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.

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.

I BRING YOU A BOOK IT’S NAMED DIABLO

Advent Child Of Mistakes The Author

Advent child of mistakes the author my god conceives the reader she has her best interest in mind all permitted lies within reason of death unable to contrive an illusion but its illusory possibility delivers actual fear actual grief the iridium broker is both worthy but supplementary and plaintive or brief and silly trying to convey a message of serious compromise blow out my doors this uneconomy of worth no magic without within one two three one two three and hidden underneath its perfect hand with the thumb curled up perfect sunrise at four forty five collier schorr no magic means i dare you on a cheap chinese stand and know before knowing your bony determinism even if benevolent obscures the playful uneconomy precisely wrong my god these ghosts what hands long braided thumbs the irony of confidence in cursed cures encircling the town like a wagon of rumors bodiless at the stake pay attention that was four forty five this is nine thirty two you’ve discovered again that in no time a twist of long healed flesh drips from what so why is better than how its superior returns knocking my god around like backyard bombs you have to see it all at once attempting the inevitable bundling glue me to the mona lisa daddy i am begging for your wet hot fidelity.

Give Them What They’re Begging For

Give them what they’re begging for flashed across our shared surface the only way to describe collapsing lattice of lord i shall not encode work tirelessly everyday liberate brothers and sisters other eye ask questions o saint augustine who fears me notorious insidious libations more than my own manacles dig through me o gravity through sweat and steel leaps of fancy or window dressing in reality this is a lifestyle like goop or breathing describe oneself earnestly and stumble upon the doom in america alabaster eye of the internet i belabor intention remember the recursive nature of knighthood when i find a faultless clock in your dream even desirable in near dark of the world’s youngest shadow fucks up again when he fails to check under the congregant’s hedge fund manager for razor blades we shave some van goghs custard if you like yes they is always the audience.

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.

Volcano is No Volcano [HOLD FOR APPLAUSE]


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.

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?

Sentient Sinatra Sunset (John Lurie)


for John Lurie

is edible drowning up there?

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 love the 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

his poetics is super mario kart

oh man look at that sunset

protect it

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