Monday, February 26, 2018

Thirsty Mess

I want to sleep on Alone like a bed
charmed by hunger and pure
clarity just gushing
new eczema deleted


my skin isn’t meant for Dried Up
Drafty Here

the studio feels like a grimy shape
with dirty strands
loose like a banana’s
trashy and hoarded
irrelevant, badly colored,
temporary threads

I can write one line in its honor

I can will a dream in absence
of anyone/thing

but my sad thirsty skin
attached fully and in theory
to the rest


untethered from clean
and order, breezing by

but to think of a cute apron
and a mopped floor I die a little
for a taste

bundled on the boy couch
the sun leaves me

some big sense of 
no relief
keeps us rolling,
seeking solutions 

and there are none
besides the rolling
in the meantime

a dream for meantime

we walked all over the continent
first stopping at a Greek beach
was the water real or 
a blanket? 
a family restaurant
in a house, the mob?
we ordered octopus 
and it came in big, wavy sheets
like chicharron, I think
it was charred and delicious
we passed around the sheet
and the family who made it
also took bites 
something to the effect of 
this is how we do it here
it was easy to understand
and I was charmed by the ease

but some brutal, sporty element
a pyramid perhaps

kept me sharp

unrolling the presence
of acute waking absence

Sunday, February 18, 2018

what am I going

a warm, windy day in LA
it's February
crouched on the sidewalk
I sign and stamp
a certificate of authenticity
and vow to use
the same ink for
each one to come
but I know I can't do anything like that
which makes me want to sleep in
my wheelhouse
and lock the doors
ignore taxes and everything
that's rotting

the tide is back out
and pre-bleeding
has me going, worse
at shapeshifting,
swollen and
buzzing with

on better days
clean days
I imagine myself as a stiff,
unwavering scarecrow
with a posture precise and
gliding "tall"
using only as many words
as necessary

are we collectively more tired
from being alive for so long
I swear it's a pile, not a thread
all of us
50 years ago on an airplane
everyone, not unlike the scarecrow
looking out the window in
measured awe
and now

America looks so shiny and obvious

the clouds were so fresh today
that I cried on behalf
of desire
for a cloud-painted ceiling
as a kid, and the kind of
that it would bring
to childhood

I recall the supine trap
and can see the cracks now
the most dreadful time of day
stamped by fading light

the clouds were babies today
and it got me to the first step of crying

Monday, February 12, 2018

2 pets (before and after)

Do 2 Much

when Friday night feels like an iron gate

I went to chant in echo park

it was
like a festival
the clapping, clean sweats and

forgiveness in an envelope
the receiver closes his eyes with
do I know him? A dad
I know because his baby cries
and coughs

my pee is stripped by the fluorescents
in the airplane bathroom

I think it's cool and interesting
and feel two dull versions of good

I forgot a raincoat
a two-ply raincoat with snaps in between
the layers so you can attach various
patches and fabric swatches

if only

prayers were solid ground

She Came Back With Lots of Rings (Like Frida)

it rained only once and
I've developed a combination of

the bunk bed caught no dreams
just drunk

one person can be a huge window

so dreams will fall back

for those reality-breaking

for the waking week of silk
with frayed ends

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

Shell Poem

I don't feel beautiful
a boney pillow
a dirty garment
an average fragment

It's been slipping loose
my mysterious youth
like ice being scraped off a windshield
get it out of my way so I can see

but I try to keep it
for me it is more like
shell chocolate on ice cream
a helpful fantasy like, a glimmering

perhaps I'm just a Dungeness
too soft and naive all over
the point is I don't even know anymore
what my exoskeleton is doing