ooooooh

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

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

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?

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

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

i want i want i want








coffee

...........

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

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

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

...................................
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

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

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

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

,>.."

why is what
can't i just stand there(here)
impervious to weather and whether
that's an option or not
i would like
to just be distanced as i sip slowly
this bottle of wine
maybe at 2 a.m.
maybe never
why can't i have that bottle
$20+ so i can feel like royalty
and not give a fuck
gloriously

......

i can remember sitting
on that white building's balcony
if i remember correctly, i was sitting
with my back to the ocean; couldn't hear it
the white building
between a wooden water tower next to geese
and another building on the other side
little gray birds would steal chips
if you weren't paying attention, or if you just
let them
the fish were dead, vinegar, salt, lemon, ocean breeze
it was wretched. next stop, hazy valley, burning hills

alanthus

this thick book
out the window is some stupid weed
the kind that smells like
sour peanut butter when you
smash the leaf up
the coffee shop
knew my name
and i don't know    how i
  feel          (fuck, how do i feel)
about that,      (about anything?)
but it probably means
they're not spitting in my
drink that i ordered and
rode around on
my bike with
and microphones
can't forget the microphones

i've always got this moon rising
and my back to the sun
i told it no. and it listened
if i have one more time
one more yesterday
and four more of those
glasses of beer i hope i punch a hole
right through the mirror
suspended in a vat of this silence
and i hope it turns its volume up
and talks back for once

and all those lonely times, where are they now?

so i'm here, hearing
sprawled oblong on this couch. it's sean's couch
the earth is floating closer. in front of me.
toward me
oh shit it's a piano now
a sad piano.
i suppose her name was magnolia

the earth is getting farther away
it's tied to a church bell
propped up by the starlight
the side of the earth that sunlight
doesn't see
goodnight magnolia

drowning in

i can see the other side
   of this canyon
but 1000 smoke signals
disrupt any communication
with the other side
   so much
   i want
   to scream
but the volume
i would have to
 i. i. i don't...

think i have any more words.
this language isn't complete yet

1

green leaves, about to turn orange
sprinklers spitting out temporary rainbows
all those fallen down flowers
   pink and orange
     weeks to come
       and a bottle in hand
dulled out trash bins through
dirty windows
and not quite as many thoughts
   as usual

feet, ground, forward

fall is clamoring at the
doorstep, wind.
cool air hits the sheets
on my bed in the mornings
long before i should
be awake
it's when i'm cold
and i wake up crying
and my bed feels
like it's four thousand
miles from anywhere else
anyone else

meditate on you or something

i leave myself
in a tree
thinking about the return trip from
some type of sand storm
and i like
to think about balloons
and whatever effect they have
on whoevers foreign economy      (same effect as those butterflies
                                                                               or whatever, right?)
and why the fuck
would i give a worry
to them
i don't think
i like opera
but i'm glad those
fat chicks
have something to contribute