Acid Bark Of Petroleum Too Waste

For Rocco

Acid bark of petroleum too waste imagine never overhanging the city snake colossal hiss kisses armed icon retching sky too on feasting dawn i at the heart regret ever in this sour game the chaplain’s ten point star strewn too scenes too entertain too stretch too reflex too glacier too gamble too gone tossed too faithful.

Abnegate Sunrise Slaughters Endless New Grief

Abnegate sunrise slaughters endless new grief fear finally finally self reclaimed from the scree come back and synchronize it is a new day inside a new day inside.

Which Was Tantamount To Actuation Which

Which was tantamount to actuation which was overwhelmed by the weight of the black wall’s shadow which was an aged yellow tag on a cheap bag of pencil mustaches which was ellen burstyn and john mcaffee sweetly singing into still black coffee in the early nineties which was unable to stop laughing which was beauty which was age which was never to be sound engineered which was five hundred glossy promo shots for the knives to work up which was both of which were found at critical mass which was eschewing the holidays for speaking archaic about national subjects which frankly bj leiderman composed our theme within one hundred cherry red yards which was permanently what they asked me to tell the coroner the psychologist the commissioner which was as if john waters fronted suicidal tendencies.

Grenzsituation Genuflection The Crisis In Berlin

Grenzsituation genuflection the crisis in berlin looks cool as hell get ahead of yourself these are my conditions a density of stimuli providing vehicles through time astounds the professor though people come and grow in a room full of michaelangelos as the tail begins its lion’s taming steps in on or what if it’s just the lyrics to staying alive right down the middle cleaved and all you’d have to worry about is disgruntled voice actors dear ovid and the jews will you please identify streaking grey across the hunter’s chest i picked up my phone to google vatic and five years had passed straw man torrents curious so i ate a klaxon paucity of gilt her treachery was too easy o reflecting goblet parabolic defibrillator of self blind in meteors swarming the storm of cosmic traffic no thundercat holding the bag deep in the hole of nemik’s manifesto of the late late spoils.

My Other Remix Oh Holy Tessera

My other remix oh holy tessera to proclivities in decline like ever fluttering hearts who demand favors of long elbowed sanctuary as if anything were permanent but presumptuous dances and idiots who have plucked vertical suspenders from the eerie sandstorm suspending something echoing riots around ten oh seven pee em swims the first three epochs into perfect capsules of now parietal unscrewing suddenly the feeling mutual mutual suddenly unscrews feeling into perfection episodes swim ten echo something sandstorms each rubbing a timid bank of idiots dancing permanently on the scorched elbows of the tenements who heart ever fluttering proclivities do lean into adventures oh mix and oh my.

Sell Three Copies They Convince You

Sell three copies they convince you you’re winning mother father baby bird they who in the corner sit with mountains to suture a couple thousand dollars high and under the worst company that ever went public bends meanwhile to its will who down at the volcano beg for fruited jobs devoid of humanity they who dispose of the chemical haze brave marble queuing for another opportunity of a terracotta lifetime real heroes jacking open my open eyelids like who were you able to convince an autobiographical pharmacy never closes the unpredictable patron saint of updraft laureate isabel allende of antediluvian cemeteries what’s clever is wasted yellow sky yellow leaves square and broken yellow birds rearranging the gossamer daylight stuck in my head for 25 years for a small edible triangle of scaffolding around one’s river thorough disposable yellow concrete swelling to meet the yellow crucifixion who yellow the house yellow audi yellow cardinal perch atop the dizzy birch of free markets.

Agency Representation


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?

I Burn The World


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

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one in three questions is serious
two are small hands grasping
in the wet-dark
for salinized water

hewn stone
or a mustache
arriving at customs
before a tour
of the great pyramids
of vegas

i am obsessed
through collage
but that’s behind him now

a flashlight / in a closet / at the bottom / of the aegean sea

You’re a nag.
You’re a liar.
You’re lazy.
You’re selfish.
You’re deluded.
Stop wasting my time.

he is a craftsman
with beautiful rough hands
full of calluses like truth
with crete between
his team has prepared
marketing collateral
and sand fires for every possible occasion

If you don’t like it, you can leave.

in fact i think you should go
freshly shaven chest
like a great royal crest
give the world what it
so depressingly craves
space

in its arms this generation bears
time or place drowning my hands
around its neck long and slender
surrender

Everyone agrees with me.

 trees sorting themselves below birds

You should be ashamed of yourself.

 great figures inconceivable if not for sky

I don’t need you, you need me.

nothing neat left in this moved-on world

After all I have done for you, this is the thanks I get?

oubliette, oubliette, oubliette

Artifacts of Reference, No. 68

The Art of Public Relations