we succeeded in
making books faster
than we burn them.
and we make trash and
we make noises.
right now i’m making a list
of all the pleasant poets
i could lock insides with
to make our attentions
a ductile cash crop.
book of hours. equivalency.
raw gallons of a matter
that we could stretch thin.
uncoiled, it can span
into and out of the trench
over 900 times.
you could fill a gutter
with what i don't know
about being outside of my mind.
you could pour my mind
down a drain
and verily it would clog.
it takes a lot of disappointment
to drag a laughing through the dead wetlands
of sinking horse despair,
and i've done it
with frozen white grapes
heaped on my back.
i attract a damning heat.
WRITER'S GROUP
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
GOING TO ELWOOD
i'm in a car
my parents are in the car
earlier they were talking
my dad said,
"i'm surprised wilson
didn't get a nomination
for best supporting volleyball"
i just read an article abt joan didion
in it, there was mention of an essay
where she talks abt
the end of a relationship
and also abt the end of her youth
i felt emotionally affected by the article
i'm in a fuckn car
there is sun in my eyes
can it quit fast?
my mom just waved
at a pickup truck
pretty cool little
rural deal
my dad just asked about my car
this time i wrecked it
i had gone to kansas city
for hoffman's bachelor party
but i don't want to write about it
i am sad
that was when i ruined everything
what is wrong with me?
am i real?
i hear noises
& wonder if the noises
are from a different world
that i am locked out of by my
eyelids
we are in bartley now
the school i went to kindergarten in
no longer exists
my mom's classroom no longer exists
i mean, a building no longer exists
& most of my memories of it
no longer exist
rachael tweeted earlier
that ffff is like lmao
but instead of laughing my ass off
it stands for
fuck fuck fuck fuck
i can hear chimes
i can't
but
it rhymes
my mom is talking abt stephanie guerrero
my dad married her & her husband
but stephanie guerrero didn't know
my mom was married to my dad
who knows
seems dullsville to me
i don't know
i navigate
& for the first time
i am a car
moving across black earth
that hasn't been touched by light
but has been touched
by some small silent life
i want to have a bazillion pound hope in my chest
& rest at night
feeling excited
for the possibility of morning
i want to go to love
and be there
& stop being
a car
because i got that
poet boy swag
it turns me into
a silver butterfly
i
was high
last night
talking to eva about
sodium lauryl sulfate
i love talking to eva
love being near her
feel so good near her
want to be near her
but feel strange about how i feel
feel trizapped
keep writing
i want to be near her
& i want to be near her
because i, going insane
am a samebot
the always turning
do do do do
a mistake
not meant to be born
i was
i have chimes for dinner
i eat all the sounds
i spitting
spit life out
turn dirt into
gross kid spit mud
build a brick
and a brick of bricks
and a universe of bricks
because there has to be some
comprehensible infinity out there
there has to be bread
we share bread
we are bread givers
it is in our genetics
to share bread
give it
eat it
put it in my bread hand
stuff it in my bread mouth
make love with my spit
make sky with my mind i
am making bread
and sharing it
placing bread in her arms
for it to rot with her
in the empty lightless ground sky
there it is
there is a tree
a bird is growing from it
it all grows from the ground
& we are in elwood now
i am going to eat food
and chill
i am laughing
we are growing
my mom missed the the turn
& i have a tattoo on my hand
it says to tell me
to keep being in love
no matter how weird
i'm in a car
my parents are in the car
earlier they were talking
my dad said,
"i'm surprised wilson
didn't get a nomination
for best supporting volleyball"
i just read an article abt joan didion
in it, there was mention of an essay
where she talks abt
the end of a relationship
and also abt the end of her youth
i felt emotionally affected by the article
i'm in a fuckn car
there is sun in my eyes
can it quit fast?
my mom just waved
at a pickup truck
pretty cool little
rural deal
my dad just asked about my car
this time i wrecked it
i had gone to kansas city
for hoffman's bachelor party
but i don't want to write about it
i am sad
that was when i ruined everything
what is wrong with me?
am i real?
i hear noises
& wonder if the noises
are from a different world
that i am locked out of by my
eyelids
we are in bartley now
the school i went to kindergarten in
no longer exists
my mom's classroom no longer exists
i mean, a building no longer exists
& most of my memories of it
no longer exist
rachael tweeted earlier
that ffff is like lmao
but instead of laughing my ass off
it stands for
fuck fuck fuck fuck
i can hear chimes
i can't
but
it rhymes
my mom is talking abt stephanie guerrero
my dad married her & her husband
but stephanie guerrero didn't know
my mom was married to my dad
who knows
seems dullsville to me
i don't know
i navigate
& for the first time
i am a car
moving across black earth
that hasn't been touched by light
but has been touched
by some small silent life
i want to have a bazillion pound hope in my chest
& rest at night
feeling excited
for the possibility of morning
i want to go to love
and be there
& stop being
a car
because i got that
poet boy swag
it turns me into
a silver butterfly
i
was high
last night
talking to eva about
sodium lauryl sulfate
i love talking to eva
love being near her
feel so good near her
want to be near her
but feel strange about how i feel
feel trizapped
keep writing
i want to be near her
& i want to be near her
because i, going insane
am a samebot
the always turning
do do do do
a mistake
not meant to be born
i was
i have chimes for dinner
i eat all the sounds
i spitting
spit life out
turn dirt into
gross kid spit mud
build a brick
and a brick of bricks
and a universe of bricks
because there has to be some
comprehensible infinity out there
there has to be bread
we share bread
we are bread givers
it is in our genetics
to share bread
give it
eat it
put it in my bread hand
stuff it in my bread mouth
make love with my spit
make sky with my mind i
am making bread
and sharing it
placing bread in her arms
for it to rot with her
in the empty lightless ground sky
there it is
there is a tree
a bird is growing from it
it all grows from the ground
& we are in elwood now
i am going to eat food
and chill
i am laughing
we are growing
my mom missed the the turn
& i have a tattoo on my hand
it says to tell me
to keep being in love
no matter how weird
Thursday, November 29, 2012
PARABULLABY
a battleship sunk
in my closed face.
the cold thick window
looking down into
frozen black hell
where the limestone
is built from colonies of willing.
look out.
in this metaphor, i ALWAYS miss
the mountainblood rush
until after the mountain is cadavert.
"'always' is the work of a simpleton,"
an old jaw flaps in the past.
but there is nothing to get.
fooling passes over my door
like a murderous deity
and i am left unashamed
in a childless house
where my dried foods wait,
talents baitless and unlit,
aflutter through muddy water
no deeper than an arm
but the glasses are gone in it.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
THIS IS TO POST WRITING FOR CONSIDERATION AT THE NEXT WG
yo. if you want to be added to the blog contributor list, email spzzce at gmail or a.r.huckins at gmail.
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