Before I had Tilda, I came home to an empty house between 6-8:30. I laid down and turned on the television and thought about the books I wanted to make or that I should be making. Sometimes I made books. Sometimes I just shut off for an hour or two. During those hours nothing and no …
Category: Poems
Poems
Bad Mommy
This is the fridge and. This is where the bottles go and where the wine is. Here’s where and how you will sleep. I hope you sleep. well. The word for what gets taught is curriculum, yes? not curriculum but content. not content but value. ephemeral. wind. when I blow hard upon her face, she squints and it is little …
Baby Sonnet
here here here is baby way too mired in rubber rings and leftist leanings: meaning she’s rolling over now. A little gyre of hands and legs and head proceeding fitfully into history. Spitfully. It’s writ on the rags of overwashed elephants and throwaway pinks and the bunny infantry (could I) would I curb this development? …
my uncapped chimney
10:04 AM I touch my anger and it is an apple. It is a heart. I touch the heart of my anger. I light the lamp inside the seeds. In the lobby, I wait out the dedications they make to uncle don. While my kid cries in the lobby. The apple is an orb. The …
Dove Song (started in 2011)
This Song for the littlest steps of dove the dove of my blouse is dirty my house is dirty the parlor is a dovemouth, off-colored with dust and whatnot. The dove of my treading is dark and picks things up like bread. My dove does the doings and receives the news rolled up and wet and …
3 months & 8 days older
Some of it is an onion to the extent that crying is nigh. Crying is high. It is both imperceptible and imminent and arranged in off-pattern jazzishness. A little uh-uh-uh / aaaahhh-ahhh. & come I hither in a glaze of unctuous loveydoveries, buttery buns, something’s got to smooth the rough pits in my honeycomb. my bunnyloam. my …
TS is TS
I should have been a pair of chucks, slightly used, whose prior smokiness wafted out of the shipping envelope and into my life. I should have been a pair of eggrolls, microwaved on high for precisely 2 minutes, during which time a PF-Changs-like dipping sauce can be arranged. I should have been a pair …
Day 1 without nicotine lozenges
A push-push mechanism in the sense that there’s a spine and one side of the spine has a slit. You know how to give it to this slitty piece of shit. Push & have no skin, no eyes. So falleth all the rain around here, shoved into the gutters and pooled around the trees. SHUT UP in …
Fk fk fk fk fk
When I am making waste of my vision, seeing as how it’s tinsel and leaves, I blow through times I was nearer and dearer to posie and land plop on this rotten desk amongst the everybody-things. The things I know poetry isn’t. The worms that eat my lips. Sense of air in my mouth, having …
chicken dress
I have a chicken dress for the codeine addressing me meagerly with the 2 straps I have for legs, a sense of face refacing the dress I wear & tear on Easter. Pester me less with your thickening phelgm. So god I cough for all the brethren Joseph installed on the walls of his psychedelic …
A Coat Black That All Things are Put Into
A coat to put some of my shoes w/ butts on the tips of them. A dubs peacoat. A bun for my bunny who has hopped off to I don’t care where. Thisismycoat, my reparation, wooly and feeling me changed with change I clang all the way to Seattle with. A translation coat. A coat …
I put my fist in her like a civil rights sign
Yeezus pleases me today. Gulf between appearance and reality blinging in the January iceness. Now look at that bag. So remote. A thing achieving thingness in the utter ambiguity of what something costs. The quilting’s classic & black; it has leather edges, authenticity cards, flaps that flap when you try walking it back. Who has an extra stomach w/ …
The Quiet
is a blind house. [note to self ] Therearethese /// slats of grass /// where calves shruggle to nose it. I nose it too but only, only as drags my lookout up the drive. Homeswhere I have some hard salami & string cheese, pleased to be so settled & groan: done in original French, then frozen so later can later …
the quiet (1)
The sheer before We buy the bell and beat it We beat the bell and it gets smaller We raise money for one bell, a small bell. We raise cows and usher them across the road. We know nothing of their fullest potential, their ringing and ringing and —
Song on the Alter of the New World
1. sing a song on the old world in my apartment, for the blessings of loneliness are shiny and hard are swathed in clover and rolling down this hill ka-bluey w/bonnets on it ————well I’ll be ———— rattled: the front part of the words testing my tongue like a diving board ————well I’ll be ———— white as the …
Rooms
Alpharetta A&B 2nd Floor Office Space Downstairs E Café Area Rooms 586 & 588 Redfish Rooms Open Space / Offices 4th Floor CX03: Rocky Mountain Room Strawberry River, L’Anguille River Valley A & B Room 14000 6UC7/9 Café Alcove A CCA5: Singapore Executive Servery Second Floor Cafeteria Casablanca Rooms A & B Orange seating section …
Rework Redux: Having Had
Ones attached to my calves and arms to my goat and rode horses mostly pasture horses looking bent and simple. “Pretty Much” is what I have: goodtimes, great hits windsound which is some sound on the lips of my appropriator. God what didn’t I know about old blood. Walking the dogs afterwork in simple syrup, …
Rework Redux: Sitting Pretty
Sitting Pretty Soon as I make a perfect cotton replica of myself. I’ve already sewn the arms and they are stowed in a hatbox. Henry Noah Manly Klinger. Enzo Iguana Alyosha Klinger. Henry – “hen” Noah – “no” Manly – “man” Enzo – “Zo” Iguana – “Iggy” Alyosha – “Allie” Things that need to be …
cakey
A little lot of plumcake. A layer a little like a pushpin. A stinky and often miscarried remainder. I have no heart for it. O it! so marked I don’t know the reassurances I make to myself. I lay my little bitty in position. Softly, softly coughing the cuter to see me so whitely and …
Losing the Day
Losing the day to coffee, altogether altering the makeup of my motherboard, my motherbearing, my mothermail. Penny Puddles Pendergast. Day being the blamee. Day sans glory. Day on the workhorse, see horse, as all that is decidedly yonder floats past. That bomb is weak and brown. My skydrive is syncing. Blessed Day, let us …