Wednesday, December 28, 2016

peripheral entertainment.


ambient journalism.


Friday, December 23, 2016


Giftwrapping a thin book
on carpet,

Sunday, December 18, 2016

∑ = Ø

neuter in isolation.
neuter in regret.

Saturday, November 26, 2016

Piss in a Pipeline

The performer stands at the rear of the space.  A length of PVC pipe extends from him through the exit.  He inserts his penis into the pipe and begins to urinate.  The pipe has small holes in it and his urine leaks all over the floor.  He leaves & doesn't clean it up.  Maybe someone throws a paper towel on it or something.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

this isn't the show anymore but you can tell me when it is;
he stood amongst them, we were all confused.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

sweet blindness

don't let daddy hear it,
he don't believe in the gin mill spirit.

Saturday, November 5, 2016

Bloomsaucer Fuckup

glory, eyes rot
confused, 3/5 unadorned
up yr spine

boy you wore
statue o liberty
bloomed polyps

brain giddy &

o, face—
idiot skin folds
churn soil,

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Sunday, October 30, 2016

experiment 215: instrument

space between
the Eye (if you know what I mean) &
Ear fills in w/”pregnant” clouds
the purple & grays of heavy
nameless emotion hang mono no
aware over a bruise of community
amidst columns and pyramids
o! population—Ear at Eye agitates,
Eye’s eye twitches at oh—
being misunderstood—& Ear’s
passive eye,
but directed concavity
is expectant gaze,
Eye’s voice slides around & out; he
hears it right back
o! Ear—

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Pursed lips left eye closing. 

Monday, October 10, 2016

Bloom Eyes Saucer Observance

torment of confused 3/5 mile stare
from amazed maw blare unadorned
color lungs beyond language
approach rot
as you return to the boy you once were
the statue of liberty in your hand a thermometer
blooming aveoli for time
brain a giddy cacophony thick 
opaque as grass 
your face in it skidding
years don't measure but thoughts
& new pathways among nerve cells

we see how color affects us
room painted wall unchosen skin
in fractal history folds around
tori time bulbs over cut in half
earthworms churning soil hand
with fingers closed more easily slices 
lake water cloudy with life

Guerrilla Gig: The House At Pooneil Corners - Jefferson Airplane, 1968 -...

Friday, September 30, 2016

only religion in the world is communication

don't kid yourself, idiot.
on birthdays we laugh
sip from straws
lucky to be feeling

funny thing is,

we can spit in the face of beauty,
as living beings.


i should have grabbed you from those drugs

kept you in

a selfish human family.

]the fractal expands, contracts & burns those
who act it out.

i want to destroy my apartment with fists and legs
to break everything i feel um

to match yr painting

so effortlessly. i want to,
& you don't anymore.

The bulb ends into some grass.

Monday, September 26, 2016


Saturday, July 23, 2016


I live at the dead end of Gravel Pit Road.

Friday, May 6, 2016

|¢| You Are--

We have always been here.

Found, from some time ago--

OLD AGE: inevitable outcome of anyone who lives long enough, degenerated appearance, slowed functioning, increased isolation, sees the rest of the world & one’s small place in it, studying others, looks outward, negates the pain of self in favor of helping others.
REALIZATION MOMENT: Learns of universal, shared patterns of aging as displayed by the body, wasting away, realizes intention can shape the body, sees patterns in one’s own life & realizes the ability to change them, realization of time horizon--terror in the face of death vs. reaching out to others & seeing one’s identity is not solitary. Increased appreciation for others, for specifics, for small things. (remember the last scene of Paris is Burning?)

Isolation & viewing others as general things to use, destructive patterns---->Physical aging, personal realizations of action/consequence--->Realized ability to control the present & future.

What if we, as _________ “were always there?”

Saturday, April 23, 2016

experiment 213: you have to be joking

One long yawn, life,
yarn wifespun,

a strong lawn she’d mown
over anthills (anywaygraves),

keep thinkin’ bout
how I never did fit
the neighborhood

the freaks,
let them live for me

what time was it?
was it 
the morning
when i
decided to marry,

full cock bigger,
& life in a suit
o god
am I the god who

left TV on all day thru night?
leave the microwave

on, too.

experiment 212: spirit in the sky (attempt II, for Chris Tyler)

o bb lemme try & hold
on to you or something at least a sleeve
through the New Sincerity
& puke my admiration at you—
world of love & laughter or something
chronic depression jo
throwaway awakenings on hollywood & vine

acting like we’re alive & living
or something written wot a waste lol

o grey world w/all these fucking ppl in it
something something

& the phalluses we can’t help but
worship we suck cock
& try to topple it

& o we laugh play dad but mother—

& no way! us? we’re still smiling or something!

Saturday, April 9, 2016

screen asks

i don't think; 31, i'm 31 hi.

how big yo dick is boy

idk. i really dk.



listening to japanther,
folding laundry.

Thursday, April 7, 2016

experiment 211: waterfalls

strong men deal with the daily

yoni or river of masculine

determination a habit unthought

unsung quiet erosion useless

sediment packed around what glows

sculpture a taking away

Monday, March 28, 2016

She holds me in fog now,
her density, nourishment of pindrops
that coax open pores,
osmosis in skin.
Fertile cool pressure, air-heavy
suspension drawing coreward.

The cells of my lungs
recall the hot shower she
ran when constricted
I coughed with croup;
warm liquid air
in this fog, on this night
here she

is, I live.

Monday, March 21, 2016

potential experience 206 (I am afraid of witchcraft [no, I’m not afraid of anything!]): NAME REDACTED cripple and the starfish NAME REDACTED —Self-replicating little man dreams of Bogotá

she is with you in the fog
so let it soothe your joints, swell
your bones — respire her
& see the dogsbreath cloud
over their teeth that nuzzle,
clip hair in your silence,
air of despair but only ever
yours, at least that's special.

dad, take care of your body,
your sadness, feel it especially as you
do & leave it at feel. but thank
anything you can think of for this feeling,
you can’t shy from it or hide.
it’s you & she’s in your cellular physiology—
two mutations toward one another,


like you’ll never know that again.
but thank whatever you
can think of for it, at all.  dad, i’ve seen people not feel;
i’ve seen people’s fathers not feel,

you did something right//