Sunday, September 25, 2011

reaction to a poem about madison, wisconsin

as pomegranate tea bleeds from the bag
so does my despondency
clouds in scalding water
& is that cup still dirty
is it soap that rainbows on the surface
teflon. aluminum-rich

pomegranate tea dries blue when spilled
on paper
the lines on the paper do not scan well into your computer
if you put it in diagonally

i am done drinking tea but still spilling it
i spill every cup i own
and with it my despondency

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Saturday, September 3, 2011

no phone--

no phone,
i got
no phone.
so here is commun
how is life w/r.l.
? hop
e well!!

i miss you.
into punk lately,
kill kill kill!
macho, right?
too much weed&drinking.
your smile stays w/me--

Thursday, September 1, 2011

A Month

A month of death.

The thick-tongued mouthfeel, dropping
yr shit for work, for what you think
is play is work & regress. Dark mirror
in the bathroom with the ladder out
you could climb & lock the window at the end
of the night. Nothing to those you're
giving favors.

A month
closer to April, and farther from

wake & it's sunshining & care not.
Fear, the ladder in
eschewed light is killing your plant. 3pm
loneliness spent sleeping & screentime.

A month
of falldown drunk.

Promises, plans wayside set
to the decay of yr organs. Fear nightclub
talk. Fear the 3pm alarum. Fear,
with all good intentions, you're a mere
selfish act. yr martyrdom that nobody sees.
Panic of long sleep, waking every third
minute, fear you've missed the way out.

A month,
A month of,