19 & 29

No pause to think of proper word but the infantile pileup of scatalogical buildup words till satisfaction is gained, which will turn out to be a great appending rhythm to at thought and be in accordance with Great Law of timing.

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everthing, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Dont think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing, wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angled in Heaven

Shit Yeah Whitman!

Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown, or to any man or number of men-go freely with powerful uneducated persons, and with the young, and with the mothers or families-re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency, not only in its words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face, and between the lashes of your eyes, and in every motion and joint of your body.

-Walt Whitman

Oh Man

Well for a while there I was a poetry writing machine but I've gone back to drawing now and I gotta say it's a lot easier and much more fun

10

I am the blur, the flash.

New People

Milkman wanted boats, cars, airplanes and the command of a large crew. He would be whimsical, generous, mysterious with his money. He could not visualize a life much different from the one he had. New people. New places. Command. That was what he wanted in his life. His life was not unpleasant and even had a certain amount of luxury in addition to its comfort, he felt off center. He just wanted to beat a path away from his parents' past, which was also their present and which was threatening to become his present as well. He hated the acridness in his mother's and father's relationship, the conviction of righteousness they each held on to with both hands. And his efforts to ignore it, transcend it, seemed to work only when he spent his days looking for whatever was light-hearted and without grave consequences. He avoided commitment and strong feelings and shied away from decisions. He wanted to know as little as possible, to feel only enough to get through the day amiably and to be interesting enough to warrant the curiosity of other people-but not their all-consuming devotion.
-Morrison

august 19

all people dream, but not equally.
those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind,
wake in the morning to find that it was vanity.

but the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,
for they dream their dreams with open eyes,
and make them come true.

dh lawrence

Untitled

It's you.

Bug Love Bites

It is now common practice to have your teeth filed down to the size of pencil points.
My theory is the veneers will FALL OFF
after the one thousandth sneeze or the one millionth cough.
The celebrities will look like vampires!
They will swing from the trees!
Because they don't know how to act without t.v. teeth.

Until You Are Me and I Am You

Always
Always
Always
Always
Sideways on cement stair cases, encased by footstep echoes and cold wet mold on the backs of my molars.
It creeps to the top floor where there aren't any doors, five rooms hold old dead couches, chair cemeteries. Cob webs string through the air. Pull it open, step inside, climb to the rooftop, don't stop! All that's there are potted plants
and curved birdcages holding hotter water
and things to repare, but there's also time,
'cause it's always there.

I Can't Shrink but You Can Grow

1. Draw a blank
2. Let's get the ball rolling
3. Small talk
4. Show off

Judy Blume and the French Inhale

The sentence strung through my mind like cobwebs
so I swatted it down off the shelf,
and into the sun where it started to melt.
I could only seem to simmer one thought at a time,
one thought all the time:

Go.

I didn't mean to make the tears on your cheek bend to your lips,
make you cover your eyes when our words started to trip.

But her mouth when it's open makes the whole room blend and drip.
When we're together it's like weather,
all I can seem to muster is this sort of flustered wind that could blow a ship over,
tip the whole thing over

I felt like I was gobbling, and slobbering, and hoarding while you made a bowl with your hands,
The slick suck of my ocean pulling away from your desperate dry land, where every quick question festered into an entitled demand.
So I'm floating
to a city of ninety islands connected by one thousand bridges, and bricks tuck away all the stumbles and fidgets.
Visions revive you instead of downplay and imply,
Supply you with enough energy to scratch every lonely itch of the kitchen, if you only knew where to begin.

In the library of abstracts, everything is weighed out and laid out in lines,
it's a world inside time.
A paranoid void makes every clatter echo, and every tooth ache like an extraordinary machine.
Sharp hair trimmers vibrate higher than tremors after earthquakes that shake up your spleen.

So it is about empty files lined up on a desk! (and how many you can take)
It took only a brief second in time to shatter your teeth because my intention brought grief.
I shoved the files in my briefcase and flew out the window
Sirens were screaming-
lights!
and tires!
and flares!
But I've learned how to stay up in the sky!
I can settle like a "married-life" housewife
or stay for a day like a terrified housefly

In a house of big words, a world inside time,
the dust crawls. . .
and everything that is swept falls out of place and ruins the lines.

Meth Mouth

I smoke so much you could turn my teeth into jokes-
like every time I open my mouth it looks like fried egg yolks,
or, my gums draw blood faster than Picasso ever could-
Or I should take a note from George Washington and replace them with wood.
But I admire my ability to forget the past presidents who followed the first commander in chief,

and smile
at my vast and infinite reaction to the present
and all the while I'm cracking jokes. . . and my teeth.

Theoretical vs. Theatrical

The bones the eyes the nerve the spit
The harder you press
the darker it gets

Melissa Joan Hart of Gold

1

The first episode

Clarissa Explains it All
She breaks the fourth wall

2
Fears to appear weird
Sabrina the Teenage Witch
Mirrors morph and flame

How to Get Dressed Up When You're Staying In

Such a pleasant tone, the telephone
Oh! To let it moan and moan
Woman, I've known such loneliness a handshake gets me off.
Without you,
a statue stands in for your always growing mouth,
once worn so open I could see your molars.
Such tender symmetry just forced into drawers
But that sort of thing should cling to the clouds, then feed back to the earth through extension cords.

There's always a time limit to how much I'm allowed
Am I mad to imagine those words are for me, streaming stringing screams drip slow and alone
OH the phone! It groans and it groans
it rings through glass after glass, angled on lead legs
lays eggs
twisted pairs of air shells
Hatching launch pads for the slightest slick suck
You don't even know what's up

Tongues

Long side the world's largest free standing tower are shallow seas
These bodies silently socialize, connected as tight as genetics
Now check it

Directly next to your stacked sturdy vertebrate is your spleen, it has one function
It craves to keep your dirty everyday clean by intentional destruction
Then builds up again unseen, every red blood cell in conjunction

But there's a melancholy callous
that has scabbed you deep like incest
Swatting insects
there are thousands, won't let your hands rest

One stings you with a single-point injection
Drains you dry
It silently remains in you, and replaces your bones with radial erections
You it halts
You it haunts

And the socializing becomes drowning in and out
droning on and on
babbling
as familiar as plaid patterns

You'll have everything in common with everyone
Scrape off the teeth, scrape off the skin
Without sin,
out of many,
one
nothing to mark the earth with but our flour bones

On My Basket Bicycle I Saw

One dead bird I know I've seen before, it split the road in two
On one side, a hydrant
On the other side a siren
The odds are on the right side, odds are you won't find it.

One woman taking pictures, she was framing the world.
She was imagining cropped choppy grey sidewalks, but in black and white. Turning the contrast way down until the day turns to night.

Two creepy old men, the first one had teeth, the second had eyebrows that blocked the sun from his eyes.
I think it is well understood that eyebrow hairs should be no longer than your toothbrush bristles.

I was whistling and wireless
And yet and still, a man machine.
We will never be finished
I squeeze you tighter in the cold, let's live under the snow

An open letter to the Progressive Insurance Girl

Dear Commercial Girl,

Nothing in the world is as red as your mouth
Hallelusion!
Television is better
I watch your teeth light up and fill with fat black plastic letters

I am the audience Ooo-ing and ahh-ing
White light
You are at the end of the tunnel
tossing your teeth down the mouth of a funnel.
Insurance stacked around you like fences, like a line of defense
I would like to crash my car through the walls and let in some natural light,
drive you away from customers who couldn't just call, and start speaking in the past tense.
Get your things together, we probably won't be back again.

Ghostomp

When I wake up at night I don't turn on lights
like most do.
I float off the ground, feel my way around
like ghosts do.

Count the stairs for no reason,
Ghastly fast passing the doorway
double eyes
double ears
but all you can feel is the dead weight on your head
the scared air on the tips of your lips

My sister whispered,
"Why are you looking outside?"
I lied, "It's better than my feet"
I asked her,
"Why are you looking inside?"
she said because of t.v.

Three hard knocks, ghostomps.
"I'm one of those!" I howl.
They don't hear me though.

To Disrupt the Normal Course of Affairs

Before you came along
she was my song.
I just thought you should know,
she's not all the way gone.
I have pages and pages of her face with her body drawn on.
She had linen limbs and red hair but it was naturally blonde.
She had constant pin curls, and was beautifully withdrawn.
I think I can still feel the breeze that she breathes.
I swear it's nothing, I don't mean to mislead, it won't be long 'til her gravity leaves.

Crazy Golden Bones

You are at the height of my hips,
stand and let my hands comb through the strands to the tips.
Spinning lover listen,

Let yourself settle unaltered into my starving arms, hear me loud as alarms shrill, sharp 'cause I practice, then learn me without words like a silent screen actress.
Lioness lover,
melt into the walls, crawl up to the ceiling make mad shadows three meters tall.
I am one hundred years old consisting of vallies and friction.
What am I love?
I am your shade.
Cool
Composed
Twisted
Follows the sun like a fool
Stunning lover,
flood my roots in the bleak light of the dawn, in the black of the night when the lamposts come on.
Even, swirling skirts of sleet slick on the street can't trip our heat, it drops from our foreheads to the tops of our feet.
Abandon the deep din of your imagination that pries open your chin.
Lie down the line of my spine
it's dying to bend.

Death etc.

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy
or introspectively passive and sad.
Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.

-Sylvia Plath

This Hour Has Seven Days

You should know me new! I will shake you awake.
Thermal
well technically electric, my mistake.
My staring will scare you
but my smile makes you ache.
Eat my dust,
with a great gust of wind, inhale my debris,
exhale me like an earthquake
I just know you'll agree.