A vicious life wrapped around symbols. What is the thing I want to tell you the reader is the same question as who am I as how do you want your daughter to remember you. A litany. As someone who taught her the courage to live as she wanted is the same as you as the clay won’t harden in such conditions is the same as grow. As the burning u-shaped chassis of the Volkswagen Jetta is to the tree. As hair-covered arms covered in ants. Develop love. Stick to it. What I know. Like white snow. Volcano is no volcano. The greater eyes retain you over man’s laws. And they’ve advanced to the point where you’re convinced you don’t remember the brand: Philip K. Dick. Nam June Paik. Open Mike Eagle. Donald Trump. Valentino Rossi. And more. On this week’s. Meet the Nation. [APPLAUSE] [HOLD FOR APPLAUSE] [HOLD APPLESAUCE FOR APPLAUSE] All art is taste. False. All taste is broke. False. The moment you call him divine. True. Red is blue / a wire monkey, / too. Remember that, Maeve? Syntax. In whose hand? Cheating. A projection. It’s sad the things you remember. My aunt’s hand. Why now? Wow. Disney laid hands. I’m afraid to reach out. Don’t be. Brown cow. And slowly cold rain in hair.
the tide dropped out while still enrolled puta in the sun scared moon certainly not the heroes darkly begging at the shore’s feet taking advantage the only thing at which they’ve excelled no other way to get it done their shoulder / your shoulder their back / your back the chorus unable to prove anything anymore distracted by distraction comparing work to worry reaction to action syrup to syntax the anti-war movement of the ’60s and ’70s sabotaged the culture their heroes heathens lords of dew acknowledge the abusive sutra turned themselves out there’s hero shit in the street and no one picks it up which is to say everyone refuses to pick it up who precisely is this no one and are you looking for agency representation?
as predicted in a future poem his aesthetic stands itchy in hotlights at the sink washing dishes while thinking up elden ring memes for twitter clout
this is a modern poem that does nothing his hands of caged meat slimes up past his elbows as he lemons this trademarked postmarked marky marked one and only love sucked
into low orbit observation send it said eddie said she hopes the doctor got his dosage right this time this is is real now
despite our collective mfa the mouse squeaks the house sneaks the chinese porcelain every druggie wanna-be and dead-alike speaks at length about cockroaches scampering tightly under skullskin it just so happens that every sortie of weed manufactured across the southern territories since at least the end of the second world war has been poached without the consent of hives worldwide there’s always a paranoid car story he read it
he’s not doing anyone a favor these dishes crack themselves on concrete and file away tortoises tying
uh oh what’s in his hand against character your advertisement of very uncool touching
father on blasted beach the sun has no imagination his parents chose to orphan him is that mean is that the point bed bath and beyond hacked his sorry ass hello william gibson the holy spirit a samurai rides the gyrus orphaned by its slight description
yeah that’s saying it plain the first great passage of the twenty second century opens up this his first novel about the black wall they know they’re on tv too hard to get up this hill without it
the dog sniffs the plastic takeout bag the cockroach pushes around particular brain ridges conspiratorial things let him call the shot is too beautiful to have been composed its eyeline blasts his sacral aqueduct
splash damage vibrant with all that yellow racing thru his gut but vibrant but vibrant with sesame seeds pecked into the ceiling on their way to god chandler bing is a name he just thought of suddenly for no reason your image of god continues to anger the church bell edible and deserves to see the phantom menace in theaters and cut his oh man those three were dead before the sardine hit the ground they were all fucking with him clean out the world for virtue and lovethe lemon said
they were bugs and teeth scattered like water run dry too much coffee for this to be his first time in the afterlife he didn’t write he got them sons of warriors that hiss that service he looked away
i don’t want to hate read your big bang which is to say i desire to sniff your every sip of coke carry you closer to the end of beer of coffee of water i am formally interesting of but bereft baked into obsolescence the right hand no poems about rain when i drive the scents enter and exit like coffee shop customers once a virgin always a virgin no leatherback sea turtle devouring a jellyfish have a strange obsession strangely unobsessed i was a bad translator and a hell of a stylist trapped in colin powell’s test tube not being dramatic when i say the light dims vibrating elements start a tv network arch of river-wet stones above creek in vermont if you don’t know the noun its sentence is alien and uber modernity says don’t slow america morphs individual identity to bludgeon america grafts vision to formula warmachine america was nowhere america had nowhere
answer the call humankind lin the shadow of calamity ganon rises over the ashes of hyrule gers unregenerately in plato’s cave still reveling its craft your survival age-old habit in defend the legend mere images of basic reading ability is needed to fully enjoy this game the truth but being educated by photographs is not like being fantasy violence educated by mild suggestive themes older more artisanal use of alcohol images for one breath