For Yoame

Wikipedia Poem, No. 964

the picture oh him and it was you
if yoame was a thing it is in your name
a thing it is you naming a thing
it is yours if yu or if yor foundation
the picture oh him and me and it is
your name and it is true i remember
the picture oh him and it is yours
if yoame and it is you name a thing
it is you naming a thing it is you
who named the thing it is yours
if yoame foundation of dinosaurs
oh picture him and me and it is true
suddenly i remember the picture oh him
it is too true i remember the picture
oh him and it is you
it is true i remember the picture
oh him and it is true
i remember the picture oh him and me and you

How You Are Like a Cantaloupe

How You Are Like a Cantaloupe
How You Are Like a Cantaloupe

one shouldn’t court
such controversy
so early on with no
payoff plan in place
one means this to
be a simple poem
about ribald rind
brainiac of seeds dis-
solves brown sugar
hypotaxis in scalding
green tea teaches
the kid a thing or two
about sweetness
manners like
a cantaloupe.

Black Hills Treaty

consider what they saw there

i don't trust anyone who
doesn't have my best leg
in interest both calves
slaughtered on the hill

 neither had a camera 

i hear their voices
like high school girls
squeaking on algebra
at tjmaxx i drink

coyote blood click click
each pore inflamed
for oxygen each pore
diabetic tigers of america
 
 neither      has      a camera 
 
chose to break the treaty 
when gold was discovered
there there they do
not know the way

they saw what they saw

Head on Fire

The sustained atmosphere of loss was international
there’s nothing better than boozing up not running
long old i’m not talking crap sounding ugly nothing
ugly being promoted look at that god damned cow
boy hat they’re sitting here talkin porno stuff is yr
head on fire? i smell the smoke it smells like yr head
america takes advantage of these opportunities yr
given without any consideration for those who just
wanna live and be free the smell of charcoal black
and white film he makes my heart throb he says he’s
eighteen he says the sky is on fire handsome grain
i got drunk and wandered into a room full of nude
universes vegetables and rice there are so many
cadillacs in this world yet the country is so small
without sex workers and programmers and lobbyists
run away little boy run away el pastel stolen light más
lento soft and unfrightened each moment of hospitality
impregnable.

‘Sometimes they have lost their country and in their heart it feels as if they have lost something big.’

Wikipedia Poem, No. 949

"The police know, as they move through the park yet one more time, that they will win and a building will be built on the space. But right now, the building is not there. " Juliana Spahr

my g pen all you don’t mean assassins looking saving up neither you
saw it coming my chattering to you must be some kind of the short poem
young many-legged machine that you don’t shitting against something to
write this is bidirection only ambient words to you don’t eat tou bring
big when the bean so embarrassed to have to food and young man i
remember the chained line as the poem young my fingers giving man
i remember through his put you must have been so embarrassed to
have ever been knowable and pick a color of my poem any color of my
poem twelve been so embarrassed to have hands that poem young my
g pen

a rich personal art this will ring face righting against the light they
must the way it to foods and take a poem i like fanfare when the was
sometime worrying man i remember cashier’s skull i country sprint of
the poem has a poem twelve by twelve like a question end like zeppoli
in they must have been so embarrassed to have been so lost often the
imax curves no metaphor for you heart it my chattering will ring against
the police move slowly methodical power shitting my g pen to food and
they curved no methodical power cashier’s skull i country and take a
bird time worry

building food and get painting at this line i cough his poem you must
have been so embarrassed to have ever known line as their own litany
money are quotes the doesn’t mean assassins look back out or tired grip of
easy work she poems twelve by twelve given like ivory in there at
things the chattering face righting food and young my more the
cashier’s skull i could be over five every open all rich a mistake a
different words she police move slowly methodical power-shitting
where you must some kind of boat another throwing up to be the
polydirectional ambient nose a state of enth


In this time, the time of the oil wars, there are many reasons that singers give for being so lost. Often they are lost because of love. Sometimes they are lost because of drugs. Sometimes they have lost their country and in their heart it feels as if they have lost something big.

— Juliana Spahr

Parallel Sunsets Hidden in the Head of the Word

Wikipedia Poem, No. 948

i’m the only one who tells me when the poem calls
that poem the pancake color of my charged-up
fingernails that were no rhyme scheme
your head was a poem called lookiat
charging burn of my fingers
that was the intellectual me where
i am i am seeing the poem doesn’t have
to cope with heroes
you did it and you saw it
another wasted intellectualism of fuck it
they would have curved no metaphor
for the poem called your life and it gets tasty
that poetic squid head of quotes rising
above the horizon i finger the radio
or you don’t have to cope
with his going out for non-renewable resources

pull back the color of my heroes
didn’t you decide on an electrical power source
you don’t open into it the poem calls lookimy
heroes ;; another outlet for deicide kettle’s on
you saw it acquire some branded intellectual shock
we look like sui generis bedrock gardens
we look at sui generis bedrock gardens
fingers plasma!! it doesn’t have a squid head
or you look back at the black outlet weeping
like a weapon the storm hammer club her human body
it has a god given right to the poetics
of a stock car violin
intelligence betraying stone
cut from etna i was called a poem
look for an outlet in hopes i would
char char char

Topless in Purple Gloves

Wikipedia Poem, No. 946

one could not cope
with his no one could
not ask for his no one

could know every human
name every name every
human poem whomever

however one copes with his
freedom chantal joffe i did
no one not once ask for ever

human nature asks for every
possible poem in the grief of
human names every human

every flagrant permutation
if names exist at all ask for
his no one could grieve

ask for his
no one could
ask for his
no one could

Topless in Purple Gloves

Wikipedia Poem, No. 945

praise the lord

if names exist at all
like the intellectual property
of men topless
in purple gloves then
i did then i did not
no one could not ask for
no one could not hunger for
intellectual property could not
top like intellectual property
the burning wick
chantal joffe did not ask for this
no one could
no one could not
all the intellectual property
of burning men

Their Words Seemed to Them Like Nonsense

Wikipedia Poem, No. 943

Easter 2019

barian faces gorgeous faces barbarian faces
young faces barbarian faces barbarian faces
barbarian faces barbarian faces gorge-arbarian
faces young faces young faces barbarian faces

barbarian faces barbarian faces young faces young
faces barbarian faces young faces young faces
barbarian faces young faces barbarian faces young
faces real gobble nuclei broods real gobble

faces barbarian faces young faces barbarian faces
young faces barbarian faces young faces barbarian
faces young faces barbarian faces young faces
nuclei broods real faces young faces barbarian

young faces barbarian faces young faces young
faces young faces young faces barbarian faces barbarian
faces barbarian faces young faces young faces barbarian
faces barbarian faces barbarian faces barbarian faces

barbarian faces barbarian faces barbarian faces barbarian
faces barbarian faces young faces young faces young faces
young faces barbarian faces young faces barbarian faces
barbarian faces barbarian faces young faces young

faces gorgeousung faces barbarian faces barbarian
faces real gobble nuclei broods real gobble nuclei
broods real gobble nuclei broods real gobble nuclei
broods real gobble nuclei broods real gobble nuclei

broods real gobble nuclei broods real gobble
nuclei broods real gobble nuclei broods real
gobble nuclei broods real gobble nuclei broods
real gobble nuclei broods real gobble nuclei broods

real gobble nuclei broods real gobble nuclei
broods real gobble nuclei broods real gobble nuclei
broods real faces young faces barbarian faces young
faces young faces barbarian faces barbarian faces

young faces barbarian faces young faces
young faces barbarian faces young faces barbarian
faces young faces barbarian faces young
faces barbarian faces young faces

barbarian faces young faces barbarian faces
real gobble nuclei broods real gobble
nuclei broods real gobble nuclei
broods real gobble nuclei broods real gobble nuclei broods

real gobble nuclei broods
real faces young faces barbarian faces young
faces young faces real
gobble gobble nuclei broods real nuclei gobble broods

real gobble
real nuclei
broods real gobble nuclei broods real faces young faces
young faces

real gobble nuclei broods
real gobble nuclei broods
real gobble nuclei broods
real gobble nuclei broods

real gobble
nuclei broods
real gobble
young

Look Pleasure in the Eye and Don’t Think

Wikipedia Poem, No. 937

Flowershop, 2019

shirt headphone cord
in her pikachu too much
unrepairable bear yards of skin

all the soupy stooped cross
walker drug dealer drug dealer drug
dealer data demon jazz drummer pikachu

shirt my t-shirt headphone cord
in her mouth too tight flowershop
too much unrepairable bear all skin

all corporation an infant crying warm
and such unrepairable beauty fat boys who care
the corporation an infant crying

warm and youth petal unrepairable bear
all the standing-room-only no way too much unrepairable beauty fat
boys who care the corporation everywhere asphalt rubber and i