in the back working the super computer sharpening the algorithm to the meaning of life. you should see their faces light up as another story is built on some tower in a massive ideological complex. or when they repaint the veneer of a much venerated now statued high-rise principle after leading the way to victory in campaign after campaign.

love is not just for fate or for the will or for the leaping heart or for the analytical brain or for the stepping foot or contemplating mind. love is acceptance of the necessary. love is both a base jump and a succumbing lying down smiling. love is not the sun or the moon or the sky or the ground or the roots. lovingly much more so than a mere toleration but with joy towards the sun the moon the sky the ground the roots the passing glance the lingering hug goodbye the awkward kiss. love is adoration for acknowledging absorbing enacting the imperative of Here and Now away from the narcotic release of heavenly past and future. love is abiding but never obligatory. love is a constantly presented choice. love is the originary question the question of questions. every other question derives from the basic impulse to love or to hate. choose love as the man said to choose the abyss.


!this message has been jointly funded by the Coalition to Moderate Deification and the Campaign to Elect 'love'* as the Overt Acting Main Guiding Principle Influencing the Self!


^please stop capitalizing the preceding four words and capitalization-as-convention-in-general. it's pretentious, aloof, and diluting. this is a challenge to reinject words with meaning by really constructing, actively deciding what is proper to 'proper'.

*please email the author for a pdf of love's dissertation and video of his defense against legendary antagonist 'pragmatism'

faith

m
    a
y
                    b
e

h                                                                                                                                                               o

p

e

fully

some

t

                     hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing

sometime

super  symmetry me unseen
a Form
jutting 5d
out from body
as shadow
as path
as massive looming

destiny's narrated coincidence
harboring Dear Leaders
knitting A Pattern to Pattern
putting moment on a milk carton:

put down the telestrator
clear the room of experts
clear the room of archivists
cross your heart
and hope to die

immoderate thought's a bacteria

vice is only a towel away

stay in the water:

constant pruning

it's the only place to become

overwrought, panicking, schematizing

time-traveling, oscillating, vacillating

just let the body see

super symmetry me

under the raffia palm tree

History is the way

life ambles

History is life's

Absolute Cadence

isolated by the top place finisher

told by the gold medal winner

hanging on Hillary's Step 

jutting jaggedly

in then out 

climbing the sky

dropping into pits

we are homeless

pursuing History

and we are homeless

pining grey hymns

pursuing History

and we are homeless choosing

the bank we came in on

or the bank we'll leave for

over the flowing river enacting

synaptogenesis

place your                                            forehead on my forehead

see-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------saw

b                     ack n forth
b                     ack n forth

let's xerox our brains

lobe on lobe

let's    a             y
        h  r         s       n
      c      t                  apses
                our

under C R O W N I NG  S K Y

                                                           wrap fingers around t...r..e m b l i n g growth cone
                                                 firing axonal flares into                                                                    aethēr

                                           squeeze out coDicarius vertebrae
                                                 through MYelin sheath
                                                           buRsting into folia
                                                  and into dendritic spine

                                             looking for another den  DRItic
                                                  spine     lookingforanother
                                                           growth cone lookin for
                                                  another growth cone


you                                                       neural cartographer                                                              you

neural cartographer                               you                                                           neural cartographer

you                                                       neural cartographer                                         you      

then we'll trace a path
      and climb thalamic ridge:

                                              you be hillary,

                                                                     ill be tenzing;

                                                                                          no, wait, wait:

                                                    you're better with ropes;

                            you be tenzing,

         ill be hillary!

cuz i wanna live how
your pupils
dilate at apex;

i want to know the path

blood courses

winding side roads round rush hour

leading to your pop's cabin

i want to
                                                   ri                                  de you     r 
            heartbeat 
                                                                                      as 
                                  you place 
your forehead                                     on                                         my forehead

i want 10,000 double-sided copies

                                colored
                     collated

           stapled

88 gigapixels sharp

i want a ten-eon G       IF
                           to hang in the nursing home
                             to laminate into a placemat

                               for when narratives flicker

i want my last man in the cave to push the boulder   ou T                  and screa    M your naMe

into the echoes releaseD  

in eternity's big bang:

dippin sun   sets

old moon   wanes

bellyfull

harmful-less

potentialfull

waddling

left  to  right

grinning broad

holding to nothing

but cumulus

hope is always only wispy

dream foggies as descent requires

but above?

above,   clouds remain ladders
above,   a new moon quivers

reach i]]]]]n

r{[(e)]}{[(e)]}{[(e)]}{[(e)]}ach iN                ^five

reach i]]]]]n

cup yOUr hands                                                      ^six

cup yerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr han]]ds

cup yOUr hands and

drink                                                                        ^four

drink my    spinal fluid

drink my    spinal fl[[U]]id

drink my    spinal fluid

from your palms

drink my    spinal fluid

from your palms

drink mY  spinal fluid

from th[[[[e tap

drink mY   spinal fluid

from choroid plexus through S6


drink my    spInal fluid
and i will    drInk yours

^three

sit on the seat'o my soul

and i'll sit on yours