Trump Country

In the dark guest room
icy blue humming of a PC
and light from the windows of the dollhouse 
at the foot of the bed
keep the slits of my eyes open
It's like being Mother Earth
Enormous woman
Laying down
her body shadowy and soft
Disturbed by our little human activities
A tweaker cabin on a hill
Surrounded by torched trees
She tries to get some beauty sleep
Rubbing keef out of her eyes 
Sticky barbed flowers 
Some tiny men
drinking pickle backs
yelling chemically into the night
A crow in the canyon

What's Up It's Me 9/27

so confused about 

where I am

missles flying into the waters 

of last week

a small treat may tide me over 

until the next atrocity

and the moments feel short 

but a shorter distance 

from suicide is better

a sunburst from all

the sensitive places 

--

which time zone to abide

in terms of wine

a hankering for death

hourglasses in my cheeks

--

how devaststaing to set an alarm

to choose the exact sound on the

other end of sleep

--

but I can’t sleep anywhere

dream on pause with the twinkle

it stopped just like a movie

me looking around like

--

shit is serious and I want to 

bare my soul but 

I never thought it would be quite like this

the way the ants come for my blood

the way our drinking water goes green

the way the maggots match my rice 

how do we all do it?

how are we not constantly shitting

our pants looking for a new excuse for a treat?

or at least what’s in between

these tiny little bones that last us just one moment

scared of scared and scared of the preference for

death

rolling down hill, even the ants seems confused

and they rule the world

--

writing dark on this pool day

golden august friend day

like a heavy comforter in summer

like a wet, felt blanket

in the middle of the night

--

a throne on a track

royal, yes but

somewhat geriatric

the throne moves forward

the backdrop is painted

drapped hills

rolling around

the pixels, blurry and

creased over

the corners of

a throne case

a small dog runs in front

a small dog intercepts

the start of imperialism 

--

things happen this way

a charged body rumbles

and passes in just

one moment

tragic

and it can be

loud even

the intimacy of teeth and

I was there

the beating heart in one’s neck

the flushed skin of being alive

how exhilarating to encounter

this frozen display

in the dark on 

a Sunday

? ? ? ?

a tiny arm 

is pulling a Q-tip 

far inside my ear 

against the doctor’s orders

while I’m desperate 

to tug in a breeze 

with my mind

for this window is nothing but

a portal 

into more hot air

air even hotter than in here

notes are taken

poems are handed to me

our fascia like a stocking

our fashion 

wrapped in summer

stuck in seeking

foliage and

the corner of my eye is

the corner of a leaf

and the corner of my window

is open, they see me

the backs of my eyelids

are cherries glazed red

an old face is looking at my bed

an old neighbor, a dead leaf

those shine marks

a gross closeness

I can’t forget

the dirty pants

like my own and I’m

distracted 

am I in a glaze

a 19 year old in a turtle neck,

am I too old for that?

too old for candy or

England or autum

a hovering head is

as light as a feather

as light as no breeze 

all I wanted was to write

something light

as light as a feather

is that house yellow or

is that house lit

a 19 year old in a turtle neck

in the garden at St. Marks

nose dripping in the middle

of October and we wonder

where are you now

the santa ana winds

and their fusions of

past obsessions

despite the genre we knew

what we meant

we know now that some things

stay heavy forever

a beautiful display of friendship

not wanting to forget the power of each face

accepting a poem in the bathroom stall 




? ? ? ?

one color for everything

dishtowel

socks
music
blue

? ? ? ?

tan lines giving fingers a webbed look

a dot for a belly button

the beach inside my body

it’s psychedelic no drugs

touching me

--

egg shells

chewed gum

dirty tuperware

what the fucks it for

to do lists

long hair

I care

--

Puppy

Syrup

Vocal doubling in music is 

hummingbird food to me

the cherry on top 

voices coated in sugary red syrup

On the way to the airport

I've already left the place

I'm somewhere inside myself

Looking for symbols and signs

to color the next chapter

Emo Cntd.

Unease traipses lightly around me

an overhead projector casts bad thoughts

onto the walls of my dark hallway behind it all

A hallway like a gap between

Like I'm always peaking around the corner 

at my life, my friends

At the space in between

I really see it like a hallway

Or a layer of asphalt underneath 

with a lowered ceiling that is the ground above 

The space between how I feel 

and how I want to feel

The space between

how... . .

White Jeep Compass

All of our boxed things in a room

All the way across the country

Above the garage 

With sloping ceilings and 

Thick beige carpeting 

My baby's hands twitch

like a puppy when he sleeps

An electrified corpse 

My sweet dreaming Frankenstein

The Spanish moss 

is sleeping in the trees

Every mark on my face 

is a bad thought in my mind

Mommy

Why Does Clothing Factor So Heavily In My Dreams 1

The humongous store in town 

We take a train to work there 

A red and white gingham print floor length dress

And beaded curtains made up of 

dusty pearly plastic swans and angels for sale

Kiki is growing LSD in flowers

They look like big fluffy hibiscus flowers, lots of chiffon-y layers

The more woven and complex the vines on the trellis,

the more potent the acid

The plants look like braided challah 

Why Does Clothing Factor So Heavily In My Dreams 2

Gap made a line of clothes with nonsense statements on them 

One shirt said 

badass womemem HONestly yellow is for

ft. the image of a blender full of gradient juice

the coolest item was a long red jersey dress 

cut like a large straight t-shirt 

but with Victorian puff sleeves made out of sparkly pink & white tulle 

The back said DEMONER in thick all caps

ft. a beautiful print of a baby devil doll flying

(◕^^◕)

*oily black duck ("2017")

no one has their shit together at this passover seder
everything is all wrong, everyone is standing
not sitting let alone reclining, everyone is chatting

this year's plague* is just my right height
I notice I am the only one with blood on my pinky
and so I dramatically drop some onto a cocktail napkin

2017 comes too close to me and so I run into the woods
it's still winter, tiles of hard snow checker the ground
I drop the wine, the blood, all my joy red around my feet

…

Treat's Moment

last night demons
this night music
my head on the chopping block
I look to one side and feel
decapitated

Crazy Cloud

wanna roll around in the country
on the tree tops
could be anywhere

top-spinning gloves
rouched
arm protectors
women's bodies
burned in patterns of flowers
from their kimonos

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ Sample Text Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Cake Egg 

tall boy on the train
I thought we'd see the hills
I sleep in jeans
feel thirsty, bothered
eating a cake egg
it's all the industrial
people places

again a little thing like
a bleary eye
fucking the fantasy of
solitude
anime views
etc.



Walking Up In The Morning With Only What's Inside Of You

a scary taxi driver
talking to me
saying thank you for riding with him
I'm sorry but I hate you and I'm late
because of the time difference

I left the mumbling driver and
passed through the flimsiest of doors
collapsing like a Japanese fan
when I touched it



Miss Her

I know so well the body
of my childhood friend
how she wore her rings and
the visible vein



One Hour Island

following a wave out
the boat makes the sound
of all the car windows open



I'd like my brain in the foreground
of a photo not so much my face
but they are the same
smaller islands behind me



it feels like someone important just died
with the sudden pastel mist and
the birds treading air in the clearing



maybe I should get tattoos over such
visible veins
large dark distractions
would I miss them though
the blue

Dirty California #1

can passion be poured in any pot?

eating my breakfast around a bowl

of rat trappings

the guy on Figueroa with his face

sliced in half

makes me need to sneeze

as 

I understand 

the differences in

smells of pee

is it the light or a yellow house?

write something so soft

and light as a feather

how do you say

I’m just on this really beautiful walk

with every other house Boo Radley's

by Disney and our mailbox is full

of shiny red cherries 

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ Sample Text Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

Dejavu


of being prepared in the rain

and saying one's own name




So Far


it's a nice cigarette city

old rusty trucks, umbrellas

and ponchos scootering

with sandals half on

That's Nice ↝ May That Linger In My Thoughts #1

incense and peppermints

a strong urge to go to the gardens

#2

so that was spring

a single moment of rain

one street of purple trees




May I Thark You Need An Attitude Adjustment #1

the world is so fucking dark

a broken dim switch holy shit

I can't even move or I'll cry

from lack from of distraction

a fly is interested in my bloody napkin

and I think I'm gonna throw up

and even my view is so narrow

as the strip of light in the morning

that hurts his eyes




#2


how maintenance inhales time

a soft mass of fractions




#3


breathing chest

I'm right here




Again Bring Back Ur Life


am I dying in China?

dying a little bit everywhere

all the time but


not reality until close

non reality implodes


lol

imagine


as unsurprising to die as to find
oneself in Japan

Olive Tree

A cobweb shining between the table
and the chair in the morning



My dream last night said
God is a girl dancing
God is a horse in the city




I don't want to write about my family
The stories repulse me from every angle



My little sister is disappointed
that my teddy bear doesn't have more to say
But he and I have an understanding beyond language
We want silence
Daydreams and private thoughts
I tell her Yellow Bear is a zen master



As the passenger in a fast car
I imagine laying my eye against the metal freeway partition
Laying the inside of my wrist on it
Delicately, to slice



To distract from the slicing
I look for God in the olive trees
Animated by our speeding past
Olive trees older than Christ
Grown split and twisting
Growing into powerful witches
Into shadowy Gothic doorways of churches
Into the perfect houses for a spirit
To settle down and dwell in
Maybe that's what Ikkyu's temple is like





Jesus didn't have to say
God is an olive tree
maybe he did, I wouldn't know
But the people who planted the olive trees BC
were probably doing fine without Him

X O X O

A sunflower taller than me
I stand under it
and imagine it as a shower head




The iron structure of the bridge from the window of the J train
looks like X's and O's against the pink sunrise

Shoe

I take a nap every day
I set a timer on my phone for 25 minutes
I fight to keep my eyes closed at first
Sometimes I'm so tired I forget to breathe
A mess of images
Today the song You & Me by Goldie
Then I slip into the shoe of my body
Like a rock falling to the bottom of a river
And time slows down infinitely
Until the alarm goes off with the sound of crickets

Murder Broadway

Put colors in songs
where they belong
For clothes what's right
is black and white










Over a dozen people overdosed
at Myrtle Broadway late last night
They don't know on what
but it most likely has something to do with k-2
On the radio they described a scattered gaggle of people
shaking, leaning against fences and fire hydrants










Lauren wants to hear Birthday by the Sugar Cubes
I'd love to feed horses sugar cubes today
a bodily memory of my 17th birthday at the Anne Frank House
I looked for her view of the trees and the moon through the high windows

Fruit : 雙雙對對恩恩愛愛

I have love reserved
like big baskets of the juiciest fruit
wrapped and bowed for my special people
but I want to be a Creature of Love
for everyone

I'm recalibrating myself now
to be like the smoothie at the spa
to be someone's step stool to happiness
Butterfly Talking
I want to lighten your footsteps
bloom you
a garnish on every glass

Glass of Ice Violet Dice

⚄ 

Sampling the creative fruits of my peers

A show where the noise is peacefully mean

I imagine a surgery to get a glass of ice implanted

⚀ 

I can go there with you

to the sounds like tiny rakes dragging tiny leaves

but I have heard enough noise music in my life 

to fill all of the shoes I own

⚁

I Wicked Witch home on my violet bicycle 

lean left lean right

I like to steer by moving as little as possible 

so it's like i'm steering with my mind

⚃ 

I see a black cat frozen 

one paw out front in a sneaky low contrapposto 

I see a man in the same stance 

I hear him wrapping or unwrapping something 

Sharp and clear crinkling of paper 

amplified in the empty street

Candy or cigarette

when it is hot we move as little as possible

looking like frozen things melting

⚂ 

When the friend is the phone 

When the phone is the friend

I'm bored of the New York movie

There's just the one now

I live in it but it's theirs 

The bug world that I used to escape into

the huge river in a gutter after it rains

when I was a little girl

I had a ragdoll

the only doll I ever owned

shiny trash on the street was alive

small mysterious animals

sun bleached decorations in windows

to personalize My Big Dusty Apple

It's all theirs now

Ice cream men must dream 

to a soundtrack of the ice cream song 

I try hard not to melt all over my friends

⚄ 

How literary this story is 

but I will never be the one to write it

Lucia tells me I would love her new squat 

See the sign with the dog and the gramophone? See the dog?

She directs me on Google Maps Street View over the phone 

See the sign? See the little dog?

Keep going west and you'll see our house

See where there's a place where stairs should be? 

my rooms right above there. We've fixed it up a lot 

we've taken a lot of the boards off the windows, 

we should take off more maybe, what do you think about that Manny? 

Yeah well I know, he says we have to stay low key but anyways

I'm going to send you a picture of my room I mean not of the mess on the floor 

but architecturally its really nice Livi you'd love it Livi

You can't put all your eggs in one basket

especially like golden eggs

Ya...really disappointing

⚁

The coolest boy at school 

who was also a ferocious dog

a huge black and white sort of greyhound with shaggy fur

A little too skinny in his clothes 

a sloping nose and big smiling mouth

sort of Joey Ramone sort of JK

Bad posture like he was turning into a dog 

he was turning into a dog

I wanted to be near him but he bit my hands

The shabbiest house on the block has the best roses

The haunted house with boards over the basement windows

In June I saw a charming group

Of roses all begin to droop

I pepped them up with chicken soup!

Sprinkle once

Sprinkle twice

Sprinkle chicken soup with rice

I love going to work early Saturday mornings 

My brain is still sleeping

golden light at its rising slant 

Wearing all white, you know this dilemma,

but all of the white items are slightly different shades

Various stages of graying and yellowing

I think the only way to do it right would be 

to buy all the white items new at the same time 

⚂ 

I set a fire 

To exorcise my fate

When I watched her turn to soot and ash

I didn't know I would also catch

Fire flame 

I forgot my name

flame, fire

I'm horse lame

The desire that the eyelash 

I wished on in the airplane 

would flutter all the way down 

to the ground below

Tree Poem

ants have taken over my life

my wall

there are so many

I follow them

I want to know

where they’re going and

where they came from

it’s leaning so far to one side my tree

I have been trained to hate

the type of car it might fall onto

made my Nazis

swirly mocha bark like

dessert covered chocolate ants

a trunk must be so strong to be

so narrow

where are the ants going on a tree

so many like in my house

I know which omen it was

to get the ant tattoo

last summer

how honest to be when

writing poetry? as opposed to

lit? the greatest hits of lit

the greatest cryptics

being alone seems so nice

being alone seems like

such a good idea

until your eyes are bleary

and a little thing like blear

can fuck the entire

fantasy of solitude

my walden experiment

I just know one day I’ll wake up dead

but is that thinking too far ahead?

a muscle-y sweet potato

masculine, nearly veiny

like a thick strong arm

the ant trails are fervent in other places

are they coming and going from

inside the muscly tree?

I’m not quite ready to convert

to words

the bark flakes off so easy

even with the weakness of my

left hand, is that bad?

is it sick? 

speeding in Greece as a teen

on a ferry, fixated

on the white foamy water

what did it look like? precisely something else

I realized everything in nature was

the same, absolutely one

skin perhaps, a cloud, the white foam

precisely

something else

how reassuring, how genius

the wind always stops time

now under the tree

then on the boat

my clothing whipping against my

taught, golden skin

damn

I am aware of my tan shoulders

and my somber profile

I don’t want to lose this feeling

of my pristine sexuality

but I can already feel it passing

my body moving forward without me

the wind was always enough

the sun and it’s setting

imagining me, sunny, funny

looking solely at the sunlit leaves

somewhere else still, even as

one of the office ladies revs up her chevy

maybe it’s a movie, this universal softness

maybe I am transported because sunlit leaves are comforting

and so we find them wherever we go

the temperature is neither here nor there

it is the same as my body

it is solid afternoon

the ants have noticed me

I have noticed the half moon in the blue sky

in April '08 when Zoë and I rode our bikes 
to Brookdale park, we laid together in the grass

I know this park well, it opens doors in my mind

the still, green sprawl like Marie Antoinette the movie

makes me want to travel back in time for garden cake

we were looking up at the leaves and when my eyes

unfocused I said

they look animated

I hoped that was good, perceptive

because she was really cool and trying

to make me cool too

as the light fades to gold I become less

intimated by the tree

the mood has softened

the good drama has ensued

memories of golden hours when

life has felt drunk, hopeful and hot

but this tree is like something dead

old with it’s crackling bark and

an ant infestation

it’s branches moved by the wind but

not by their own body

like a dead guy’s hair

can you experience every sense at once?

this parking lot is really beautiful

I can understand that but can I really know

how beautiful it is while eating

sunflower seeds and/or writing?

someone’s car horn is making a little

hip hop beat at a low volume

trying to redirect the ants or

at least give them an obstacle

but I think they are so much smarter than me

dreaming about ants wondering

where the big ones went

laying in bed and I can’t tell the difference

between the inside and the outside

of my body as my stomach swirls

dreaming of a “conversation” panning out

and slowly the other person becomes retarded

and I get a sinking feeling and wake up

sweating and say Tyler? but forget

the thing and he’s so awake and lucid

with eyebrows raised above the bed 

am I high on ant poison?

they must have designated trails because

one would often bump into another

coming from the opposite direction

and stall for a moment like

excuse me

this makes me wanna be a writer

who looks harder

at 16 Stanford place I would seriously collect ants

in a magnifying dish and now I don’t need to

my symptoms are beginning to string themselves together

as I am (am I?)

developing something that develops in the early twenties

where I lose all my composure and I’ll wish I had made

more paintings while I could

I am in a TV interview at age thirty something

with little to no muscle mass, already looking twice as old as I should

I’m shaky and serious

my supportive aid Megan, is backstage

she created my perfect up-do

as I sat staring into the vanity mirror

at my somber profile, longingly

hoping for nature to rewind

maybe that’s who I used to be

maybe that’s why I’m so paranoid anytime

a fingertip goes numb or my chest pains

return, is it really heartbreak

or is it really ant poison

I’m so lucky I’m good at driving

handing my credit card to Dylan

the mechanic over a gun catalog

open to a page with a rifle floating

above a swastika and I wonder

what am I paying for?

I hit the one car with the like,

leather bumper jacket

mostly the ants are distracting

small

and symbolic

my tree was actually quite sweet and tender

on the corner of a median

I miss the tree in my front yard

at 16 Stanford place

Montclair, NJ

the ant blood smeared across my white-topped desk

maybe that’s my poison

seeping into my finger tips

it’s like the old tampon soaked in vodka

the neglected ways to get wasted

through seeping,

ant blood to the fingertips

trap glue to the toe pads

unfiltered water

carbon monoxide

too much homeostasis

too many chills