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: Rants
Ranting sans thinking
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 …
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 …
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 …
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/ …
writing is a speed buckle up worm.
I think about whether real relation has a place in writing. Whether it is work to say these things like we’ve been saying them all along. Like all we were thinking were these things that needn’t be said and are and are also so so beautiful and arranged and un worked and whether it is …
Friend in the sense
that all thinking is fraught I reckon with work, with perturbations in the shale of friendship, with hailing and calling on the hail to break us down. With the kinship of ever outlying areas of expertise. Synergy, bitches. With the precision of compliments offsetting any general malaise that forms on my head rashy and whammo. There it is. My …
The diving board
Today is a list about today. It is an undone todo list of things extending from the things I am done wanting and did not do — things in a spiral away, Hegelian things, which didn’t do before and now can not be. For reasons which I will not explain. So now things like sitting thru …
DIS-
The roaring of the lion, and the voice of the fierce lion, and the teeth of the young lions, are broken. (JOB 4:10) quiet night is working, working cold turkey the little hairs on my legs stand up straitless my body is a stole mime body am I quite apiece a conductors wand- body in- variably masculine …
Aesthetic State of Mints
My writing mostly writes out of reading. Reading things that are good, things that suck is a writing machine for me. The good things are opaque. They are clouds and mud and carpet. They are luscious and deep and not a little vexing to me the writer reading. But in a good way. Bad things …
effing golden lemon
Am making out w/ a whopper, man // am surrendering currency as we peak // City, O city, laden w/ maidens, assorted poultry, pow/wow/er if Wyclef really izzzzzz his name I’M COMING in gold FOR LEASE on the Rhine – my my city keys pointing me, deftly pointing me COVER ME bro I’M COMING to
No no no news
No news from the mashup, no news from the Rhine and no news on the filter I ordered a while ago. Nothing about the shared cabride or the nightwatchman or any murderer that might or might not actually murder anyone. No news from the word ‘willy-nilly’ tho I’m hopeful and none from my reading of …
No / I have not / been
No / I have not / been /a helicopter bouncing down the desert on a string – to liven / enliven / foreshorten / work apart a braid of yellow hair – ‘eerie rice’- that’s what I always say – potshots from the plank, infrequent rain, Gram wearing his wooly poncho in the background. We drive …
the elephant thought
“this world” is a religious saying “this ” figures
Sea Love Junket
Sea twice as un- inhabitable / green and steep w/ tea. Tags it and clipped tones / the moon’s deli- cate reflect activity. Fish horizon stipples / apply them selves, about face and smear See, he says, bones to pick. At 2 oclock, a clip- per gist forms white / a little “l” out. He says …
food day
void mandarin warmly island crisscross chicken and leaves a complainy thing of almonds, sea soup tortilla a cup-pull forethought on geography + accountability a few five candies sir mirror here five fingers five hands in the chamber you come to me ok no two are 99% and the rest, light. light buns, one could, dove …