Today I made up a song called ‘my everything shirt.’ Jimmy says: I wish you’d stop singing, so I hum something about dog races and we laugh. That’s invisible.
See, Jimmy’s been listening to me laugh and he’s suspicious. He said: there’s a big fat cock in my mouth but it’s invisible.
The train takes to frolicking in our ears and I’m beside the Famous and the Brave. They say: Tucson is so nice, so hot, so plainly laid into little squares. Then they trade poems right in front of everyone.
Why not make things planar? Give him glittery head-kisses, saying things about Deleuze, states of ellipses, freedom is yes invisible.
A black suit held open the door and I gave him the thumbs up:thanks duder. Out of sheer disgust, he disappeared.
On the third day I still had not slept, rendering the mechanic, the pickle we’re in, the slats of blinds, a grinding toilet, half-invisible.
I want to know what you know or whether everyone is right.This is what we whisper, it is smooth to be pleading our case in public. I’m going to New York very soon. I’ve got this internet ticket.
Could you tell I was pleased when that grocery clerk slipped me a little fancy in the queue. Is that cruel? I’m trying to get down to that, whether the wire is still in me.
Then you call and you call and you write something about love and someone buries their head in their chest and says I’d be a bad teacher, good thing I don’t have any classes.
Personal life is carnival ride, Mom please call.
Four men say the word perversion at the same time, Mama.
I’m tired of making lists and just when an ideal wraps around them, the mountain appears. Birdie voices. Silence. I ask: am I seeing or not-seeing? Jimmy throws an egg at me. Jimmy reads the screen.