the painstaking today

fuzz

2011-11-15T09:58:00.001-08:00

so many times it comes back to me
i look in the box, searching for the bottom
i look past it, shrug it off as-it-were

sunlight makes a memory,
overcast everydays make a memory
box cars and champagne corks
stuffed in the end of the perpetual ruck-sack
scrubbing off the glinting fuzz
has been a tiresome endeavor

poem

2011-11-07T09:37:00.000-08:00

roads of dust in the rear view mirror
patience subsides and glows the full red color
morning sunrise, the moon sets first
cup of black, chair and hat occupied

trail

2011-10-26T12:08:00.000-07:00

and there's resolve now
the usurped cartel zip tied to their tractors
their painstaking slavery emancipated to (a rusted trail to next to nowhere)
various forms of deported tears soaking into
half-used paper rags
back to cardboard boxes. back to fence hopping
back to the american dream that all others cling to
in a razor blade of misfortune
back to the four walls built to keep them without, within

?

2011-10-26T12:01:00.000-07:00

how is it the beggar is never late
for fashion parade holidays
how is it that the less you become able
the more stones there are for throwing
how is it the shit you kick last night
becomes a misanthropic testimony at daylight
how is it that when never comes
you're still in bed?

traveler

2011-10-25T09:59:00.000-07:00

i sit on walls, watching dragon's breath color the sky
dragging a blood soaked blade along the edge of rock
i read aloud the words etched down by travelers
the circle spins slower now
i watch the day exit; stage left, single-stage-to-orbit

poem

2011-10-25T09:53:00.000-07:00

it's no wonder how it drips onto the wall
tackling crumbles down to their greatest heights
lumber punches swifter at night time
varicose glass handles rambling their procurements
languishing in tube station holidays with verses of steel, vices of corrugation
there's a tooth robbing fruit sitting near a partially encumbered plastic wrapper
waiting and hoping in a vice grip of anticipation

;';';';';';';';';';';';

2011-10-21T14:08:00.000-07:00

when it goes away
the stone slab fits neatly in place
the path of no return turns left
i'm still stuck here
will it ever?

fall

2011-10-19T12:56:00.000-07:00

busted chompers. worn out tires
the fuel is getting cold and the days are staying warm
reserves are malnourished, page in, page out
electrical hums press softly on dead ears
......fall approaches steadily
page in, page out, shutdown

335642

2011-10-17T11:31:00.000-07:00

my oversight falls flat on its face with the seeping light through
the darkened rags on the windowsill. the opening daybreak
wreaks havoc on the frontal lobe stirrings. like a knife in a blender.
while it has only been twice in happening, where does the
wrap fall, where does it exit to? i'm being presumptuous,
i'm being similarly(predictably) stubborn
but i can sit with a patented patience and watch the events localize in my favor

street

2011-10-13T14:15:00.000-07:00

who walked these streets at night, every night,

on their search for truth?

on their search for beauty?

did there need to be such a trek as this?

such a lonesome hike on boulevards

not yet paved with modern stone or modern stories

original

days

2011-10-13T09:53:00.000-07:00

down hard downtrodden,
the century rolls it's linear discourse into a fractional package
bursting at the seems with animosity towards consistency
with previously parallel lines and a buttered popcorn stain
or hail storm romances bouncing off concrete like 25 cent prizes
lights in tunnels and school buses filled with midnight cackles, dreamt up
by all the dreamers i can fit in my back pocket. howling, laughing.
swept up and around or on top of the dual beams supporting the sky.

and as beer can city topples in every direction we're all supposed
to act as interim mayor, supporting slapdash opinion or clinging to
a rock face precipice. gasping for air every blue moon, every
sidewalk holiday

world

2011-10-05T09:34:00.000-07:00

it's time now, and i don't feel it
i feel the city crashing down
the excited scream of an
awakened populace yearning
for destruction, for entropy to
take effect
for the whole damn world
to go away when we ask it to
and we're asking really nicely
so far

poem

2011-10-04T10:52:00.000-07:00

sip a distant midnight every once in a while
put your worry shoes on the nighstand
stab backwards with an empty bottle
and a handful of yesterdays worries
toss them out the window, slip your slippers
on and paddle upstream thinking of crispy bits
all the crisps and all the everything else
wrap it in cuddle furs and slap tomorrow silly

stuff

2011-10-04T10:20:00.000-07:00

the earth keeps disappearing, and i can't see the stuff
the stuff was right there, where is it?
what's all that? oh jeez, can you take it?
it's finding and searching and looking and hiding it in a hole in the wall
and forgetting you put it there and never never never never
just as it disappears again you grab it. i grab it. there's a lot of grabbing involved
what's that and what's anything anymore. take it. take it and throw it off the cliff

new

2011-09-29T10:14:00.000-07:00

as my days spent lounging come to an end
i can only appreciate that seminal output of
all my buddies that present me with party favors
glitter biscuits, rainbow stickies, glowing boxes
magic trinkets. always the cool things come first
glitter rainbow glowing magic. these are the things
that i always think of
when we get the peoples into space we should put
rainbow glitter everywhere and declare it New New Jersey

grab

2011-09-27T11:45:00.000-07:00

being forward isn't enough,
when even the CME hides its face
when the aurora glaze fades from new york
summer rests its head, gone again
the infrastructure won't support these
trees anymore. they'll make friends with the chipper.
leaky scones, boxwood filling
finite investigations with all the trimmings
whatever patented exit wound sat down
while time slipped by like loosened rope
busted grabbers clench madly into the night
so there's one more item to savor
one more light in a cave that goes all the way down

poem

2011-09-26T10:38:00.000-07:00

faded rediscriptions of everything that was and isn't
gonna stick around long enough to be there again
and you want to talk about your disposition, your this-is-how-i'm-feeling
the words grind themeselves to a gigantic halt on
boulevards of prognosis, waves of disturbing principles
or imposed legislature crumbling, tumbling, falling
getting up again and not knowing the why or how or the whatever
that holds you back, kicking and screaming. and i miss it all
i miss the window breezes(collections of old and new stacked up to fall over, pile on pile and it keeps going it keeps going it keeps going), piles of dirty motherfuckers
slopping around solemnly, starving for the next sip of amber
and while the pieces never fell correctly, they fell none-the-less
into a concise enough pattern that you never felt too lonely
near the end, until it was the end. until it was just a phone call
that you never heard again

sip soup

2011-09-22T23:24:00.000-07:00

a hare-brained happenstance
like mice caught in the field
what i haven't sewn in meadows green
what i haven't harbored in the docks
naught to offer, none to savor
dried up twigs line the landscape
it's fire season, on the cusp of falls divisive razor
we'll draw the lines we're given, there is nothing more or less to offer
the bet comes with what you're dealt

no

2011-09-22T11:54:00.000-07:00

learn to swim in coffee
roast it on a spit and watch the drippings
sizzle as they splat the concrete underbelly
hickory smoked patchouli, hints of a
floral whatever scraped from a grease coated
rainforest. patch the holes in my summer best
and never wonder why all the roses
decay when you need them most
keep swimming as the coffee heats up

poem.

2011-09-22T11:10:00.000-07:00

all those times that were the
right times

i don't see them clearly
in fact

i don't really see them
at all

pub

2011-09-22T10:09:00.000-07:00

communication errors frequent the pub i live in
frequently they're overheard, 404, in a repeating pattern
with syntax melodrama, frequency override
the FCC often intervenes with wax cylinder tunnel vision
hyperbolic analyzation, spectral correlation
and all other sorts of investigation. they come to the
same conclusion each time. another round, please

boring

2011-09-22T09:33:00.000-07:00

guts can't handle this. this trail, perched on
the tree in the back that isn't blocking the view anymore
sawdust wrinkles its way up my sleeves, a kindred
warning of subterfuge hits the base station
hits the vortex. careening into another valley
the backwards run up the bluff hindered by
allegations, hearsay, blinding lights at night
back to the moon. my spacecraft sits in remission
tied to a streetlamp,
i'll sit on the curb, i'll sit in remission as winter closes in

longer

2011-09-21T11:16:00.000-07:00

eyes open to the blinding red sun
laid out in deserts, trees, cascades
on my retina, revoking dreams

bitterness sits at the back of my throat now
cold creeps through the hole in my wall
they told me it was a window
the deception hung itself
in a mirrored contrast, cast amongst
the hay and weeds in my backyard
a split second woke up and found itself
amongst the shade of cream in coffee
only to no longer be a participant
to no longer court itself
to no longer hypothesize
no longer

poem

2011-09-19T12:49:00.000-07:00

underwhelming confidence
the moon steers clear
it has no answers
which are pertinent to the repairs
of my spaceship
or the swaying balance, left to right
but these are things
you tell to insomniacs
to crushed ice lovers
cured homeless
waste guilty felons fighting in the soup line
porridge hoarders
brazen followers of do-wrong
night watchmen set on the picket fence precipice
watching as the sun sets on empires built
with leftover despondence
out of reach, out of reach

night

2011-09-17T23:42:00.001-07:00

the chocolate bunnies are getting aggressive. feet first

2011-09-17T23:16:00.000-07:00

the carpet ground proved hospitable for the former nano-seconds
my grassroots reprieve aided by sweltering bouts of incommunicado
it's very well passed a time for a save-and-pick-this-up-tomorrow

fire

2011-09-15T11:36:00.000-07:00

and wouldn't you know it
the lamp lights light up street signs in gruesome colors
frivolous bits of locality spinning down and down and down and
once more, bite your lip: hold your tongue O'Bryan. the final gulp
the final...
always goes down better than the first
and your walk home never gets any less lonely

the sea the sea

2011-09-14T13:48:00.000-07:00

raise your glasses in warship reverence

parting tides and nautical bliss

will bring us together at the next jibe

walking slower now

2011-09-14T11:17:00.000-07:00

a colored wind blows straight down, cutting the vestigial remains
of your dormant past. grey colored night, everything's grey.
it runs deeper than that, hacking through old thoughts, new thoughts
i have to hack, chop, and clean up all of those old things i always
wanted to forget. is there another time? will the future bring the tide in,
and wash away these dreams for me? everything's grey. and it'll be grey again

crutches

2011-09-14T10:51:00.000-07:00

front porch surrounded in a cruciform daybreak.
still the fog fog fog in the belly of summer's sweat lodge

I'll strap myself

into my rocket couch

for another sub-orbital

spin around my

brain's perimeter

and in a reprise sort of way the previous nocturn mentioned in
ecumenical elation...and continued on. pick yourself up by
the furs. pick yourself up by the way. pick yourself up another new.

no stars

2011-09-14T10:48:00.000-07:00

looking down street-lit mountains
sounds of alto from the tailgate fortress

a paper bag procession reminds me
what nice strings strung in temporary
warmth can do for a pair of ears
or a pair of feet, on a long winding path
down the first road to fall

poem

2011-09-14T10:42:00.000-07:00

general infantry marched through my walkway
a palindrome of regurgitation, agitation, activation
propped up, slapped down by so many winter breaths
denim bike brigades, munching luxury on the backs of the destitute
carried over by a lovely lovely frost covered pint of the future

owiefdjsnvcm

2011-09-13T09:59:00.000-07:00

dusk and dust and brigands smashing each other
this typewriter sits at the edge of a temporal hell(thegoodkind)
the flowers lining the event horizon are too inviting
for a refused offer. a negative walk-away.
transportation in the back yard, beer in the fridge
cloudy skies, cloudy minds offer a helping hand towards the future
i'm well inclined to climb aboard

saturday

2011-09-12T10:19:00.000-07:00

ivory memory. windows open
all the flowers of yesterday brushed past
me and the wind cooled down to be my buddy
i pushed apart the pages of a book
i wasn't going to read
and looked and looked and looked
at a framed picture of a lovely world that i don't believe
and i still don't believe it, but it stares right back at me

chair

2011-09-08T07:37:00.000-07:00

money and walls of lice do nothing to support your sit-upon framework

too many listerine sun baths scuff up my marble streets

i'm taking out a loan of infuriated infatuation, stay right here

i'll be right back

lamplight

2011-09-07T23:30:00.000-07:00

white light and temporal trashbag decay
standing, sitting, black hole approaching
oxygen trough the boundary wall
dividing night from day with a gravity smash
dusted concrete. if you don't want to say it, don't

business

2011-09-06T11:10:00.000-07:00

humble mornings(mourning?) mornings
greeted and spoke and spake caffeinated
just in time for another question. I've got until june.
I've got until june.
I've got until june. and then: exodus
until june: stars, sprinkles, dragons, and a million little nagging nothings
at the back of my throat
roasting a pig on medium for eternity. basting, roasting, toasting, nothing.

green grapes

2011-09-06T08:17:00.000-07:00

yesterdays grapes probably have all the strings attached. but all the flavor sits on the table, printed in soy based ink and handed to the ignorant passer-by. denim crotches favor the glory

green olives

2011-09-06T08:15:00.000-07:00

yellow dot, narrow focus
message transmitted: next bridge over
potato salad with the hollowed haze of cock sauce
one more bite
all the dreams have vanished in the road

pizza

2011-09-01T10:52:00.000-07:00

look at that rock

you could sit on it

and eat a whole pizza

it's made rock

it's made of sad

i wanna sit there

and look at nothing

talk to no one

except Domino's

because they deliver to the moon now

chicken wings

blue news

2011-09-01T10:40:00.000-07:00

a thankful cajole and nod and wink and walk out the door
llama eyed awkward, pint of pint of sit-down. shut-up
one heavy handed glance around: ghost town drama
built up fences, torn down, roasted... salted...... parallax precipice and a
narrowed down corral car lot
hindsight alibi, handshake peppermint
extra saliva tongue depressor
razor face shoe barrel
mud spike liberty smash

calmer now. hurricane subsided

feedback

2011-09-01T10:13:00.000-07:00

eyeballs out, in an adventurous way
glazed over grinning at an apparition
marble stone sheets prop up
liquor induced opporunities
back of the mind dwellings

glass is empty

before spilling over the brim
all flames ignited, all sensations dulled

shiny

2011-08-31T09:49:00.000-07:00

dogs to rest, forlorn prowler
midnight- fork in the road
passing on the macaroni salad
structured on the backs of ants
hives of bees
the acquisition of literature leads to
full on fucking suspension of disbelief
as the bright lights of future servitude
shine in your eyes like the most horrible
of birthday cakes

south west apex

2011-08-30T12:35:00.000-07:00

they've got boxes i'm in. top of the chart
emancipate the printer, and all could be free
but nothing is left. down the backward side
hopping in lobster bins, crashing through
philistine fences, luddite passphrases.
one more alum-sleeve down the hatch
one less worry, one less dream destroyed
screaming at the moon on a warm bench

for Garth

2011-08-30T10:38:00.000-07:00

beneath the tears of trees
light through air and dust and smoke
blessings upon blessings
the high-roller cartel cruises
along a rusted trail to next to nowhere
extra spaces dot my 't's and cross the whatever
the spiritual guides of my brains manipulate
universe thoughts, set them on a toast and pop
them back into my neural oven until
they're just greasy enough to spoon feed a church choir
and if that doesn't make sense, i don't know how to console you

upholstery 2

2011-08-30T07:36:00.001-07:00

the upholstery shoegaze is a better bed than most
for a shit kick sunday holiday

upholstery

2011-08-30T07:26:00.000-07:00

so too may i have missed the mark
so many before me seem to have been
stuck in the mud
flapping rudders, with shit grin gazes
the backwards confuse that i won't take
my dimly lit yesterdays always seem to
make some sort of dimpled impression

paragon blush

2011-08-30T07:19:00.000-07:00

the warm chill with the fan off
through a portal, porthole, screen window
the jays rage, the light scatters itself
amongst the organized wreckage
cracks in the wall ponder the notion of
daylight strangers. my mason mug
sits upon its thermal pedestal
and watches as the slow rising
star of the east makes its
diurnal journey to the well
charted water world

hats

2011-08-29T11:24:00.000-07:00

backwards garbage truck
unfiltered, unloading
packing down and picking up
and dripping along the stretcher row
of another tin can funeral,
and another dimly lit patio stoop on the moon
two more days, three more weeks
fog hat construction sounds
and extraneous wreckage of a high caliber

perpetual jobs

2011-08-29T11:00:00.000-07:00

he sits in a box with a big hat
a big hat
and he pokes and prods through papers
and finances. insert disk. press enter.

machines have their legs and they walk
but the chains of bureaucracy(i can never spell that right. write. rite. the first time)
chains of thought, trains of thought.
whole big fucking armies of thought.

get the mop and a bucket. we're gonna be
at this one all night

tumblr

2010-05-17T11:23:00.001-07:00

http://homain.tumblr.com

aaaaaaaaa

2010-03-30T10:37:00.001-07:00

because who wants to hear?
so many thoughts are stuck at the back of the bus
but this brand of melodrama
shouldn't be heard

the birds are doing alright, right?
so what are you worried about?

lights are on

2010-02-28T03:14:00.000-08:00

the shadows of tall trees;
just give a sturdy base, will ya?

regardless

2010-02-28T03:09:00.000-08:00

past all the pillars is where i looked
as dust came down
on rock walls,
on glass tables.
the fuzzy recollection
a poor depiction
a vague reflection.

all this time i've tried

2010-01-18T12:09:00.000-08:00

under thoughts of grey
between noble winters
shrouded thoughts
the push and pull, anticipation
hold my breath

close my door again, since
i've gotten the lock installed

all ruminations are still on boil
since when did my skies turn blue(while my winter coat fades)
since when was it hard to wake
to such eager mornings

paperclips suspend the notion
cultivated porcelain abrasion
mask the kettle, off the flame
spend the cash for enduring
if the winter sun rises again
still on the edge of my seat

glass under arm

2010-01-15T23:58:00.000-08:00

i have puddles flowing by the drip-full
whatever i wanted to share,
i wanted to share forever
may i say yea? may i say whatever i want?
if you were to tell me no
would my intuition kick my sense back
would these snow flakes cover my symbolism?
were these fields not so disparaging
were this disparity not so overwhelming
would i be able to hold myself back?

number two

2009-12-24T12:39:00.002-08:00

just photos

2009-12-24T12:33:00.001-08:00

out my window, and on the sill

.,.,

2009-12-24T12:13:00.000-08:00

i defamed the sky,
for showing me a color of blue
that i much rather would not
have wanted to see.
i just wish i could sit in trees
those leaves, those leaves.

modesty

2009-12-24T12:11:00.001-08:00

considerations of some intangible kind
i could lump all the dark spots
into this bottle. the green won't keep long
it's just the last stab i have
at some brand of ignorance... won't keep long
if i continue down the mountain, no matter the speed
the avalanche gains
if i stay, this branch won't keep long.

no

2009-12-24T12:08:00.001-08:00

you always thought.
always the first mistake.
i crossed three states yesterday
and i'm not talking about fucking wyoming
or something like that.
this is it. it's serious.
i've brewed coffee before
but never had to strain like this
it's all my cloudy days accumulating
it's all my rainy nights articulating
it's everything i can do to not run
it's everything i can do to carry on
none of you have any idea how much this is

reverence

2009-12-23T10:04:00.001-08:00

it was subtle, i thought
but i wasn't the one standing
on the green bridge
my legs, like typewriters,
feeling visions cast out
from those suspended stars
wrapped tight to steel railing
still shaking from the shock
of elevation
soon it was alleviation
from a plastic pump on a metal drum
and being told what to do
never has been so rewarding

poem

2009-12-13T11:38:00.000-08:00

i sat back and watched the dust settle
like a drawn out sunset washing over the green fields
within a moment it was over
the sun nestled between two walls of mountain
which rested a thought
if it never rises again, i won't mind

how many people cried?

2009-12-02T23:46:00.000-08:00

foreclosing
my midsummer night-stick plummets to the depths
fields are hazy with jubilance of youth
with mardi gras of yesteryears
tessellation of an overt variety.
of grains of stalk
grains of sand
attacking the thought we
thought we had conquered
mere effervescence amongst the veil of exuberance
building walls on lands of quick sand
exterminating those means to an end
perpetuating correspondence on deaf ears

tuesday still

2009-12-01T22:45:00.000-08:00

i dreamed a field
meadows of green
and rolling clouds
trees that whispered silently
secrets that no one else knew
i carried a basket of the finest delicacies
port, brie and poetry
the set was locked, it was impeccable
i lilted a melody, immaculate
the sun set low, the sun set low
the meadow darkened, ashen, barren
upon my lips was the glass
revealing itself empty, desolate, dry

up

2009-11-27T11:41:00.000-08:00

anything at all,
at all, at all
is far better than the box
of empty in the mail. sometimes
the rush delivery isn't the
option that works best

dernks gervin

2009-11-27T10:19:00.000-08:00

cast off in the cigarette gaze
torn through like paraphernalia
i had previously sensed this bottle opening
in the background
when i dove in and came up for air far too soon

it'll be far more whiskey sundays,
far more regurgitated fridays
before i can mitigate my cloudy days
my under the weather
my secret pouches
and some new-fangled banana sundaes

draught

2009-11-23T21:46:00.000-08:00

i can only think of foggy days
of cobble-stone roads, moss at the edges,
swinging on the unraveling cord
this unparalleled dreary feeling
mouth as dry as the sun
with every intention to prove it

null

2009-11-23T21:36:00.000-08:00

i've just piled all thought
all emotion in this hollowed out box
it may only be this early, but i'll say it nonetheless
how do i make myself invisible? how do i build up this wall
may i, earnestly, close this sector?
may i, truthfully, shut down?
i've been working this long and still i'm deceived by sight

travel light

2009-11-21T09:46:00.000-08:00

4000 euro short
the weather made itself
appropriate as i watched through
that slotted window. dark clouds
gathering, rain hitting the pavement
which i saw coming. the windstorm
of fallen red and green, where will
it take me next on this one legged boat
long gone, sailing into darkness

walking home

2009-11-20T09:19:00.000-08:00

it all went down the river
under that fall-leaved bridge
in the early morning overcast skies
moving along, following the stream
so it wouldn't hurt

faux

2009-11-16T21:07:00.000-08:00

how it must feel
when that ceiling collapses
and the ink comes running through
staining what little you had
in your possession
soiling that sea of disregard
oh, how i'd like to,
oh, how it hurts how i want
no one to feel

asdf

2009-11-09T21:27:00.001-08:00

a melody in my right ear
suspended; perpetual
mug of black to the left
of my left ear. in peripheral
i've got my gloves on
but the fingers have come off
do you think that i'll ever
be satisfied?

2009-11-06T08:12:00.000-08:00

.
.
all these tuesdays pass by
they sit atop my flagpole
all sitting in a row
at half mast
birds sit idly by
chirping for lack
of common sense
until it's repetitive
redundant, irrelevant
a dull roar underneath
so much of what our days
are composed of,
and look at it now
the sun isn't even up

direction

2009-10-27T22:16:00.000-07:00

Ornithonical Caruthers draped his dreary skull
across the mantle piece, on the empty shell
of the coffee table.
where he lays it next relies on the imagination
of the weary, the brainstorm of the psychotic,
the passing glance of the insomniatic

all i see is blue

2009-10-27T22:02:00.000-07:00

the walls build up with
soot and moss.
draping their greenery
about with the slight
impression of charm.
it's chaos in the valley
footprints on the moon
and so many blocked off
barricades, holding back
forces that our normal
faculties aren't capable
of remedying. the wall
that holds back tomorrow
slowly disintegrates
and the anticipation
fades into background
noise cutting off any
enigma that may have
raised its head, unheard.
so many times there may
have been some enlightenment
but it always was swallowed
by the truth the world holds;
that there may be no truth
at all, that all of this
is facade, a radiating
pastime of the elder years
taunting us,
tormenting us,
giving displays of
pedestaled daisies yearning
for that last bit
of solitude, gripping at
the abyss. do we go forward
anymore or do we sit
and wallow in our merriment?

ggrrr

2009-10-23T11:15:00.000-07:00

i've mulled over these thoughts now
so long that leaves have turned red
where the sun shines on them now
how many devils on my shoulder
pulling me by the ears
this way and that
decisions come
like rain in the desert
or snow in the ocean
all plans are left
barren, destitute
so this bottle remains
in an optimistic state
of half-empty

zxcv

2009-10-22T09:52:00.000-07:00

i've hit this
and hit this board
there's very little
nothing's coming through
it's lost in a fog
protecting itself from
my fingers

parts and scattered pieces

2009-10-20T14:01:00.000-07:00

noise sticking to floors
cocktails, chatter, all inane

if i called what it was sensitive
i wouldn't fool a dead man

if i called it hopeful
i wouldn't even fool myself

here i sit,
other peoples clothes

other peoples money,
time on my side
one less glass
one less worry

late

2009-10-20T14:00:00.001-07:00

what i kept
swept under the rug

gnarled branches
tearing at the screen
on my window

i tried to grow
a flower on the sill

the dust covers it now,
as the moist soil
slowly digests it

white balance

2009-10-17T17:55:00.000-07:00

through these walls are the
inner bowels of tech computing

night

2009-10-17T03:11:00.000-07:00

somehow the sleepless 3a.m.s always came
at better times. my head remembers sitting
but it can't quite place the sweating pillow
or the restless feeling in ones stomach
i can't see anything outside
for the utter lack of strength i can't
find the strength to close my eyes
downstairs is fitful coughing which
perhaps i'll join for lack of a better plan
prosecco decks the halls
clothes mingle with the perpetual lint, dirt,
assorted horrible things living on the floor
vague mentions of christmas and festivities
long ago which someone, somewhere doesn't
give a fuck about

flavours

2009-10-08T18:37:00.001-07:00

perhaps this commando
hits the irreverence
at brute force

perhaps this shade
of grey stalks night
with its own weapon

and maybe,
just maybe there
is one silhouette
perched on a sill

watching dusk unfold
reading back issues
of penzeys spice catalog

wouldn't it be nice
with this chardonnay
to once again
feel the glimmer of
spring, the innate
seconds of composure,
the dark settling
on your shoulders

apples

2009-10-08T14:44:00.000-07:00

muskeg kettle cup said wheeeeeeeee as we poured
the next kettle cup down the hatch. down our
water-holes which preston says are unintelligently
designed, which is to imply(if i'm understanding
preston((whichusuallyonlyido(((ifevenido))))) correctly is a
signifier) the idea that we, indeed, are
designed. by who? perhaps by preston. perhaps
by some other land shark without wheels
or even some type of fucking fin. maybe steve
jobs designed us, but that doesn't work as
we're just not fucking shiny enough

minutes

2009-10-08T14:33:00.001-07:00

an abstract gaze over hills of leather
peat, and goose down that fights the
way through modern dictation, through
warfare of quantity, through abstraction
and ab-machines, tied behind your
purple girls bike leading the mob of
less-than-savory, of stargazers, of
neer-do-wells billowing through for
a slice of whiskey, a drop, a wee nip
a dram entering the exit wounds with
peace offerings in spanish or some
other language everyone already
forgot with minutes turning to seconds
or that, backwards, if it pleases jesus
on his knees, on a cross, on the town
or just regular old jesus drinking tea

hahahaha

2009-10-07T11:36:00.000-07:00

.

2009-10-07T08:38:00.000-07:00

it's all smoke
in my view now
not much to see, but light. far off.
i'm differentiating between machinists
and watchmakers(stop me if i'm being vague)
a candle left on the shelf
lost its glow after two weeks, fourteen days.
the scent still lingers, heavily, in dessicated air
still though. continued on this line
the balance strikes matches with the bullets
of retribution, in-cognition, frailness, damp weather
soft crescendo as your main character takes its
last breath
last remaining bow. lights dim.

ooooooh

2009-09-30T17:24:00.000-07:00

i was walking. dark out
i kept walking
the lamplight from the post shone
high above me
it became colder and i kept
thinking. which is tough to do
on such a dark walk
the light from the lamp faded into
background noise
i continued walking
until i couldn't see anymore
no lights, no thoughts
darkness

pre-menstrual

2009-09-24T11:25:00.000-07:00

an aggravated sand storm
cuts through
the nothing of glass
envy turns orange and lights fire. fire.
fire eats
lunch and puts its hat up
slaps its wife
for half a good measure

the television is on in zaire
three stock brokers have tea,
whiskey tea...
just whiskey,
joke about the old days,
the good-ol days when
hurricanes knew when to apologize,
when rabbits weren't just for chemical analysis
or when lincoln
dropped the bomb on
russia for being foolish
...foolish

14-85, can't top it

2009-09-24T10:55:00.001-07:00

this radial glow casts out
the purple bottom of a wine glass
6a.m. on a sunday afternoon
back house in the evening
and the moon only partially revealed
settled gaze on power lines
the world overflows with rubik's cubes
one last white feather. drifts down
as some ilk of metaphor
that i've heard on the lips of pygmys

guess who?

2009-09-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

your lovesick pity grab
i'm not buying another popsicle of it
not one more fucking bite
now that those bins are empty
you have no reason more
no reason for being here
that scarlet, crimson donkey you rode in on
you can give it RIGHT back to the stable
master at whichever barn you
swindled it from
off with you, off with you for the longer
side of the equation.

oh shit

2009-09-14T22:05:00.000-07:00

mahogany no one
hurricane sea sick patterns
terrain enveloped diamond---
platter spun decoy dissonance resting
on the plateau, infirm in its decay
resting in beds of ferns. ivy. satellites.
wisdom filled in gourds, mashed sadness
and and, nail guns piercing eyelids
without sound of what was platonic
all the while, settled chorus of disrepair
grasping at the lemon ,, of perpetual motion

i want

2009-09-14T06:02:00.000-07:00

i want i want i want

coffee

...........

2009-09-13T10:00:00.000-07:00

all i can see
now is
green

the fan is on. there's tea.
i wish to pass out
in a meadow
with the
scent of winter
the only thing i can see

down

2009-09-13T09:46:00.000-07:00

as i walked off into the afternoon sun, i walked with a passion
of artificial energy, of foreboding. i walked with missions in mind
down the road, leaves in gutters. that satisfying crunch as
your worries press out with each continuing meter

11th, no one goes down here. summer's here and leaving.
but in the scraggly haired kids place is an orange thing.
ah, i don't get that
but continuing
to have some companion, i thought. no no, surely not.
and wouldn't you know it, some other scraggly haired kid
hands me this liquid in a reformed dinosaur and i quickly
contemplate lost love(you didn't, don't fucking kid yourself, conor)

right, on the road, on the main road. out of sunlight. i look for him
he's already there. what are the bars in portland?
and how do i get to my parents alone, lonely, no companion,
no end in site,
nowhere left

demolition

2009-09-13T09:38:00.000-07:00

i ran circles at midnight
street lights
and a glockenspiel
faking harmonies as feet
rose to meet this colder air
still colder now
compressed against wood
and vinyl. pressed against the saxaphone solos
met on street sides with
the well fed, thirsts quenched
wind ate the sound of sirens calls
of $5 admissions to shisha shit shows
the wind spit out thin crusted marvels of
human achievement
i slept through this late night toil

no title

2009-09-12T13:11:00.000-07:00

...................................
morning is too early
they're getting darker
too hot for ice cream
...................................
the granite clouds
cats on the fence
lingering insomnia wakes me
from dreams of operating systems
...................................
i wish for another coffee
washed away by another beer
rinsed and repeated
...................................

just the other day

2009-09-09T11:14:00.000-07:00

still gazing out that 6th floor window(or was it 9th?)
strathclyde below, all those people
3p.m. clouds arrived before they got there
on the BBC. i've always wanted to go
back there
ever since before i left
farther west perhaps, would be better
but i'm far away from everything now

too often

2009-09-08T00:11:00.001-07:00

i wrote down
what i wanted to say

i typed it
it meant something

it was very clear
and rather than deliver

i deleted

oh window

2009-09-07T22:34:00.000-07:00

it might be an early morning
the breeze wakes the day

it creeps by, as i roll over
blurred specks of lint
spread across cigarette burned carpet
of all those before me
reds and oranges against green
occasionally, traces of you
outlined by this perpetual
glimpse of the past
framed by guilt. an
acid burn in my stomach
that persists to this day